Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 [Today Today]
The one who can love oneself the most is, in fact, oneself. Perhaps that, too, is a form of unconditional love.
However, at the same time, the one who can hate oneself the most is also oneself.
To feel both of those emotions simultaneously is perhaps the most painful thing of all. If I hate the object of my love to death—even though it is the closest being in the world—how am I supposed to convey this heart?
Sitting beneath the roundabout warning sign, the faceless being, who had been staring silently only at the sky, swallowed its conflict whole.
Because there would be no one to listen even it spoke.
Eugene woke up with a start to the sound of an alarm clock banging away at their eardrums.
The sensation of their heart hammering wildly, only to slowly calm down, was something they never got used to. At least it kept them from getting fired, so if there was any silver lining, that was it.
The scenery around them wasn't any different from other days. Another damn morning had just arrived.
At some point, days of the week and dates had stopped mattering. They were just sick and tired of mornings coming at all.
For the past few years, their lifestyle had been the same. Wake up in the morning, have a meal meant strictly for survival, go to work at the restaurant next door, and do odd jobs.
Then, watch the same old predictable shows on TV at home before going to sleep. This life was simple. A simple, suffocating life. If they had to describe it in color, it would be an ambiguous, dreary shade between yellow and black.
Yet, the will to escape never came. It was as if they were stuck in a quagmire, their feet weighed down by heavy listlessness.
They didn't have any hobbies, using the excuse that they had no time to enjoy them because of work, and they didn't feel like seeing a doctor or a counselor because they felt like a normal person without any real problems.
Besides, what about the cost of medical care?
Ah, reality is painful. How nice would it be if one could just be happy? They were sure they used to be, back in the day.
It felt strange looking back, but there was no time to dwell on it during the morning rush. It was time to change clothes, eat their usual breakfast, and head off to work.
~
As always, the day's work was finally over.
Eugene headed home, massaging their thighs, which were swollen and aching from standing for so long. Their hands were raw and blistered again from washing dishes and cleaning all day.
Ah, and the same old routine. Just sitting on the sofa, channel-surfing despite there being nothing to watch.
As usual, stories of celebrities living their best lives, music competition shows with the exact same tired format, sensationalist yellow journalism... cheap, hollow information filtering through their eyes and ears and passing straight through.
For some reason, today of all days, they particularly hated the television.
Then, an advertisement caught their eye and made them turn their head.
"Do you want to escape reality and vanish into your own dreams forever?"
A dream. An escape into a dream. The words sounded incredibly sweet to them. My god, how had they not known about something so amazing until now?
A dream, presumably, was something you could create for yourself. Therefore, within a dream, they could build the world they wanted, drifting from one thing to another and enjoying true happiness.
Finally saying a permanent goodbye to this heavy, agonizing reality!
Before they knew it, the television was locked on the channel that had aired the ad, and Eugene was placing an order without a second thought.
Beneath it were written what appeared to be words so small they were difficult to read. Well, that should be fine.
...
And of all days, it had to be today that they got fired.
Whether they had been too distracted by the anticipation of a package arriving at home, or if their hands had simply trembled and caused the mistake, there was no way to tell.
Honestly, it didn't even matter.
Laid out before Eugene, who had broken several dishes in a single day, was a single, neatly formatted notice of termination.
They couldn't help but feel utterly devastated. Even though they had only been handling menial tasks for several years, it was still a job they had held for a long time.
To be fired immediately over a single mistake like that. They didn't even have the energy to be angry, feeling only a deep sense of despair.
As if to mock them, the clear weather from earlier had vanished, and a torrential downpour was now pouring down.
Their head throbbed. They hated themselves for making such a careless blunder.
Their hands hadn't always been this clumsy, so how on earth had such a mistake happened?
Having returned home soaked to the bone in the rain, Eugene collapsed onto the bed without making any effort to change clothes or do anything else.
They weren't in the mood for that right now. They just needed to fall asleep immediately and rest until the memory of this day began to fade.
