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“And this…” said a woman as she flipped the page of the photo album, “this is your great-great-great-great grandfather Ranboo, from where you get your namesake, from where I get mine, and all your ancestors leading back to him.” A small child whose face was a snowy white, save for a large black streak that ran across his face, felt his mother’s arms wrap tighter around him as they flipped through the photo album.
“Is he the one from my textbook, mommy?” The child asked, peering up at his mother.
“Yes, Ranbob, and tomorrow when you go to school you can tell all your classmates about how you’re a direct descendant of the greatest book keeper ever known,” she said with a proud smile, looking back down at her son.
“I saw his name at the back of the textbooks one time,” Ranbob commented.
“The bibliography? He’s probably in there a lot. Many textbooks take from his writings.”
“Mommy, what was he like?” Ranbob asked in an innocently curious tone.
“Oh, I don’t know. But I remember hearing lots of stories from my grandfather, who heard stories from his grandfather. I had them all written down once. It’s said he had a terribly perfect memory… or was it a perfectly terrible memory. I forget… anyhow one way or another he started writing a lot of books to keep track of all the things that happened around him, and that’s why he’s known as such a great historian.”
“So he was there when all that stuff happened with the discs and Manberg!” Ranbob said, clear excitement in his voice.
“You’ve been paying attention in school, I see. Keep it up,” his mother said in an endearing tone.
“I bet he was best friends with Tommy and Tubbo! He probably helped them fight Dream too!” Ranbob continued.
There was a pause. “Well…”
“What?” Ranbob tilted his head, confused.
“He did for a while. Your great-great-great-great grandfather, you see, he wasn’t much of a strong character. No one knows what it was. Some say it was Dream. Some say he snapped. But he started becoming more and more like Dream. He eventually sided with him and, well, that was it. He lost all sense and allied himself with the most powerful, most cruel member of this server.” His mother sighed. “But I know he was a good man at heart. I think whatever happened was beyond him.”
“I don’t remember that,” Ranbob said.
“He never wrote it down. It’s a story secretly passed from parent to child. Promise me you’ll never tell anyone. No one can ever know Ranboo ever helped Dream.”
“Why is Dream always the bad guy in my textbooks? Doesn’t it make sense to want to control what belongs to you?”
“Dream was cruel and heartless. He became the bad guy when he stopped caring about the thing that mattered most. His own people.”
“If he got grandpa Ranboo on his side even when he didn’t want to be, that’s because Ranboo was weak, and Dream was not. Maybe Dream was right to control people as he did, if they didn’t have what it took to stop him,” Ranbob said, studying the photo of his great-great-great-great grandfather on the album. Even after several generations, Ranbob could see the similarities between himself and his ancestor. It was almost a striking resemblance.
When he didn’t hear a response from his mother, he looked up. The expression of his mother’s face confused him. It was passed concerned, she looked horrified. “Ranbob, dear, you mustn’t say awful things like that. Tommy and Tubbo fought to protect this server from him. That’s how much of a horrible person he was.”
“Controlling the weak isn’t that horrible if in the end no one’s fighting anymore.”
“Ranbob, Ranbob sweety. I know you’re not old enough to understand, so please. Please don’t say things like this. Hopefully when you’re older and know more you’ll understand why Dream is hated so much.”
School boys raced down the arched halls of the underwater city. Citizens going about their day shuffled to the side, just barely avoiding the children’s path as they continued running and laughing without a single care or precaution. Fish could be seen swimming merrily along the glass. The water was a vibrant blue, and while they couldn’t see the sun, they felt the day just as much.
“I win! I win!” Markus exclaimed triumphantly as he reached the end of the hall.
“No fucking fair! You have longer legs than I do!” Harrison complained.
“So? Ranbob’s the tallest out of all three of us and he came last,” Markus pointed out.
“I’m not much for athletics,” Ranbob said, scratching behind his head.
“Hey which one are you gonna pick?” Harrison asked, staring up at Ranbob.
“What do you mean?”
“For the rooms! You know, how everyone our age picks which of the idols we want to look up to.”
