Chapter Text
「…And that’s all you need to know! Well, for now, at least. 」
Above the group, the strange entity’s words seemed to echo in the tense air of the room. Unknown to them, each participant perceived its form differently; but whether it be a floating scroll, or an illusory screen, or an unidentifiable voice from overhead, the rules it had just stated remained unchanged. One of the members of the group- the man in the white coat who had talked to it earlier- looked like he wanted to speak, but paused when the system message reflected in his eyes continued to scroll.
「 Oh, right! 」
「 Make sure to put on the same outfits you’re all wearing right now for every gathering! You may wear whatever you want otherwise, though. 」
The sudden addition caused a lull of contemplation within the group before a voice broke through the quiet. It was the same man as before.
“Is it some kind of requirement to look the same as we did? Or else the ‘gathering’ wouldn’t be valid?”
He’d wanted to ask if this ‘event’ was something that functioned similarly to the Scenarios, where there was a timer and certain requirements that must be fulfilled in order to complete them, but as he wasn’t sure whether to trust his fellow participants, Kim Dokja didn’t want to say anything that would fall out of line with his more ordinary introduction.
「 You could say that it’s something along the lines of that! >_q 」
He frowned. With how it’s been acting so far, he should’ve expected it to do that— answer in such a way that would neither affirm nor deny an assumption, knowing that the other party wouldn’t put themself at risk by being more specific. With a furrow of his brows, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but quietly add another point of likeness between this being and a dokkaebi.
「 Put it like this: you wouldn’t be able to recognize an actor’s role if they’d put on a different costume, and looked completely different, no? 」
「 You’re my participants, yes, but you’re participating in a vacation and a performance! So you should be able to adjust yourselves to fit both! 」
‘Acting…’ The word settled over them all, heavy with implication. It had brought them here not just to witness eachother’s ‘stories’, but to experience two things: a ‘vacation,’ as it stated, and an immersion into the circumstances of others, placing them in a situation where they’d see things from an outsider’s perspective. ‘This wouldn’t be too far off from a form of ironic mockery..’ One of them complained in his heart.
The man in the white coat fell silent. He looked the most pensive out of the group, making Klein deduce that he was someone who’d gone through situations akin to this before. His clothing was also easily the most practical-looking among the group, pointing towards a need for utility and caution in whatever his world might be. ‘It could be something like a world where survival was prioritized above propriety..’ He thought as another person, the pink-haired young girl spoke up.
“Um, I.. I was wondering how we could.. leave this room? You say that this is only used for ‘gatherings’, but.. but there’s no door..”
She fiddles with the key in her hands, twiddling the handle between her fingers to cover up the very much noticeable carvings of her own emblem on its silver surface. Although these people may share stories similar to her in some way, she felt nervous thinking about a symbol of her godhood being materialized in such a way. The emblem of the Law of Cycles had never been a physical thing, only a symbolic representation of what she had become— in fact, it was never known to anyone but herself, seen for only a brief moment during her ascension. And yet, it was here, detailing felt from the silver through her fingers.
It was an unfamiliar, yet awful feeling.
「 You needn’t worry about that! 」
As the words appeared, their surroundings began to shift, the empty ‘living room’ suddenly spinning wildly in different directions as if rearranging a Rubik’s cube. Perhaps to further add onto the strangeness of it all, this was quickly accompanied by howling winds that screeched past their ears, gales that would only appear when one fell from a tall cliff.
Before long, the whirling stopped, leaving the group now situated in a wide, carpeted hallway. There was a door at each end, along with four differently decorated doors in front of them. The ceiling was lit by a myriad of odd headlights, resembling chandeliers yet carrying an undeniable modern style; while beside each door was its own kind of light. Behind them were several unrecognizable, yet intricately made paintings, along with an assortment of potted plants and bookcases carefully placed along the passageway for decoration. It ended up looking very much like the home of an eccentric noble from a fantasy story.
「 There we go! 」
「 The ‘living room’ is pretty much a separate location from the rest of where you’ll be staying, so there’s no need for any of you to think about getting in or out! 」
「 In any case, I’ll be your guide whenever it comes into use! ^_q 」
The two of the group who’d been pretending to be affected by what’d happened only gave slight nods as to not affect their bluff, immediately grasping the implicit threat.
‘This entity is the only one that can control whether we can enter or leave that room..’
The other two, on the other hand, had only started to gain their bearings before the text changed again.
「 Moving on.. like I said, here are your rooms! 」
「 They’re customized exactly to your deepest desires, and no one else can enter without explicit permission, so there’s no worries of a privacy breach! 」
「 Of course, this isn’t something to praise me for. It’s simply a part of being a good host. u_u 」
‘Aside from its other personality defects, it’s also quite delusional..’ Klein lampooned, and with a new bump of his head and sporting a bruised cheek, Kim Dokja cursed at the being in his heart.
