Tom's voice was barely a whisper. "Then what is the true me? If I'm always hidden?"

Emilia met his eyes. "Tom, the real you is who keeps himself as the center. Not like before, where you always thought about what others will think. Always keep yourself as the center. Don't care what others think about you. Be yourself."

She took a breath. "Ask the girl out you like. But don't keep her as the center of your life. Girls come and go. But if you kept a girl as your center, when she leaves, everything you built until then will collapse. Don't make her your world. Be you. Do something that benefits you."

Tom's heart pounded. "But... the girl I liked is you, Emilia."

Emilia's eyes widened for just a moment. Then she composed herself, her expression becoming gentle but firm.

"I don't like people who came after me just because they want attention or just want a girlfriend," she said carefully. "You liked me maybe because you thought, 'Why is everyone approaching her? What is so special about her?' Then your mind fooled you and made you feel that you like me."

Tom started to protest, but she continued.

"Because if you get the attention of a person whom everyone wants, then you can really rest assured that you are special. But love is not something that wants attention."

She leaned forward. "Love is the curiosity about the other person. How much curious are you about me? Even if I today give you attention, after that you will feel empty. Because now all your excuses are over. You got me, but still you are empty. That only means you never loved me."

Tom felt something crack inside his chest.

"But if you were curious about me," Emilia said softly, "you would have asked me: 'Why are you always so cheerful and full of energy? Why do you always try to excel at everything? Why are you trying even though your father is rich and you don't need to try that hard?' That's what curiosity about someone is."

She shook her head. "But what you wanted is just for me to accept you. And then what else? After that, something you wanted with my body, and then done. But if someone is truly in love, you would have been curious about me—like I am about you."

Tom stared at her, stunned.

"You are not handsome nor rich," Emilia continued, and there was no cruelty in her voice, only truth. "But still I like you. Because I want to know you more. I don't want your body nor your power of writing. I just wanted to know you. But you just wanted my attention. That's why you don't like me."

The silence stretched between them.

"Then what is love?" Tom finally asked, his voice breaking. "How do I know that I like someone?"

Emilia smiled sadly. "You will not know if you truly like someone. But rather, you would be curious about them. You want to know more about them. That's what true liking is. If that person is also curious in you as much as you are in them—then this is what a true love or relationship is. You don't want each other's attention. You want to know more about each other."

Tom felt the weight of years of delusion lifting and crushing him at the same time.

"What should I do now?" he whispered. "If my life is a lie and the girl I liked also likes me, but I don't like her at all?"

"Do what you truly want," Emilia said simply. "And as for me? Tell me when you are finally curious in me."

"How should I know I truly like something?" Tom asked desperately. "Can't it be another lie by me?"

Emilia stood, brushing off her clothes. "There isn't a perfect revelation that you like it. Instead, you have to try some things that you liked but you stopped them—just because you saw someone better doing it, or thought 'what will people say?' You have to try everything out."

Tom remained silent for a while, her words settling into the cracks of his broken certainty.

Then, quietly: "I know what I want to do. What I truly want."

Emilia waited.

"Writing stories is the best thing I ever done," Tom said, and for the first time, there was no calculation in his voice. Just truth. "Creating my characters, and then when I see them achieving things—even though the story is decided—I genuinely feel good after writing them."

He looked up at her, and something in his eyes had changed.

"Emilia, let's write something genuinely good together. So that we can finally defeat that Mr. Who guy."

Emilia's lips curved into a slight smile. She chuckled softly.

"Let's do it then."

And for the first time in years, Tom felt like he was moving toward something real—not because someone was pulling him, but because he was finally choosing to walk.