Cain did not answer her right away.
For a mont, he simply looked at her, letting the question hang in the air between them, heavy with aning that went far beyond simple curiosity. Her eyes were fixed on him, sharp and searching, as if trying to peel back every layer he had built around himself. She was not asking like a soldier questioning a suspect. She was asking like soone who had once stood beside him in the dark, soone who had seen him at his weakest, soone who refused to accept a shallow answer.
Inside his mind, the truth rose first.
"...I survived."
The words were simple, but what they carried was not.
He rembered everything. The climb. The pain. The endless cycle of killing and being hunted, rising and falling, pushing past limits that should have broken him long before he reached the peak. He rembered the mont he crossed into sothing beyond ordinary existence, when the title of Overgod was no longer a distant concept but a reality carved into his very being.
"...I beca sothing they could never touch."
His thoughts remained calm, distant, almost detached from the weight of those mories.
But outward—
He let out a quiet breath.
"...I survived."
His voice was steady, grounded in sothing real enough to hold her attention without revealing everything beneath it.
Pam’s gaze did not soften.
"Just survived?"
She leaned forward slightly.
"...That’s all you’re going to say?"
Cain gave a small shrug.
"You asked how I can walk in daylight."
His eyes t hers again.
"...This is part of the answer."
She did not interrupt this ti.
She waited.
So he continued.
"...After that day... after everything fell apart..."
His voice slowed just a little, not because he needed ti to think, but because the story needed to feel real, needed to carry enough truth to make the lie believable.
"...I didn’t die."
Pam’s fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table.
"I wanted to."
The words ca out flat.
Honest enough to feel heavy.
"But I didn’t."
He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting for a mont as if looking at sothing far away.
"...I ran."
A pause.
"...I hid."
Another pause.
"...And I kept running."
Pam swallowed.
"...From who?"
Cain’s eyes returned to her.
"...From them."
She already knew what he ant.
But she still asked.
"...The Holy Daywalkers?"
He nodded once.
"They didn’t stop."
His tone carried a quiet weight now, sothing that made the air feel tighter, sothing that pulled her deeper into his words.
"...They hunt differently."
His fingers tapped lightly against the table, slow and steady.
"They don’t rush."
"They don’t shout."
"They don’t make mistakes."
He let the silence stretch for a mont before continuing.
"...They watch."
"...They wait."
"...And when they move... it’s already too late."
Pam’s breath slowed as she listened.
Cain’s voice remained calm, but the image he painted was not.
"...I learned that the hard way."
He lowered his gaze slightly.
"...There was a ti I thought I escaped."
A faint, almost bitter smile touched his lips.
"I found a place deep in the mountains. Hidden. Quiet."
"For a while... I believed I was safe."
Pam leaned in without realizing it.
"...But you weren’t."
Cain shook his head.
"No."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"They were already there."
The words landed heavily.
"They had been watching the whole ti."
Pam’s chest tightened.
"...What happened?"
Cain exhaled slowly.
"...I ran again."
"...I fought when I had to."
"...I lost more than I gained."
His tone did not rise.
It did not fall.
It stayed even, as if the mories no longer had the power to shake him.
"...At so point... I stopped trying to win."
Pam frowned.
"...What do you an?"
He looked at her.
"I started trying to survive."
The distinction was clear.
And it hit harder than anything else he had said.
"...Winning gets you killed."
"...Surviving lets you keep moving."
Pam’s fingers curled tighter.
"...That’s how you lived?"
Cain gave a small nod.
"For a long ti."
Silence followed.
Then—
"...So I changed."
Her eyes sharpened.
"...Changed how?"
Cain leaned forward slightly.
"I studied them."
"The way they moved."
"The way they fought."
"The way they used that light."
His voice lowered just a bit.
"...I learned everything I could."
Pam’s gaze did not leave him.
"...And?"
He t her eyes.
"...And I beca like them."
The words settled between them.
Heavy.
Impossible.
"...You..."
Pam’s voice barely ca out.
"...You turned yourself into a daywalker?"
Cain nodded once.
"Not completely."
"...But I can’t use the holy light although I managed to beco a daywalker."
He leaned back again.
"Enough to hide."
"Enough to move where they couldn’t see clearly."
"Enough to kill them... one by one."
Pam’s breath caught.
"You killed them?"
Cain’s expression did not change.
"They would have killed ."
A simple answer.
A simple truth.
"...So I made sure they couldn’t."
The room felt quieter now.
He continued without hesitation.
"...It worked."
"For a while."
There was that faint pause again.
"...Until it didn’t."
Pam’s voice was softer now.
"...What happened?"
Cain’s gaze lowered slightly.
"...They found ."
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
"...My cave."
"...My hiding place."
"...Everything I built..."
He looked back at her.
"...Gone."