The white-haired young man beside him, however, doesn’t seem so perturbed. Despite being affected by the same nausea & crash that’d caused both of them to miss whatever it’d said before, he only lightly shakes his head as he pats dust off of his clothes. He then turns his head to look at Kim Dokja, offering his hand with an amicable smile.
As the older man quickly takes his hand and gets up, Phainon asks: “Will we be able to access the rest of this.. place on our own, without your presence?”
「 Obviously! You all will be staying here for the time being, after all! 」
「 Besides, I won’t be here for long. 」
「 I’ll only really show up whenever a gathering occurs! 」
Everyone glanced up in surprise.
“Wait, so you won’t be here at all? Just for whenever.. that event happens?” Kim Dokja asked, speculation whirring up in his mind.
「 Well, duh! -_q 」
「 Aside from having other business to tend to, it’s also an important part of this event! 」
The entity then pauses, seemingly expecting an affirming reaction. At their confusion, it continues with what felt like a huffing, irritated tone of a frustrated child:
「 How do you expect to relax if I’m here all of the time? 」
「 Really, it’s such an easy conclusion to make! 」
Despite everything, it’s this revelation that shocks everyone the most— for some reason, it seemed to genuinely respect their personal freedoms in regards to their time participating in this.. event. In combination with its insistence on the idea of a ‘vacation,’ one can’t help but think that it’s trying to force them to.. take a break? What would a mysterious, interdimensionally capable being gain from that?
‘And if it truly is the case, then where does this strange affection come from? Why is it directed at us specifically?’ They’d all shared similar thoughts for a moment, before the being once again drew their attention to the doors in front of them.
「 With that said, I’ll be off! 」
「 Do take it easy here— nothing will happen until the time of a gathering arrives! 」
「 Goodbye for now! >_q 」
1. ‘Merlin’
After a brief investigation, it turns out that the doors had to be unlocked in a specific order before they could be used normally. Once they’d come to that conclusion, it didn’t take long for everyone to realize that the ‘order’ was the order that they’d introduced themselves in— the very same order that the doors were arranged in, from left to right.
And that was how Klein found himself in front of a white wooden door, his back crowded by three strangers who pressed against him like too heavy luggage on a mountain climb.
‘This is what we call peer pressure…’ He inwardly jested.
With a gentle twist of his key- a smooth thing, with the symbol of the Fool Pathway delicately engraved in shining silver- Klein pulled the door open.
Inside was a very familiar room. The walls were decorated with wood-framed, generic-looking paintings that would come with a newly purchased home, and the empty shelf above the bed along with the untouched cabinet near the door would all but confirm that fact to an educated observer. Beside the cabinet hung a hat and coat next to a wooden wardrobe, and a pair of extinguished candles had their job replaced by the sunlight beaming through uncurtained windows, shining soft yellows onto the blankets strewn about on the bed.
Near the door, a mirror reflected a wooden desk covered with history books, with papers and unwritten letters, and with a leatherbound notebook which laid far from the light of the window above it. Next to it was a photo of what looked to be a family: two brothers, and one sister.
Yes, it was indeed a very familiar room.
“…”
Caught in this scene that he’d created for himself so many times before, yet now made into reality, Klein couldn’t help but fall silent for a moment. And yet, the feeling passed quickly as he thought of what the entity said in regards to their rooms.
‘Exactly to our deepest desires, huh..’ The reality of the situation settled bitterly through Klein, even as his expression remained unchanged. He was willing to go through this ‘event’ after they had learned of its temporally anomalous qualities, and the entity’s strange affection for the group had caused him to suspect that it would try to emulate various elements from his past to make him feel more comfortable; but standing here, seeing the room that for so long had only existed as illusions, as memories tainted by their association to his struggle within the dream, now more corporeal than ever.. Klein truly felt as if this being simply did not understand how to make someone feel comfortable at all.
Behind him, the young man named Phainon glanced inside and spoke up in a curious tone:
“What a homely bedroom.. it doesn’t look like something made for just this.. ‘event’ alone!” Then, he more quietly added: “..though I can’t recognize this architectural style at all..” These words told him that Phainon was probably interested in history, or even someone who’d studied it, seeing as he’d mentioned having attended advanced schooling earlier. ‘Wouldn’t it be too much of a coincidence if he was also a history major, like the original Klein? No, it would probably end up being that kind of coincidence…’
Partially drawn out of his somber feelings, Klein decided to take a few steps into the room so as to not draw suspicion. Having entered it, he’d realized that the entity didn’t just recreate the room itself— there was the smell of old books and fresh paper, the heat of the rays of sunlight that barely reached his feet, the bustling noise outside that could not happen outside of a supposedly isolated manor. Through the windows, he saw what unmistakably were people walking about on Daffodil Street in the distance. There were even sounds of horses galloping and birds chirping. Along with giving him much melancholy, the questions these details raised caused Klein to fall into thought.
