Chapter Text
Chapter 1 Ray
*
On the day I graduated from college, Helen died. Though Helen and I weren't blood-related, I always considered her my mother. I don't know where my real mother is—Helen never told me. Or perhaps she just never got the chance. When I was a child and learned that every kid was supposed to have parents who looked like them, I asked Helen where mine were. That was the first time I saw her cry—so deeply, so painfully. She told me I was too young, that when I was older when the time was right, she would tell me everything. I guessed that my parents were a painful memory for her. I also assumed that they were dead. So when I looked at her, my first thought was that I would never know if I was right. It wasn't really about my parents—it was about Helen. Now, I'll never know. Helen is dead, and with her, many questions will never be answered. Never. I never had parents, and I had long since accepted that. But I had Helen—and now, I've lost her too.
On my way back, I was consumed with fear. I prayed the entire journey. But my fears came true, and my prayers went unanswered. The week before, Helen had called to tell me she would attend my graduation ceremony. She said we'd take pictures together on campus, she was proud of me. She sounded so happy. She promised she would come. She didn't. I called, but no one answered. After the group photo, I wandered alone on the grass, watching my joyful classmates with their parents. I kept hoping to see her appear late, explaining what unexpected event had delayed her. But she never showed up, and she didn't answer my calls. I kept calling from the campus phone booths until I ran out of change. I didn't own a cellphone because I thought the school's phone booths were enough for my needs. But on the way home, I wished I had bought one. Maybe then, if Helen had resolved whatever was keeping her, she could have reached me. Or if she was in trouble, she could have called me. But Helen was dead—no breath, no heartbeat, her skin as pale as paper, blood soaking through the carpet. I held her, and I cried.
Then, I awakened.
They told me later that the psychic shockwave I unleashed knocked out everyone in the block, including an off-duty sentinel. I didn't know. All I remembered was what happened in that room—on the carpet, the blood, Helen—dead Helen. Those moments are a blur in my memory, like a nightmare. I felt myself becoming something other than human. I felt omniscient, like a god, able to see everything—her wounds, stab wounds, so many stab wounds, carefully avoiding vital organs. The blood that soaked the carpet had flowed from those wounds for a long time. She had struggled for so long, suffered for so long. The one who inflicted that suffering had watched her the entire time.
Yes, him—the bastard who killed Helen, the murderer. I "saw" his sick pleasure as he watched her die. That disgusting pleasure was like a glaring thread, and I followed it. Then I "saw" him, a mass of darkness lurking behind the bedroom door.
Helen had always taught me not to be reckless, to run and call the police if I was in danger. But I didn't. I forgot. I lost my mind. All I could think about was hatred. "I" rushed at him. It wasn't me—I was still sitting on the carpet, holding Helen's body—but I knew it was also me. "I" was a glowing orb without physical form, passing through the door. It was as if I had broken through a thin membrane, and I saw him—both of them. He was standing there in a pitch-black trench coat, a smile on his lips. "He" was a dark presence, filling the entire bedroom, radiating a pressure that terrified "me." Before "I" could retreat, "he" reached out a tendril, wrapping around "me," swallowing "me" whole. Terror. Suffocation. "He" was everywhere. I was helpless. The fury and hatred I unleashed were effortlessly deflected by "him." There was no escape from "his" crushing and invasive force. I felt myself screaming, though no sound came out, but I knew I was screaming. I "saw" him push the door open and walk out. He was the one who killed Helen, drenched in her blood and pain.
I laid Helen down and grabbed my keys. The self-defense instructor had always said, Go for the eyes. I wanted to gouge out his eyes—they were light green.
But I didn't stand a chance. Just like "he" easily overpowered "me," I was easily pinned against the dresser. I heard myself screaming, though no sound came out. Then I felt something invading me like an iron spoon shoved into my brain and stirred. The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced. "I" and I were both screaming.
Relax, he said inside my mind.