Pam felt sothing twist in her chest.
"...And then?"
Cain let out a quiet breath.
"...And then I ran again."
A faint smile.
"...Like always."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And sohow..."
"...I made it here."
The story ended there.
Clean.
Complete.
Believable.
Pam stared at him for a long ti.
Her eyes searched his face, as if trying to find any sign that he was lying, any crack in the story he had given her.
But there was none.
Not one she could see.
Her expression softened.
Then—
Without warning—
She stood up.
Cain barely had ti to react before she moved around the table and closed the distance between them in a single step.
Her arms wrapped around him.
Tight.
Firm.
Real.
For a mont, Cain did not move.
Her body pressed against his, her grip strong, almost desperate, as if she was trying to confirm that he was not going to disappear again.
"...You idiot..."
Her voice ca out muffled against him.
"...You went through all that..."
Her arms tightened.
"...And you’re saying it like it’s nothing..."
Cain remained still.
"...I’m used to it."
"That’s not a good thing!"
Her voice trembled slightly.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still holding onto his shoulders as if letting go was not an option.
"...You’re not supposed to get used to that..."
Her eyes were wet again.
"...You’re not supposed to suffer like that alone..."
Cain looked at her.
"...I didn’t have a choice."
"You always say that."
Her grip tightened again.
"...You always make it sound like it’s fine..."
"It is."
"It’s not!"
Her voice rose slightly before breaking again.
"...It’s not fine!"
She leaned forward again, pressing her forehead against his chest, her arms wrapping around him once more, this ti even tighter than before.
"...I thought I lost you..."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"...Do you know what that felt like?"
Cain did not answer.
He did not need to.
She continued anyway.
"...When you fell..."
Her breath trembled.
"...When everything ended..."
Her fingers curled into his clothes.
"...I kept thinking about it..."
"...Over and over..."
Her voice cracked again.
"...What I should have said..."
"...What I should have done..."
"...What I didn’t understand until it was too late..."
She tightened her hold.
"...You were there..."
"...Right in front of ..."
"...And I didn’t..."
Her words broke apart.
"...I didn’t realize..."
Cain’s eyes lowered slightly.
She continued, her voice filled with regret that had been carried for far too long.
"...On my last day..."
"...When I couldn’t move anymore..."
"...When everything was fading..."
Her grip trembled.
"...All I could think about..."
"...Was you..."
Silence filled the room again.
Heavy.
Painful.
Real.
"...Not power..."
"...Not revenge..."
"...Not survival..."
Her voice softened to sothing fragile.
"...Just you..."
She let out a quiet, broken breath.
"...That was my biggest regret..."
Her hands tightened again, as if afraid that saying it out loud would sohow take him away.
"...And now..."
She slowly lifted her head, her eyes eting his again, filled with sothing stronger than before.
"...Now you’re here."
Her voice steadied.
"...And I’m not letting you go this ti."
The words were firm.
Certain.
Unyielding.
For a mont, neither of them moved.
Then—
Her expression changed slightly.
A faint, almost mischievous look passed through her eyes, cutting through the heaviness of everything she had just said.
"...So..."
Cain raised a brow.
"...So?"
She hesitated for just a second.
Then—
"...Does it still work?"
Cain blinked.
"...What?"
Her gaze did not waver.
"...You know."
A pause.
"...That."
Cain stared at her.
"...That doesn’t narrow it down."
Her lips pressed together, but she pushed forward anyway.
"...Back then..."
"...You couldn’t..."
She coughed lightly, her cheeks faintly flushed despite everything.
"...You couldn’t perform."
Silence.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Cain’s mind went blank for half a second.
"...What?"
Her expression remained serious.
"...I’m asking if it’s fixed."
He stared at her.
"...That’s your question?"
"Yes."
"...Now?"
"Yes!"
"...After everything you just said?"
She did not back down.
"...It matters!"
Cain leaned back slightly.
"...Why does it matter?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"...Because when I thought you died..."
Her voice softened again.
"...When I was on my deathbed..."
She took a slow breath.
"...I realized sothing."
Cain did not interrupt.
"...All those monts..."
"...All those chances..."
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"...We never had the ti..."
"...We never understood..."
Her eyes t his again, steady and clear despite the faint redness still lingering in them.
"...And I regretted it."
A pause.
"...I regretted not knowing you fully."
Her voice grew firr.
"...Not just as soone I fought beside..."
"...But as soone I could have loved."
The words landed quietly.
But they carried weight that filled the entire room.
"...And now..."
She stepped closer again.
"...You’re here."
Her hand reached out, resting lightly against his chest.
"...So I’m asking."
Her gaze did not break.
"...Did it change?"
"...Or are you still the sa?"
The question hung between them, heavy with sothing far deeper than it first appeared.
And this ti—
Cain did not answer right away.
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