Faust sank into the chair after Maria's words, lost in his thoughts. Elbows on his knees, head cradled in his hands—he looked like a drug addict regretting his decisions. He felt ashamed.
Faust wondered if the nightmare he saw was connected to what was happening. It was just one nightmare, and he couldn't even remember it. Still, the sudden chain of unusual events after that night didn't feel like a coincidence.
Everything seemed like a planned prank to him. Things that has never happened this much before...but he doesn't even know how to explain.
Faust was mentally strong. As a man who had seen wars, massacres, resistance, and countless other things, he couldn't accept seeing himself as someone weak enough to be affected by a nightmare he couldn't even remember.
If he couldn't even remember what happened in the nightmare… how could it harm him? And if the nightmare wasn't affecting him, then who would it affect?
Whatever had happened in that nightmare, neither he nor anyone else could know or understand it.
Something was terribly wrong.
At that moment, another idea crossed his mind.
What if the reason he saw such a nightmare was that he had fallen ill? Maybe it wasn't the small unpleasant incident from last night affecting his subconscious or state of mind, but an illness?
That idea might have seemed to hold some truth, but he had never been sick before. Not once. Compared to others, he was always stronger, faster, more resilient. He couldn't remember his nose running for more than a week, let alone a serious illness… or maybe. He didn't remember.
He had even mentioned it while talking to himself. He wasn't certain of his own age. Then how could he expect to be sure about his past?
When he tried to reach his oldest memories, he noticed something. There were almost always other people in them. So if there was something he didn't remember, no one else could remind him... because there was no one left—or perhaps there had never been anyone. To remember those moments.
It seemed like no one could help him.
Yet he didn't feel the need to draw conclusions too early. No one could fully explain what had happened. No one could truly know. Until the time came. Not even the ones who knows everything
Faust didn't even know what to say but... he had to talk about something.
"So, Faust—are you gonna tell me or not?"
"Fine, alright… I'll tell you…"
Before speaking, he started staring at the floor.
After months that had passed smoothly and without trouble, Faust felt stressed for the first time in a long while.
His left foot began tapping rapidly against the worn wooden plank.Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock
Maria, seemed stressed for the first time in months like Faust. She panicked without even understanding what was happening.
Her voice shaking...
"Faust?"
Faust's vision began to blur. His mind felt shrouded in fog, as if he knew nothing… understood nothing. He had lost his focus.
In his entire life or at least as far as he could remember, this was the first time he had ever experienced something like this. Neither he nor anyone else knew... or could know what to do.
Holy... Ah shit... Here we go again I guess. Third time this day?....
Maria kept calling out to him as he slowly started to pass out
...."Faust!"....
I can't hear you. Why even bother trying?
He was completely out of it. Eyes slowly closing as he leaned toward Maria's bed and before too long… or rather, just in time, he smashed his head into the wooden corner of the bedframe...
THWACK.. BAM!
"Motherfucker!!"
His head hit the bed first, then the floor with the momentum but atleast the impact had snapped him right back to reality.
"You okay, Faust?"
"Huh. Yea I'm fine."
Maria still seemed suspicious of Faust's condition.
"You sure you're alright, Faust?"
"I said yeah didn't I"
Maria relaxed a little after hearing Faust's answer. He didn't usually speak to her harshly, but hearing that he was fine still seemed enough for her.
"Sounds like you're back to normal too."
"Yeah, I am."
Faust picked up the toppled chair then tried stretching his back.
Crack-crack!
Even his waist seemed stiffer than usual, as if it had rusted more than normal.
Damn! Whats with my back in all of a sudden now!?
Maria tried to keep the conversation going.
"We never did get around to talking about that dream of yours, huh."
Faust had heard her, but he answered as if he hadn't—or as if he didn't really care.
"Yeah, you could say it got a little interrupted I guess, right?"
"So you gonna start now?"
He brushed off the dust that had gotten on his pants when he fell to the ground. After that, he pulled up the sagging black, wrinkled pants that really could look a lot better with a little bit more of caring.
He tightened his old, worn leather belt to make sure the pants wouldn't sag again. Then he bent toward his shoes to check if there was any other dirt and... yes, they had dust on them as well. He quickly brushed the dust off them, surely they looked still didn't look any shinier but at least they looked better.
Faust finally responded after wiping all the dust off himself.
"Maria. Honestly? I'm feeling a lot better right now. Like, no need but maybe another time, yeah?"
Maria was left in shock. She didn't know what to say.
"B-but we haven't even talked about anything yet."
Faust surely didn't felt like talking...
"Sure, sure. Yeah—sorry, but I've got stuff to do you know. Gotta meet up with Klint—Winter City or whatever."
"When will you come back?"
Faust cleared his throat. He avoided her gaze slightly. He wasn't very good at lying or brushing people off. He had never been.
"Well… if you mean the things I gotta do, I've got the Tenth Heir to deal with, some debts to pay, that kinda thing. But if you're asking in general… I'll come whenever I feel like it."
It seemed like Maria had already given up. She responded with a colder voice this timeç
"Alright. Whatever you want then."
Faust, as the clueless man he already was, didn't bother saying much
"Glad you get it. See you another time."
He quickly walked across the floor, as Maria kept watching him leave.
The floor creaked even more than his own room's. He walked quickly toward the door and swung it open with a single arm, almost like throwing a punch.
CREEEAKK!!
It was obvious that he had came back to his senses. To his original sense...
He left the door wide open as he left. If a sudden gust of wind hadn't slammed it shut, it would've stayed that way until his next visit.
He stood right outside the house, feeling something was wrong...
He was trying to remember something, but it just wasn't coming. Hoping it might jog his memory, he started smacking the side of his head.
This wouldn't normally help much with unlocking his memories, but it felt like a better option than doing nothing.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
"Come on! Come on! Come on! Come on!"
Strangely enough, it worked. Somehow.
What the hell was so urgent that I bolted like that? Oooh. Right. Klint.
Sudden little coughs...
Kh-Kh! Kh-Kh!
Faust's expression changed once again, showing how fed up he had become of the coughing.
"I'ma take care of all this coughing too somehow, right after I finish what was left hanging"
Calling it "left hanging" could be considered wrong to some. Because: it was just what they were, a man that has an ability making him unable to "entirely" lose and then there was Faust...
The man who couldn't lose due to his own strength...