"You killed her!" I shouted. I felt an overwhelming grief, an overwhelming hatred. These emotions were too intense for any human to bear; they were tearing me apart, shredding me. I was vomiting, or maybe I wasn't. Perhaps I was releasing something else. I didn't know. I was in agony. I felt him reaching out with something, something that started putting my shattered pieces back together like nails. He wanted me to relax, to submit. He was like a steel brace, forcing me into his mold. I didn't know what he was doing, but I understood this: he was saving me.
He had murdered Helen. And he was saving me.
Relax, he kept telling me. If you don't want to kill your neighbors, you need to relax… accept me.
Who would kill? Tears welled up in my eyes. How could it be me?
"Let go of me—I don't want—"
My consciousness merged with another's, and my feelings fused with another's. I was happy, but it wasn't my happiness; I was ecstatic—but it wasn't me!
I want to.
Let.
Let me.
GO!
But a more overpowering, stronger, and more intense emotion washed over mine. He held me, kissed me, caressed me. Desire—the desire to become one. The hatred of separation. Love.
Confusion. My confusion was drowned by his tidal wave of emotion. I couldn't feel myself anymore. I could only feel him.
And his feelings were:
Indescribably wonderful.
When he finally released me, I was still trembling. He withdrew from me, and I felt myself once more as if I had been born into this world again. I knelt on the ground, tears dripping onto my hands. The air was still thick with the scent of Helen's blood. But the grief and anger in my heart were no longer as sharp as before as if he had washed them clean, stripping away their edges. I wished he hadn't. I wished I could still be torn apart by my pain. A new wave of hatred and sorrow began to rise within me.
And he was on the phone.
I heard him calling the Tower, calmly, and openly, asking them to send an ambulance quickly because there was a newly awakened guide here. So calm, so at ease, as if the dead body on the carpet didn't exist.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Ray," he answered, "your sentinel."
*
Chapter 2 Result
*
According to their account, the events unfolded as follows: My adoptive mother, Helen, was the victim of a home invasion. The trauma of witnessing the crime scene had a profound psychological impact on me, leading to an unprecedented awakening as a guide in adulthood and an explosive surge in my mental power. Not only did I incapacitate everyone in the entire block, but my mental energy also damaged the mental power detection devices in the area, preventing them from triggering the necessary alarm. Given the situation, it would have taken at least twenty minutes for the local Tower to discover my condition and respond. I wouldn't have been able to last that long. I would have released uncontrolled psychic shocks, killing all nearby living beings and ultimately dying from the exhaustion of my mental energy.
Fortunately, at that moment, an S-rank sentinel on a covert mission several streets away sensed me. He arrived immediately, performed an emergency bonding with me, and calmed me down, intercepting my psychic shocks. Afterward, I fell into a deep sleep due to the extreme depletion of my mental energy.
"That's not true," I said coldly, "He's the one who killed Helen. He was waiting for me there."
A man and a woman were in front of me. The woman, upon hearing my words, stepped forward with a gentle and sympathetic look. She explained that a frenzy is a state detached from the objective world, where one's sense of self distorts the objective reality of the material world, similar to a psychotic break. She expressed regret for my adoptive mother's death but hoped I would understand that everything I felt at the time was an illusion created by my frenzied state. I was in so much pain that I mistook the sentinel who had jumped in through my bedroom window for an emergency rescue for the killer. Although involuntary bonding is painful, she, though not a guide, understood my feelings as a woman. However, I needed to recognize that had that sentinel not forcibly performed the bonding at that time, many lives—those of everyone nearby, including my own—would have been lost.
I realized: that they do not believe my testimony; they trust his.
"Let me see him," I said. "Let me confront him—he's lying!"
They told me: no.
According to the Alliance's Sentinel-Guide Bonding Act, sentinels or guides who have not completed the Tower's compulsory education are not allowed to undergo a deep bonding with others. The safest and least painful way to dissolve an emergency bond is to separate the individuals involved, allowing the unstable bond to disintegrate over time naturally. I was prohibited from any contact with him, and he was similarly restricted, to prevent the continuation and deepening of our bond, which could affect my future bond with a truly compatible sentinel.
The man added that this was for my benefit.
"Then, I want to know his identity."