‘Could these ‘bedrooms’ be held in separate dimensions from eachother, allowing things like windows to show different views? But that would conflict with what the entity said about the nature of the ‘living room’ versus the rest of the house..’
From the entrance, he could hear a younger voice- Miss Kaname- say something about how the window was so large, she could even glimpse at the two gardens outside from where she stood. ‘Then it must be something that’s personalized to every one of us, a passive ability causing a change in perception that’s meant to further enhance our experience in these ‘bedrooms’..’ He’d concluded.
‘If that’s the case, why use these extraordinary abilities for something so ridiculous..’ Klein quietly criticized.
“..Despite that, though.. this looks very, um, unlike how it is in my world..” Miss Kaname continued, commenting on the style of the room which he thought must’ve felt rather antiquated from her perspective. “You really are from a different world, Merlin-san..”
The other man, Kim Dokja, stayed out of Klein’s room, only observing things from near the doorframe. He had a neutral, yet thoughtful expression, as if he was considering something through the words of the more sociable members of their group. He seemed to mutter something under his breath as he gave him a somewhat distrustful look. Klein ignored the black-haired man’s scrutiny, giving Miss Kaname a gentle nod:
“Of course, Miss Kaname! Though I wouldn’t say that my room is anything special. In fact, it’s quite average in comparison to many of the other ‘bedrooms’ in my world.”
He wasn’t wrong; this type of room could only belong to a middle-class person, only that they would have to save up for a fairly long time to obtain it. Regardless, it objectively wasn’t anything special when considered alongside the master bedrooms of even just the nobles in Backlund. Klein wanted to clearly convey the image of an unremarkable, if not eccentric magician that came with the Merlin Hermes persona, to dissuade any speculations on his identity— while everything will be obviously revealed in due time due to the gatherings, it was still better to make himself someone these people could trust, especially when he’d be staying with them for such a long time. Hearing this, both Madoka and Phainon seem to verbally accept the image of the ordinary magician ‘Merlin Hermes’, as he expected.
Kim Dokja’s gaze did not lose its doubting glint, however, even as his brows softened. He only slightly nodded, a simple: “I see.” lightly tossed out as he turned to glance at something else in the room.
‘This fellow can’t be persuaded with just an implication of normalcy.. I’ll have to directly talk to him about the situation later.’
2. Madoka
Madoka recognized the door to her bedroom the moment she saw it. It was an aluminum door framed with pink-tinted wood, and there was a little paint splatter on the handle when she got it dirty while coming back from elementary school. Just looking at it made her feel like she’d traveled millions upon millions of years back in time to that moment, hastily pulling the door open to tape one of her many drawings on the bedside wall. Her mother, Junko, would quickly follow after her, teasing her daughter about wanting to show off her artistic talents; before grabbing ahold of her and putting the drawing on a nearby board so as to not damage the wall, patting her head with an indulgent smile..
Before she knew it, she’d inserted the key and opened the door. Even without knowing exactly what the entity was capable of, she’d already guessed what was behind it.
It was a simple girl’s room, decked out in pastel pinks and yellows. There were a strange amount of windows placed in an even stranger set of places, some of which didn’t even seem to add any function other than to provide a light source; beneath one of the larger ones was a study desk, with an oddly shaped tablet, keyboard and pens neatly placed in the far-upper corner. Adjacent to it was a clock made to resemble an atom, its ticking being one of the only sounds that filled the room. The bed, which was placed in the upper-left corner, was lit by rays of sunshine that peeked through pink, polka-dotted curtains that matched the few posters there were in the room. On the bed, and on the shelves above it were myriads of plushies, from animals to magical creatures, to fruits and random shapes.
The wooden flooring sounds a nostalgic little clacking noise as it makes contact with her school shoes, and she could hear the sound of wind rustling through leaves, of birds chirping outside.
Hit by what felt like an overwhelming wave of sentimentality, Madoka paused as she stepped inside, letting herself soak in the past she’d long chosen to leave behind: the desk where she’d do her homework on; the small bedside cabinet that she used to draw and study on when she was even younger; the shelves that were made movable when her father installed onto them the wheels of her old training bike; the potted plant that she’d chosen herself sitting by the window; and even the note Sayaka scribbled a confused face on when their math class was too difficult that day..
It was all here, immortalized in a snapshot of the past she thought she would never return to.
