"From now on you will be Bella," he said, gesturing toward the pink-haired girl, then to the other. "And you will be Lyla."
He stood and walked toward the middle of the room.
"...Y-yes," Lyla said begrudgingly, though he could feel it in her eyes clearly enough.
She was not happy in the slightest.
"I should also mention," he said suddenly, coming to a stop at the center of the room, "you should drop any idea of killing me. No matter how well you execute it or how flawless you make it appear, no matter how cleanly you remove yourself from it..." He paused. "My death would mean the death of everyone in this mansion. Their extended families included. And by that, I mean your father and your brother as well."
He said it calmly, then flicked his wrist toward Bella, gesturing for the apple on the nearby surface. The girl happily retrieved it without a moment's hesitation.
That alone bothered him.
This Liliana, now Bella, was acting entirely different from the Liliana he remembered. And why was she smiling so much? Just the sight of it was getting under his skin.
"Stop smiling. It makes you uglier than you already are," he said.
She kept smiling anyway.
'Did I get the right one? Could this be a knockoff?'
He squinted at her, but after thinking it over he eventually ruled it out, chalking her difference up to something that could have happened before Avalon, something that would likely sort itself out in this timeline as well. Perhaps she had recovered her memories, or something along those lines. Yes, it would have to be her memories. Or so the young prince thought.
He turned back to Lyla, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"Yes. Your father would die. What else did you think would happen?" He tilted his head. "Surely the old man wasn't foolish enough to put you up to this himself, so it's most likely a plan you hatched on your own to help him out. Or did he?"
He squinted.
"N-no. I don't know what you're talking about, Your Highness," was her response.
The prince shrugged.
"Denial. Well, keep it at the back of your mind that any harm done to me will come back tenfold on everyone you care about. Just in case your father neglected to mention it, you were raised on my money and without my knowledge or consent. In other words, your rather royal-like upbringing exists because of my unconscious generosity, or quite frankly, your father's craftiness." He let that settle. "If I wanted him hanged this instant... it would be done."
He said it simply.
The maid gulped. He could see the fear taking root in her expression.
'Well, that settles that,' he thought. With that much fear planted, he would hardly have to worry about her slipping into his room for a quiet murder any time soon.
"As for you," he said, turning to Bella.
"YES?!" She responded eagerly, still smiling in that unsettling way.
"If you keep smiling I swear I will carve a permanent frown onto that face with an enormous sword. This is my last warning."
The maid nodded eagerly.
"It would be my pleasure"
"What? Did you not understand me? I said I will disfigure your face if you don't stop smiling like an idiot," he repeated, looking genuinely bewildered.
"O-oh," she said, and looked down.
She was still smiling.
'This idiot has a problem upstairs.'
"Both of you, move that out of the way," he said, pointing toward the center of the room where a large, furry carpet sat as the room's centerpiece.
Lyla glanced at Bella. They both approached it and lifted.
"A magic circle?" Lyla blurted.
Bella frowned. "What is this for, Master?" she asked.
The young prince, who had been just about to explain, stopped.
'Master? Something doesn't seem right here. Something... but I can't quite place my finger on it.'
He reconsidered his plan, turning it over carefully, but eventually ruled it out, chalking her strangeness up to something that must have occurred before Avalon, something that would likely have played out the same way in this timeline. Perhaps she had recovered her memories. Or something along those lines. Yes, it had to be her memories. Or so the young prince thought.
"Activate it," he said, looking at Lyla.
She took a step back.
"...But..." she started, then stopped herself, realizing she didn't have so much as the option to refuse his directives.
"Understood," she said.
Then hesitantly, fearfully, she stretched her hands out toward the precisely drawn magic circle on the ground that the carpet had done such a thorough job of concealing. She didn't know its function, which was the source of her fear. She was not yet versed enough in the field to decipher its purpose from the glyphs alone.
She closed her eyes.
Slowly, she channelled ether into the circle.
The next moment it glowed, a dim blue flare, but only for a split second before it shattered into fragments and shot outward in every direction, layering themselves across the walls of the room.
"...W-what was that?"
She stumbled back and collapsed to the ground.
Bella, on the other hand, wore a stoic expression for the first time.
"Let's not waste time," Aurelious heard.
But before Lyla could turn around something collided with the back of her head. A blunt force. It sent her under instantly and she crumbled to the floor. Had she been using ether enhancement it would not have been so easy to knock her out, but she clearly hadn't expected it.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"Sighs."
Aurelious sighed and turned to Bella, raising the weapon in his hand. A sword, though it was the hilt that had done the work.
"Just asking," he said, tapping the flat of the blade against his shoulder. "Are you going to be a problem as well?"
"No," she said.
He nodded.
"Come. Help me move her to the bed."
The girl stared at him with squinted eyes for a brief moment before complying.
'Now she's acting completely different,' he thought, but decided it didn't matter.
The moment they had dragged Lyla to the bed and before Bella could turn around, the hilt found the back of her neck as well.
She crumpled.
"You both have to be unconscious for this next part," he said to no one in particular.
He drew a short blade across his wrist, then clenched his fist until the blood began to flow freely, letting it drip onto his palm in a slow, steady stream.
"This is going to hurt."