No. Since he was not at fault, the Tower could not disclose any information about him to me. He was an active S-rank sentinel, and everything related to him was confidential. As I had not completed the guide curriculum and was still considered an ordinary citizen, I had no right to know his identity.
They left. They were not there to question me but to announce the outcome and make me accept it.
Lying on my hospital bed, I clenched my fists. I knew he was an S-rank sentinel. Although I had lived an ordinary life until then, with no acquaintances who were sentinels or guides and limited knowledge of this group, I knew that S-rank sentinels were rare. I could search for him, one by one.
I closed my eyes.
And I had a hunch: he would come to find me again.
I shall kill him.
*
Chapter 3 The Tower
*
A week after Helen's death, my attending physician declared that my treatment had been effective, my mental state was stable, and I was cleared for discharge—his so-called treatment involved administering sedatives, causing me to sleep for over twenty hours a day. While I slept, guides would come to perform the same actions on me that the sentinel had done. On one occasion, I woke up and "saw" it happening. The guide had a glowing tendril-like projection extending toward me. Her touch was gentle, not causing me the pain he had. If I hadn't been awake, I wouldn't have felt her doing it.
But I still found it disgusting. She was taking away my anger, my pain, my sorrow.
I stood on the carpet. I hadn't allowed anyone to clean it, but it had been cleaned. The air smelled of bleach, and everything was very clean, like my thoughts and emotions. This was the carpet where Helen had lain, that was the cabinet where he had forced me, and that was the door to my bedroom where he had hidden and watched me. I sat on the sofa. Grief flowed through me like a shallow stream. It shouldn't have been like this. The attendant sent by the Tower sat beside me, looking at me gently without speaking. She must have dealt with many people like me and knew how to handle me. I found it revolting. Yet, when she opened her arms, I couldn't help but lean into her embrace and cry. She was also a guide, and once I began my courses, she would be one of my instructors and dorm supervisor. For now, she was like a sister to me, gently patting my shoulder. She did not extend any mental tendrils or offer guidance. She just patiently waited.
After crying, she began helping me sort out my personal belongings. So, a week after Helen's death, I moved into the Tower District.
Alliance law mandates that newly awakened sentinels or guides must report to the Tower District immediately to begin their sentinel or guide training. It is their duty and cannot be declined or delayed. I sat in the basic guide training class, surrounded by teenagers, who were surprised to see an adult in the classroom. I also felt uncomfortable being in a place like this. My teacher noticed my embarrassment and encouraged me, saying that if I worked hard, I could finish my training early and advance to classes with more adult students. Unfortunately, I learned very slowly. I was slower than all of them, even the youngest children grasped the techniques of releasing spirit animals or mental tendrils and entering their mind-scope more easily than I did. Later, I discovered that my performance had shocked the high-ups in the Tower. Generally, sentinels or guides who awaken in adulthood either have mediocre D-rank mental power or exceptionally talented S-rank. Given the commotion I caused upon awakening, they predicted I would be a powerful genius, growing into a mature S-rank guide at an astonishing rate. I disappointed everyone greatly. guides need sensitivity and control over mental emotions, which I lacked. I couldn't feel it, let alone control it. It took me a whole year to reach a level where I could barely perform mental power tests, and the results were predictably D-rank. Meanwhile, the children who started their courses at the same time as me had already grown into C-rank guides, capable of providing mental support to sentinels.
Since sentinels cannot survive without guides, and guides can live well without sentinels, guides are always considered more valuable than sentinels. Even a weak guide is of significant value. After the illusion of producing an S-rank guide from the Tower was shattered, they placed no pressure on me. On the contrary, there were always people encouraging me not to stress and to go with the flow. Indeed, I was under great pressure and deeply disappointed—because of Helen and that S-class sentinel. If I remained weak, struggling at the bottom, how could I avenge Helen? I wanted to grow stronger, I longed to be strong. I enrolled in physical training and combat training. My dorm supervisor subtly told me that my mental power was destined to fail the recruitment test and that these courses were futile. Why not study music or art instead? I told her I had no interest in music or art. But my combat instructor soon approached me privately, shaking her head and saying that, with her years of experience, she could see I was completely untalented. My movements were awkward and stiff, and insisting on pursuing this path would likely result in significant injuries—I often twisted my ankle or stubbed my hand.