She approached something by the side of the door— a pink bookbag, hung on a cutely decorated set of hangers. It wasn’t her schoolbag, of which she knew was under her desk, but what Madoka would bring along every time she’d hung out with Sayaka and Hitomi. The former used to tease her endlessly about it, jabbing on and on about how it made her look like an old lady, that she would get Madoka one if she’d just asked.. and then she’d had to politely decline, knowing that Sayaka would blow all of her allowance on buying the best fitting one for her best friend, no matter the price.
Letting go of the bag with a soft sigh, she then glanced over at the rest of the group, who all seemed rather unwilling to enter her room. That makes sense, she thought with a smile. ‘Most adults usually don’t want to casually go into the room of a teenage girl..’
Out of the three of them, Phainon looked the least discomforted; though he still seemed hesitant as he stood at the edge of the door frame, which made Madoka think that he might’ve been close with other girls as a child, and therefore would feel less awkward when seeing such a room. It would fit with his previous behavior towards her as well, she’d thought. Merlin and Dokja, on the other hand, had what could only be described as complicated expressions on their faces. It was as if they were trying to figure out a puzzle within something that usually wouldn’t be one.
‘Are they really that disturbed by it..?’ Madoka pursed her lips, a little bit confused. ‘ Or does something in it feel offputting to how they imagined it would be? ’
She considered asking the two men about it, but quickly discarded the thought. They’d only known eachother for a couple of hours so far— right now, it’d be better to maintain the pleasant air everyone had a bit earlier, and a question that would eventually lead into comparing the differences between their worlds could easily disrupt that..
In truth, Madoka didn’t really know how she should deal with this situation. When she was still a human and a Puella Magi after that, she’d been too young to get involved in events that required careful verbal handling beyond negotiating with the Incubator, of which never ended productively; and when she became the Law of Cycles, no one was ever able to communicate with her consciousness on an equal level. Had she lived life as an adult- or even an older teenager- she might’ve been able to utilize the experience that came with age here, but even after having seen nearly all there was to see in her own universe, Madoka found her mind clouded with uncertainty. After an awkward stretch of silence, she hesitantly spoke up:
“Um.. you- ah, no, everyone can come in and look around, if you want! You don’t have to stand outside..”
Madoka’s words seemed to jolt the men out of their nervous lull, and the rest of the group walked inside her room one after the other. Despite their earlier expressions, neither Dokja or Merlin retained their interest in whatever was in her room for very long; though, she does notice how the latter man’s gaze lingers on the tablet on her table as he exits. ‘He’s probably never seen something like that before.. Maybe I could teach him how to use it?’ The thought of being helpful to someone, even in this situation cleared away some of the heavy feelings weighing on her heart. She looked towards Phainon as he inspected.. well, nearly everything in her room: the tablet, the keyboard, the desk light, and even the ceiling light! It made her think that he was definitely from a world much less modern than hers or Merlin’s, seeing as he was even staring at her clock in curious wonder.
He turned towards her, saying: “This really is something out of this world.. I could recognize most of the furniture in Sir Hermes’ room, but I can’t tell what some of the stuff in yours is at all!” The young man had a hand to his chin in interest, seeming as if he wanted to take down all of her furniture to get a look inside and see exactly how they worked.
Having gained a deeper understanding of the young man in that one moment, Madoka could only pair the words of vague agreement she then gave him with a nervous smile.
3. Dokja
In contrast to what the entity’s rules had stated and what the previous two participants have shown so far, the ‘key’ that Kim Dokja received was a glaring oddity. In fact, what he’s given isn’t even a key at all.
Right now, in his hand held a piece of paper that was previously folded to look like a key, to the point of having the same grooves and sharp edges that a real key would have. It was in a simple shape, clearly emulating the average housekey, and Kim Dokja might’ve been fooled had he not panicked and squeezed it during their earlier freefall. At this moment, it was just a crumpled piece of paper that barely resembled anything whatsoever.
With a discreet sigh, he unfolded the thing to reveal a series of numbers— the same ones that were the password to the apartment that he lived in before the apocalypse arrived.
‘As expected.. If that being truly wanted to do something like emulate our pasts, it would also recreate my apartment, which required a passcode and fingerprint scan instead of a key. Though that doesn’t match the descriptor of ‘deepest desire’.. do I really secretly want to return to that kind of life?’
Although they were told that no one could enter without permission, Kim Dokja still felt somewhat anxious as he typed in the passcode to the door of his old apartment. After all, three strangers were right behind him, staring curiously at the keypad as he did so! Who wouldn’t be nervous?! At least he had the more secretive authentication of the fingerprint scanner to ease his anxieties, if only by a little..
The door snapped open with a gentle clicking noise. Even from the entryway, his ears could still catch onto the familiar humming of the water heater from the bathroom and the snappy shuttering noise that signaled his bedroom lights turning on, the latter of which caused everyone else to look towards the suddenly lit space with inquisitive expressions.
