oops! all plot devices

The flow of time in Wonderland had long since been corrupted. It became encased in an isolated samsara, where the same few people would be reincarnated and history would repeat itself. Their stories became twisted, lost to time and faded memories. Everything changed, and yet everything remained the same.

“I see,” observed a certain being who had taken it upon himself to watch both Earth and Wonderland. “Their desires for a ‘happy ending’ have changed the fundamental laws of that world. Then, if it’s a ‘happy ending’ they want… I will write it for them.”

So he undertook his next task, indulging himself in the name of ‘order.’ A story he wrote by taking bits and pieces and fragments from others, a System he programmed, a method of fixing the error as much as his powers allowed him to.

“Now… What shall I name this story? Ah, yes, this one sounds fitting—Twisted Wonderland. It’s what they call themselves, isn’t it?”

It was complete—or, rather, it was almost complete. There was only one problem: his story lacked the perfect main character. A novel is pointless without a protagonist; a game is pointless without a player. As the ‘author,’ the ‘administrator,’ he could not fill that role.

Therefore, he created a blank vessel and waited. And waited, and waited.

Until finally, a soul with that same desire for a “happy ending” came along. It was a pitiful soul, one that had ended its life on Earth far too early. It even bore resemblance to that of the Spectator’s original body.

“How amusing. Then, why don’t I give you this second chance?”

Gently, he guided the soul into the blank vessel and allowed natural desires and magic to adjust its shape. 

“You will gaze into their memories, get to know them, and eventually set them on a new path.  But for you, there is nothing but the vague promise of a ‘happy ending’ waiting. So I’m looking forward to seeing it—what choices you will make along the way and where that will take you.”

He smiled, and allowed the story to take its course.

“All things considered, it's a win-win situation, isn’t it? After all, 'endings' are just new beginnings.”

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Present day.

The presence before the 'protagonist' feels overwhelming, but not oppressive. Still, it sends an eerie chill through his whole body - he's survived eight overblots, and yet to come face to face with this kind of being...

“Who are you? Why do you… look like me?”

With the longest, swiftest strides he can muster, he intends to head back to Ramshackle—to rest, to collect his thoughts, and to figure out where the hell Vil’s blot stone went.

It hadn’t been anywhere in the infirmary or on his person, even though it was right in his palm when he passed out the night before. He didn’t have any memory of waking up another time between blacking out and ending up in the infirmary, either. 

But if either the nurse or Crewel or Crowley had confiscated it, then they hadn’t addressed the issue at all when they had every reason to as highly-qualified staff members collectively responsible for the school’s safety.

So somehow, it disappeared right out of his hands. Somehow, a very potent crystallization of dangerous magical waste has disappeared and Yu needs to find it. 

Maybe, just maybe, it ended up somewhere where no one will find it before me—

“There you are, Wei.”

It’s a gentle but accusatory voice.

Yu blinks and stops, emerging from his thoughts. Thanks to the fair, the hallway is empty except for him—him and a certain Octavinelle student.

“Chrysos,” Yu says pleasantly, waving to him. Speaking as if nothing out of the usual had happened at all, as if he isn’t high-strung with nerves. “Headed somewhere?”

“I meant to visit the infirmary to find you,” admits Chrysos, “but… it looks like you’ve already been discharged.”

Yu’s mouth curves into a small smile, a mask of politeness, since he doesn’t really feel like smiling. “Yeah. It was probably a cause for concern for some, but I’m fine. An overnight stay in the nurse’s office was treatment enough.”

“Oh?” Chrysos tilts his head. “That’s fast. If I might ask… what were you in there for, then?”

The inevitable question, of course. Thankfully, he’d prepared for this.

“Stress-induced sickness, I guess? It got to the point where I fainted.” Yu laughs softly. Habitually, he adds in a dash of something pitiable: “I’m about as weak as people expect me to be.”

Chrysos narrows his eyes ever so slightly, lashes dipping—as if the half-lie about the fainting spell is a dried-out organism he’s about to viciously dissect. 

“I see,” he replies after a moment, instead of the expected accusations. “You’re sure you feel fine now, then?”

“Yep. Thanks for being worried, though.” Yu doesn’t mention that he pretty much blackmailed the nurse into letting him out, the second time in less than 24 hours. After all, it was better if no one noticed and questioned his abrupt admittance to the infirmary from last night…

…Yu frowns.