Two years later, I finally passed the assessment and graduated from the basic class. According to the law, as a D-rank guide, I was not required to undergo advanced guide training. I could leave the Tower District after registration and return to ordinary life, provided I completed a designated number of non-emergency mental support sessions for sentinels each month. This support work, more of a benefit than an obligation, came with high salaries. For a guide, providing support to a rational and cooperative sentinel should be simple. But for me, it wasn't. I was the most complained-about D-rank guide in the local Tower District, surpassing the complaints against high-rank guides who provided forced support to frenzied sentinels. The sentinels would find various excuses to cancel the guidance whenever they saw me. They claimed my work was painful. Once, I got into a fight with them because I overheard them saying—
Because I had been "raped" by a sentinel when I awoke, I was now "raping" these poor sentinels.
I couldn't beat them. Due to legal constraints, they didn't dare to harm me, but they held onto me and my spirit animal, mocking me. They laughed at me as a disabled guide, unworthy of being called a guide, mocking my spirit animal as disabled as well. What the hell is it? A big white ball! They said the S-rank sentinel who had once interacted with me was the best sentinel I could ever have.
I wished I could return to the state I was in when I awakened, that intense and enormous emotional turmoil that had caused me so much pain, so I could transfer my suffering to them.
But I couldn't. It was as if that nightmare would forever remain in my nightmares, and the power I had once unleashed was not something I could control freely. Soon, other guides and sentinels arrived and separated us.
*
Chapter 4 Fracture
*
In the Tower District, I am a failure —broken and rejected. Outside the Tower, reclaiming my previous life is also challenging. To prevent mishaps, I am restricted to the Tower District until I pass the assessment and cannot leave without a special reason. Over the past two years, I have only left the Tower once—three months after Helen's death, when I held her funeral with my dorm supervisor's accompaniment. I have lost two years, my status as an ordinary citizen, and Helen. The world has changed. When I received my Bachelor of Science degree, I had planned to continue my studies, but that plan was interrupted. Everything was interrupted. Seeing the school reminded me of graduation, Helen's death, him, and my helplessness. I no longer had the heart to enter a classroom solely for knowledge.
My former friends knew nothing about all this. We haven't seen each other for two years, and I am not good at writing letters. The only contact we had was through postcards and Christmas gifts. When I could finally leave the Tower District to visit my friends, the question they were most interested in was:
"Have you ever seen that sentinel who saved you again?"
"Saved". The word makes my chest tighten. It wasn't "save". Before I could explain clearly and let them understand what had happened, they first let me understand their perspective: Helen died, I awakened, fell into madness, and a handsome S-class sentinel hero came to save me, combining with me...
How disgusting.
"Ah!" The person sitting closest to me gasped, covering her forehead. I realized I hadn't controlled my mental energy and quickly apologized. My mental energy was weak; even an ordinary person who didn't know how to set up barriers wouldn't be harmed. But Anne looked at me differently now with fear. Later, she distanced herself from me when she realized that, as a guide, I could torment her even while sitting still and just by having a fleeting thought.
Naturally, some people stayed close to me, so I told them the truth. However—like the previous people, they didn't believe me.
"Eve," my best friend said solemnly after my third recounting of the events, "you need a therapist."
No, they didn't understand. guides are the best therapists. I had undergone numerous mental guidance and was very calm and rational, with no delusions controlling my thoughts. I "saw" those truths—
"This is a conspiracy theory," she said. "What are you trying to say? That they're covering up his murder because he's an S-rank?"
No, no, no. There was no need for cover-ups or such effort... just to believe his words and not mine...
"Besides," she continued, "even if we take a step back, why would an active S-rank sentinel, who is busy with the most dangerous tasks, protecting citizens and fighting international crime and terrorism, want to kill Helen?"
She shook her head. Not just her. They all did, quietly, secretly, but firmly, shaking their heads at me.