‘Even though she’s also from the modern world, Kaname Madoka probably lived somewhere that would make this sort of technology seem novel.. but there’s still the sheer strangeness of the style of the furniture in her room..’ Kim Dokja thought, shaking his head with a slight curve to his lips. Out of force of habit, he slipped off his shoes as he approached the entryway.
…
…And then immediately backed right up and slammed the door closed.
The scene was nearly exactly as it was from his memories— the generic, slightly misaligned front carpet; the glimpse of his old mini-fridge that peeked out from what he saw of the bedroom that was also his living room; the clothing hanger that he always haphazardly left on the handle of the balcony doors; the hallway calendar that he got from buying discounted cooking oil.. everything was in place. There was just one small problem.
The entire living room was covered in merchandise!!!
[ The exclusive skill “The Fourth Wall” has reduced some of your emotional shock! ]
Within the single minute that he glanced up at his old living room, Kim Dokja felt like he’d somehow been transported into an alternate universe where The Ways of Survival was an ultra-popular novel, one that would receive a near infinite amount of merch deals. Even with that quick glance just now, he saw the multiple posters of scenes he distinctly recognized were adapted from TWSA spread all over his bedroom wall, the sheer quantity of them creating what looked like a wallpaper of embarrassing geekism. He saw how the small table that he’d use to work and eat on now had several figurines of the webnovel’s main and side characters- which were, to his bewilderment- carefully placed to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible (Lee Seolhwa’s figurine was even accompanied by a smaller one, which seemed to be her child with Yoo Joonghyuk from his 2nd regression!)
But that was far from the worst part. If the posters and figurines weren’t enough, Kim Dokja had also briefly glimpsed at the absolutely ridiculous amount of plushies of Yoo Joonghyuk across his different regressions: there was one from his 1st turn, with a plucky smile and impractical clothing. Then, there was one from his 41st, with a heavy frown and what looked like a sewn-on smear of blood on his cheek. A little further away from that was one from his 81st round, with a careless expression and a chef’s hat. Leaning against the window was the one from his 111st round, with sewn-on fangs and cutefied features that befitted a Demon King. In between the many repeating darkly-outfitted plushies was one from his 481st round, wearing a dark laurel and donned in Greek clothing which stood out like a sore thumb. It wouldn’t be out of the question to assume that this entity had filled his bedroom with just plushies of that bastard.
The most prominent one by far, however, was a plushie that he saw peeking out from where it sat on his bed. Unlike the others, which all looked to be a little bigger than his palm; the plush was massive, probably large enough to constitute as a pillow. Its clothing was artificially made to look more tattered, and there were many sewn-on scars on its nubby ‘hands’ and face. On its left eye wore an eyepatch.
Kim Dokja felt that this ‘scenario’ suddenly became so mortifying that he could not describe it in words.
For an agonizing span of a few minutes, Kim Dokja had stood there in front of the door, shoulders hunched down as he pondered his next course of action. Usually, when faced with an embarrassing situation, he would just barrel through it with the shamelessness provided by “The Fourth Wall”‘s emotionally suppressive abilities— indeed, it was the only reason why he was even capable of thinking about this situation objectively, and not actively trying to sink into the floor.
But this ..?!
After another bout of consideration combined with a definitely healthy dose of self-loathing, Kim Dokja put on his most casual expression and turned around to face the rest of the group, as if nothing had happened.
Obviously, his actions just now had surprised them. They all wore looks of varying levels of shock, and some were mixed with vague curiosity and worry. Madoka was the first to speak up, her brows slightly pinched with concern: “Um.. Dokja-san, is.. is everything okay? You suddenly slammed the door..”
“..It’s nothing to worry about. I just had some personal things in my room that I felt, ah, apprehensive of showing to others, that’s all.” Faced with this absurd situation, all he could do was quickly script up some perfunctory words to soothe her. The pinkette’s demeanor greatly reminded him of how Shin Yoosung was when they first met, which made Kim Dokja feel somewhat protective of her on a certain level; it was this shy, unimposing personality that hid a deep determination and integrity that made him want to save that Shin Yoosung, and it was the same thing that made him want to dissuage Kaname Madoka’s worries.
With that in mind, he expanded on his script to better fit his casual expression: “..You could think of it as normal as any other adult’s private business.”
It wasn’t until the words fully left his mouth that Kim Dokja realized he probably shouldn’t have said anything at all— in fact, perhaps he should have told the entity currently jailing them to mute him forever. This realization further sinks in when the young girl blankly stares at him for a moment, instantly rendered speechless before her face lit up with a heavy blush.
“O-oh, I see.. That’s, um..” The verbal guillotines that were Madoka’s words were accompanied by an awkward laugh as she backed away from him, trying her best to avoid direct eye contact.
