I admitted it. I couldn't do it sober, so I injected myself with liquid courage.
“I enjoy your company.”
“I adore you in every way.”
“... I am perplexed.”
Something seems odd. His voice is a little deeper, his height is a little different, and his figure is much more distinctive. Indeed, upon closer inspection, even the hair color that reflected the moonlight was insane. It is not you. It is none other than Duke Cabel Willard, dubbed the battlefield's 'Grim Reaper.'
"... May I apologise?"
“From now on, refrain from referring to me by weird titles. Instead, address me by name.”
His lips, which were normally stiff, curved into a smile. He appeared as though he would assassinate me quickly if the truth about my phony confession came to light.