Tap, Quish.
A foot dragged across the floor.
Tap, Quish. Tap, Quish.
Someone was marching forward in this pitch blackness. The footsteps were getting closer and closer toward the light. Chandeliers flickered and swayed, illuminating a small wooden surface. It was a table.
A silhouette stepped into the light. A weary young man stared at the fire, shadow lines etched deep into his face as he grimaced. His hand was clutching his left shoulder, bloodied and holding something.
In his hand, a strange-looking doll was held. Black smoke leaked from its seams… slow, like it was breathing.
He stood before the table and put the doll inside a red circle made of thread, adjusting it with precision. He attached its four limbs to other hovering threads.
He pulled the chair with a creak and collapsed onto it.
Blood traced his whole arm as droplets kept falling to the ground. He kept staring toward the invisible ceiling.
"I got no time."
As he said that, he pulled himself out of the chair's embrace, sitting straight. He stretched his right arm blindly into the darkness beyond the candlelight and came back with a spoon.
He dug it into the bowl of meat and rice before him; it was already half eaten.
His hand traveled to his mouth, shaking. The spoon hit the side of his lip, rice falling down onto his lap.
"Tch, I can't stay in for long, I am still hungry."
He took another spoonful, large, and meticulously ate it with effort.
He was devouring his meal—fast at times, slow at others, as if waiting for something to emerge from this repeated change of speed.
He chewed loudly and rapidly, bits and debris flying out of his mouth. Then he munched slowly, trying to savor the paste on his tongue. A noble expression formed as he closed his eyes, tasting slowly before finally gulping.
His face frowned for a second; he let out a hiss. The spoon hovered in the air, unmoving.
TAP.
He slammed the spoon abruptly on the table. "Come on!"
"No matter… this emptiness inside doesn't cease to grow. Those shitty feelings. I will lose control of this body soon."
He tried to quench it, enduring. He grabbed his head in his right palm and frowned.
He was like a statue. Everything was unmoving for a stretched moment, except the fire that kept twirling.
His eyes flickered suddenly, losing their gleam. A grey shadow was cast over them. He raised his face abruptly, like a marionette.
New thoughts emerged from the darkness.
Why was he feeling like this?
His awareness couldn't fill that gap yet. Feelings foreign to him—feelings that made him clench his jaw and grow dazed, pondering with his eyes fixed on the bowl.
After some moments, he let out a deep exhale. His face twitched rapidly, darting right and left, then pinned upward, arms stretching across the table.
"Haaaaah! At least I have you with me, guys."
With a faint smile, he turned to look at the table's chairs and who was sitting on them. His gaze softened at the sight of this familiar company.
Silence as he gazed.
No one answered him back. They stood still, looking at his madness. Still in front of his rapid changes and incoherent ticks.
They stood still because they couldn't move.
He swept his gaze over their rough faces, one by one.
Five puppets sat silently on a pile of books to reach the table's height. They were connected by a red thread through their four limbs.
"Yeah… I'm glad I still have you when everyone leaves. At least I love you, and you wouldn't reject me!"
The words were spoken, but they carried no effect on his facial expressions. He was smiling—genuinely—despite the conflict within him.
His eyes suddenly filled with longing, and the smile collapsed. He felt a throbbing in his heart, random aches—not pain, but oppression.
It was irresistible. His consciousness cowered bit by bit to the back of his mind. His being felt small as it retreated to the rear of his body's shell.
His nose flared; his breathing grew faster and faster. His chest tremored up and down, heavy. He felt a mingling rage toward himself and the world—but mostly toward himself.
His chest pressed down on him, not daring to take in more air. His throat gurgled; his lungs were inflated but still empty.
It was as if he was drowning in cold water, kilometers below sea level, sinking deeper and deeper—body and mind. He struggled to breathe, flailing, trying to reach the beams of warm sunlight above. But it was hopeless. The pressure was breaking his ribs and sharply poking his organs.
Everything turned dark. The room felt narrow, yet he felt the need to hug himself tightly. He wrapped his arms around himself and clutched.
Everything was ugly as monstrous shadows danced, mocking him loudly. Laughter reverberated in his mind. He felt dizzy as the shadows spun around him.
His head hurt, his temples throbbing. He swayed on his chair, resisting.
Then he collapsed to the ground.
THUD.
He smashed onto his side.
A tear slid down his eye shyly, joining others as they forced their way out. They escaped this psyche—it was no longer livable.
He began to cry heavily. "Make it stop… make it stop… ghkhehihe! Please… just let me… please…"
The tears burst out. His saliva leaked from the gaps of his grimaced face; he seemed in atrocious agony. He rolled, his fluids soaking the floor.
He slowly retracted, as if drying up, and clenched his knees to his chest, his face buried between them.
"I didn't want that… khaaaagh… I did…"
The pain was too hellish for him to form any coherent speech. After seconds, even muttering became impossible as the assault continued. He wept silently for a while.
He stayed lying on his right side, face hidden—and he cried… and cried.
It was a dark room decorated with antiques. Gloomy under the moon's gleam, now glancing through thick clouds, filtering in from dirty windows. The walls were stained with dark splashes, and several old photos of headless people hung across the surface. The corners were full of dust, with spider webs hanging here and there; only the spot where he had been sitting and rolling was cleaned. It felt suffocating, lacking any sense of life or care.
