Electra’s POV

After listening to everything Irina had just told me about her life, I made a decision in my head. I wasn’t going to ask her directly about what Roxana had told me earlier. From the way Irina had spoken about her family, I already had a strong feeling that Roxana had been telling the truth. If her father was the kind of man who treated his own daughter like a failed soldier simply because she wasn’t as strong as her brothers, then it wasn’t hard to imagine him threatening to disown her for something like refusing to cut ties with me.

Still, I didn’t want to just throw the question at her the way I normally would. The normal me without all these strange emotions I was suddenly feeling might have been blunt and careless about things like that, but right now I felt like doing that would only make the conversation worse.

Irina had just opened up about something deeply personal, and the last thing I wanted was to make it sound like I had been digging into her life only to question her about it afterward.

So instead, I turned slightly toward her and spoke carefully. "Irina," I said, my voice more serious than it had been earlier. "I want you to know something. You can count on me for anything. I know I’m not exactly the same person you remember, and I know I don’t have the memories that made us close in the first place, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll try my best to be like the old Electra. At least enough to listen."

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, mostly because I wasn’t used to saying things like that. I didn’t even know if I fully understood what kind of person the old Electra had been, but I could see from the way Irina talked about her that she had trusted that version of me a lot, and if I was going to keep these friendships around me, then the least I could do was try to give her something she could still rely on.

Irina stared at me for a moment after I finished speaking, clearly surprised by what she had just heard. Then she let out a light chuckle, shaking her head a little as if she found the situation amusing. "Well," she said with a small smile, "that’s probably the sweetest thing you’ve said to me since you lost your memories."

I shrugged slightly, unsure what the proper response to that kind of comment was supposed to be. Being called sweet wasn’t exactly something I expected to hear very often. Before I could say anything else, Irina suddenly reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small pack. She opened it casually and pulled out a thin white stick that I didn’t recognize at all.

After that, she began patting the other pockets of her jacket like she was searching for something important. A few seconds passed before she let out a groan of frustration that made me raise a brow in confusion.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching her movements with curiosity.

She waved the thin stick in front of me before answering. "This," she said, "is called a cigarette."

I stared at the object like it was something completely foreign. "And?" I asked slowly, still not understanding why she was suddenly focused on it.

Irina smirked a little before answering. "Just so you know, before your memory loss, you and I were smoke buddies."

That statement only made me more confused. "You’re telling me I used to smoke those things?" I asked.

"Every day," she replied casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She checked her pockets again before letting out another annoyed sigh. "Damn it," she muttered. "I forgot to bring a lighter."

I frowned slightly, trying to understand the problem. "Why do you need a lighter?" I asked.

Irina held the cigarette up again and pointed at the end of it. "The only way to smoke one of these is to light it with fire," she explained patiently. "Without fire, it’s just a stick."

I stared at the cigarette for a moment before asking the obvious question. "Where exactly are you supposed to light it from?"

Irina blinked at me like the answer should have been obvious before pointing directly to the end of the cigarette. "Right here," she said.

Without another word, I reached forward and held the end of it lightly between my fingers. The heat in my skin responded instantly, something I had grown used to over the past few days. Within seconds, the tip of the cigarette began to glow with a faint orange light.

Irina’s eyes lit up with amusement when she saw it. "You know," she said with a quiet laugh, "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how cool it is that you can do that."

She took the cigarette from my hand and placed it between her lips before inhaling slowly. A moment later she blew the smoke back out into the air, and the smell drifted directly toward me.

The moment it reached my nose, I recoiled slightly in shock. "What the hell is that smell?" I asked, genuinely stunned by how awful it was.

Irina laughed softly at my reaction. "That’s the smell of a cigarette," she said.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "You’re telling me I used to smoke that?" I asked again, still not believing it.

"Yes," she replied calmly. "And you were very good at it." I stared at her like she had just admitted something insane.

"That smells terrible," I said bluntly.

Irina shrugged and took another slow drag before answering. "Maybe," she admitted. "But it’s calming. Once you get used to the smell again, there’s a chance you’ll start smoking again too. Then we can go back to our old routine of standing on this rooftop and smoking together every day."

I scoffed loudly at that idea. "I highly doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon," I replied.

Irina simply smiled and continued smoking like my opinion didn’t matter very much. For a moment we stood there quietly, watching the smoke drift into the air while the campus below us slowly came to life. A few students were already moving between buildings, and the breeze on the rooftop made the entire place feel strangely peaceful, but I knew that peace wasn’t going to last very long because there was something important I still needed to say.

Eventually I turned toward Irina again. "There’s something I need to tell you," I said.

The moment the words left my mouth, Irina looked at me with suspicion. "I don’t know why," she said slowly, "but I suddenly have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever you’re about to say."

I nodded slightly. "You’re probably not going to," I admitted.

She sighed and took one last drag from the cigarette before flicking the ashes over the edge of the rooftop.

"Alright," she said, turning back to face me. "Go ahead. Hit me."

I leaned against the railing and let out a quiet breath before speaking. "Well... I’ve decided something."

Irina raised a brow. "And what exactly did you decide?" she asked cautiously.

I looked straight at her before answering calmly. "I decided that I’m going to become the queen of this kingdom. And my plan to take over begins today."

For a moment, Irina froze completely. The cigarette was still between her fingers, but she had stopped moving entirely as she stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was joking. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t joking at all. She slowly lowered the cigarette from her mouth, her eyes still fixed on me with disbelief.

"You’re serious," she said carefully.

"Yes," I replied.

Irina ran a hand over her face and let out a long groan. "Electra," she said slowly, "please tell me you’re joking."

I shook my head. "I’m not."

She stared at me for another moment before leaning her back against the railing and looking up at the sky like she was trying to gather her thoughts. "I can’t believe this," she muttered.

I watched her calmly. "Are you going to support me?" I asked.

Irina looked at me again, and this time the disbelief in her eyes had changed into something else entirely. It was still frustration, but there was also a strange kind of admiration hidden behind it. After a long moment of silence, she let out a tired laugh.

"You know," she said, shaking her head slowly, "most people would think this idea is insane." She paused briefly before adding, "But knowing you... you might actually be crazy enough to pull it off."

I allowed myself a small smile. "Good," I said. "Because I’m going to need your help."