LM0045 Last Moon Mini Theater III: Echoes of Deception 

The soft light of the desk lamp flickered dimly, casting long shadows against the cluttered walls of Mizuki's small home office. The air felt thick—heavy with tension and the suffocating weight of memories, regret, and fear. Mizuki hadn't been able to shake the thought that something was wrong. Something was off. The way Nancy had been looking at her lately, as if she knew something Mizuki didn't. As if she was waiting for the moment when it all would come crashing down.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, but no matter how much she tried to concentrate, she couldn't focus. Her eyes were drawn to the screen in front of her, the images of her online persona being torn apart. The words, the vicious insults, the accusations—all spreading like wildfire across the internet. People were calling her "Cringe Queen," "Ignorant," and worse. It was a smear campaign that felt personal. But how? Why?

Mizuki could barely breathe, her heart pounding in her chest. How had things gotten this bad? And then it hit her. The account—the account she had given Lizbeth access to when they first started working together. Lizbeth had always been the one who kept her grounded, the woman who had supported her through everything.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through the damning evidence. The screenshots. The fake accounts. Everything pointed to one thing—Lizbeth.

The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped in. She closed it softly behind her and locked eyes with Mizuki, a look of concern masking the cold calculation Mizuki had come to expect from her.

"Mizuki, we need to talk," Nancy's voice was calm, controlled, as if she was holding something back. "About Lizbeth."

Mizuki's stomach lurched at the mention of her name. Lizbeth. No, not Lizbeth. Mizuki couldn't believe it. She couldn't let herself believe it. But the evidence was right there, staring her in the face.

"What about her?" Mizuki's voice cracked, betraying the turmoil within her. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to push Nancy away. She didn't want to hear this. Not now. Not from her.

Nancy sat across from her, her gaze steady, almost too steady. "I don't know how to say this, but we have to face the truth. Lizbeth has been using your name to destroy you. She's the one behind the smear campaign."

Mizuki felt her breath catch in her throat. Her eyes widened, her hands going numb. "What are you talking about? That's not possible. Lizbeth would never do that."

But Nancy wasn't backing down. She leaned forward, her voice low but firm. "It's true, Mizuki. You've seen the evidence. The accounts linked to yours, the fake profiles—all of it points to Lizbeth. The same woman who's been by your side, helping you through everything. The one who's always been so loyal, right?"

Mizuki's mind was racing, a million thoughts colliding at once. No. It couldn't be true. Lizbeth had been everything to her. A mother, a friend, a confidante. She had been there for Mizuki when no one else was. She had fought for her, supported her when the world had been against her.

Mizuki shook her head, trying to reject the thought. "It doesn't make sense. I—I gave her those accounts. I trusted her. She wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't?" Nancy's voice was almost pitying now. "She's been using those accounts to tear you down, Mizuki. To make you look like a fool. To destroy your career, your reputation. She knew your weaknesses, and she used them. She knew how to hurt you. And it worked, didn't it?"

Mizuki felt her throat tighten, the suffocating pressure of the truth beginning to weigh down on her. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The woman she had trusted, the woman she had allowed into her life, into her world—had she really been the one who set her up? Had she really been the one who betrayed her so completely?

"No," Mizuki whispered, shaking her head furiously. "She couldn't. She wouldn't."

But deep down, a voice inside her was telling her the truth. The accounts were hers. She had given Lizbeth the access. Lizbeth had been the one to manage them, to keep them active, to make sure everything was running smoothly. How could she have been so blind? How could she have missed it?

Nancy leaned back in her chair, her eyes cold but satisfied. "I'm sorry, Mizuki. But you need to see the truth. Lizbeth's been playing you. She's been playing all of us. And now it's time to make sure she doesn't get away with it."

Mizuki stood up, her legs trembling beneath her as she walked to the window. Her hands gripped the edge of the sill as she stared out at the street below. She had trusted Lizbeth. She had promised to protect her, to keep her safe. But now, that trust had been shattered. Lizbeth had used her—had used her kindness, her loyalty, her belief in her. She had made Mizuki look like a fool in front of everyone.

"Mizuki," Nancy's voice was soft now, almost sympathetic, though Mizuki could hear the edge of something darker beneath it. "I know this is hard to hear. But you have to do something about this. You can't let her destroy you."

Mizuki turned slowly, her eyes filled with tears she hadn't been able to stop. She had no idea how it had come to this—how her world had come crashing down so completely. She had trusted Lizbeth. And now, that trust was gone.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She felt empty, hollow. The betrayal was too much to bear.

Nancy stood up, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll take care of everything. I'll make sure Lizbeth is removed from the picture. You don't need to worry about her anymore."

But Mizuki didn't respond. She couldn't. All she could do was stand there, paralyzed, as the weight of the truth settled over her like a cold, suffocating fog.

The betrayal was final. Lizbeth, the woman she had loved like a sister, had turned on her. And Mizuki had no one to blame but herself.

Days later, when Lizbeth disappeared, the pieces began to fall into place. Mizuki had confronted her. She had fired her. Told her to leave. Lizbeth had pleaded her innocence, but Mizuki had been too consumed by her own pain, by the gnawing feeling of betrayal, to listen.

And now, as the weeks passed, Mizuki would find herself remembering something chilling. The account—Lizbeth's account—was still active. Still being used.

By someone.

And that someone, Mizuki realized, was Nancy.

Tears spilled down Mizuki's cheeks as the truth hit her like a freight train.

Nancy had orchestrated it all. She had set Lizbeth up. She had framed her.

And Mizuki had fallen for it.

The news came three weeks later. Lizbeth, her ex-husband, and their child were all found dead. The police ruled it a murder-suicide.

Mizuki couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. She couldn't escape the guilt, the suffocating grief. She had failed her. She had failed Lizbeth, the one person who had been there for her, only to let her be consumed by lies.

And now it was too late.

"I'm sorry," Mizuki whispered into the dark, the words falling from her lips like a prayer. "I'm so sorry, Lizbeth."