Reading and reading.
Thinking and thinking.
Falling and falling.
The novel he was reading played out much like he'd remembered. Of course, it wasn't all that surprising. Of course, he didn't remember everything, and he could now appreciate some of the earlier subtleties better than ever before, but his memory of the overall narrative seemed to be accurate enough.
Crime and Punishment, by most metrics, was undoubtedly an amazing work of fiction. One that transcended its era, locking itself into the literary classical canon.
But… What do I think of it? Aion thought, shutting the book for a bit after growing weary of reading for so long.
It wasn't as if it was all that enjoyable. Not because it differed greatly from his taste, he was sure many would think it overlapped at least somewhat with his taste, if not much more. It was more a matter of aesthetics—specifically prose.
He didn't know.
It wasn't that surprising, though. One's taste in prose is defined over time, and for Aion, he had never developed all that much of an appetite for the style of prose.
Not because he disliked reading classical literature; it was more something that never seemed to click with him at a conscious level.
Like a person's intuitive judging of another person, Aion felt that prose was much the same for him.
Or perhaps he just didn't read enough. That was certainly possible.
Regardless of the point, Aion wasn't sure how to feel about his reread.
For someone who viewed themselves as quite opinionated on fiction, for some reason he couldn't form much of an opinion on the work at all.
Like some mental barrier, blocking any and every thought. That, beyond that seemingly invisible—or possibly reflective wall, was his answer.
So he continued to read and read.
He continued to think and think.
Continued to fall and fall.
* * *
A knocking sound echoed from the door, and a quiet and respectful voice spoke.
"Sir? I have returned. Have you eaten anything? If not, I can prepare something."
Aion, who was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, slowly rose and rubbed his pain, trying to alleviate the pain that was pulsating within his forehead.
"I haven't eaten," Aion said, his tone a little louder so she could hear.
"Understood, I'll come back when—" Aira stopped as the door opened. "You don't have to leave your room, sir…"
"I want to, plus it's not a big deal waiting."
Aira bowed and said, "Understood."
Sitting at the table, Aion thought of whether he should say something but felt it too awkward after the events of this morning.
Looking back, Aion never knew how to approach situations like this. As someone who wasn't the most sociable, it was easy to imagine why.
"Sir, you must've met up with Luna, right?" Aira had asked for some inexplicable reason.
"You're interested?"
"In a way."
He wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean, but he went along with it regardless.
"I… kind of did…" Aion answered slowly, recalling the events of this morning. "Luna was apparently going to be busy, so her dad didn't let her leave."
"Mr. Amaryllis…" Aira mumbled.
"Are you familiar with him?"
"Not particularly. I'm not sure many people know him in this town, not since…" Aira trailed off.
"Luna's alleged crimes…" Aion finished the sentence off with a solemn expression.
Aira didn't seem too pleased at the word 'alleged,' but she continued, "And ever since then, apparently he's been rather isolated. From what I know, Mrs. Amaryllis isolates herself even more, though."
"Is there a reason you're dropping this information on me?"
"You're a little curious, are you not?" Aira asked, tilting her head.
Aion's lips tightened, and he asked, "Didn't we have a pretty substantial disagreement this morning?"
"We did."
Aion looked shocked.
"Is something wrong?"
Aion shook his head, smiled as best as he could, and answered, "No, absolutely nothing is wrong. I guess… I was just a little concerned that we would have bad blood between us?"
"'Bad… blood?'" Aira repeated the phrase.
"Well, you seem rather convinced of your perspective, and it's on such a personal topic, you know?"
Aira's mouth fell a little open before she snapped it shut and said, "No, you needn't worry about me."
"..." Aion wanted to deny it, but worrying about her meant trying to save her.
He wasn't some hero in a story, a protagonist who could push through the obstacles before him and reach an ending that he desired above everything else.
Even within a place of dream or possibly nightmare, he was powerless, and his actions were meaningless.
After all, no matter what he did, the narrative of Crystal Machinations had already been written. So a mere dream or nightmare would change nothing.
"So, Mr. Belial, you needn't concern yourself with my personal feelings on the matter. If anything, you are probably best suited to disregard everyone else if you truly care that much about Luna."
"Huh? You're acting as if I can't care for more than one person at a time." Aion's voice rose a little.
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Huh?"
"Mr. Belial, if you wish for Luna to be happy, or you just wish to get close with her, Magna will be against you. On the other hand, if you choose to care for some people from Magna, there's no way you could ever help Luna."
"No, I can care about you and Luna!"
Aira's breath hitched, but she resumed her demure demeanor and said, "And why would you even care about me? It's not like we know each other, and as you pointed out, we even disagree quite largely on a matter. What could possibly lead to you caring about me?"
"That's…" Aion didn't know how to respond.
"So, Mr. Belial, don't worry about me, and just take the information so you can help Luna."
"Huh?"
"If you ever want to do so, you'll need to know as much as possible."
"Wait a minute, why would you be helping me?"
Aira looked into Aion's eyes, surprising him with the action.
"Why do I help you? I suppose it's because, for some reason or another, you strike me as someone who I can relate to."