"Aunt Helen was just an ordinary person, and you were too before you became a guide. That sentinel just happened to pass by and saved your life."
After having such conversations repeatedly, there were moments when I began to doubt—was I clinging to my delusions?
But every time, every time I endured the pain to recall that nightmare, examining every vivid detail, I was certain I wasn't imagining it; I truly "saw"—
He killed Helen, waiting behind the door, watching me.
This man named Ray, an S-rank sentinel—those are my only leads. I had no right to browse the global list of sentinels. I could only search through all available public records. I couldn't find an S-rank sentinel named Ray. Did he use a false name? If it was a false name, the lead would be lost, as sentinels and guides, for their protection, are covered by the Alliance's Silence Act, which prohibits the public reporting of their images and information, except for retired individuals. I remembered his face wouldn't help.
Every night, I curled up in my blanket, hugging "myself." I missed Helen. I wondered why all this was happening. Why Helen died, why I could not avenge her. After six months, my complaints had reached a level that the Tower could no longer ignore. I received an order to retake the basic guide course. That wasn't the only trouble. There was more. My dorm supervisor approached me in another capacity— as a matchmaker. According to regulations, guides who are mentally stable and have no malicious criminal tendencies (in the context of sentinel-guide laws, the only malicious crime for guides is to use a sentinel's trust and reliance during guidance to attack the sentinel and drive them mad maliciously) are obligated to pair with another sentinel of similar qualifications. If a guide does not find a sentinel to pair with before they are twenty-five, the government will match their DNA with unpaired sentinels in the database, finding the best match and forcing them to pair. "Forced," I loathed that word. My dorm supervisor understood and nodded, telling me that sentinels remaining in the database must have various shortcomings. She thought I, despite my bad reputation on guidance, was a kind and beautiful girl. Being matched with a "database" sentinel would be a pity.
So, I was supposed to attend her matchmaking gathering.
*
Chapter 5 Dating
*
I truly didn't want to be matched with a sentinel by force. Besides the aversion to compulsion, there were other reasons. It wasn't because "being matched with a 'database' sentinel would be a pity for me", for the requirements for sentinels are always higher than for guides; even a sentinel of my level would have superior mental and physical qualities. The real reason is: that the database is for the entire Alliance.
I could be paired with someone from another city or even another country. Guides are required to obey sentinels, as sentinels protect guides. If I were matched with a sentinel from outside this city (which is highly likely), I would have to move to where he was, not the contrary.
I didn't want to leave here, not leave the home I shared with Helen. This was where my previous life was interrupted, where everything pivoted. I couldn't leave. I could not allow myself to leave. I realized that I could not complete my revenge, so I could not allow myself to let go of my hatred. As a guide, I regularly face many other guides' companion-style inquiries and support, cleansing negative feelings from my mind. If I didn't constantly confront and provoke them, the scent of blood would fade. That would be his victory, the victory of him and his lies. No. I saw it: it was him; he killed Helen, he is the murderer. I could not forget. I could not let go.
So, find a local sentinel to pair with.
Thus, I entered my first relationship, with a D-rank sentinel who served in this Tower District and worked daily assisting local criminal investigation officers. I had no particular complaints, except that he was very dull. When we first met, he tried to humorously (in his sight) greet me with, "Hi, are you the killer Eve?"
Since I was still retaking my basic course, I couldn't give him guidance on the spot, which was unfortunate. Setting aside our lack of chemistry, he was a decent person. Moreover, every time I thought of using him, my heart felt he was unjustly treated due to my hatred, making him even more innocent. So, when he invited me for an informal temporary bonding one night, I did not refuse. When others complained about pain during guidance, some said it smiling, and I thought they were just joking. So when he initially complained about pain with a smile, I didn't take it seriously. Soon, however, his smile faded, and he and his spirit animal (a dog) began to scream.
"What is in your mind-scope—"
I'm not very adept at entering my mind-scope. Other guides might manage it with a thought, but it's challenging for me, and sometimes I fail or cannot exit. So I don't often examine my mind-scope.
