Under Patty's door, a bare note would be waiting for her. The handwriting would be familiar to her, enough to instantly announce the sender, although the already rough handwriting looks even moreso because of the urgent haste it was written with. Had there been so little time left, this would have probably been a conversation.
"Blank Ma--"
The first half-finished line was scratched out with bold strokes, and written beneath it was the start of the real message, with a real name to address:
"Patty-
You need to know that I am not the same Ares you entered this place with. I am but his shade, one of many produced by this place's magic after the real one's death. But I have no intention of taking the original's place.
From the life I wrongfully inherited from him, I have done little besides ruin what he had built, including whatever relationship you two had. The least I can do now is fight to give back what is rightfully his, which means I must die. Every shade must die."
The last sentence had extra weight put into the ink, practically carved into the page.
"This is my goodbye to you, and an apology for treating you as the same scourge from the world of my flawed memories. Forgive me, if for nobody else's sake than his."
There was no name at the end. There didn't need to be, and he no longer had one of his own to give.
He never did.
Patty had felt her apartment call to her, somehow. There was another meeting soon, a meeting that would dictate their next actions, and hopefully, a way out of this place. She knew she had little leisure time to spare, both between work and supervision, but nothing stood out to her. Other than the desperate urge to visit her apartment for what could be the final time.
She was glad she did. A note awaited her, the handwriting familiar. Ares.
Her mask scratched out, replaced with her name. As much as he forgot, from the Liberation Army to his own family, it was nice to see him remember fragments and pieces. It was a slow process, sure, but it would be worth it in the end. One day, he would remember everything, and everything would be closer to normal.
Then, she read on.
Ares never did remember her name.
Because Ares was indeed gone. He died on the first week, stabbed by the black-cloaked figure. And he never came back.
He was never Ares.
A shadow took his place, took the place of her friend. She had heard of these shadows around, body doubles of the various people trapped here, but they could take a place of someone? To such an extent where someone could confuse them for the real thing? She had noticed the loose thread, but everyone around her, could she truly trust them?
Yes. She could. Even if the Ares here wasn't the Black Knight she had once fought alongside, she could trust him. If the Liberation Army taught her anything, it was that there was always good people hiding in the worst places. People who were genuine, who can change for the better, and people that want to help. It's that trust that binds people together, not fear or anger.
The doppelganger had proved it. Where once her anger and confusion lashed out, it had dissipated into a genuine connection on her end. Where once the heat of the moment burnt her, she felt warmed just talking to the shadow. Yet the sorrow still remained.
For when the time comes, she must point her sword at someone who, doppelganger or not, she called a friend.
Still, for his sake, she would do it.
"I forgive you."