Aion felt his hurt ache, remembering their bond over their older siblings, but it wasn't like she remembered. That bond was fake—fiction.
"I… what am I saying? Ignore me. Clearly I'm not in the right headspace."
"You feel inferior to Aria, right?"
Aira, who had turned and started walking back to the stove, paused and said quietly, "Yes…"
"I'm the same, you know?"
"..."
"My brother is someone I've been chasing after for as long as I can remember. Someone I admired, someone I loathed, someone I envied."
Aira still didn't say anything, but she had returned to the stove and continued working, but, ever so slightly through her hair, Aion saw her looking at him.
"Everything he had was something I wanted for myself. All the talents he had were things I could never be as good at. No matter how much I tried to emulate him, he seemed a step, no several steps farther, shining and blinding me as I could only continue my desperate chase from behind."
"Mr. Belial," Aira stopped him from continuing. "Why did you want to chase after him so much?"
"I… envied him, I guess…"
"You're not sure?"
"I guess that's the more honest way to say it. I craved for that talent of his that I did not have. I wanted it all to myself, I suppose. Quite greedy, huh?"
"Perhaps."
That was all Aira said in return. Perhaps, whatever it was that Aion said, that hobbled-together idea had meant something to her, because she asked no more on the subject. Or perhaps she had found a disconnect and chose to abandon the conversation.
At the end of the day, whatever it was, had resulted in an almost tranquil look on Aira's face.
And so, she said, "To go back to why I'm helping you, I suppose I don't have a real answer. Instead, I ask you this: if you choose to go down this path for Luna, move on without trying to help me."
"That's rather unfair, don't you think?"
"It probably is, but Mr. Belial, you and I will never amount to anything."
Aion was about to ask what she meant, but she continued.
"After all, you are set to leave this place, and I will stay in this place, and when I die, my body will continue staying in Magna. So getting involved with me is pointless with so little time. Instead, choose Luna if that is who you wish to help. Leave a mark so that she may remember you fondly for the rest of her days, okay?"
Aion couldn't help but stop breathing for a second, because Aira had turned to face him completely, and on her face was a sad smile.
"You tell me that and then you look like that…"
"Aion, I don't need saving. I… can save myself…"
Aion's chair scraped against the floor loudly as he violently stood up.
"No, you can't!" Aion yelled, staring at his feet. "People don't save themselves; it's all a bunch of bullshit! It has always been someone else, never oneself. So if you try on your own, don't you see nothing will change!?"
"Sir…?" Aira asked quietly. Her mouth dropped in surprise.
"People are incapable of changing themselves; it's as simple as that. Being stuck in a labyrinth of self-destructive behavior, it's impossible to find the exit without someone else. Every time you think you'll make progress, it is all just a lie, a path that leads to a dead end. And then you'll backtrack over those same damn paths, repeating the past through a different perspective. So don't give me that optimistic bullshit that you can change yourself!"
Every time a person stumbles and attempts to get back on their own, they're bound to find another dead end. Life is a cruel and miserable experience that torments you. But, within this awful world, someone trying to escape their own maze can offer a hand to you, a hand that can see what you can't. For they are not in your labyrinth. And that is why Aion must offer his hand to her, to Luna, and to anyone who needs it.
Ironically enough, in the book he'd been reading, Raskolnikov escaped his labyrinth through the help of Sofya; it was the help of another that truly changed the man. That was Aion's conviction of the narrative.
Time and time again in life, in fiction, both reach the same conclusion: life is not to be lived alone in. It is not something to journey alone in. And it is not something to be happy alone in.
So, Aion, clutching at his heart, feeling a tightness around his neck, yelled out, "So don't push me away! Let me help you!"
Aion didn't dare look up.
Perhaps it was because of the last loop that he didn't wish to look at a face that may hold contempt for him after such a plea.
Or maybe he was just scared of rejection outright.
Ultimately, he didn't want to abandon her.
Of course he didn't. He had resolved himself to leave Aira to her fate, choosing to chase after Luna in this loop after his crushing defeat of the last. But of course, that was a lie.
He couldn't.
He couldn't, knowing that Aira was suffering alone.
And he couldn't because his heart would likely shatter if he abandoned her.
How could he completely abandon her? After all, within this dream or nightmare, Aira was the only person Aion could truly see himself in.
A younger sibling who felt inferior to their older sibling.
A younger sibling who seemed far lonelier than the older sibling.
And a younger sibling that truly didn't know how to feel about their older sibling.
Aion Belial and Aira Liana—they were most definitely the same.
They were the same to a scary degree, an unnatural degree.
Of course, to Aion, he's always identified heavily with fictional characters, so perhaps it was because Aira Liana was a fictional character that Aion could see it that way.
So, Aion shut his eyes tightly, hoping, praying that whatever came out of Aira's mouth was what he wanted to hear. Stretching his hand out, hoping it would be taken, and if not that, his ears would hear an answer.
"Sir… I…" Aira started but soon stopped. She was likely conflicted; that was only natural. She had been willing to cast away someone she thought she could relate to, all for the sake of giving him a chance—a chance to help Luna.
