Ever since I decided to attend Alma and Raka's school event, I had begun to realize one thing.
I knew nothing about Xana's life. Not about this house.
Not about her family.
I didn't even know anything about her own husband beyond what was written in the novel.
Fito was having an affair.
Fito loved Yuza.
Fito didn't love Xana.
Fito was the man who had ruined Xana's life.
That was it.
At least, that's what I thought.
But the longer I stayed in Xana's body, the more things felt out of place compared to the story I'd read.
Especially Fito.
I sat on the living room sofa, watching the man work.
His laptop sat on the table.
Several documents were neatly arranged beside it.
His phone wouldn't stop ringing.
But every time a call came in, Fito only glanced at the screen before answering.
"Yeah."
"Two o'clock?"
"Fine."
"Don't change the schedule."
"Then move the meeting."
His answers were always brief.
No small talk.
No arguments.
I frowned.
Rich people really were busy.
But that wasn't what puzzled me.
What puzzled me was Fito's expression.
Blank.
Like someone who was only doing something because he had to.
I opened my phone again.
There were no messages from Yuza.
No pictures of the two of them.
Nothing that could prove this man was head over heels for another woman.
According to the novel, Fito should have been busy hiding his relationship with Yuza.
I turned to look at him again.
Fito was still working.
"Fito."
"Hmm?"
"Are you really this busy every day?"
Fito's fingers stopped typing.
"Why?"
"Just curious."
"Why are you suddenly curious?"
I shrugged.
"Because I live in the same house as you, but it feels like I don't know you at all."
Fito looked at me.
His expression was difficult to read.
Then he turned back to his laptop.
"Do you actually want to know me?"
"No."
My answer came too quickly.
Fito immediately turned back to me.
I pretended to cough.
"I mean... I'm trying to remember a lot of things."
"You've really changed."
I fell silent.
Again.
I'd heard that sentence several times since I entered Xana's body.
I'd changed.
I was different.
I wasn't like Xana.
But there was no way I could tell him that the soul in this body didn't actually belong to Xana.
"You say that a lot, too."
"Because it's true."
Fito closed his laptop.
Then he leaned back against the sofa.
"After what happened yesterday, you've become much braver."
"That's a good thing, right?"
"You never used to answer Helen."
I fell silent.
"You never used to ask for a divorce."
I went even quieter.
"And you never used to tell me to get my own clothes."
I immediately turned to him.
"That's because you have hands."
Fito held back a smile.
Only then did I realize that the corner of his mouth had lifted slightly.
"What?"
"I don't know."
He shook his head.
"You're really different."
I sighed.
"I'm just tired."
"Tired?"
"Tired of always doing what other people want."
Fito fell silent again.
I didn't know why that sentence made his expression change.
It was as if I'd just said something he understood all too well.
"Then..."
Fito looked at me.
"Don't."
I frowned.
"Don't what?"
"Don't do what other people want if it's not what you want."
I almost laughed.
How ironic. That advice had come from the mouth of someone whose life was controlled by his own family.
"What about you?"
Fito furrowed his brow.
"What about me?"
"Do you do what other people want?"
He didn't answer.
I knew the answer immediately.
Yes.
I studied his face.
"Did you marry Xana because of your family?"
Fito's gaze shifted.
"Why are you asking that?"
"Because I'm curious."
"And what if the answer is yes?"
I didn't answer right away.
"Then you're a victim, too."
Fito let out a small laugh.
It was incredibly brief.
"Don't jump to conclusions about things you don't understand."
"I don't understand."
I stood up.
"But I want to."
Fito stared at me for a long time.
Then he picked up his phone.
"Dad's calling."
I immediately fell silent.
Dad.
David.
Fito's father.
The man who, in the novel, was portrayed as someone who controlled nearly every aspect of his son's life.
Fito answered the call.
"Yes, Dad."
I couldn't hear the voice on the other end.
But from Fito's expression, I knew the conversation wasn't pleasant.
"I have a meeting tomorrow."
"I already said I can't."
"Fine."
Fito closed his eyes for a moment.
"Nine o'clock."
The call ended.
I looked at him.
"What did he tell you to do?"
"Come to the office."
"But you're going out of town tomorrow."
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I'm still going."
I frowned.
"You can refuse."
Fito looked at me.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because some things aren't as simple as refusing or accepting."
I didn't respond.
For the first time, I began to think that maybe I'd judged Fito too easily all this time.
Of course, he was still having an affair.
He was still in the wrong.
He had still made Xana suffer.
I wouldn't excuse that.
But maybe...
There was something I didn't know.
That afternoon, I found Alma and Raka in the study.
Alma was playing her violin.
The instrument's gentle sound filled the room.
I stood in the doorway, watching.
She really was amazing.
I didn't know much about the violin, but I could tell that playing it wasn't merely a casual hobby for Alma.
Several awards were displayed on the shelf.
Trophies.
Medals.
Certificates.
There were so many.
"Wow."
Alma immediately stopped playing.
She turned to me.
"Do you like it?"
"It's good."
"Yuza likes it, too."
Her expression instantly brightened.
I only nodded.
"Yuza's a model, right?"
"Yeah."
"I've seen her in a magazine."
A lie.
I didn't even know which magazines had ever featured Yuza.
Alma smiled.
"Aunt Yuza is nice."
I watched her face.
In the story, Alma really was very close to Yuza.
I didn't want to force myself to change her mind right now.
"What about Raka?"
I turned to him.
Raka was sitting in front of his laptop.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"What do you like?"
"Technology."
His answer was brief.
I walked closer.
"What are you making?"
Raka immediately closed his laptop.
"It's not finished."
"Oh."
I stepped back.
"Can I see it when you're done?"
Raka stared at me for a few seconds.
"Why?"
"Because I'm curious."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only nodded.
"When it's finished."
I smiled.
"Okay."
I left them.
But before I actually walked away, I saw Raka open his laptop again.
For some reason, I felt...
That child was different from what was written in the novel.
Or maybe I was the one who had started seeing them differently.
I walked toward my room.
My goal remained the same.
I was going to get a divorce.
I was going to leave this house.
I was going to learn about this world.
And if there really was a way to go back...
I would go back.
But before that, I had to understand one thing. Who was Fito Ditio Rafrendra, really?
Because the longer I stayed near him...
the more I felt that the story I'd read before might never have told the whole truth.