Earlier that Evening…

"Father can't make it tonight," Natalia began. "He has some work to attend to and will be taking his dinner in the castle study. He sends his regrets."

Crimson nodded. "Of course. Tell him we missed his company, but we fully understand."

Suzanne glanced around the dinner table, noting Asch's empty seat. She called for a servant, asking if her son had been informed that dinner was ready.

"I went to his room, Madam, but he didn't answer. I checked the library and study, as well, but he wasn't there either. None of the other servants have seen him for quite some time." She bowed apologetically.

She frowned. "Where could he be?" She turned to Natalia. "Would you happen to have any ideas, Natalia? The two of you spent the day together, am I right?"

Her expression was befuddled. "We separated shortly after going out. But he said he was coming back here…"

The Duke cut in. "Luke is a strong young man, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

But Suzanne didn't seem very comforted. Natalia shot her a pitying glance.

"I'm sure he'll turn up by morning. We had a bit of a disagreement so maybe he just wanted some time alone."

Suzanne's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh my. What about?"

"Well…" She began, eyes downcast. "It's just, you know, today is…" She trailed off quietly.

Suzanne's face fell, and she wished she were sitting closer to Natalia so that she could reach out to hold her hand. "Oh, of course. I understand, Natalia. I feel the same way…"

But Crimson's face remained impassive. "All of that is in the past. Instead of thinking about that, focus on what is in front of us now, the real Luke. Are you not glad that he has returned to us?" He fixed a pointed glare at them.

The troubled look on Suzanne's face deepened, though she tried to smile. "Of course, I'm very happy…"

Natalia blinked back tears furiously, though she said nothing. Of course she was happy to be with Luke again, happy that he had lived, happy that he had finally regained all he had lost. But that didn't mean she could forget…him…entirely. He had still been a part of her life, a dear friend to her. But here they were, pretending like he had never even existed. Grief pierced her heart like a blunt knife. But she could hardly speak out against the Duke, much as she wanted to. To begin with, he would likely see it as a great disrespect. Even though she was the princess, he still commanded some amount of respect as her uncle, and a man of high status. Furthermore, it was likely that her words wouldn't make a difference to him, anyway. He had always been very stubborn and, and more than a little unfeeling about him.

They ate their dinner in silence after that.

When Asch awoke, he was surrounded by darkness. For a moment, he could not remember where he was, but he felt a presence with him. Fumbling, his hand made contact with the candle next to the bedside and lit it once again. He raised it, circling his line of vision. But he saw no one, and the feeling faded into the silence surrounding him. He sat still, heart pounding as the warm light illuminated a small area of the room. Never had his instinct failed him before… "This place must be messing with my mind…" He thought to himself. His musings were interrupted by the sound of faraway footsteps, and he raced to the entrance.

"Hey!" He began to call out before he even reached the door.

"Master Luke?!" A muffled voice on the other side of the door inquired, surprised.

"Yeah, I'm in the basement! The damn door got stuck." About time! He'd finally get out of this dank prison.

After a few more minutes of waiting, he was finally free. They'd had to fetch the manor's maintenance guard to try and unstick the lock mechanism, which somehow seemed to have gotten stuck most likely when the door slammed shut. He squinted his eyes, unused to the influx of light. The servants bowed profusely, asking if he needed anything from him. In the end, he decided that food and bath sounded best, so he requested a small meal be brought to his room while he freshened up. Without looking back, he hastened towards his room. Behind him, he could hear the scurrying of footsteps and assurances that they would fix the door immediately.

It was shortly after he freshened up that he took his meal in the courtyard, and his mother approached from one of the interior halls.

"Oh, my poor son!" She called to him as she hurried over. "They told me what happened. Are you alright?"

Though he appreciated her concern, he rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "I'm fine, Mother. The only thing that might have killed me would have been the boredom."

"I just hope you weren't frightened! That place has always been unnerving. I can't imagine being stuck in there, not knowing when someone would fine me."

He raised his eyebrows. "It would take a lot more than that to scare me."

She smiled apologetically. "Sometimes I forget how grown up you've become.."

He shifted in his seat, unsure of what to say in response. "Mother, have you seen Natalia?" Her attitude yesterday still concerned him. Perhaps she would feel more like talking today, or at the very least, have gotten out of her somber mood.

Before his mother could answer him, he heard something across the courtyard.

"Luke!" Ah, there she was.

"What on earth happened?" She asked as she got near. "I was informed that you had been locked in the cellar somehow!"

"I was just taking a walk and happened upon it. I went in, and the door just got stuck."

"Oh, no! How long were you in there?"

"Not more than half a day. It was hardly a big deal."

"I'm sorry," she wrung her hands. "I feel like it's my fault. If I hadn't gotten so upset yesterday…"

"Actually, I had wanted to ask you about that."

Natalia shared an uneasy glance with Suzanne. She stood, addressing the younger two. "I'll give you some space to talk alone." With that, she left.

