CHAPTER 72 — Gerife of killing (1)
"Huh?"
Rowan snapped awake, his head whipping around as a wave of disorientation crashed over him.
"Where am I?" He muttered, his voice trembling.
He looked down, blinking against the gloom.
He wasn't in his dorm room. He was trapped in the suffocating, familiar enclosure of a cave.
"This cave..."
Cold sweat slicked his temples, and he swallowed hard against the dry knot in his throat. The darkness pressed in from all sides.
Craek!
"Huh?"
His head snapped toward the sound, his eyes dilating in sheer terror.
Standing a few paces away was a figure with ash-grey hair. His face was cast in shadow, hidden by his bangs, but Rowan didn't need to see, his eyes know who it was.
Before Rowan could move, before a single sound could escape his lips—
CHOP!
The sharp, whistling arc of a descending blade cut through the air.
The grey-haired boy collapsed instantly, a deep, jagged, diagonal wound tearing violently across his chest as he hit the stone floor.
Rowan's throat constricted, cutting off his breath. He clamped both hands tightly over his mouth to stifle a scream.
Then, his gaze dropped to his fingers. They were stained crimson.
Blood.
Panic surged in, Rowan violently jerked his hands away, shaking them frantically to rid himself of the wet warmth. But the blood wouldn't vanish.
He wiped his palms frantically against his academy jacket, only to freeze when he saw that the fabric was soaked in it, too.
Not just his jacket. His pants, his other hand, and the heavy axe he gripped—viscous, dark blood was dripping in slow, sickening plops from the blade.
"Huh! Ehh!"
Rowan hyperventilated, clawing at his clothes, trying in vain to wash the stains away. It was only then, as his vision swam, that he realized the truth. He wasn't standing on solid stone. He was standing ankle-deep in a vast, sprawling pool of blood.
Floating lazily in the crimson tide were hundreds of bodies. Not strangers—every single corpse was Seris. The entire cavern had transformed into a macabre lake of the dead, repeating his face, his wound, over and over again.
The color vanished entirely from Rowan's face. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached and bolted.
He ran. He scrambled blindly through the dark, desperate to find an exit from the nightmare. But no matter how fast or how far he sprinted, the blood and the endless sea of corpses would never end .
His lungs burned, screaming at him to halt, but terror drove him forward. Footsteps splashing, chest heaving, running—endlessly running.
And then, he had to stop.
Standing directly in front of him, amidst the floating horrors, was the body of Seris once again surrounded by a pool of blood and an endless hoared of his own corpses. And right beside the corpse stood... another Rowan.
'Huff... this... again?' Rowan thought, clutching his aching chest as reality warped around him. 'Why am I seeing this? Why won't it stop?'
The phantom Rowan raised an axe.
Rowan's eyes widened to their absolute limits. He lunged forward, desperate to intervene, to stop his other self from committing the act.
"Stop! Don't—!"
Before he could finish, the phantom Rowan swung. The blade bit deep, and the ash-grey boy fell for the hundredth time, adding one more corpse to the blood-soaked lake.
Rowan collapsed, his knees hitting the red liquid. He grabbed his head between his hands and he sat down surrounded by countless corpses of the same Ash grey haired boy, squeezing his eyes shut as bitter, uncontrollable tears streamed down his face.
"What's happening Papa? Why is that uncle tied up and where are they taking him?"
The innocent memory of his childhood flashed uninvited through his mind.
"That guy killed someone."
"No! I didn't killed him! It was an accident!"
Rowan sobbed into the dark.
"so the police is taking him into custody."
"No... I don't want to go to prison."
"Well... He killed someone and... Killing a person is considered a crime."
"I didn't mean to! It was... it was an accident! I'm not a murderer, I swear, I—"
"Rowan?"
"I-I didn't—"
"Rowan!"
"I—"
"ROWAN!!!"
"Hah?!"
Rowan jolted upright, his eyes flying open.
"I-I—"
"Hey! Rowan, wake up!"
He felt a sting across his face—two sharp, heavy slaps against his cheeks. The blurry shapes around him slowly sharpened into focus. He saw Sarina infront of him.
"You finally awake?"
He heard another voice from across the room and turned his head. Ritvik was standing by his desk, casually flipping through a stack of notebooks.
"At least you didn't manage to ruin any of my stuff while you were hiding out," Ritvik muttered, checking his things.
Rowan stared at them, his brain struggling to bridge the gap between the nightmare and the quiet, sterile reality of his dorm room.
'These two?'
"What is wrong with you?" Ritvik demanded, glancing over his shoulder. "You locked the door and holed yourself up for a whole week without a word."
"Hey, are you okay?" Sarina asked, her voice softening as she knelt beside him. "You were muttering crazy things in your sleep."
"I...?"
"Come on, let's go," Sarina said abruptly, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.
'Go? Where? Have the police come to take me away?' Panic flared anew in Rowan's chest, and he violently jerked his hand out of her grip.
"..." Sarina blinked.
"...?" Ritvik paused, turning around with a frown.
"Hey, are you alright?" Ritvik asked, his tone shifting from annoyance to genuine concern.
"I... I just, I don't want to go anywhere right now," Rowan stammered, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"No, come on. You need to go to the infirmary," Sarina insisted, standing up and blocking any chance of escape.
"What? I—"
Sarina looked down at him. His face was entirely hollowed out, skin sallow and drained of color, his hair a tangled mess, and dark, bruised circles carved deep beneath his bloodshot eyes. He looked like a ghost.
She shot a quick, pointed look at Ritvik. Without needing words, Ritvik caught her meaning.
Before Rowan could protest, Ritvik grabbed his left arm while Sarina firmly secured his right.
Rowan flinched, his muscles locking up.
"What are you guys doing?!"
They didn't answer. They simply hoisted him up by his arms, turning toward the doorway.
"We're taking you to the nurse's office, obviously," Sarina said, her voice leaving no room for argument as they hauled the exhausted, resisting boy out of the room.
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CHAPTER ENDS