When does a person really feel strong?
From all the shitty novels I've read and the stomach-turning "life lessons" I've had, I can tell you right now it's not when you get OP strength or when you're bathing in riches like some greasy merchant king.
Sure, both of those make you feel like a god for five minutes.
You get to look down, grin, maybe flex on the nearest fool.
But it fades. You get bored.
The shine wears off.
And next thing you know, you're back to staring at walls wondering why you're still breathing.
So no, strength isn't wealth or muscle.
The strongest moment in life, at least in mine, hits when you realize absolutely,
that there's not a single goddamn soul in this world who cares about you.
Sounds depressing, doesn't it?
But at that exact moment comes the freedom.
Pure, terrifying, beautiful freedom. When nobody's invested in you, you don't owe them a thing.
Not your smile.
Not your explanations.
Not your existence.
You don't need to shake hands.
You don't need parental recommendations stamped on your forehead. You don't even need to pass anyone's moral exam to exist another day.
It's just you. And the world.
No strings, no witnesses, no audience.
Most people cry about loneliness like it's some curse.
Like those melodramatic anime leads who moan all day.
I know exactly who you're picturing. And if you don't, you're better off.
Being alone is hard, yes. But you get used to literally anything.
Fire, betrayal, boredom - walk on it long enough and it just becomes the floor you live on.
And that's why loneliness isn't some curse. It's a routine.
My mind kept circling this dumb thought: whether to play along with this plot, be a classic "extra," and stumble into unlocking mysteries like some background character that lucked into the spotlight.
Then what?
Save the...what exactly?
The world?
Myself?
The author's unused ink?
Or maybe just rip the whole script apart, toss it, and walk clean off stage. Because really?
No one out there would care if the name "Lynn Blake" stopped existing tomorrow.
Hell, if this carriage were to explode with only me in it, I bet half the people who heard the news would take it as a blessing.
But maybe I'm dramatizing again. There is still one soul who depends on me.
Lynn—the real one. The only one.
And if my so-called life is really just a sloppy draft scribbled by a drunk comic author, then fine. It still irritates me to get blamed for other people's mistakes. At least give me the courtesy of ruining things with my own hands.
That thought was just starting to sit nicely when—
"You seem to be in quite a thought. Mind to share it with me?"
The voice carved into my skull like an unwanted bell.
Frederick ,the shiny priest from the so-called Disparity Church smiled at me knowingly, as if this guy knew I'd never been sleeping in the first place.
I opened my eyes halfway and tilted my head toward the opposite sideinstead of him. No way was I giving him the pleasure of my full attention.
"Are you angry?" he asked smoothly.
"Not angry. Just pissed off, that's all." My tone was flat like I was too tired to explain why those two weren't the same.
He chuckled softly, annoyingly handsome while doing it.
"Well, it's natural to be angry.
But don't feel bad. Life is hard and complicated at times."
"Yeah. And it's a show where clowns like you that makes it harder.
For my current situation,I should really be sending you church people some flowers for that."
He hummed, amused.
"Cold. Just like your father.
Guess some things really are hereditary."
I smirked. "Glad to hear you all gossip about family trees in church.
Tell me, do the sermons come before or after tea-time?"
That earned another laugh.
"What's troubling you, Lynn?
Let's hear it while we've still got time. Once we reach the church, conversations won't be so… civil."
I barked a laugh, shaking my head. "Civil? This is you being civil?
You've got an odd sense of service, Mr.fredrick.
But fine,I'll humor you.
I was thinking whether I should fix something rattling in my head and leave it at that… or just leave it entirely. Since, eventually, problems rot on their own.right.?"
"You are that worried about your future?" His smile twisted sharp.
"You put on the armor of sarcasm, but deep inside, you squirm like anyone else. You want to tie things neat, under control. This little act of yours is just camouflage."
I leaned forward now, lips curling. "Camouflage? Please.
If I wanted to hide, I wouldn't be sparring with you. No, I'm not fixing anything,I'm trying to understand it.
Something you zealots never figured out. You smash things in the name of repair without even knowing what you're 'fixing.'"
His lips twitched but he stayed composed.
"I understand your anger. But it wasn't my call.
Whether you were guilty or not don't matter ,when the saintess herself wanted you.....Gone.
Don't know why exactly but not just her… maybe members of your own family,too.
Isn't it possible you gave them reasons? Perhaps you did something bad toward your siblings… towards your father.
And now, no one wants your shadow near them."
I didn't flinch. Instead, I gave an exaggerated gasp.
"Wow. Big reveal. So I'm either an evil brother, or a bad son, or both. Did you rehearse this verdict in the mirror?"
Frederick's smile sharpened.
"You don't even have your memory to defend yourself. Think about that. If they condemned you, you can't even say they're wrong.
This entire mess may well be your fault. Don't try to pin it elsewhere."
"Mm. Impressive spin. Did they teach you this in priest school?
Lesson one: how to frame someone with polite words?"
I chuckled, refusing to let my grin slip.
He studied me quietly before asking,
"If you truly could turn everything around, where would you start?"
I smirked, leaning even closer.
"That's your setup, isn't it?
First grind my patience, then throw out a priestly zen question. What next, you offer me salvation with a discount?"
Still, I wanted his answer. So I asked anyway: "Fine then. Enlighten me. Where's the start line?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Bring back your mana. Your magic.
If you had even half the strength you once wielded, none of this...like you being family's disdain, the Church's interference, your helpless sarcasm none of it would matter.
You could bend the board instead of sitting on the sidelines."
I snorted. "Strength solves all problems."
He leaned forward this time.
"Mock it all you want, but here? In this world? The powerless get erased.
You can shrug, laugh, or call me dramatic but you and I both know it's the truth."
I held his gaze for a long moment, still smirking.
"Truth, huh.
You make it sound like you're selling a potion. Maybe I'll buy it one day when the Church starts a discount rack."
Then I leaned back, closed my eyes, and stretched out with a sigh.
"For now, though… your suggestion is boring me.
Wake me when we crash. Or better don't."
His low chuckle followed, but he didn't continue.
The carriage rattled on.
And though I'd shut my eyes with a smile plastered on my lips, one thought slipped beneath my eyelids and stayed there like a thorn: "strength, huh."