The mirror did not lie.
But L wished it would.
Each time he looked at his reflection, it stared back with colder eyes. A man wearing his skin, but not his soul. The L of this world had no hesitation, no questions, no grief. Only control. Calculated control, masked as divine justice.
L turned away.
The air was heavy tonight. Rain tapped against the windows like guilt trying to break in. He sat beside the desk, lit only by a dim green lamp, and opened the drawer beneath the Death Note.
Inside was a white file, sealed with a gold wax stamp bearing a single letter: E.
The name inside made his breath catch.
“Elleven.”
Not a code. A girl. Barely seventeen. A genius like him. She had once led a task force of resistance fighters against Kira. Against… him.
She had failed.
And now, her name was in the Death Note too.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxDlAHfMvYR
Marked. Not crossed.
He hadn’t killed her yet.
He flipped the file open. Letters she wrote. Broadcasts she sent. Lines that cut deep.
“Kira is not justice. Kira is fear in the shape of a man.”
“Even gods bleed when truth finds them.”
L closed his eyes. Somewhere in that voice, he heard himself. Not the Kira version. The real L. The one who sat barefoot in chairs, solving riddles, chewing sweets, watching the world from a distance.
“Is this my punishment?”13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP59448tiUF
“To kill the version of myself I once admired?”
The door creaked.
He didn’t move. He already knew who it was.
“Commander,” a man whispered. Tall, suited, one of the cult’s top operatives—face hidden behind a red mask.
“You summoned me?”
L nodded slowly. “Bring me everything we have on Elleven. And… the list of all names I requested erased from the upcoming purge.”
The man hesitated. “Forgive me, but… is there doubt in your heart?”
L turned his head slightly, voice soft but sharp.
“Would a god need to explain himself?”
The man bowed and left.
As the door closed, L exhaled.
He wasn’t ready to let the world know he was changing. Not yet. But he had to move quickly.
Because something in this world didn’t add up.
That night, he returned to the headquarters’ deepest level—a hidden bunker with no cameras, no guards. Only a vault, and a terminal. He scanned his retina. The door hissed open.
Inside: another notebook.
Not the Death Note.
This one was labeled: The Reverse Protocol.
It was created by himself—or rather, the other version of L from this world.
“In case of mental contamination or memory split due to interdimensional contact, this record holds truth.”
L froze.
His other self had prepared for this.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYlqlzpmYrh
He had expected it.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiX4DnejILc
He had felt the coming of his past self… and feared it.
He opened the notebook.
Lines greeted him, scrawled in L’s precise writing:
“There is another world. I can feel it breathing through me. A version of myself still pure. Still… weak.”
“He will come. If he does, I must make sure he does not destroy what I’ve built.”
L stared at the last line, written in red ink.
“If two versions of L exist in one body, only one can survive.”
Somewhere far away, in an abandoned church cloaked in shadows, a figure lit a candle.
She had short white hair, a fractured eye, and fingers bruised from coding and climbing through dark systems.
Elleven.
She watched old footage on a cracked screen: Kira’s speeches. His recorded orders. And most importantly—his hesitation.
“He’s changing,” she whispered to herself.
Behind her, a voice murmured. “That’s dangerous.”
Her companion, a boy named Rhys, stepped forward. “If Kira has doubt, he’ll destroy us to protect the illusion.”
Elleven smiled sadly. “Or maybe… this is our only chance.”
She turned to the stained glass behind her. The image of an angel, shattered and stained.
“L once stood for justice. Maybe, just maybe… he can again.”
Back in the tower, L sat beside the Death Note, candles flickering around him. He placed Elleven’s file in front of him. Her photo stared back—confident, determined, filled with fire.
“Why haven’t I killed you?” he murmured.
He flipped the Death Note open. The page with her name was still clean. No cause. No time. No intention. Just a name, waiting.
“Was I afraid of something?”13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFjEhsovn0E
“Or was I… protecting her?”
A sudden sharp pain flashed behind his eyes. He clutched his head.
Visions.
Not memories.
But emotions.
Fear. Rage. Confusion.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJj1iIHy2fB
Flashes of Light Yagami’s face. The real Kira. His laughter. The red glow of a watch.
A chessboard. A candle. A gun.
And then—Watari’s voice.
“You must decide. Who are you, L?”
He screamed. The pain vanished.
The Shinigami appeared again, hovering with a grin.
“You’re breaking,” it said. “Your soul is splitting in two. How long can you survive like this?”
L stood up.
“I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I will find the truth… even if I have to hunt myself to do it.”
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