The whining—it all stopped suddenly. Without any deceleration, it ceased abruptly. I was drawn to watch him again. He struggled to lift himself back onto his chair, and with difficulty, he adjusted his posture after repeated creaks. His facial expression returned cold, completely frozen.
He grabbed the spoon, wiped his tears, and put it into the bowl. He dug in and started to eat.
"Yep… now with salt it's better."
He turned his gaze toward the puppets.
"And there's nothing better than eating with friends…"
"Heartless," he whispered, his eyes empty.
He continued pretending to enjoy his meal, with the five puppets hanging there, watching him through their button eyes. A fake smile—one he had crafted with his own hands—stretched across their faces.
But I don't remember one of the puppets looking in my direction. That's strange.
His chewing stopped.
Aaaaah… the silence, finally. I could hear clearly the ticking of the clock in the corridor, and faint laughter coming from nowhere. I wanted to know what those strange noises in my home were, but I couldn't get past the door. I tried, but I couldn't pass through. Something was wrong.
Ding-Dang! Ding-Dang! It was 4 a.m.
The spoon was in my hand. I was finally back in my body. The damn puppets had vanished—only one remained. This one was looking at me now, at my physical body. She had a great meal in front of her.
*kakakakahe~ salt you need!* A deep voice said inside my mind while the puppets mouth moved.
Sorry, I mean a "he."
"Just shut up," I said calmly.
*Waahe, waahe! You're going to leave me! Waaah! kahkahkahka!*
Damn him, mocking me with his toothless mouth.
"Shut up! You were the one possessing the body!"
*You know your emotions are the ones leaking during the swap! Because of your whining, I messed up the last part when our time ran out!*
"Yeah, thank you for the meal!"
Only a small piece of dry meat was left. Such a selfish bastard. He knew we were low on stock, yet he planned to leave nothing.
*So, did you recognize the voices?*
"Hmmm… mame, mame… oh yeah. I couldn't leave the room."
*What?! I restrained four evil spirits for you so you could search easily!*
"Three."
*What?*
"Three evil spirits exactly. The other was a demon."
*No… no, it can't be! How did you know that?!*
"One of the puppets could see my projection."
*Impossible!*
He turned into smoke and flew into my mouth.
"Kooookh! Kooookh!" I choked. "You taste bitter, man! Why did you come back?"
*This is bad! This is bad! You need to get out of the room immediately!*
"Stop trying to scare me, man. I know we can handle everything. The worst that can happen is getting killed!"
*Now!*
A shiver ran through my body. It was cold—I never get cold. I ducked under the table instinctively.
I looked up. I could see the moon in the night sky above. The entire ceiling had vanished.
This would be fun.
*No. Getting killed isn't the worst thing that could happen. This is a high-ranking demon. Even I couldn't see your projection earlier.*
"Oh come on! You know we can't die even if we want to. Why did you skip that attack? I wanted to feel my legs being the only thing left!"
*As I said—*
My body jumped to the right as the left side of the room vanished.
*-getting killed isn't the worst thing that could happen.*
"Oh come on, man! I mean, come on, demon—it was the only table in the castle! And the only bowl here! You know how hard it is to find furniture these days?"
*Drop it. We are fighting a demon.*
"What a drag…"
I stood up and dusted my pants.
"Yeah, you're right. So there's no need to hold back."
"Come to me, you filthy thing."
|Thinnng~ hahehahahe!|
A deep voice responded from the corner.
*There—right in front of us.*
I couldn't see him, so I dashed forward in a straight line.
"Weapon!"
A black dagger appeared in my left hand. I jumped and swung it blindly through the air.
"You will get purified!"
Suddenly, my left hand vanished.
"Wha—"
Something struck me and sent me flying. By the texture, I could tell it was his tail. I crashed into the corridor.
"Akh!"
He really was a high-ranking demon.
|hahehahahe! Good! Gooood!|
Black aura condensed, spinning around.
|khahekhahekhahaha!|
This is bad… he's manifesting in this world.
|I knew it… I don't believe one hand could hold this much life energy. I was right about what I saw earlier.|
The aura cleared. The first thing I saw was his long tongue licking his sharp teeth. I don't know how he didn't bite it—I'd have trouble with teeth like those.
*Here he comes.*
A horrific creature appeared before me. The demonic zone disappeared, and so did the damage to my room. Until now, we had been fighting in a space between worlds—but now, his attacks could cause real destruction.
This was bad. I had been reckless. I got carried away and lost my arm.
I couldn't get up. My spine had been crushed.
|Hmm.|
He examined his body and the sharp nails of his right hand.
|I have not manifested in my true form for eternity. I want more.|
He looked at me with lifeless red eyes, lifted his hand, and smirked.
|Exterminate me? You don't know your place, mortal.|
"Mortal?!"
I forced myself up as my wounds began to heal.
"You have no idea who I am!"
He seemed surprised for a moment. But I was more surprised than him—my arm didn't regenerate.
|Hahahe! You startled me!|
He tilted his head and smiled.
|TIME TO VANISH.|
With a swing of his arm, the air split open.
(Alaric… why can't I regenerate?)
Space tore apart in front of me.
*That's what I was trying to tell you. He didn't cut it—he removed it. Look! We're about to be removed too—hahlfe khkhkhhe—*
"I need a hand to block it!"
*Why? You'll finally perish!*
"Alariiiic!"
The castle, and I, were cut in half.