The Spare's Second Chance in Apocalypse-Chapter 260: Ch 259: Where are you From? - Part 1

Dinner was stiff, to say the least.

The long table was filled with strange dishes that looked colorful but smelled vaguely sweet and metallic.

Selene kept her hands folded in her lap, eyes occasionally drifting to Atticus, who seemed far too comfortable at the head of the table for someone his age.

"So, where are you from, Selene?"

Atticus began, swirling his drink like a miniature nobleman.

The question hit harder than she expected.

Selene blinked.

"From another dimension... It’s called Earth."

Atticus tilted his head, frowning.

"Earth? That’s not one of the border villages. Is it near the coast?"

Selene stared at him, unsure if he was joking.

"No, not near the coast. It’s... not in this world. Not in this dimension."

Atticus nodded thoughtfully, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"Ah. I see. So it’s far."

Julie gave Selene a sideways glance, her expression unreadable.

"Very far."

Selene muttered, already regretting the honesty.

Clearly, these people didn’t grasp the concept of other dimensions—or simply refused to acknowledge them.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

If they thought she was just from a remote place, maybe they’d stop treating her like a threat or a curiosity.

Atticus leaned forward with boyish interest.

"If I wanted to visit this ’Earth,’ could you take me there?"

"I’ll show you around if I get the chance."

Selene said carefully.

The moment the words left her mouth, a chill ran up her spine.

[ALERT: Someone is attempting to establish a contract with you.]

Her system’s voice rang clear in her head, and Selene’s expression soured instantly.

So that was his game.

Atticus, still wearing that disarming smile, watched her reaction closely.

"Is something the matter?"

Selene’s jaw tightened.

"No. Everything’s fine."

He knew. She could see it in the way his lips curled slightly at the corners.

That smug little prince had tried to trick her into binding herself to him with a verbal agreement.

If her system hadn’t warned her, she might’ve unknowingly walked straight into servitude.

She stood abruptly.

"I should return to my room."

Julie narrowed her eyes but said nothing as Selene turned to leave. Just as she passed through the doorway, she heard the hushed voices behind her.

"She’s more trouble than she’s worth."

Julie muttered.

"She’s valuable. And I have things under control."

Atticus replied softly, calmly.

Selene’s pace quickened. Every step echoed down the hallway as frustration bubbled up inside her.

’Smug little schemer.’

She barely resisted the urge to grind her teeth. But as she marched down the unfamiliar corridor, the truth hit her.

She had no idea where she was going.

The palace was a maze of clean walls, high ceilings, and halls that all looked the same. She slowed, turned into another hallway, then stopped completely.

"Great!"

She whispered under her breath, turning in place to get her bearings.

That’s when she felt it.

A presence—massive, overwhelming, ancient—slipped into her awareness like a tide.

The hairs on her arms rose. She went still as stone, every nerve in her body screaming at her to move, to fight, but she couldn’t.

She turned slowly, like gravity itself had thickened around her limbs.

There, just behind her, stood a figure cloaked in blinding energy.

Its form was almost humanoid, but the radiance twisted and bent around it like light through water. She couldn’t see a face, just the impression of being.

Pure, undiluted force wrapped in some semblance of shape.

Selene’s breath hitched.

Her instincts screamed danger, but at the same time, a calm certainty rose in her chest: this being wasn’t here to harm her.

The entity spoke. Its voice was neither male nor female, but something deeper—older.

"Do you need help?"

The words didn’t echo. They rang directly into her mind, threading through her thoughts like silk.

Selene blinked. Her throat felt dry.

"No, I’m fine."

She whispered, steadying herself.

The being tilted its head.

Selene could almost feel the shift in energy, like it had accepted her answer.

A beat passed, then the entity turned and glided down the hallway. Its steps made no sound.

She followed it with her eyes until the glow faded around the corner.

Only then did she feel the shift behind her.

Several guards lay on the ground, eyes wide with terror.

None of them had made a sound. Selene hadn’t even noticed them fall.

Their hands trembled against the polished floor, weapons abandoned, eyes locked on her as if she were the terrifying force.

Selene frowned.

"What...?"

One guard tried to speak but choked on his words. The others shrank back when she took a step toward them.

She exhaled sharply and turned away.

Whatever that being was, it had interacted only with her.

The others must have collapsed the moment it appeared—overwhelmed, perhaps, by the sheer weight of it.

Selene’s body ached with leftover tension, but something told her she had just been evaluated.

The voice in her head stirred again.

[Are you curious about what is happening? Is this place feeling too burdensome for you? You can always choose to end it.]

Selene froze.

"Who was that?"

She whispered internally.

[Someone watching the balance. You should be careful. You’re not the only variable anymore.]

She didn’t like the sound of that.

Selene finally found her room after a few more turns and locked the door behind her.

Finally, she leaned back against it, pressing her eyes shut. Her mind ran through the events—Atticus’s trap, the guards, the being of light. It was too much.

She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out her ration bar. It tasted like stale chalk, but it was familiar, safe.

That strange energy still clung to her skin like static.

"Another variable."

She muttered.

The door rattled once—just a tap. Selene stiffened, hand on her blade. But no one entered. The hallway beyond remained silent.

She sat in the silence, back straight, eyes on the door.

The palace no longer felt like a gilded prison.

It felt like a battlefield waiting for the first strike.