After somehow climbing into bed and managing one way or another to keep Darius from entering the room, he prepared for a deep, oblivious sleep, completely unaware of the hour. Still, the possibility of falling back into a similar nightmare wasn't something he could entirely shrug off. It wasn't frightening in the usual sense; what disturbed him was its peculiar residue. Beyond an impenetrable black cloud, he remembered absolutely nothing.
If the nightmare simply resumed the moment he drifted off again, the outcome could be far more dangerous. If even the first encounter had left him this rattled, a second descent into that void might very well kill him completely.
Then, in that still moment, something struck him.
He was certain... completely certain, that he had forced himself awake from the nightmare through sheer willpower.
Only someone like him could have done it. And he had done it; of that he had no doubt whatsoever.
If it had been a completely new, unheard-of event, perhaps he might have questioned his own certainty. But it wasn't. He had done something similar before... not under such dire circumstances, but simply to prove to himself that he could. Just to feel the edges of his own power.
The nightmare had stopped halfway. That seemed the most likely thing… but it wasn't really over. If he fell asleep again, he was sure the nightmare would continue right from where it stopped. And he knew the effects would be much worse this time.
Was it fear? He was only sweating cold sweat, that's all… but maybe that was enough to call it fear.
Death.
The thought of dying had never even crossed his mind before. Not once. Because he had always been sure he would win.
But he had never once thought the real threat would be some kind of illness or virus-like thing. Maybe the one who would defeat him wasn't someone else at all. Maybe it was his own body, slowly, quietly carrying him closer and closer to the edge of death.
Should've listened to the people who said "treat your body as a temple~"
How strange...
He felt stronger.
He might not actually be stronger, but he was sure he felt that way. What an odd feeling? Had the nightmare given him power? He couldn't know. Just moments ago, he had been on the floor, twisting in pain and agony, and now he felt stronger?
It was hard to explain this to anyone... even to himself. There was no change in his body that he could see, no difference in his movements or abilities, but deep inside, he wanted to tell himself;
I'm stronger?
Maybe the reason for this was that it was the first time he had gone through an illness and come out on top... but he had said it himself: if the nightmare kept going, his situation would get much worse... and even now, no one could promise he wouldn't end up on the floor again, writhing in pain. So why? Was his body fooling itself? Fooling...
Me?
Would he give time for power, or his life for knowledge? Right then, he wanted to ask himself that question.
No one—not even he, could say exactly why… but it wasn't completely unrelated. There were so many unknowns, and so many powers he still wanted to reach.
Not just in these last few hours, but his whole life he had been a mysterious man. Like the "x" in a math equation unknown, able to take on endless different values.
Was it because he wanted to look cool? Of course not!
Whatever people knew about him… he knew exactly that much about himself. He wasn't any different from them. He too wished there were more things to know about him. Yet he remained a mystery, and kept staying one.
He had thoughts about himself, but they were all ordinary ones, questions he had asked himself a hundred times before. They could wait until later.
Right now, what he needed to think about was this: Had this so-called "illness" really ended? Would it come back again? And if it did, if it happened one more time... how bad would it be? How violent?
Would it be having him crawling in desperation? Would it last longer?
Will it hurt me more?
Will it cause the same agony and pain?
For some reason...
I want it
Am I just a horny masochist!?
Those were the thoughts pulling at his mind the hardest, taking the front seat.
But then, from somewhere inside, not really a voice, just a sudden feeling, an instinct born out of nothing... he felt something different.
He was sure this sickness wouldn't stand in his way in any battle or fight. It wouldn't kill him.
Why?
Again, every path led back to the same place. Neither he nor anyone else could know the answer.
At least not yet.
He lay flat on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and started counting the water drops on the ceiling that looked as if they were about to fall any second…
One...
Two...
Three...
Other thoughts crossed his mind not so long after...
Before the Winter City and the debt...
I got other things to do.
No one. No one can say else to me!
He had long since reached the point where he could get out of bed, but he couldn't draw attention. None of his siblings could know he hadn't slept or that he couldn't sleep.
Doing nothing, just closing his eyes, would eventually make normal people fall asleep… but of course, he wasn't like normal people. Even if he kept his eyes shut for hours, his will would keep his mind fully awake and active.
Was his everyday life—the one he had lived for so long... finally about to change?
Man or woman, old or young, doctor or priest… as far as he could remember, none of them had ever had the slightest effect on his life.
Not one.
But now… was a different arc, a diffrent dawn for him was beginning?
Maybe.
Just maybe!
I've got lot to discover?
Still...
What a low possibility.