“Oh, uh, I haven’t… I haven’t quite decided yet.”
“I’m gonna pick Skeppy and get hella rich,” Harrison declared.
“Shouldn’t you be picking Badboyhalo, seeing how much you love to curse?” Markus commented with a snide grin.
“Bullshit, I don’t curse that much.”
“Well I’m picking Sapnap, so I can get all the women.” Markus declared.
“Yeah, bet. Not even Sapnap could help you with that, pal.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see how many women you get after you’re dead,” Markus said, raising his fists.
“Actually… I’ve been thinking of making a new room,” Ranbob finally said.
Markus and Harrison stopped bickering and turned toward Ranbob in comedic synchrony.
“Wait really?!” Markus asked, ecstatic at the idea. “Who? Is it Niki? Sam?”
“That’s so cool! Imagine the sort of benefits you’d get from that. You would stand out from the rest of the crowd.” Harrison seemed equally as supportive.
“I’m not really doing this for any benefit. I just look up to him a lot, that’s all,” Ranbob explained simply. He had an embarrassed expression on his face.
“So? Who is it? Who are you going to add?”
“...Dream.”
Silence.
His friends’ faces were pure awestruck, until Markus started laughing. “Gee Ranbob, you don’t usually pull a fast one on us, but when you do, you get us good. Isn’t that right, Harrison?”
“Hahah, yeah,” Harrison replied, still a little put off. “So who are you actually doing?”
“You don’t think Dream deserves a room of his own?” Ranbob asked, genuine.
Markus furrowed his brows, giving Ranbob a concerned look. “Rooms are for idols.”
“And I idolize Dream. Therefore, he should get his own room.”
“Wasn’t he, like, a really bad guy?”
“How dare you. Dream was the greatest thing that ever happened to the SMP. All he wanted was to reunite his server like it started. It wasn’t his fault no one saw his vision like he did. You take what you said back.” Ranbob was usually reserved about his idolization of Dream, but at the very least he thought he could trust his friends.
“Woah, woah chill. I was just saying, seems like he did a lot of bad shit for him to get his own room,” Harrison said.
“Don’t tell me to chill. How would you feel if I insulted your idol to your face?”
“Can’t say I’d really care. It’s not like I’m obsessed with Skeppy.”
“Yeah, because you’re just like everyone else here. Picking an idol is just some superficial thing for you to benefit from. You don’t actually care about what it means. You just care about your own greed. But I’m different. Dream means everything to me, and one day I’m gonna restore his legacy, and Mizu will finally learn to respect and idolize him.”
Harrison stammered to get his words out, dumbstruck.
“Listen here, Ranbob, I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you but–”
“Save your breath,” Ranbob said curtly. “If you aren’t going to be supportive, you aren’t my real friends.” Ranbob stormed off, bumping into others as he went past.
“Ranbob!” Harrison called out.
“Let’s just go, Harrison,” Markus said. “We aren’t even his real friends. He said so.”
Ranbob could hear the solitary clacking of his own shoes as he waited impatiently outside the office of his publisher. It wasn’t long after he’d completed his education that he got a job as a historian and bookkeeper, writing the histories of the City of Mizu, along with preserving the tales told of the Dream SMP. A perfect continuation of his great-great-great-great-grandfather’s legacy, just as his mother would’ve wanted.
The dark oak doors of the office opened abruptly, and a man who adjusted his coat as he walked left. The secretary who sat opposite of Ranbob behind a large mahogany desk flipped a page of her magazine. “Mr. Reed will see you now,” she said without looking up.
Closing the office doors behind him, Ranbob’s eyes gazed around the room, noting the amount of pictures and items paying homage to Tommyinnit.
“Have a seat, Mr. Ranbob,” Mr. Reed said, flipping through the pages of a leather book.
Ranbob slowly sat in his chair, eyeing his publisher as he continued to skim through the book without pause. “Actually, it’s just Ranbob.”
With sudden movement, Mr. Reed shut the book in his hands. He sighed. “Ranbob, don’t think I don’t appreciate your work. I do. When I found out that the direct descendant of Ranboo the Bookkeeper had chosen my company to publish his books, I was over the moon.” Mr. Reed explained.
