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DATE:5th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I woke up on a surgery table, where my father was dissecting my intestines.
"We're feeling very original today, aren't we?"
He responded by giving me a powerful slug to the cheek.
As I endured the torture, my mind wandered through the wreckage of my life. I had unwittingly—or perhaps indirectly—brought to life the fantasies of the apprentice whose master I'd killed.
This cursed ability consumed me now more than ever, even beyond the times I'd nearly been murdered. And then there was my father, flashing that menacing grin as though it still held power over me.
Did he truly believe his years of abuse still mattered to me? That I still carried the weight of his cruelty?
If I were to take what ...she... said for granted, then maybe yes, but I'm not so sure. It's not like I still quiver when I see him.
I don't dodge when he hits, and I don't clench my teeth from the pain. I have become accustomed to physical pain, more so than the kind induced by my degrading mental state from the drugs. So then, why am I still here? Still seeing his ugly mug?
'To not let go…' Does she mean the memories? Is it because I cannot see him anymore that I meet him in this form? The nightmares started after we were separated.
Yet I don't think I want to see him again.
This man deserves to rot in hell, so why is he the one punishing me? Is this meant to be my personal damnation? Come on, God!—you have all eternity to make me pay. Going after me in the finite time I have on Earth seems like cheating, doesn't it?
Some shamans would claim that since this technically happens inside my mind, I should be able to control it, but every attempt has failed. Even though this is my own mind and I'm aware I'm dreaming, the true master setting the rules is merely an observer. I realized long ago it wasn't actually my father. I doubt he's even truly conscious here. I wonder if he knows—if some part of him registers—that he's still hurting me without a second thought, even after all these years.
If he were back then, he would have gotten bored in a week at most. I must look like a monster right now, otherwise where would all that determination come from?
I know there's an observer because I've seen them—not as a figure or person, but usually just eyes watching from a distance. They vanish the moment I notice them, as if trying to make me question whether they were ever real. But I know they are. They've been careless, slipping up too many times for it to be a coincidence.
Wait—do I still have my abilities from the drugs in here? That's something I've never tested, mostly because I end up in this place at random, and timing it with taking drugs beforehand is nearly impossible. But I went to sleep early tonight. The super cocaine is still coursing through my veins!
Except... That wouldn't really help. What can I do with slowed time when I am tied to a table? Just like me, my father can regenerate in this place. What I need is that supplement from Maxwell's. With that, I may actually be able to break this cycle.
The more you know.
Father was currently pulling out my intestines.
"Do you ever think about how lonely we are in here?"
I received another fist to my cheek, but I wasn't done.
"You terrible man, visiting me all those years. Have you no shame?" He picked up a surgical scalpel and sliced into my tongue as I choked on my own blood. But I wouldn't die, no matter how much I bled.
I didn't even lose consciousness. He continued for hours, undisturbed and untiring, as though this were nothing more than a game to him. I pity my father and the way he's being manipulated.
Then I woke up.
I opened my eyes to find myself back in the dorm room. I was mentally drained from the drugs, and my hands ached. But something was warming up my right hand.
Glancing over, Alice was holding it like a sandwich between hers. When our eyes met, her face was crimson.
"Ah, I... saw you were having a nightmare! So... I... thought I should be there for you—" She released my hand and raised her arms defensively.
"Sorry, I must seem very clingy."
"Ehh..." I put a hand to my forehead. One of the veins in my temple was pulsating. No wonder, yesterday I used both substances.
I sure as hell don't want to continue this subject, so I asked her about yesterday.
"Did you manage to read the letter?"
Her attention was piqued; Alice beamed once again with energy.
"Yes, I am halfway done." In a single night? What is she made of?
"The message is quite eerie, to be honest... Something about eternal life." Are the Zilliams liches or what?
"But are you sure this came from the Dean's desk?" She was strangely anxious about it.
"Yes, I took it myself from a secret compartment."
