Chapter 90 When The World Demands A War (Demilia’s POV)
People love conflict. Not because it always means something just because it’s entertaining. And when Riven Hale walked out of that private meeting, I felt it. We weren’t just two people shaped by the same hidden system anymore. The world wanted us as a show.
It started with a leak. Definitely not by accident. Someone planned it. Suddenly, a blurry photo of Riven and me, just sitting across from each other in that quiet lounge, showed up online. No details. No captions. Just a loaded suggestion.
Within hours, the internet went wild.
“Rivalry of the Century?”
“Two Titans of Influence in Secret Meeting”
“Demilia vs. Riven: Ideological Showdown Incoming”
The story itself was just not the story either of us wanted.
Ethan paced the briefing room, tense as a thunderstorm.
“They’re making this out to be a war,” he said, voice sharp. “Like your enemies.”
“They want a fight,” Liora shot back. “And they want everyone to pick a side.”
Adrian just rubbed his temples. “Worse, some news sites are calling it a power struggle.”
My chest went tight.
“They’re not just twisting the meeting,” I said. “They’re inventing a rivalry.”
I scrolled through headline after headline, my stomach in knots. Some called Riven the rational balance to my “emotional activism.” Others said I was the fire Riven needed to control. It was like being split into cardboard cutouts. Not people. Not survivors. Just…roles.
That night, I got a message from Riven:
They’re turning this into something it isn’t.
We need to talk.
We set up another call, virtual this time for safety. Riven’s face appeared, composed but clearly stressed.
“They want us to tear each other apart,” Riven said.
“I know,” I answered, voice low.
“They’re baiting us. If we lose our cool, they win.”
I couldn’t help a bitter smile. “You think I’m the one who’ll get emotional?”
They gave a tired exhale. “Fair.”
“They’re already lining up a televised debate,” Riven said. “They want us to go head-to-head.”
I shook my head. “I won’t let them turn this into a circus.”
“They’ll try anyway,” Riven said. “Conflict sells.”
“Then we change the story,” I said, thinking it through.
Riven’s eyes sharpened. “How?”
“We refuse to fight. Publicly. Loud and clear. Together.”
Silence. Then Riven nodded.
“That would ruin the story they’re building.”
“That’s exactly why we do it,” I said.
Still, the pressure didn’t let up. Producers called. Journalists pushed for statements. Sponsors picked sides. The world wanted a fight, and the less we gave them, the more aggressive the narrative got.
Commentators called Riven my intellectual superior. Others said I was using emotion for power. Some even whispered we were secretly working together. None of it felt true.
One night, as I scrolled through the mess, my phone buzzed. New number.
You weren’t supposed to meet Riven yet.
My heart skipped.
Who is this? I typed back.
Instant reply.
Someone who remembers the original design.
My pulse was hammered.
Adrian traced the message within hours.
“It’s bouncing through some ancient servers,” he said. “Stuff nobody uses anymore. Old-school encryption.”
My stomach twisted a little tighter.
“So someone from the original program is still out there,” I whispered.
Adrian nodded. “Yeah. And they’re watching everything you and Riven do.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “So maybe this rivalry isn’t just the media.”
Liora’s voice was quiet. “Maybe someone’s pulling the strings.”
The thought settled on me, heavy as lead.
“They want us at each other’s throats,” I said. “That’s how they built this.”
That night, I called Riven again.
“We need to be honest,” I said. “This rivalry? It’s not by chance.”
“I figured,” Riven said. “Our programs were designed to cross paths.”
“To clash,” I said.
“Yeah. And maybe destroy each other. Ideologically, at least.”
A beat of silence.
“Or worse,” Riven added, voice barely above a whisper.
Then the next wave of pressure hit hard.
A big network blasted out the announcement: Riven Hale and I, live, on a global stage. The tagline practically shouted at me “Emotion vs Logic. Passion vs Reason. Who Will Shape the Future?” I just stared, stomach twisting.
“They’re turning us into cartoons,” I muttered.
Ethan didn’t look surprised. “They’re using your identities as ammo.”
Liora chimed in, grim. “If we say no, they’ll call us cowards. Or guilty. Maybe both.”
It was a neat little trap. Speak, and we’re their show. Stay silent, and we’re hiding something. Either way, they win.
Later that night, I sat by the window, city lights flickering outside. My unborn kicked, gentle and real, reminding me what mattered. I pressed a hand to my stomach and whispered, “They want a fight. They want me to be a spectacle.”
Anger bubbled up. “They already took my past,” I said quietly. “They’re not getting my integrity.”
By morning, I knew what I had to do.
“We’ll do the debate,” I told the team, “but on our terms.”
Ethan shot me a look. “What terms?”
“I’m not going after Riven,” I said. “I’m going after the system that shaped us.”
Liora’s eyes went wide. “That’s… bold.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But it’s the truth.”
I called Riven, laid it all out. “They want a fight. I want to tell the real story.”
Riven smiled, just a hint. “Let’s give them truth, not blood.”
The debate day hit like a thunderclap. Millions watching. Every word is about to be dissected.
We sat across from each other, bright lights everywhere, the stage gleaming, moderators hungry for drama.
The host boomed, “Tonight, we witnessed a clash of worldviews!”
I glanced at Riven. Their eyes met mine steady, not hostile. We’d both survived too much for that.
First question, a jab: “Demilia, people say your emotions manipulate the public. How do you answer?”
I breathed in. “I’m not here to manipulate anyone,” I said. “I’m here to talk about the systems getting rich off our division.”
The host blinked, caught off guard.
He turned to Riven: “You’re called the rational counter to Demilia’s passion. Is she a threat to you?”
Riven looked at me, then answered, calm. “No. She’s proof we were both shaped by forces we never chose.”
The studio fell quiet.
I leaned forward. “We were watching. Studied. Set up to play these roles.”
Gasps all around.
Riven picked up the thread. “They wanted us to fight. To split the public. To prove their ideas about control.”
The host stuttered, “Are you saying”
“I’m saying,” I cut in, “the entire rivalry was fake from the start.”
You could feel the shift in the room. This wasn’t a show anymore. It was something breaking open.
I stared into the camera. “They wanted emotion against logic. We choose humanity over all that.”
Riven nodded. “We’re done being weapons for people who never cared about our freedom.”
The broadcast exploded. Not as a feud, but as the truth. The internet lit up questions everywhere.
“Have we all been played?”
“How deep does this go?”
“Who else is being used?”
For once, the real architects and the ones behind it all felt the heat.
That night, Riven messaged: We broke the script.
I let out a shaky breath and smiled. We really did.
But even with that relief, a darker thought crept in: If their first plan failed, they’d just try something bigger. The next fight wouldn’t be about who won the debate. It’d be about power. Retaliation. Survival.
The architects were still out there, watching. And they weren’t done yet.