“Is there something wrong with the book I’ve given you?” Ranbob asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s an amazing piece of work from a linguistic perspective, but if you think I’d really be out of my mind enough to publish this, or even let another soul read this, well then you’re very much mistaken.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Many others have told and retold the tale of the Disc War and Manberg. I’m only taking a unique approach.”
“Ranbob, you’re glorifying a tyrant! This isn’t a ‘unique approach’, you’re completely rewriting the history! I simply cannot have my company’s name on this. It would be a stain on our reputation.”
“Sir, I pride myself on my research on Dream. What you see there is the truth and that’s all there is to it,” Ranbob said, quite insistent on the fact.
“That Dream wasn’t a cruel dictator over his people who sought to crush all attachment?” The publisher laughed. “Ranbob, surely you understand how wrong and inaccurate that is.”
“No one ever talks about how things used to be in the beginning. There was never any war or violence until you know who showed up. He was the one that brought pain and suffering to Dream’s server. Tommyinnit never had any regard for anyone else. He’d simply go around trying to find any excuse to start a fight, and who else could properly put him in his place other than Dream himself? Who else could restore peace?” Spotting one of Mr. Reeds plethora of Tommyinnit trinkets on his desk, he snatched it and held it up for example. “But because this boy managed to deceive everyone around him, the true history is lost.”
Mr. Reed stood up urgently. “Hey, hey, hey, hey put my Tommyinnit Youtooz down! Don’t you know that’s a sacred item you’re holding??”
“Your idol has blinded you! All of you! Everything I wrote in that book is true and when people read it they’ll finally understand.”
“Ranbob, don’t think just because of your lineage that I’ll tolerate this. I was willing to excuse the rumors I heard about you wanting to make a room dedicated to Dream, but this… this is too far. I don’t want to hear a single word about you defending him from this point on,” Mr. Reed demanded.
“Or what?”
“Or you can forget about your job as a historian. Neither I, nor any other publisher in Mizu will hear a word you have to say, I’ll make damn sure of it.”
Ranbob froze. He dropped a Youtooz, which provoked a pained groan from his publisher. Were people in Mizu so blind, so close-minded, that they would not even listen? Was this city truly so far-gone? Ranbob’s sole dream in life was to restore Dream’s legacy. To finally give him a room in Mizu, and with that, followers. Such a simple wish had lost all hope of coming true. Not as long as the people of Mizu continued to cover their ears.
A bloodied, netherite axe dragged on the smooth stone floor. The head of the axe scraping across the tiles, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed throughout the empty and silent halls of Mizu, accompanied by heavy breathing.
Ranbob could recall a lot of fond memories in his youth, though perhaps they weren’t as accurate as they could’ve been.
Days spent with his parents, reveling in their attention and adoration, spent playing with his classmates, the day he got his first job.
The people of Mizu treated him well. As poor as his memory was, he could say with certainty that he’d never been on the receiving end of anyone’s malice, though he couldn’t help but feel estranged from them. As well as he got along with him, they never truly understood him. Not a single one, nor would they ever want to. Wishes that made up his entire being were left ignored, or scorned.
Perhaps that was why as he sat in the cafeteria and watched them eat the bread he’d poisoned, he couldn’t find an ounce of guilt or regret within him.
They were like his ancestor, Ranboo. Weak, and easy to fool. In the end, Ranbob wasn’t even suspected.
Ranbob wasn’t like his ancestor.
Down the secret ladder he’d created in the council room, he placed the lever to open the hidden room he’d been working on for a while. He went through great lengths to ensure no one would catch him working on it, though he supposed now that was no longer a necessary precaution.
He looked around the black and green room, soaking it all in with a feeling of euphoria. It turned out a lot better than he’d anticipated. Up the stairs, he pressed his hands on the glass, admiring his statue of Dream with almost a drunken, giddy feeling. Finally, after everything, he finally restored Dream’s greatness in Mizu.
“It’s just you and me now, Dream… there’s no one left to come between us.”