"Then... I don't know... What will we do?" She was really worried. About her own life? I don't think so.
I suppose I should throw her a bone.
"What can we do? Isn't it our responsibility to uncover this?"
"Yes, you are right!"
She then glanced at her phone and remembered a certain matter.
"Oh yeah, you are supposed to be in class."
"Probably, but first I am going to the Dean to report what happened with the villain yesterday."
"Yes, that is a good idea!"
"Can you... let me get dressed alone?
"Of course. I am going to finish the translation in the meantime. See you in your break!"
I didn't go to the Dean. Instead, I called John, the Doctor. He was horrified to hear how I was almost killed and said he will come tonight to see the crime scene with me.
Haaah. When will Yonezu come back?
Does he also deal with such meaningless incidents?
On Mondays, I had two classes with an hour-long break between them. Alice found me in the hallway, staring blankly into space. I was starting to lose it from all those drugs.
"So, I managed to finish translating the letter. Look!" Shouldn't she be more discreet about such a sensitive matter? I wondered if the Dean had hidden cameras installed. Probably, but if so, why hadn't she confronted me directly? Was she planning some kind of punishment?
The delicate girl handed me an A4 paper with her own translation on it.
***
I am finished with my project. If complete, I will reach a new level of existence and this will allow me to guide the new world once again.
My pursuit of longevity is not one born out of malice, but of fact that I can't allow anyone else to take my place, for they do not have my wisdom. Greed fills the human heart, and I fear this academy shall have a fate like all others.
A few years of life from the students, as compensation for my service, is a proper payment.
New me, open the laboratory downstairs to finish the project. It must be done after my new form of life. The key is in -----------.
***
"Is this really what it said?" It feels... generic? I can't quite put it into words, but it feels like the kind of admission of guilt used in tv shows.
"Well, the Cordian royal writing system that the old Dean used has been lost to time. Not even the current viscount family knows how to read it. I approximately translated what words had references kept, so there could be another message we lost between these phrases..."
The regional politics always confused me. The viscount of Cordon ran away from Concord because he didn't like peasants or something like that. At some point, two hundred years ago, about the same period as the academy's founding, the viscount family all died off mysteriously. Back then, Concord was a free state, hence the current ruler sent his brother to be in charge of Cordon, so it was basically annexed. About a hundred years ago, Concord was conquered by the Unified Kingdom, by the father of the current king.
The king executed the count of Concord for his supposed 'resistance'. Funnily enough, their dynasty lived on in their old rival's home, Cordon. All the development in Concord happened after this conquest—or better said, thirty years later after the coronation of the current king. I saw him on TV yesterday at the opening of some museum, and he looks even younger than me. How he didn't age in 70 years of rule is out of my comprehension.
With ten years of strict skincare, I can believe I am still human, but three human generations and to not age a day? I am not sure the royal family even is human. Long ears; they may be elves? But they don't live quite that long...
In any case, I went on a tangent. The point is that I am not surprised that the current Viscount doesn't know this ancient language.
I turned to Alice and asked if she knew anything about this lab, but her memory proved completely useless. None of it made sense. How had Zilliam's new body failed to find the key with all these generations at their disposal? Could it be that their memory didn't carry over through reincarnation? But then, why keep searching for it if the reincarnation had been successful? The Zilliam family had controlled this school for centuries.
We parted ways, and I headed back to the classroom.
I was so bored that I started dictating an article directly from the internet, word for word. Then I assigned them an open-book study session on what I'd just taught them.
I opened the desk drawer and found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that I'd confiscated from Silvia's group a week earlier. I was surprised they hadn't taken it back, especially since I hadn't even bothered reporting it to the Dean.
Guess they're mine now. I pocketed both items and left the classroom. The students wouldn't care if I stepped out for a smoke, right?
I made my way to the nearest window in the corridor and lit one up. They were disappointingly weak.
