Chapter 466
However, Theo knew that Aldraya's presence in the depths of his consciousness was something real.
Something that would not disappear simply because it remained silent.
Something that would continue to exist as a part of him, even if he did not always feel it every second.
And because he knew that, he decided to make sure.
To check what was truly happening in the silent space where the four aspects of his creative extensions resided alongside the newcomer who was still in the process of becoming part of a greater unity.
Theo's attention drifted downward.
Passing through the layers of consciousness he usually used to think and feel.
Penetrating into the deepest space that could only be accessed by the Honorable Great Author.
There, in the silent space untouched by the noise of the outside world.
In the very place where he had left Aldraya some time ago.
The sight he found made him let out a breath of relief.
Aldraya had closed her eyes once more.
Not closing her eyes in the sense of unconsciousness like a corpse that had lost everything.
But closing her eyes in the sense of surrendering to the process.
Entrusting the stability of her identity to the hands that had proven loyal in accompanying the Great Author.
The white light that formed her being no longer pulsed unstably as it had when she expressed her desire about the cosmic bomb.
No longer emitted turbulence that disrupted the synchronization process.
Instead, it had returned to a calm rhythm.
A rhythm aligned with the four aspects surrounding her.
Her position remained exactly at the center of the circle.
In the same place where she rested after her second confession.
In the same place where she chose to stop speaking and let the process unfold as it should.
And around her, Resolve, Will, Intention, and Ambition continued to work with unwavering consistency.
Even though a storm of emotion had briefly disturbed the calm that had just been achieved.
"The permission letter turned out to work well.
No one is looking for me.
No one suspects my departure.
The same goes for Aldraya.
Her class probably thinks she's sick—which, in a certain sense, is true."
Two days had passed since Ilux left the Star Academy.
With clothes still bearing traces of food stains.
And wounds that were unseen yet felt deeper than knife cuts.
Two days since Theo recorded the firecracker that exploded at the gate.
About the katana that nearly split a face.
About the spit that flew as a substitute for a slash that could have taken a life.
And now, on the third day.
On the final day of the leave period he himself had written on official Star Academy paper.
Theo stood inside a room that was narrow yet not narrow.
In a place that was not his, yet he entered with unquestionable authority.
His body was still transparent.
Still untouchable, let alone visible to ordinary beings.
The invisible veil that had covered him since he first decided to follow Ilux still worked with flawless perfection.
In front of him.
On a simple bed with gray sheets that had begun to fade.
A teenage boy lay in a position he had never imagined he would see from such a close distance.
Ilux Rediona.
The main character in the game Flo Viva Mythology.
The center of all events that had occurred over the past few days.
The source of all the suffering he had recorded page after page in a small yellow book.
Was sleeping soundly.
With drool flowing from the corner of his mouth, soaking a pillow that was no longer white.
Theo observed the scene with a face as flat as the surface of a frozen lake.
But behind that absence of expression, something moved slowly.
Not sympathy.
Not pity.
Nor the hatred Aldraya felt in the depths of his consciousness.
But something closer to curiosity.
About how a being who had done so many terrible things.
Who had hurt so many people.
Who had nearly taken the purity of his own personal teacher.
Could sleep so peacefully like a child with no sins at all.
The drool flowed shamelessly.
A slightly open mouth released heavy and irregular breaths.
A face that, in sleep, looked far younger than its true age.
Far more innocent than all the deeds he had ever committed.
For a moment.
For several seconds that could not be measured by ordinary time.
Theo allowed himself to simply look.
To simply observe.
To absorb every detail before him without needing to record.
Without needing to write.
Without needing to do anything except exist in the same room as the enemy of the part of himself that now resided deep within his consciousness.
But the silence did not last long.
Because there were things that had to be recorded.
Details that had to be added into the grand narrative he was writing.
Fragments of reality that had to be preserved before time erased them from the memory of anyone who should remember.
Theo's right hand slowly moved.
Reaching into the folds of his clothing.
Taking out a small yellow book that had become an inseparable part of his existence.
Its worn cover caught the morning light slipping through the gaps in the curtains.
Reflecting a dim gleam visible only to eyes sharp enough to notice such detail.
Meanwhile, his left hand took out a pen from the same place.
A simple pen with black ink that never ran out.
Even though it had been used to write millions of words throughout his journey across layers of reality.
With fingers moving in the same rhythm as two days ago.
Like three days ago.
Like every previous day since he first held this book.
Theo began to write.
Not long sentences that required pages upon pages.
Nor poetic lines he usually used to describe the beauty of the Multiverse Path or the depth of suffering of created beings.
But small fragments.
Fragments that would become the foundation of something greater.
Fragments that could only be written by someone close enough to see the drool flowing from the corner of Ilux Rediona's mouth.
There are several things that need to be added, he murmured inwardly.
A statement that did not need to be spoken aloud.
Because no one would hear it.
A statement directed more at himself than anyone else.
A statement that became the opening for the three paragraphs he would write on the same page where he had written about the firecracker.
About the katana.
About the spit that flew as a substitute for a slash that could have taken a life.
The first paragraph he wrote was about Ilux's sleeping position.
About how his body curled like a fetus still sheltered within the womb.
About how his hands tightly gripped the edge of the pillow as if holding onto something he did not want to let go of even in sleep.
About how the drool flowing from the corner of his mouth formed a damp pattern that would eventually dry.
And leave a mark that would never truly disappear from the surface of the fabric.
To be continued…