“Wait a minute—” he starts quietly, at the same time Chrysos says, “That’s good to hear.”

They look at each other, only one of them stunned into silence; and it isn’t Chrysos, who—ever composed—wordlessly and expectantly gestures for Yu to speak.

“How…” Yu hesitates, and then cautiously continues, “How did you even know I was in the infirmary?” After all, no one—absolutely no one besides the staff—should have been aware. It was far too early in the day for them to have told anyone…

Chrysos crosses his arms, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to take a guess?”

“No. Just tell me outright, please.”

“In that case…”  

Almost innocently, Chrysos gives a slight sideways incline of his head again.

“I was the one who brought you to the infirmary to begin with.”

As if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of a realization on Yu, the ever-polite and ever-observant freshman waits for a reaction with a perfectly neutral expression. Or, Yu reflects, maybe it’s because he understands the significance that he watches so calmly. 

It wouldn’t be surprising in the least.

Of course, still, Yu is filled to bursting with questions; opening his mouth to ask after a moment’s delay—then, what about the blot stone? Why were you out there in the dead of night like I was? Why did no one mention you to me? Why, and how—only to realize he can’t ask any of them. He can’t without giving up the little lie he’d made up for this conversation. 

Even Chrysos, composed and paradoxically reckless Chrysos, can’t be told the truth lest he try to stop Yu.

So Yu closes his mouth and then puts on another smile, a soft laugh. “Seriously? Well… Thank you a lot, then. I owe you one.” 

And, then— 

“But I’m kind of in a hurry, so maybe we can talk about that later.”

Yu turns his back, then, and starts walking off in his original direction at what he hopes seems like a normal pace. It’s rude, and he knows it, but he doesn’t have any alternatives that will end well for him. Or, rather, he simply just doesn’t want to consider or choose those alternatives. 

He doesn’t get to go very far before he’s stopped. 

“Yuhua.” His given name sounds strange coming from Chrysos’ mouth. “Do you know what I’d appreciate in exchange? An explanation.”

“For what?” he asks, turning around again but refusing to meet Chrysos’ eyes.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Yu’s mouth feels so, so dry. Still, he musters all the false sincerity he can, letting it bleed deep into his voice as he replies, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

The heels of Chrysos’ shoes click, clack against the floor with startling emphasis. “I don’t appreciate you continuing to lie to my face,” he says, voice dangerously soft. “I found you unconscious at the Purple Stage last night, holding onto something you shouldn’t have looked for. Do you want to deny it any further?”

Holding onto something I shouldn’t have looked for? That’s rich.

“Maybe I should ask what you were doing there,” Yu deflects. “Isn’t your convenient presence equally as suspicious?”

“The Film Research Club was debriefing late into the night. You can ask anyone about it.” Chrysos narrows his eyes further. “That’s when I saw you. To be frank, it’s more of an alibi than yours.”

“Well—”

“And,” Chrysos interrupts, now that he’s found a weak point, “that’s not all. Don’t think I don’t know about the other blot stones you’ve been hiding.”

Yu freezes, struck with the overwhelming feeling of he definitely shouldn’t know that. That this has gone very, very wrong—or that this conversation wasn’t really within his control from the very beginning. 

Of course, it isn’t that he hid those dangerous crystals for malicious purposes—just that someone has to do something about them, but now he has no idea what would happen if everyone found out. 

And at this point, he’s already too far in over his head to stop.

“...How do you know that?” he asks, trying to school his expression back into place.

Chrysos basically scoffs. “It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. You’re lucky I’m the only one who’s noticed.”

Yu is and he knows it. That doesn’t mean he likes it at all.

“You—” Yu shuts his mouth, and feels his nails digging into the palm of his fists. “Thanks for your concern, but seriously, this isn’t any of your business. I don’t need any help.”

“Actually, I feel a little inclined to intervene. Do you even know what effects continuous blot exposure has on a normal human?” asks Chrysos incredulously.

“Does it matter if I’m just keeping them safely locked up?”

“Contrary to what you might think, you’re not invincible.”

What a disgustingly know-it-all response, one that he would have given himself if their roles were reversed. 

It’s unbearable.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this. Remember when you almost Overblotted because you overused your signature spell?”

“And so I’ve stopped using it.” Chrysos looks at Yu with what seems to be disdain. “Can you say the same for yourself?”

“What am I supposed to do? Leave the stones somewhere and hope they’ll just despawn without affecting anyone?!” Yu throws up his hands in exasperation. “Seven, I wish it was that easy.”