I smoked quite a few of them. I still had about twenty minutes left of the lady class when someone called out to me.
"What are you smoking there, Willy~?" It was a soft voice.
I looked to my left and saw Sasha. She was the Academy's Counselor but also taught Psychology and Philosophy courses to the twelfth grade. I figured she was in her early thirties—a refugee who'd been sent to this Academy because of her ability. I wasn't sure what her exact age was, as I'd been told that information was confidential. Either way, I liked her far more than Alice. She had a genuinely thoughtful way of conversing. She was much smarter than me, and especially more knowledgeable about subjects like politics and history. Was she too busy to handle Yonezu's work?
"I don't really smoke. I just felt like it right now." It was true. I was accustomed to much stronger substances.
"Then give me one too. What are these? Mabo?" Mabo was a major tobacco company operating in the southern desert. Concord was their main trading partner, so their products were quite affordable here.
"Yup, sure are." The red-haired counselor took a cigarette from my now half-empty pack and gestured for me to light it for her. Sasha was a heavy smoker, but she never reeked of tobacco. Her attention to hygiene was obvious. I appreciated that about her.
"So, how's it been going, Will? I hear you go to sleep quite late these days."
"I'm fine, I just had a lot of things I needed to deal with."
"You're free to come to my office anytime, especially if you have bad dreams." Wait. What was this about?
"How do you know about..."
"I can recognize suffering when I see it. I won't force you or anything, but you're always welcome if you want to talk about it."
"Yeah...thanks." This wasn't good. How much did she know about my dreams? What else did she know? Was it her ability—
"Well, see ya. You'd better get to class, William~." With a pat on my shoulder, she continued down the corridor, cigarette in hand. After finishing mine, I headed back to class.
I needed to talk with Sasha sometime soon to confirm what she knew. If all else failed, she would have to disappear. No amount of similarity was worth risking my life over. Wait—similarity?
I remember her saying in the past that we were similar. What exactly did she mean by that?
I left the classroom the second the bell rang. I had to meet John.
He was waiting for me in his car in front of the campus entrance. Big Bertha was back, now repaired from that explosion.
John was really surprised to hear I killed someone, and especially a dangerous villain. He didn't quite understand how it happened.
I showed him the apartment and walked him through the scene in front of the bed where I'd killed the Vampire. The plan was for him to call the police and explain what happened under his hero persona, claiming that one of his hero colleagues had been responsible but didn't want to get involved.
I hoped it would work and left him to handle it while I returned to the dorms to search the library with Alice. I was certain the door wasn't here—it would be illogical, considering this was where I'd found the key. I wasn't even sure what kind of lock would fit such a strangely shaped key.
My head was pounding. Half from Alice's constant chatter and half from the drugs. Was I experiencing caffeine withdrawal? I should email the professor to send me more in case I needed—wow, that was the addiction talking. Why would I need more doses? For security? I had to take them before I actually needed them, so this was purely an offensive ability. I needed to take a break from all of this.
It didn't feel right to go to Sasha immediately, so instead I sat down on a bench outside the dorms and tried to nap while Alice continued searching through books in the library.
It got quite late, but Alice still didn't return. I debated whether to go to bed or find her, but when I got on my feet, I could feel my consciousness slipping.
But I wasn't falling asleep—it was as if my body was rotating constantly, and from my eyes, it really was, but getting down to touch the ground revealed this phenomenon was entirely mental.
Around me were lights, moving in the distance.
Was I under the effect of some ability? No, the drugs were at fault. This was a hallucination from lack of sleep and withdrawal. I was lucid enough to be aware of it... But what can I do?
I heard singing in the distance. It was a woman's voice, a deeply serene melody. The lights were drifting toward it.
I wanted to follow them, but it was difficult to keep my balance even with my eyes closed. Still, I had to push forward.
