Delia, be my wife!

The silence inside the building was almost hypnotic. The space filled with offices was empty. Old documents, forgotten pens, and a few cups with the remains of long-cold coffee lay on the tables. However, there was not a single person, not even the walls showed any traces of human presence. Dust rose slowly with each step she took, creating the feeling that no one had been here for a long time.

The building looked like an abandoned office area, too much trash, scraps of furniture, but at the same time it felt like it had been abandoned suddenly, without warning. Nothing was damaged enough to indicate some kind of cataclysm. She walked down a long hallway, past closed office doors, each with a paper clutter strewn about. It didn't look like people had ever worked here. Everything was frozen in time.

Walking from one office to another, Delia Asia Vieira noticed several broken computers, smashed monitors, empty plastic chairs. Clearly, no one had worked here for a long time. Even the strange noises from outside – from the sounds of work machines and the rumble of the construction site – did not penetrate this quiet, abandoned place.

She continued to move forward, her steps becoming more cautious. She sensed that something was wrong. Not just the absence of people, but something deeper, something wrong with the very atmosphere of this place. Every step she took raised dust, and the sound of her footsteps echoing off the cold walls seemed unusually loud in this empty world.

In one of the offices, she noticed several interesting things. On a table were old magazines and reports, the writing on which could still be discerned, but they were covered in a layer of dust, as if no one had touched them for years. In the corner, on a shelf, were old plastic boxes that had apparently contained documents, now all bent and broken with age. In the most prominent place was a statuette - a small figurine of a person, which clearly did not belong in an office environment.

Delia Asia Vieira climbed the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the empty building that, despite its apparent abandonment, still held secrets. The top floor was silent, only the faint creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet disturbed the eerie calm. The dim lamps barely illuminated the space, and everything around was covered in a layer of dust - the feeling that no one had been here for a long time. But one room caught her attention, the door of which was slightly open. She pushed it, and before her eyes opened a scene similar to a strange museum from the past.

In the center of the room stood an old desk with a computer turned on. Next to it were two large boxes, one black, with illegible traces of time, the other white, as if it had just been brought in. Their surfaces were covered with a layer of dust, but something about these objects caught her attention. Maybe it was the unusually neat arrangement of the things, or the strange contrast between the old and the new. But Delia Asia Vieira did not have time to think about it for long - her gaze, sliding around the room, suddenly caught on a figure near the wall.

A young man, about twenty years old, stood motionless, as if waiting. He did not move, but only stared at her. Delia Asia Vieira froze for a moment, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. The boy seemed to be her complete opposite - his bright eyes and calm face did not express fear, only a certain wariness, as if he was sure that she should be here.

"You... who are you?" she asked, trying to remain calm, but her voice sounded slightly shaky.

The guy stepped forward, and she noticed that he was holding an old photograph. He looked at her, and finally spoke.

– I am Alexander York. And I am your brother. It turns out that you and I are more than just relatives. You are my fiancée.

Delia Asia Vieira froze. She felt all the thoughts and memories of her life begin to mix into one incomprehensible mass. It was impossible. She couldn't imagine that this young man was her brother, and that he was claiming that she was his fiancée. Those words didn't make sense. He was clearly saying something that wasn't true, or trying to make her believe something strange.

"What did you say?" she managed to say, feeling something cold and unpleasant begin to squeeze her throat. "You can't be my brother. You... you're getting something mixed up."

Alexander didn't back down. He came closer, his face serious and his gaze full of confidence.

"You don't remember?" His voice was quiet, but there was a strange urgency to it. "It was part of a plan that you and I were supposed to carry out. You're my fiancée. And together, we... we have to do something. You need to remember."

His words hung in the air like a fog that could not be dispelled. Delia Asia Vieira felt her mind begin to fill with doubts. What if it was true? But what if this was another game, another attempt to manipulate her?

"I... I don't remember anything," she whispered, her voice unsure, but her mind was filled with images she couldn't understand. "It's impossible."

"You must not doubt," he said, his voice almost gentle. "We are family, and together we can bring back all that was lost."

But Delia Asia Vieira couldn't understand Alexander. His confidence in his words and the way he looked at her were so strong that she felt something cold begin to squeeze her insides. He was sure that it wasn't just her standing in front of him - he was sure that she was someone else.

"Isn't this Delia York, daughter of Damien Thorn?" he asked, his voice urgent, almost demanding.

Everything clicked into place in her mind. This boy, this young man standing before her, had mistaken her for someone else. And it wasn't just a glitch. It was a mistake she couldn't explain. He'd mistaken her for a girl named Delia York—Damien Thorn's real-life daughter. The thought flashed through her that she should have laughed happily, or told him he'd made a mistake. But instead, she felt her pulse quicken, her mind racing.