“Did you consider your other options?” wonders Chrysos. He lays the facts in a sickeningly rational manner: “You could have told someone. Anyone. Maybe not us students, but I’m genuinely surprised you didn’t at the very least call on one of the teachers or the headmage to safely dispose of it.”

The possibility had crossed Yu’s mind at some point. But Crowley had always been too irresponsible, and as awful as it feels to admit it, Yu doesn’t truly trust any of the adults at Night Raven College. He doesn’t trust a lot of people, come to think of it.

“It’s because I thought about it that I came to the conclusion I should just handle it myself. Are you going to stop being a hypocrite now? I mean, having other options never kept you from going off on your own—like with the anemones.” 

That seems to be the spark that makes Chrysos bristle, shaking his scathingly polite Octavinelle exterior. “If you must know—”

“I’m dying to hear your excuses,” Yu drawls, “because the last I remember, you would go off and pursue debt-evading or rebellious students on your own—you would go off and ‘handle’ them yourself.” 

His mouth is running faster than his mind now, but he can’t be bothered to stop it. 

“Don’t you remember that, too? I’m sure it must have been so satisfying in the moment when you were beating Ace up—him, magicless and defenseless, and you with all the power, feeling like you were in the right because no one else was there to govern your actions—”

“Yu.” Something has snapped. Chrysos’ voice is low and deadly, now brimming with palpable anger. “Are you willing to shut your mouth, or should I shut it for you?”

Yu lets himself laugh cynically. “Funny, because I’ve been wanting to ask you the same thing. Can’t take what you dish out either, huh—”

——?!

He almost falls backwards from the force of being struck. Pain erupts on his left cheek and under the hand he instinctively brings up to feel at it. 

It hurts, but one look at the almost feral anger in Chrysos’ eyes and a sick part of Yu feels satisfied, like he’s in control again. 

Still, Yu knows he’s going to regret this later. They probably both will. 

Not that it makes a difference. 

When Chrysos aggressively grabs him by the front of his shirt, Yu can’t help but smirk, even when disoriented from being punched in the face. He reaches a hand up to dig his nails into the flesh of Chrysos’ arm. “Resorting to violence because you have no other arguments?”

“Resorting to deflection because you’re obviously in the wrong?” Chrysos retorts, bearing the expression of one who knows he’s being provoked but still wants to give in to it. As a matter of fact, he probably has the strength to kill Yu right here and now. His unwavering death grip is proof enough of that.

But Yu pays it little mind, refusing to give in to his fear, swallowing it down—he’s been at other people’s mercy in this world since the start, it’s nothing new. “Like that’s your place to decide?”

A derisive scoff escapes him.

“Why don’t you keep doing what you do for everyone else, and mind your own damn business?”

He shifts his weight and kicks Chrysos’ shin as hard as he can, not above targeting a merman’s weakness. 

Chrysos grimaces, stumbling, and his grip lessens. Yu takes advantage of it to try and thrash out of his hold, but Chrysos’ reaction time is far faster: he reaches to grab fistfuls of Yu’s shirt again, making sure the TA can’t run away like he planned.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Chrysos hisses, everything about him in disarray: strands of hair falling out of their perfect arrangement, polite diction discarded. “You can get what I’m saying through your head, but you keep choosing not to.”

“And?—”

There’s another cruel, quick response right on the tip of Yu’s tongue, but it never leaves his mouth. He stays defiantly silent, watching Chrysos’ shoulders shakily rise and fall with simmering anger. Watching Chrysos inhale sharply and draw back his fist—

The next thing Yu knows, he’s on his side, an inelegant heap on the floor. The same part of his face aches, a burst of pain that makes it hard to see. 

As he sits up, Chrysos approaches him.

“You—... I—...” 

For a few seconds, Chrysos starts and stops, trying to find something to say amid the obviously enraged haze of his mind. 

“...Sometimes, I can’t believe you,” he finally says, letting a resigned venom seep into his words. “Preaching all these things and never putting them into practice with yourself.”

Yu waits—for him to say something else, to do something else—but nothing comes.

Chrysos just walks away, and then there’s no one else left in the hallway. It’s an anticlimactic ending, if he could even call it that. A fight that fizzled into nothing but dead silence.

…Only then, once left to his own devices again, does the bitter adrenaline wear off; and Yu shamefully concedes to no one but himself—