"What was that about?" He asked.

She paused. "I just…had my mind on something yesterday."

"I noticed." He replied dryly. "But there's still something you're not telling me, something important. By the looks of it, even Mother seems to know what's going on. Why are you keeping this from me?" He took effort to keep his tone level, not wanting to upset her. "If it's something you don't want to discuss with me, I'll respect that. But I don't want you to feel like you can't trust me."

She sighed deeply, and her gaze fell over the flowers in the yard. "It's just that yesterday was the anniversary of the day…he came here." She hadn't used a name, but Asch knew who she was talking about. Again with the replica! His distaste must have shown.

"That's why I hadn't wanted to mention it. I know you don't like talking about him…"

"Honestly, I can't understand why he matters so much to you." He said evenly.

She glared at him, scoffing. "You didn't even know him. You hated him on principle!"

"Why shouldn't I?! Don't I have a right to be angry?!"

They were both standing now, and he was dimly aware of Pere edging away from them while watering the flowers as quickly as he could.

"I never said that! But it isn't fair for you to pin all your resentment on him!"

"Well it wasn't fair that he took my life from me!"

"But he didn't! Van did!" She shouted, louder than he'd ever heard her.

He said nothing, fuming. Logically, he knew she was right. But he couldn't explain it, he just hated that damn replica. "He was still an idiot, anyway. Why can't I hate him for that?"

"What makes you even say that?" She cried in genuine confusion. "You hardly ever spoke to him, other than to yell at him!"

"That dumbass just went along with everything Van told him, he was constantly screwing things up and making everything worse!"

She shook her head at him. "You really don't understand. But I guess it's easier for you to hate him instead, isn't it?" Her eyes were spilling tears.

He was stunned. Why was she crying all of a sudden? But he was also angry at her for not understanding his feelings. He was so mixed up that he couldn't form words, and all he could do was sputter in irritation.

"I knew you wouldn't want to talk about this." She rubbed at her eyes. An awkward silence settled over them, until she spoke again. "I think I still need some time alone."

Even after she left, he found himself rooted in the same spot, the gears in his mind stopped completely. She had no right to yell at him like he was the one who was wrong! He knew the stupid dreck well enough to know he was nothing but garbage. The journal he found was even further proof! From the start of it, he'd written nothing but complaints and criticisms of others, outright admitted his inability to think and act for himself. Didn't she see that? The moron couldn't have been that good at hiding his thoughts and feelings. From what he remembered, the replica had trouble keeping his emotions in check, if anything.

So, what was it? What did everyone else see in in him that he didn't? He retreated back into his room, slamming the door shut. His skull began to throb. "Great, now I'm getting a headache…"

"Agh!" He bit out, surprised, as the pain increased sharply. His ears began to ring, and he heard a familiar voice, tinged with sorrow. "…sch, I never wanted…"

"What?!" He gasped aloud. What the hell was that?! As clear as if he'd been standing beside him, he could have sworn he heard…The pain began to lessen, and the ringing faded away. He straightened up, taking a deep breath. He reasoned that it must have been a strange headache, probably from all the tension in the past twenty-four hours. And the voice…probably just because of what he'd been arguing about with Natalia. It was probably just a figment of his imagination. Come to think of it, he couldn't ever remember fighting with Natalia like that. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Yet another thing that bastard ruined for him…

Dinner that night was decidedly awkward, in his opinion. Between Crimson's stoicism, Suzanne's timidity, and Natalia giving him the cold shoulder, the atmosphere was very tense. He meticulously sawed through his steak, making sure to eat an acceptable amount even though he felt like doing anything but eat at the moment. Natalia was the first to leave, bidding them a polite good evening. Crimson left soon after, retreating to his study to go over paperwork. Asch made to leave as well, before his mother stopped him.

"Luke, would you escort me to my room? I'd like to talk with you for a little while, if it's alright."

"Of course, Mother." Ever the gentleman, he pushed her chair in as she stood.

A short walk later, the door clicked softly behind the two. When they had settled down comfortably, he looked to her with concern.

"Were you feeling ill?" He asked.

"No, I didn't mean to worry you. I just got the feeling you could use someone to talk to."

He glanced downwards. It was hard to say no to his mother, especially when she was so gentle. He knew she was probably curious about what happened between him and Natalia. Although he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want her to worry.

"Natalia and I just argued over something, that's all."

Nothing important, just the stupid replica. At least, that was how he felt. But it seemed he was the only one. After all, even his mother had kept his things, if his suspicion was correct.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something. In the basement, I found…the replica's things." He met her eyes. "I thought they would be thrown out."

She seemed to deflate. "Are you angry?"

How could he say yes when she said it so sorrowfully? He inhaled deeply.

"I just don't understand why you would want to keep them." His throat tightened. "I'm your son, not him."

"Darling," she began sadly, "of course you're my son. You will always be my son, nothing could change that, you must know that." She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to her, pushing his hair back with her other hand.