‘Why was that your first assumption?! No, why did I even say it like that in the first place?!?’
「 Ki m D ok ja is an id io t .」
His current feelings of humiliation were exacerbated by the fact that two (2!) other people were right there, looking like they were also at a loss for words. Phainon’s brows were nearly lifted towards his forehead as he leaned against the wall, a faint redness on his cheeks. When Kim Dokja’s gaze flitted to him, the white-haired man quickly turned his head to look away. Meanwhile, the man who’d called himself ‘Merlin’ seemed rather calm, as the magician only curiously glanced over at the door once, before looking back at him with mild sympathy. If this was any other moment, Kim Dokja would be more suspicious of ‘Merlin’s’ offputting behavior; but right now, all he wanted to do was to crawl in a hole and leave this world forever.
Fortunately, none of this showed on his face. Even as it was prone to the same brattish inclinations it’d just displayed, “The Fourth Wall” never failed to protect his dignity and self-esteem in this way. With little to no fluctuations in his voice, Kim Dokja defensively raised his hands and started with a sigh:
“My apologies, I.. didn’t mean to imply something like that, seriously. You all remembered that I said I liked to read, yes?”
Then he looked over to Madoka, trying to both address the rest of the group and her directly: “..When I was young, I used to enjoy some very tropey, badly-written action stories, to the point that I’d had merchandise of it in my room. As you just saw, the entity then recreated those things in my current bedroom— I was shocked upon seeing them and didn’t know how to react. That’s all there is to it.” As Kim Dokja went on, he felt like he was committing a great act of self-betrayal. ‘Tropey.. badly-written.. this is starting to sound just like the reviews TWSA got in its later days..’ He bowed deeply in apology to tls123 in his heart.
The upside was that this explanation seemed to placate the rest of the group as they all visibly relaxed. Madoka’s blush faded as she said with a giggle, after a bit of silence: “I did think it was something like that! I.. I used to keep some posters of the cartoons I watched as a kid in my room too.. It’s a good thing they didn’t show up, haha..” Resisting the urge to ruffle her hair out of politeness, he smiled and replied: “I did say it wasn’t anything to worry about.” Beside her, Phainon also started recounting a similar anecdote about his attempts at painting, and the awkward atmosphere slowly dissipated amidst the two’s confessions of their own nerdiness. Kim Dokja shook his head in fondness as he glanced over at the other member of the group.
Unlike the energetic pair next to him, ‘Merlin’ did not say anything. The magician instead continued looking at him with the same expression that he briefly gave the door, now blended with what could be interpreted as amusement. Kim Dokja could only stare into the other man’s strange, lightless eyes for a few more seconds before he turned away, suddenly feeling as if he’d just gotten himself out of grave danger.
‘Indeed, there will always be people who won’t fall for, or even go along with these kinds of excuses. I’ll have to confront him about this later, without the other two being present.’
4. Phainon
Being the last one to go has both its benefits and downsides, Phainon realizes, as the rest of the group makes a circle around him and the wooden door in front of him. It was plain to the point of seeming utilitarian, being several vertically placed planks of wood held together by a large, rectangular frame and two horizontal ones of the same kinds. Its oxidised coloring gave away its age, and if one looked closer, they could see slight cracks where the boards made contact. On the dark-colored hook in its lower left side hung a rusty metal padlock.
“This…”
When he tries to step upwards to the door, he stumbles. There’re no stone stoops to go up on here this time.
Someone behind him- a male voice- says something along the lines of concern, but he shrugs it off with the usual platitude and leans back, glancing down to the key in his hand. It’s a weathered thing made of brass, with a little silver chime attached to its side. Miss Pythias hooked it in once upon a time, when he finally made his first horse carving; her dimples showed when she gave it to him, patting his head with an exasperated laugh: “This is your prize for getting the shape right this time! Now don’t you go losing it, mister!”
He shook it lightly. It doesn’t make a sound.
He shook it heavily. It doesn’t make a sound.
“…”
With a slight bend of the key, the padlock snaps apart with a soft ‘clack’, the sudden noise drawing everyone else’s attention as well. The door creaks as he pushes it open, and so does the floor. He remembers how his father would always tell him to never walk inside with his shoes on, as it would stain the floor and cause too much pressure on the planks; and yet he would always end up tracking mud all over the floor whenever he came back from playing with Livia and Piso, because their sandals were never able to keep their feet fully clean.
“Phainon, did you go and play in the fields again? You know you have to wash up before you get back whenever you go there!” His mother would always scold, yet she would only do so while gently wiping away the dirt on his cheeks, along with the stains on the floorboards. Then, she would take him to the river and collect a pail of water to wash his hair with, before collecting another to make soup for dinner. He remembers how the coldness of water running through his scalp pleasantly danced with the warmness of the setting sun on his skin.