This time, I tried.
My mind-scope should have been empty. Sometimes, when I haven't encountered a guide for support in a long time, there would be a bloodstained carpet. But this time, I saw "him."
It was a part of "him," a small section of black tentacle writhing on a pure white surface as if stimulated, and now that the stimulation had faded, it slowly sank and disappeared into the white.
When I managed to come out, I saw my boyfriend angrily talking on the phone, shouting, "She's paired! She had a temporary bond with someone else! How should I know who? I wanted to ask you—weren't you saying she was easy to get with no one pursuing her?"
He suddenly noticed I had "returned," and was startled. However, he likely thought I was playing with his feelings by agreeing with him while secretly pairing with someone else. He was very angry with me. If it weren't for the Sentinel Code strictly prohibiting sentinels from harming guides, he would have hit me.
From then on, we became strangers. However, the pairing issue was not resolved. My matchmaker, the dorm supervisor, came to me in the middle of the night and took me to the hospital for an examination. Under the scrutiny of an A-rank guide, they discovered that the bond link from the S-rank sentinel from two years ago had not yet disappeared.
"What does this mean?" I asked urgently. "Did I have contact with him without knowing?"
"No," the A-rank guide replied, "I believe it's because that sentinel's mental power was so strong that his link remained in your mind-scope until now. Don't worry, dear. The link is already very weak and will completely disappear in a while. It won't affect your pairing."
I was disappointed. I returned to my dormitory in the Tower District, feeling deep anguish. The thing he inserted into my mind remained because he was a powerful S-rank sentinel. Yet, I, as a weak D-rank guide, could never find him for revenge. I thought of Helen. When I was young, a teacher at school said I had intellectual problems and suggested Helen send me to a special school. Helen did not. Helen told me I had no problems; I just needed more patience and perseverance. She said I could catch up and even excel with effort.
I was in so much pain. Helen was gone. No one would believe me. No one would tell me again: I'm proud of you. You're my pride.
I didn't want to attend lessons anymore. I took several days off, using up my entire annual leave. For the first time, I thought about suicide. I wanted to meet Helen.
But that day, the phone in my room rang. I thought it was the dorm supervisor, picked it up, and casually said something like I am being fine.
No one answered me, only faint breathing. It wasn't who I thought it was. It wasn't someone I knew.
"Sorry," I said. "May I ask who this is?"
Silence.
Gradually, I don't know why, I felt—or had an intuition, or because he left part of his mental presence in my mind-scope.
"Ray?"
The breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier as if excited yet trying to hold back.
I tightened my grip on the phone. "Me" buzzed restlessly around me. Pain, hatred, frustration, anger. I asked: "Who are you? What's your name? Where are you? I know you killed Helen. I want to find you. If I can't take you to court, I'll kill you myself—"
"The reason the bonding hasn't disappeared," he suddenly said, "is because our compatibility is one hundred percent."
The call was disconnected.
I redialed, but a female voice with a mechanical tone informed me that it was a disconnected number that did not exist.
*
Chapter 6 Paranoia
*
I stood in my mind-scope. Now, it was no longer pure white; there was a bloodstained carpet. My spirit animal began to wander around this space. I was "sensing", or more professionally, "exploring." I didn't possess the advanced skills of that A-rank guide; all I had was patience. I searched for a long time, and in the end, rather than finding "him," it was more accurate to say that "he" found me. He emerged from the white surface like a sprouting seed, extending towards me. I wanted to stomp on "him." "I" was quicker than I was, moving to smash "him" before I could even lift my foot. I thought it was just a small part of "him" that I could handle. I still underestimated the gap between S-rank and D-rank. In an instant, "he" snared "me." I tried to pry "him" off, attempting to save my spirit animal, but as soon as my fingers touched "him," I felt an indescribable emptiness—a void from losing him. A powerful longing, wishing he were here in person.
I immediately released it, and that feeling vanished.
"He" continued to entangle "me," but "I" no longer felt panic. I watched them—a ball and a tentacle—bump and rub against each other as if playing. "I" openly displayed my craving for him.
