Devilish secretary - Chapter 313

Chapter 313: Chapter 313 Certified idiot
“Then how was it possible for me to fall in love with a scum like Rayan?” Lilith asked suddenly, her voice sharp and disgusted, like she tasted something rotten on her tongue.

Gray didn’t answer.

His expression went still.

And for a second, there was just the sound of her breathing through the speaker and the faint buzz of the screen.

Lilith sat up straighter, eyes narrowed, like she was challenging herself more than him. “If I was truly the same soul… then why the hell did I love someone like him? What part of me thought that was love?”

Gray finally moved, exhaling through his nose. He looked tired—not physically, but the kind of tired that comes from thinking about things too long.

“…Maybe,” he said quietly, “you were a different version of yourself back then.”

Lilith scoffed.

“I’m serious,” Gray said, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “Even if you were the same soul, doesn’t mean you were the same woman. Maybe the Lilith that existed before was more naïve. More… eager to be loved. And he saw that. And used it.”

Lilith’s lips tightened.

“But you’re not her anymore,” Gray said simply. “You remembered the pain. You learned from it. And look at you now.”

She didn’t reply. Just leaned back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling.

“…Sometimes I hate her,” she muttered.

“No,” Gray said. “Don’t hate her. She walked so you could know better.”

The screen went quiet again.

And this time, Lilith didn’t argue.

Because maybe… he was right.

And maybe the most painful part of growing was realizing who you used to be.

Gray leaned a little closer to the screen, his voice softer now. “Alright… then let me ask you something. And answer honestly. Once as you, and once as the original owner. Deal?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow but nodded anyway. “Fine. Hit me.”

He held up one finger. “First question: What do you fear the most?”

Lilith tilted her head. “Losing control,” she answered after a pause. “Not knowing what’s real or who I am.”

She hesitated. “And her… the old Lilith? I think… she feared being forgotten. Like her life didn’t leave any mark.”

Gray nodded, as if both answers made sense in different ways.

“Second,” he said, “what kind of love do you believe you deserve?”

Lilith chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “The real kind. One that doesn’t leave. One that doesn’t lie.”

She went quiet for a moment. “But her? She probably believed she deserved crumbs. That if she stayed good and quiet, someone would love her eventually. Even if it wasn’t the right person.”

Gray’s jaw tightened slightly at that.

“Third question: What’s the one thing you never said to Rayan—but wish you did?”

Lilith blinked, surprised.

“…You made me hate the idea of love,” she said softly. Then she blinked again. “No. She would’ve said that. I would’ve said… thank you.”

“Thank you?” Gray repeated.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Thanks for showing me exactly what I never want again.”

Gray looked at her for a long second, then nodded.

“Fourth question: When you look in the mirror… do you see her, or do you see yourself?”

Lilith didn’t answer immediately this time. She glanced at her reflection in the laptop screen—soft hair falling around her face, tired eyes, a quiet kind of beauty.

“…I don’t know anymore,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like it’s both. Sometimes neither.”

Gray didn’t push.

He just gave the last question.

“Fifth: What do you want… that she never allowed herself to want?”

Lilith looked straight into the camera.

“Power,” she said. “To be someone. Not just loved. Not just protected. But someone they can’t ignore.”

“…She just wanted to be safe,” she added after a beat. “I want more.”

Gray smiled faintly. “Good.”

Lilith frowned. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “That’s how I know it’s you now,” Gray said, then leaned back slightly, eyes steady on her face through the screen. “Because for the first time, your answers weren’t for anyone else. They were for you. That’s what makes a soul return to itself.”

Lilith stared at him.

“…what?” she said flatly, blinking like he just recited the constitution.

Gray blinked too.

“I don’t understand your deep language,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead like it hurt. “Tell me in human words. Or devil words. Or toddler language. Just—something basic.”

Gray lifted an eyebrow, confused but amused.

“Just because you read books and have high vocabulary and layered quotes doesn’t mean I’m wired the same,” Lilith added with a pout, not realizing how much like a sulking kid she sounded. “Don’t throw enlightenment at me like confetti.”

Gray’s lips twitched. And then his eyes softened.

Really softened to the point she felt it in her chest.

“You sound like a kid right now,” he said quietly, voice lower now, almost fond.

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

He chuckled softly. “Fine. In plain words?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I meant… you stopped pretending. And started being you. That’s how I know.”

Lilith paused. Her arms relaxed a little.

“…You still sound like a poetry blog,” she grumbled, though her voice had lost its edge.

Gray tilted his head. “And you still act like you don’t love it.”

She didn’t reply but her lips curved upward in smile.

“Okay! Now tell me about your plans,” Lilith said, suddenly switching the topic like she was tossing the previous emotional conversation into a trash bin.

Gray looked mildly confused. “Which plan?”

Lilith’s expression twitched. Her smile was gone. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, and she crossed her arms like she was about to fight a ghost.

“Is that something I should be telling you?” she said coldly, tilting her head.

Gray blinked. “What—”

Click.

The screen went black.

She hung up.

Gray stared at his reflection in the now-dead screen, processing what just happened.

A full five seconds passed.

Then he blinked again.

“…Wait,” he mumbled, slowly connecting the dots. “She meant our future plan?”

His jaw dropped a little, and he leaned back in his chair as the realization sank in. “Oh no.”

His brain caught up too late.

She was asking about their future—relationship future—and he, like a certified idiot, asked “which plan.”

He looked genuinely wounded by his own stupidity.

“When did Lily start acting like this…” he muttered under his breath, still staring at the black screen like it owed him answers. “And when did I become the one who can’t keep up?”

Meanwhile, in her room, Lilith tossed her laptop aside, face half-buried in her pillow, muttering, “He’s so dumb… even when I give hints.”

Her ears were red. Her heart was loud but she didn’t regret hanging up.

…Well, maybe just a little.