"Aira… I know that you—"
"Stop it…" Aira interrupted Aion, not forcefully, but quietly. But those quiet words hit like a punch to the gut. "Please… please just stop…!"
Aion slowly looked up and saw Aira's face.
In her eyes, mostly hidden by her bangs, he could see sparkling tears welling up.
"Aira I—"
"No! Don't say anything more! I beg you, just don't!"
"But I—"
"You have nothing to do with me! You and I will part ways, and it'll be like we never knew each other. Do you think that I'd want to get close to someone and soon have them leave me behind like that!? There's no way I'd ever want that! So stop, don't show me some poisonous hope like that!"
"..."
"Do you know how long I've had to live my life like this?"
Aion shook his head.
"Twelve years. Twelve years I've been in this situation, ever since my parents were murdered. I've had to deal with nothing but this miserable and lonely existence. And the solace offered by Lunalis? A bunch of lies! That's all it is, all it ever will be! Empty promises of a future of happiness, meaningless acts that are supposed to make me feel happy, and answers that never arrive. That's all Lunalis is! And you expect a mere human to offer solace greater than the Goddess!? You expect me to take the hand of someone trying to save the one who plunged me into this mess!? You expect me to grab your hand shortly before you disappear!? It's cruel! You're cruel! All of it is so cruel…!"
Aira fell to her knees and brought her hands to her face, trying to stop the dam of tears that burst open. Trying to stop the sobbing, trembling, and sorrow, all of it all at once. But she couldn't. It only worsened and worsened.
Aion felt his own body shake as tears welled up in his own eyes.
"Aira, I—"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Aira screamed and leapt back, bringing her hands to the sides of her head and pressing them against her head, causing her hair to get messy and tangled together under her fingers. "Stay away, don't get close to me, leave me alone! Just chase after Luna; do that, and I'm sure it'll be better than the heartbreak of losing someone I may end up caring too much for. So Aion Belial, ignore me. Ignore me! Treat me like a servant, one who the master cares not for; treat me like how I should be treated. Treat me like the maid I am!"
"No!" Aion screamed back. "I won't! I won't abandon you. I won't pretend like I don't see you. What kind of person would I be if I did that? A horrible one, and I don't want to be so horrible! How can you expect me to abandon you after showing me this? It's… too cruel…"
No, maybe he was the one who was cruel. Trying to convince himself to leave her behind like that, how could he possibly not be at this point?
That's why—
"—I refuse to let you live like this! I refuse to let Luna live the way she lives! Neither of them are contradictory. Perhaps I'm greedy. Perhaps I'm selfish and only thinking of myself. But can it be so bad when I can pull you out of this Hell you've been buried in? It can't be! There's no way it ever could be! To simply give up like that is tantamount to letting life pass on by without getting anything of value out of it. So please, take my hand!"
Aion stretched his hand out once more.
"Stop it! Why do you have to be so kind like that? To me? To me!? Why me of all people!? Luna, I can understand, being treated so poorly by almost an entire town, of course a kind person like you would want to help her. But me? I'm just a maid, a servant that is only assigned to you by pure happenstance. I'm… nobody…"
"That doesn't matter. I have no reason other than the fact that I see myself in you, and I don't want you to struggle like you're completely alone in this world. So don't think of yourself as nobody, because to me, you aren't just nobody. You're special…"
Aira looked into Aion's eyes and shook her head. "No, I'm not special. I'll never be special. My sister is the special one between us. And even beyond, Luna is special. The young master is special. And you, Aion Belial, are special. So don't lie to me like that! Don't lie and try to paint over my world with some hopeful nonsense."
"Aira—"
Aira slapped Aion's hand away, half glaring at Aion and half regretting her action. She shot up, and before Aion could react, she ran past him.
"Wait! Don't go! Don't leave me like this!" Aion tried to get up, but in his panic, he tripped over himself and fell to the floor.
And, before Aion could even get up, the door to the temporary place of residence slammed shut, leaving Aion staring at the door with a heartbroken expression. And within that expression was something much deeper, much more vile.
He was a selfish, greedy person. He had his desire crushed, rooted from its source so that he could see such an ugly interior. And even so, a small, no, perhaps it was large, or even just half, like usual, he could not be certain, but regardless of that nature, that fundamental truth of him, he still recognized that he had no right. For he selfishly clung on to a hope that was not given to him. That hope that was not pardoned by the gods, not given by the good, and not permitted by the wise.
But even so, that part of himself, that filthy, disgusting desire in him still tried to grow back, reclaim itself within Aion, and grow and parasitize the world he finds himself in. He still wanted to save her. He didn't want to see someone just like him live a life of misery, to meet an end without meaning.
Even though he had vowed to revoke his right to go and save her. How he threw it all away for the sake of comfort within Luna, he still clung to that desire; like a fool clutching to a promise from someone who'd destroyed the relationships around him, he still wanted to have a right for that desire.
He didn't want her to cry.
He didn't want her to suffer.
He didn't want her to die.
But even so, he had already abandoned his right toward her. It was certainly a fault of his own, a folly of a fool.
And like a fool, he only realized too late.
In the end, Aira was going to die, and Aion couldn't do anything to stop it.