I curled up in my blanket, not wanting to see my spirit animal. Why was this happening? It shouldn't be this way.
A one hundred percent compatibility sounded absurd. It was impossible to achieve one hundred percent compatibility; over ninety percent is considered a "perfect" match. People cannot fit together like two puzzle pieces—there will always be one or two aspects that don't align perfectly.
Is he lying to me? Why would he lie?
I went to see my dorm supervisor.
"Dear, that's impossible," she said. "You two can't interact. He has no way of knowing your phone number or calling you."
"But he did call me!" I said. "Is what he said true? That our bonding hasn't disappeared because of one hundred percent compatibility?"
"There's no such thing as a one hundred percent match between a sentinel and a guide," she said.
"Could a high compatibility cause a delay in the disappearance of a temporary bonding?" I asked. In the manual I had, the only related statement I could find was: The higher the compatibility, the smoother the bonding between a sentinel and a guide. How does it "smooth"? No explanation was given.
She hesitated. I didn't know what she was hesitating about. She said, "It can, but…"
But an S-rank and a D-rank can't be paired. Even if my compatibility with him were very high, the Tower wouldn't allow an S-rank to bond with a D-rank. As an S-rank, he would be offered many A-rank and above guides with over seventy percent compatibility. Considering his age, he should already have a formal bond with his exclusive guide.
She looked at me with pity. "Eve, let him go. The traces he left will disappear. Look at the people around you who are within reach."
It was disgusting.
"He's the murderer who killed Helen!" I shouted. "He's a criminal! I won't—"
They said that the S-rank sentinel was the best I could have had.
She thought so too.
I attacked her.
A guide attacking another guide is not a very serious crime like a sentinel attacking a guide. And I'm a D, she's a C. Except for the initial strike, she immediately raised a barrier, and "I" couldn't hit her. Her Nightingale quickly subdued "me." Later, she wrote a letter to the Tower, saying that I had never gotten over the shadow of my foster mother's death and was deeply troubled by my paranoia. What I needed was treatment, not confinement.
I was released the next day and sent to the hospital. They thought I had a mental illness, even though I was a guide. My mind-scope was orderly, and my mental power was under control. I couldn't possibly be mentally ill, but they deemed me to meet the diagnostic criteria for paranoid schizophrenia based on "typical symptom presentation".
Afterward, my activities were restricted, and I was under surveillance, unable to leave the Tower District. They said the call I received was a hallucination, and they provided me with communication system records showing that I had randomly dialed a garbled number that day.
I wasn't crazy. I received that call.
I used to think the sentinel was the murderer, lying to the investigators, and they believed him. I didn't think they were covering for him. But now, I was starting to doubt. Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn't leave the Tower, so I wouldn't face my ordinary friends' regretful looks or "conspiracy theorist" judgments. It was the Tower that prevented me from finding him, the Tower that hoped I wouldn't affect him. The A-rank guide who explained things to me deliberately omitted the possibility of compatibility. She and they were in cahoots. The dorm supervisor might also be in league with them. Even if not, they all believed in the Tower and not in me.
The dorm supervisor later introduced other sentinels to me. Or more appropriately, she introduced me to sentinels—some kind-hearted, sympathetic ones who felt sorry for me and wanted to "save" me, to "brighten" my life, to bring me "happiness." I wouldn't attack them. Because they were easy to deal with; I only needed to make them realize that I didn't need anyone to "save" me, and they would naturally leave.
One person didn't leave. He was genuinely a good person. He approached me very patiently, listened to me, and believed in me. However, he said, "Maybe your foster mother was hiding something you didn't know; maybe she was a fugitive in hiding; maybe his secret mission was to execute her for the Alliance. In any case, Eve, you should let go. For the sake of your future life, you're a wonderful person. Your life isn't worth wasting on hatred for someone you can't see. Let go of yourself and look at your current life."