~
Their bittersweet escape came to an end when the doorbell rang in the morning. They felt that the time had not been enough to recover their battered heart. Eugene let out a deep sigh.
That was that, and this was this. Regardless, since they were up, they had to check who was ringing the bell.
There was no one in particular expected to come, but leaving it ignored would not have been polite.
What Eugene saw when they opened the door was a box. Ah, they remembered the medicine they had purchased the day before.
Was it even possible for medicine bought the previous day to arrive in a single day? Eugene wondered suddenly.
Either way, there was no need to put it off any longer. Perhaps the saying that life is full of ups and downs wasn't wrong after all; getting fired from work had created the perfect timing for an escape.
Lying on the bed, they took a pill out of the bottle. Their head spun with the tension of the unknown and the sweet temptation of throwing everything away. They felt the illusion that they were holding the forbidden fruit.
With trembling hands, shaking the pill into their mouth, Eugene bid reality a final farewell.
I open my eyes. Where am I?
I open my mouth. No sound comes out.
I prick up my ears. No noise of any kind can be heard.
Who am I?
Am I a real being?
As if only half-formed, the surroundings were still an entirely white, soundless space.
A silence that would cause one's mind to drift if they stayed too long settled over this place.
Is this a real place, and am I a real concept?
And then, as if a file were being transferred to a computer, all my memories flowed in, seamlessly.
Ah, I think, therefore I am.
My memories of the past have been rebooted. Ah, the pitiful, wretched me in the reality beyond. That life had been so quietly, slowly strangling me.
If so, this must be a dream. Does this mean I took the medicine but am not yet dreaming?
Wait, my memories are jumbled. My body's sensory organs feel alien. What did my face look like again? What is my name?
Ah, I remember. My name is-
At that moment, my senses blurred and the space suddenly shifted, as if it were warping. Before I knew it, I was standing inside a building without any lights. Was I thinking about this?
The interior of the building was strangely dark, lit only by the natural light filtering in from the outside. On the hallway walls, framed photographs of unknown places were hung.
Drawn as if spellbound, I walked over, grabbed a frame, and looked up.
And then, my face was reflected in the glass pane protecting the photo inside.
My face. A face with eyes to behold the sky, a nose to catch the scent of the sea, ears to hear the sound of the wind, and a mouth to taste the bitterness of coffee.
But, what was reflected in the glass was only a question mark. No eyes, no nose, no ears, no mouth.
The uncertainty of existence enveloped my body. I couldn't tell if this trembling was a thrill or a chill.
Who am I?
What is my name?
What is my face?
I did not create this dream.
Then who created this dream?
I am —.
I clearly exist.
No, am I a real, existing being?
Is this place a dream?
Am I alive?
Why do I have a consciousness?
Is this metaphysically correct?
Ah.
At one point, it was knotted together as if severed by a blade.
Beyond that window, amid the clouds, I saw someone in the building calling for a train.
Every sense that shouldn't exist is crying out. I am drawn as if our souls are meant to merge.
That is me.
My other half, and I myself.
If so, how can we exist separately?
Am I just a part of them?
Even so, that is me.
The me that I love more than anyone else.
They must have fled here because reality was too painful. The judgment came naturally. My poor, pitiful self.
I came here to dream. I came to wander and linger between nightmares and dreams. Forever.
But that won't do. My dear body, out there in reality, will come to harm.
Ah. Suddenly, a craving like a mission surged through me. My face, hidden and erased by a question mark. I want to have that face of mine, the one riding that train to another building.
Oh, I had to meet them. If they meet me and recognize my face, it will be like a fairytale ending.
I still don't know who I am, but it was a certainty nonetheless. Once I reclaim my face, I can wake up from this dream.
Then, my beloved self will surely wake up safely, live through the bitter reality once more, and come back here to rest for a while. This place will surely become a paradise. Perfect!
Wait, do I want to stay here forever? If so, surely that would be dangerous?
That cannot be.
Regardless, this dream was beautiful.