"Then what about him?"

She looked deeply into his eyes. "When he came to us, I thought he was my son, so of course I would love and care for him as if that were true. Would you expect any less of me? Even if he wasn't the son I thought he was, he was still my son just the same, because of the memories we created together." She stroked his hair again. "Please do not misunderstand me. My love for him did not make my love for you any less."

He looked away from her, embarrassed at the tears that had formed in his eyes. "I just… still don't understand…Why? What was so damn special about him?" He drew from her angrily, standing. "Ever since I've come home, I still don't feel like I have my life back! I feel like I'm living in his shadow, even though he was nothing but a worthless copy - !"

When he turned to face her again, she was weeping. His anger vanished like smoke, replaced by an inexplicable guilt.

"I'm so sorry for all the pain you've suffered," she sobbed. "I can't stand to see you so eaten up inside like this!" She drew her hand in front of her mouth, trying to hide her soft sobs.

"Mother…Please don't cry…" He knew his mother was sensitive, but he had never been the one to make her upset, much less cry. It made him feel ill.

"What can I do to help you?" She asked as she dried her tears.

"I don't know, I just…" He almost regretting spilling out so many of his deepest thoughts and feelings, but he couldn't stop himself. "No matter what I do, it doesn't feel right. I'm still so angry, and I don't know why!"

"Are you angry with him? Your replica?" She asked softly.

"Of course! He took everything from me! If he hadn't existed, I wouldn't be like this!" He shouted.

A deep voice came from the doorway. "If he hadn't, you would have died in Akzeriuth."

"Father…" It took all of Asch's self-control not to gape.

"I understand your feelings, Luke, and I won't tell you to change them." He continued. "As much as I hate Van for what he did to our family, his creation of that replica ultimately allowed you to come back to us."

"So, did you see him as a son, too?" Was that why his memories of his father were so much more closed off? Did his father change after his kidnapping? Perhaps the closeness that he had been feeling towards his father lately was something that his replica had grown up with. Did he have a change of heart after losing his son once?

"No." He answered simply.

Suddenly Asch understood. His father had, in fact, been distant in his childhood. Likely during the replica's years of life, as well. His father must have read his score on the day of his birth, and seen the prediction that he would die in Akzeriuth. Somehow, this didn't make him feel any better.

"What's your point, then? Should I be grateful to him?" He asked sarcastically.

"Luke!" His mother chastised.

He frowned. "No. My point is that what matters is that you are here now, not him." He crossed his arms. "It would do no good to focus on him any longer, for any of us." At the latter half of his statement, he gave his wife a pointed look.

The atmosphere became stiflingly uncomfortable as a long pause settled over the conversation. This was going nowhere.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed." Not bothering to wait for a response, he turned and left.

On the way back to his room, Asch struggled not to let his thoughts return to the issue of the replica, and how he'd somehow stolen the favor of everyone around him. He tried to think of anything else – something productive, maybe. If he could drown himself in work tasks, he wouldn't have time to think about any of this. But the bitter taste in his throat wouldn't go away. As he strode down the hallway, the servants gave him a wide berth, avoiding eye contact with him. He wasn't sure if his anger was giving off a repulsive aura, or if it was the facial expression he was likely making, but he gave it little thought. He would rather not speak to anyone right now anyway.

That night as he lay in bed, the burn of his anger had diminished, but traces of it clung to him like remnants of miasma. He lay in his bed, waiting for sleep to claim him.

But it never did.

His thoughts kept returning to the day's events, and the question he couldn't get out of his mind:

What was so special about that replica to everyone else?

He angrily flipped onto his side. No, he wouldn't think about this. He just needed to relax and have a good night's sleep. He would wake up in the morning, and forget any of this day had even happened.

But what about his mother and Natalia? What would happen the next time something reminded either one of them of the replica? He let out a forceful breath. Chastising himself again, he turned over once more and closed his eyes.

But he still felt wide awake. He lay on his back again, lying perfectly still for as long as he could. For a while, it almost worked. But after some time, he sat up frustrated. It had been two hours, but he hadn't been able to fully fall asleep.

Stupid damn replica.

Why the hell would anyone miss him? He saw the idiot's journal – saw what an insufferable brat he was. But why was it just him? The journal was a testament to his horrible personality, and if they would just read it, they would surely see –

And suddenly an idea hit him like a Liger running full-speed. He could use that journal to prove that he was right – that the replica wasn't worth their love or their grief. If he could just make his mother and Natalia see the truth, they would forget about the replica. Then he could have his life back; his world could start to turn again. Surely, the subject of the replica would come up once again. When it did, he would be prepared. Hell, if he had to, he would study that journal like a history book.

He glanced out his window at the night sky, realizing he wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon. Perhaps that was for the best; he could use the cover of nighttime to retrieve the journal unseen, and look through it in his room, away from prying eyes. His decision made, he threw his covers aside and made way for the door. The sooner the replica's memory faded, the better.