Following that song didn't feel dangerous—not like it had been with the Vampire. My true senses weren't dulled. I could feel the melody as though its notes were a physical veil wrapping around me with their calming presence. I grasped at them and forced my numb body to move toward their source.
The notes continued up until the flower garden. I saw a figure of light in the distance, much bigger than the dots. As I got closer, it turned into the body of a woman, and the other figments of luminosity surrounded her like an audience.
Her form was defined by a tight, sleek white dress that clung to her delicate frame, accentuating her ethereal beauty. The dress, though form-fitting, seemed to shimmer like liquid light, as if made of pure energy rather than fabric. Her hair was cut short, barely grazing her chin, with strands that caught and reflected the soft glow of her radiant presence.
The short, sharp lines of her hairstyle added a modern, almost defiant contrast to her otherworldly nature. Her eyes shone with an inner luminescence, both warm and mysterious, drawing those who saw her into a peaceful yet intense gaze.
She moved with graceful fluidity, her glowing figure both striking and serene, embodying the essence of light in every motion. The air around her seemed to hum with a quiet, tranquil energy, making her both mesmerizing and slightly untouchable.
She looked... similar to the math teacher? But in her slim form, not the paranoid version she'd become these days. She looked exactly like the photos I'd been shown to prove she hadn't always been unattractive. The chemistry teacher had really tried to defend her to me a few days ago.
"The Haunted of Aeshma-Daeva approaches me. What is thy wish in seeking me, wretched creature?" Her words echoed in my mind. They were heard, but not spoken aloud. Her mouth didn't open.
"So pompous, yet you're not even the first ghost I see. What is your relationship with Linda, or Matilda... Pamela? I don't remember her name."
Her hue darkened and so did her melodic tone.
"You... know me?"
What is that supposed to mean? Was the fat woman this ghost? Nah, couldn't be.
"What is this you say about Aeshma-Daeva? A dream eater? Who is it?"
"Do not bother me with your curses, fiend. You should know all those answers." Nah, I was very angry. I went to the ghost and tried to give it a slap, but my hand obviously went through. She looked at me, dumbfounded.
"You look like you are in pain. How is it that your body became that hulking monstrosity and yet you criticize me?"
"I was attacked, you fiend! But not by a criminal like you. My soul and body were displaced by... by..." She went silent.
"And you don't even know? Nevermind, I don't care. You say I came here by myself, yet I found this place because of your melody."
"For all these years, my music rang unheard, creature. If it weren't for the gardener's efforts in tending to his flowers, I would have withered away..."
"So how about I destroy all these flowers if you don't tell me about these nightmares, you wretch! You're just like the fat pig your walking corpse has become, wasting my time with empty words."
"You... insult me so much... G-get out." Huh? "I said, get out!" And with a blink, I was back in the normal garden. Only the sound of crickets could be heard. It was dark.
A proud man would swell upon seeing such a beauty, thinking it his fate to untangle hers. As if to prove something.
A foolish man would get lost in her beauty and help her out of love.
A keen man would have played her for information like a snake.
But I was a vengeful man and wanted to kill her.
Or was it not a mercy? To no longer see her decaying corpse masquerading as human, all while she lost her mind, singing alone in a garden? What was one more curse to add to my collection?
I stared at those flowers, ready to tear them apart, but my hands trembled. My body stepped backwards. I thought I pitied her and was giving this ghost a second chance, but that wasn't the case—and by reaching the dorm's chrome door, I understood.
I was neither of those above.
I was a wrathful man.
What torture, what punishment was greater than simply letting her suffer on like this, undisturbed by anyone?
What worse gesture could I inflict on her than to ignore her existence?
She was a princess, but I wasn't her prince. And even so, who else had their mind so close to the edge like me that they blurred the line between life and death?
Who else would ever see her? Nobody.
And it was exactly what she deserved.
To be alone.
She was already in hell. Just like me.
That night I slept well, but I was so cold. The blanket felt nonexistent.