There’s no one here to scold him as he gets dirt on the woven planks. Phainon stops right before an intricately patterned carpet, one of the many things his father managed to get from the traveling merchants that used to come by the harbor. They sold all sorts of things, from farming tools, to weapons, to old books and even foreign seeds from all over Amphoreus— but every single one of those ships stopped visiting once news of the Black Tide had spread. Indeed, that was how their village learned of its existence.
Amidst the gloom that was everyone recognizing their now complete isolation from the rest of the world, his father’s proud, yet tired grin was one of the only things that softened his worries.
“Hey, at least we got ourselves a bunch of long-lasting tools and furniture, eh? I even got you those books on antiquing you wanted so badly!”
Those same books laid on a wooden table in the center of the room, spread about messily alongside a set of Oronyx’s Oracle cards. To the table’s right was a bed made to fit two, held together by crafted wooden frames and stuffed with hay. On the bed, there was a doll made of straw that vaguely looked like a dog, just big enough for a child to hug. Near the curtainless windows were two sets of shelves, each holding either a mix of books and jars or a surprisingly varied collection wooden carvings that barely resembled any animal or even definitive shape; several scrolls were also tucked on the higher shelves, each detailing what seemed like maps, doctrine, guides and even announcements. They were tied together with a mix of fabric and straw, held in place by a bronze emblem of the Time Titan. The closet beside them was left ajar as it revealed a small assortment of clothing, along with a set of plates and bowls placed neatly at the bottom.
To the rightmost side of the bed hung a clumsy wooden carving of a sword on the wall, dipped in what looked like flour to emulate the silvery sheen of an actual blade. The handle was covered in faded dark blue paint— but some of it was also spread all over the blade, as if someone accidentally splattered it while trying to colour in just the handle. The toy swayed gently as a breeze came through the window. Outside, one could hear the sounds of birds chirping and the faint scent of wheat.
Phainon was silent for a very long time.
When he was first found himself in this space, he’d believed that this was all just a dream, a hallucination conjured up by a fatigued mind. After all, how else would he be able to meet these people, who looked and acted like they all came from completely different worlds, even ones outside of Amphoreus? How else would he meet a strange, mysteriously powerful entity that spoke through the language of nymphs? How else would he see moving paintings of these strangers on that oversized teleslate, and even ones of his own that he didn’t remember saying or doing? Even after the being had left, he was sure that this was all an illusion. The way that they left the ‘living room’ and came to the hallway of their bedrooms could only occur in the realm of dreams, and the contrast between their rooms had further convinced him of this idea.
Sir Merlin’s bedroom looked like the rooms that the nobles in Okhema would have, with a large bed, a mirror, carved furniture and even a selection of paintings. Still, the architectural style was completely unrecognizable to him: the curtains weren’t dyed (which was a trait of the Aidonian style, but they weren’t hung over the windows instead of above them), the walls were made of some kind material that was neither stone or wood, and the paintings all depicted sights that could never be seen in any city he’d known. Miss Kaname’s was even more confusing, with its odd-looking window frames, strange ticking device with two sticks that circled a set of numbers, and a large rectangular object that jutted out of the ceiling, exuding cold air. And despite never being able to see Sir Kim’s room, he was amazed at the fact that it was able to light itself once it sensed its owner’s entry— even a Sage at the Grove couldn’t figure out how to install that sort of technology seamlessly, he was sure!
These things came together in such a way that nearly proved him right; that the past few hours was just a bizarre, incomprehensible dream resulting from his workaholic habits. The being’s emphasis on this event being a ‘vacation’ then felt like his brain was trying to tell him to take a break, that these people were subconscious manifestations of his desire to meet and help more people, that the moving images he saw were the typical oddities one would find in any dream.
But now, standing in the room that held all of his memories, he didn’t know what to do. This place.. this sight.. it was once a place that held his doubts, his childhood dreams, his mistakes, his successes, his everything. As a child, he’d believed that this room, and by extension Aedes Elysiae, was his entire world. That ‘Phainon’, in his totality, was held in it just as much as it held him. That if someone were to suddenly decide to destroy that small farming and fishing village, they would also destroy ‘him’ completely. It was his cradle; it was his home; it was somewhere he always wanted to be born in; it was somewhere he always wanted to return to.
And here it was again. Appearing before him, even as this small glimpse.
Phainon knew that he hasn't dreamt of this place in quite a while. In fact, ever since he left, he wasn’t able to dream about it at all. It was as if his childhood memories were frozen in place, unable to find their way to him even at his most vulnerable state.
