Life In The Limelight : The Depressed Boy Has 4 Yandere Girlfriends-Chapter 37: Comfort

For nearly three months, Holo continued his daily conversations with Eleanor. Each day, he chipped away at her defenses, refusing to be deterred by her insults, sarcasm, or attempts to push him away. Slowly but surely, the cracks in her armor began to widen. Her sharp words softened, her hostility lessened, and, most importantly, she started answering his questions—albeit begrudgingly.

One day, as they sat across from each other in her dimly lit room, Holo decided to take a risk.

"Eleanor," he said, his tone calm but firm, "do you like me?"

Eleanor froze, her green eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair. "What kind of question is that?" she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. "Are you fishing for compliments now?"

"It's a simple question," Holo said, undeterred. "Do you like me?"

Eleanor scoffed, crossing her arms. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I like someone like you?"

Holo studied her carefully, his gaze steady. "You're lying."

Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing again. "Excuse me?"

"You're lying," Holo repeated, his voice unwavering. "I can see it in your eyes. You can mock me all you want, but I know the truth."

Eleanor's jaw tightened, and she turned her gaze away from him. "You don't know anything," she muttered. "You're just some idiot who doesn't know when to quit."

"Maybe," Holo said with a small smile. "But I'm not wrong, am I?"

She clenched her fists, her expression hardening. "You're insufferable."

"And you're avoiding the question," Holo said, leaning forward slightly. "Why can't you just admit it?"

Eleanor glared at him, her green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something softer, more vulnerable. "Fine," she snapped, her voice sharp. "You want the truth? Yes, I like you. Happy now?"

Holo blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden admission. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," he said gently. "I just want you to be honest with yourself."

Eleanor let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Honest with myself? You make it sound so simple. But it's not, Holo. You're... you're a puppetmaster. A manipulative womanizer who's got all of us wrapped around your little finger."

Holo's expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. "I'm not a puppetmaster, Eleanor. And I'm not a womanizer. I'm just someone who cares about you."

She scoffed, though her voice lacked its usual venom. "You're only saying that because it's part of your act. You'll get your money and then walk away, leaving us all behind."

"That's not true," Holo said firmly. "I'm not doing this for the money anymore. I care about you, Eleanor. All of you. And I'm not going to abandon you."

Eleanor stared at him, her expression unreadable. "You say that now," she said quietly. "But how can I trust you? How do I know you won't change?"

"You'll just have to take a chance on me," Holo said, his voice steady. "The same way I'm taking a chance on you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between them thick.

The next day, Holo entered Eleanor's room with a new resolve. After months of persistence, he had finally managed to get her to admit her feelings for him, even if begrudgingly. Now, he wanted to go deeper—to understand her fully. He needed to know her story, the real story, from her own lips.

As he sat across from her, he decided not to waste any time. "Eleanor," he began, his tone soft but firm, "I want you to tell me your story. I want to know everything."

Eleanor's green eyes flicked up to meet his, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You already know most of it, don't you? I'm sure Graves filled you in."

"I want to hear it from you," Holo said. "Not from Graves. Not from anyone else. Just you."

She let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in her chair. "Why? So you can play the hero and pretend to understand me?"

"No," Holo said, shaking his head. "Because I care about you. And I want to understand what you've been through."

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Eleanor's smirk faded, replaced by a guarded expression. For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze drifting to the floor. Then, with a heavy sigh, she began to speak.

"I was a good daughter once," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Or at least, I thought I was. My father was... a powerful man. A crime boss. He ruled with an iron fist, and everyone feared him. I wanted to make him proud, so I did everything he asked of me. No questions, no hesitation."

Holo listened intently, his chest tightening as she continued.

"I learned how to manipulate people before I even hit puberty," Eleanor said, her green eyes distant. "He taught me how to lie, how to read people, how to exploit their weaknesses. And when I got older, he taught me how to kill. I did it all for him—for his praise, for his approval. And for a while, it worked. He called me his prodigy, his greatest asset. I thought I was making him proud."

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and her voice grew colder. "But then I made a mistake. I failed a mission—a stupid, simple mission that should've been easy. And you know what he did?"

Holo shook his head, his heart sinking.

"He berated me," Eleanor said, her voice trembling with bitterness. "He called me useless, pathetic, a failure. He beat me until I couldn't stand, and then he told me that if I weren't his daughter, I'd already be dead."

Holo's fists clenched, anger bubbling in his chest. "That's... horrible."

Eleanor let out a hollow laugh. "That's just how he was. And it only got worse. Every time I screwed up, the punishments got harsher. He made sure I knew just how worthless I was. Eventually, I couldn't do anything right. Every mission I took ended in failure because I was too afraid of what would happen if I messed up."

She looked up at Holo, her green eyes filled with a mixture of anger and pain. "And then one day, he kicked me out. He said I wasn't worth the trouble anymore. He told me I was a disgrace to the family name and that I'd never amount to anything. And that was it. The man I spent my entire life trying to please threw me away like garbage."

Holo's chest ached as he watched her, his heart breaking for the girl who had endured so much. "Eleanor," he said softly, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said, her voice sharp. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," Holo said firmly. "It's compassion. You didn't deserve any of that."

She scoffed, looking away. "Maybe not. But it doesn't matter now. That's who I am. That's what I've become."

"No," Holo said, his voice steady. "That's who he made you. But it's not who you have to be."

Eleanor's gaze snapped back to him, her green eyes narrowing. "You think you can just say a few kind words and fix everything? That you can erase years of pain and turn me into some kind of saint?"

"No," Holo admitted. "I can't erase your past, and I can't make the pain go away. But I can stand by you while you figure out who you want to be. I can help you move forward, if you'll let me."

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. "You're an idiot," she muttered. "But maybe... maybe you're not wrong."

Holo smiled faintly. It wasn't a full breakthrough, but it was progress. And for now, that was enough.