The end of the second night is approaching.
Soon the sun will descend through the fog, yes, yes, precisely through it, and illuminate this place with its bright rays. It would seem everything's going according to plan, as it should be. Could it be otherwise?
When the moon leaves, the sun takes its place. When night leaves, day replaces it. And then comes... well, at minimum, light, or even joy. Or even merriment, perhaps.
But the nature of the world, although no, let's say "the essence of being," sounds more pretentious, is the same everywhere. Almost everywhere.
But not here.
This place is special.
It doesn't acknowledge sunlight. It doesn't acknowledge the concept of "day," and certainly doesn't acknowledge joyful faces.
Because here this simply doesn't exist. No people. No moon. No sun.
Absolute emptiness.
Only an imaginary shell, an illusion, a set piece, a decoy. A parody of reality created by the witch of this island. And what else to call a copy created without knowing the original? It's like trying to draw a person's face you've never seen. It'll turn out... strange.
Quite strange, truly, that I even started thinking about this? Before I wouldn't have even lingered on such thoughts. Before I would have simply... scrolled past. Did I even think before? Did I live?
Before meeting them. Most likely, no. Before meeting her. Definitely no.
And these thoughts shouldn't have been in my head, not at my level. And certainly not by habit, but a meeting can change much, can't it?
My inner world, which before seemed like an empty gray room with one light bulb, suddenly began to resemble... a gallery, with colors, with sounds. With reflections, with mad paintings.
By the way, was she a girl? Never thought about it, and didn't ask her.
(Strange, right?)
We were already in the library.
Cheryl stood with closed eyes, in silent observation, almost like a sculpture, almost like a judge. The other participants were immersed in silent agony of decipherment. Books, open, scattered, in disarray. Not one lies as it should.
Morgana and I nearby, without words. Only watched and waited. Until Yahweh's voice broke this pause, like stone through glass.
"Hey, why are you standing there? I called you to help us with this, not stand idle!" cheerfully, as if all this gave him pleasure.
He was full of energy. Joy boiled in him, perhaps from finally finding the needed book.
The link-book.
The translator-book.
Not wasting time, which we had in abundance, by the way, I joined them. Asked Morgana to stay aside. Observe, don't interfere. She wanted to help, of course she did. But this wasn't her role.
"While you were gone, we already managed to learn the translation of some hieroglyphs," Kamiki said with that same smirk, as if time here didn't move. "By the way, where were you all this time?"
"Worried about me?" Aragi replied. "I just went after Morgana. Didn't want her wandering the mansion alone."
Light laughter. Book in hands, gaze down. Tiamut nearby, silent but clearly not indifferent. Watching. Listening. Reading.
'Who is she to him?' A thought slipped through Aragi's mind.
(It slipped through everyone's, honestly.)
Unlike the others, her identity is like a blind spot. A gap, and this, as is known, can be a problem.
"Anyway, listen," Yahweh again became the center of attraction. "Hov and I discussed and decided it would be better if, together with our groups, we each take one sentence. This way we'll save time. This way it'll be more efficient. This way we won't die before dawn, in the end."
"Can only agree, it's a good idea," Kamiki, waving his arms like a conductor without an orchestra.
"I'm not against it either. Let's do it," Aragi agreed.
And here again, division, distribution, solving. Teamwork that almost looked coordinated.
Yahweh and Hov — the third sentence.
Enua and I — the first.
Kamiki and his group — the second.
Only the last one remained.
"Cheryl and I can take it!" Morgana, as always, on point.
Everyone agreed.
"Yahweh and I will step away," Hov said. "Better not to interfere with each other."
They left.
"Us too," Tiamut following Kamiki. He left first, without saying a word.
(This means something, probably.)
Enua and I remained, with Morgana and Cheryl behind us. Calm, divided into four.
I looked at the inscription, and it looked at me. As if it knew: I want to understand, but not immediately.
避... "avoid," yes? Or simply "leave"? Leave from what? Immediately from somewhere inside me a thought surfaced that leaving is impossible.
避けられない... "inevitable." Already more interesting, that is, whatever I do... no. You won't leave, even if you really want to. Even if you pretend you don't want to.
定め. "Fate." Predestination, a loud word, and heavy. As if they place a stone on your palm and say: "Hold it."
'Someone wrote this... not just because,' I muttered aloud.
Enua didn't say a word. His silence was strange, almost... attentive. As if he was waiting for me to dig to the end myself.
拒み... "refusing" what? Fate? Or maybe oneself?
争うことは... struggle, struggle with what? Struggle with the inevitable? Don't know. Don't know. Don't know...
ただ自らを滅ぼすだけだ... You only destroy yourself, but who destroys? I? Or someone else? Or maybe all of us simultaneously?
"You alright?" I asked.
"Everything's fine... just pondering who could have written this," Enua said quietly. His voice sounded almost like an echo of my own thoughts.
And then the meaning began to slowly come together. Not immediately, not completely, piece by piece. As if each hieroglyphic detail is a small key, and I stand before a door that opens itself, but only if you don't rush.
"Refusing the inevitable fate and struggling against it, you only destroy yourself."
11 at night.
An hour passed since we started. Everything turned out easier than thought. Faster than expected. Morgana and Cheryl were still discussing theirs, Yahweh and Hov hadn't returned. Maybe went far, maybe got lost. Or just foolish.
But what surprised me, Kamiki, he didn't appear.
Strangeness.
"Aragi, I need to tell you something important..."
"Huh?" Me.
"Promise you'll understand me correctly."
...
"The thing is..."
Time stopped. Not in a literal sense, but it felt exactly like that.
"All this time... I knew the translation of these lines."
...
...
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"I myself don't know how it happened. Just... saw, understood, and got scared. Got scared that even you would start suspecting me. But please... believe me."
He pleaded, almost physically. Like a puppet whose soul was taken away.
And then...
"Once, a familiar vampiress told me: 'For someone to believe you, you don't need to prove you're right. Trust your heart — it knows.'"
"I believe you, Enua," Aragi said. "I believe you. Even if the world turns away, don't reject yourself. Your truth is your truth."
"Aragi... You really are... an amazing person."