‘Then you can be sure that this isn’t a dream then, can’t you? Then you can be sure that you are back home, can’t you?’ A part of him would perhaps ask. But it doesn’t. No one asked anything. No one said anything. It was silent. The scene before him was like a muffler over his subconscious, causing everything to become silent.
Phainon was silent for a very long time.
A voice from his left side draws his attention, and he has to stop himself from flinching when he sees a short head of light pink hair. Miss Kaname's face was painted with deep worry as she spoke with a hand over her mouth.
“P-Phainon-san..?! What’s wrong..? You.. you were just standing there, not saying anything.. you wouldn’t answer when the others asked you a question..”
As she turns her head over to the room, he sees Miss Kaname pause. After a while, her gaze gained a sense of understanding, and her voice turned sad: “..This room.. it must’ve been very important to you. I don’t know why you reacted like that, but.. but you don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to.”
“..Ah, sorry for doing that! It must’ve freaked everyone out, haha. It’s just— this place.. this room.. It was my childhood home.” There’s a ringing in Phainon’s ears as he answers. He feels it building in his eardrums, blotting out any thought that tries to form. “..I.. I haven’t been back here ever since I went on my journey. So when I saw it, I just..”
This tale is one he’s recounted numerous times: a village lost to history, a home buried in the past, a family torn apart, a girl whose blood dripped down a blade. He tells this to the people he rescues, he tells this to the citizens of Okhema, he tells this to his fellow Chrysos Heirs. He doesn’t tell this to them.
“..I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing!”
The rest of the group sees Phainon turning to look at them with a sheepish expression, scratching the back of his head as he lets out a mild sigh. He stretches his smile just right, crinkling his eyes enough to signify confusion and nostalgia: “You see, when I first got, uh, transported here.. I thought it was a dream! I mean, I haven’t seen anyone like you all before, and the technology and style of this place so far was so.. surreal. I felt like it had to be a dream!” He glances back up at them for a moment, before shifting his eyes over to the room. “But when I saw this room.. I realized that this.. might not be a dream. That it might be real.”
“Then you can now be sure your home still exists?”
His answer only settled between them for a few seconds before someone spoke up. It was Sir Merlin, whose soulless eyes looked at him with a simulacrum of sympathy. “Have you not been able to see this place when you dreamt before?” The magician only nodded when he answered, seemingly comprehending some part the situation that Phainon could not figure out even if his ears weren’t plugged, and his mind wasn’t filled with cotton. To his left side, Miss Kaname gives him some soft words of comfort, to which he instinctively responds back in kind. He remembers the word Lady Hyacine used to refer to this action, as she also comforted a now childless mother they’d rescued from near Bulsa.
To placate someone.
“Then can this be proof that your past is yours?”
Leaning back against a nearby cabinet, Sir Kim looked somewhat inquisitive yet empathetic as he spoke: “It could be some kind of psychological blockage. Maybe on some level you felt that you needed to put your childhood memories aside for more important matters, and that resulted in you subconsciously shelving it away.”
Despite knowing that the older man was likely wrong, Phainon lied and pretended to take his words into consideration anyways. This was also an act of ‘placating.’
“I guess that could be true, yeah! I’ve always wanted to come back and visit my home, but there are still too many responsibilities to keep up with..”
He never stopped thinking of his home, nor did his memory of it ever fade. But that was only during his waking hours; his dreams were empty, void of any happenings, much less anything close to a scene of his village. Even when he was awake, its existence remained a thing of contention. No one, not even those that lived near where Aedes Elysiae hypothetically was, had ever heard of it. Lady Aglaea herself could not collect any intel regarding it, and its name wasn’t even present on regional maps. When he went and asked a family of merchants that he once saw trade with his father about it, they had no memory of the event. It was as if Aedes Elysiae only existed in his memories; an illusory halcyon that lived in the back of his mind, viewable only behind his eyelids.
Sir Kim hums lightly, looking satisfied at a theory being confirmed: “That’s to be expected. I can personally attest to how you tend to lose track of the past as more things pile up..” The older man’s smile gains a slight cynicality as he went on, seeming to recall something from his past. Near him, Phainon can see how Sir Merlin’s gaze flickers with understanding.
“Then can you say that you were ever ‘you’?”
Phainon lets himself melt back into the rhythm of social interaction as Miss Kaname rejoins the conversation, casually joking and talking in order for the group to revert back to the pleasant atmosphere they’d all preferred. And yet, he doesn’t hear anything he says, and he doesn’t truly process anything said to him; the ringing in his ears continued to envelop his thoughts entirely as he closes the door, and the rest of his mind is drowned in quicksand as he follows everyone else to explore the rest of the space.
“Then can you say that ‘you’ ever existed?”
But there was no answerer, because there was no questioner, because there was no one who said anything. Because everything was silent.
Phainon was silent for a very long time.