My life. When I graduated from college, one professor asked if I wanted to continue studying with her. I said I did. Now, I couldn't even think about her and that research I could have participated in. Helen had told me that she would support whatever choice I made. Yes, it was difficult to study, and if I couldn't manage it, it was okay. She had saved up a lot of money; she could buy a mechanized farm, and we two women could run it. We could move to the countryside, a pastoral life, away from the hustle and bustle. Of course, if I wanted to stay in the city, she would accompany me. Anyway, I was still young, and I could try anything. Plus, staying in the city meant encountering more charming young boys. I hadn't been in a relationship yet—how regrettable. Love was wonderful. I said I loved her, and that was enough. She said love between lovers was different. But as always, she said I could choose as I wished because love could also bring harm. What she hoped for was that I could live freely and happily, following my heart.
Who ruined my life?
That sentinel named Ray called me. It wasn't a schizophrenic episode, paranoia, or hallucination. I don't know why he desired me so much. Was it the physiological attraction from high compatibility? Was the emptiness and longing I felt the same for him? Anyway, he craved me. And the Tower was also stopping him because I was a D-rank. After all, I hated him, or because of some other "conspiracy theory". So he made that damn call, said that damn thing, not caring at all about what he had done to me. But well, he was waiting for me, hoping I would wait for him as well.
I will wait for him. I will go and destroy him.
*
Chapter 7 Matching
*
Before I turned twenty-five, my dorm supervisor came to see me. It had been a long time since we sat down face-to-face like this. She told me that her concern and sympathy for me had always been genuine and advised me against registering in the database for my own good.
"I'm not waiting for that S-rank," I said, staring at my spirit animal. "If you're just going to repeat the same things—I already know. There's no need to talk about it anymore."
"Eve, if everything goes as you hope and you're matched with that sentinel, what do you plan to do?" she asked.
I didn't respond. I had no reason to tell her my plans.
"Eve, you have no chance of murdering an S-rank sentinel. And even attempting to kill your bonded sentinel is a serious crime, punishable by death or, at the very least, life imprisonment without parole."
"You know something, don't you?" I said. "You know I'm telling the truth, but you're with them, trying to make me believe I'm crazy, that I'm hallucinating—"
"Eve, I'm very sorry…"
"Liar."
She gently took my hand, and her nightingale cried mournfully.
"He's not a murderer, Eve," she said. "Sometimes, certain killings are legal. He may have violated some protocols, but he's not a murderer."
I couldn't understand what she was saying. Helen was lying on the carpet, bleeding, while I waited for her at my graduation ceremony. Legal killings. Why? Helen and I were ordinary people. My friends said I was being paranoid, and obsessed with conspiracy theories. Why would he come to kill Helen?
"Why?"
Classified. It's a secret. They couldn't tell me. I was just a D-rank guide who couldn't even serve, with no right to know these things.
"All I can tell you is that he's not a murderer," she said. "Your adoptive mother wasn't innocent."
"She was an ordinary person!"
"She became an ordinary person after she raised you. Eve, I'm sorry, but the truth is cruel. She was good to you, but that doesn't erase the crimes she committed long ago. She was sentenced to death over twenty years ago. She escaped and disappeared."
She was lying to me. Another lie. Another story. They'd already told me so many stories.
"The Tower thinks that letting you bond with him is cruel. Regardless of the justification, he's the one who took the life of your beloved adoptive mother. But he couldn't care less, persistently applying to the Tower to arrange a meeting with you, shamelessly wanting to bond with you," she said. "Sentinels naturally crave their destined guides, but some don't deserve it. Tomorrow, meet the sentinels I've called in for you. Pick one and bond with him formally before the match in the database. Any of them would be better than a beast lacking humanity. Let yourself go, and don't choose the path of greatest suffering. If Helen knew all this, she'd want you to be happy, not tortured for her sake."
No, Helen wouldn't.
Helen was dead. Helen could never again tell me what she hoped for me.
On my twenty-fifth birthday, I received a notification for a blood test. A week later, I got the results. I was asked to travel to another country under the Alliance's jurisdiction to bond with my sentinel. His name wasn't Ray; it was Phoebus. His public records didn't show he had ever been to my country.
He was an S-rank male sentinel, and our compatibility was…
One hundred percent.
*
*