Just a Little Bit Longer

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[Overarchiver] Just remember the LPP. [Harriet] So it shall be.

***

Egor was not expecting a swarm of Harriet’s followers storming into the complex fully armed, leaving their trail of chaos all the way to his place. When he came back to his compound, he saw his labs being surrounded by Eternalists setting up his nullifiers in the area. His hidden machine had already been discovered and trashed into an unrecognizable piece of metal. Amongst them was Harriet, looking down from the viewpoint he set up next to his room, wielding that pistol of hers with a menacing look. Her gaze was as dark as her hair, as she scanned her surroundings vigilantly.

He didn’t try to approach her; he didn’t dare, because the Harriet he saw this afternoon was not the Harriet he knew, she was not the person who would react calmly when one called her weird, nor the one that would share a beer with you and laugh off whatever happened between you. Her eyes were a bottomless abyss, devouring all who made contact with them. Instead, Egor managed to tip-toe his way to the gate of the bunker after barely passing through several nullifier fields and clinging himself against the ice-cold rocks. Each second of him holding his breath lasted like an eternity. Finally, he slipped into the bunker before taking a last glance at this strange event, and dove further deeper into this old facility. He had heard of the eternalists’ plan to blow up this place; he was glad that as incompetent as they usually were—they failed to do it.

As he ventured down this deserted underground complex, he heard an ominous voice coming from the speakers. It was the familiar voice he had heard for years, but the voice was distorted, perhaps due to the depth of his location, or the current state of the voice’s owner.

“Egor.” She spoke with a certain mischievousness, almost singing. "I know you are here.”

Egor felt his heart sink with the prolonged high-pitched voice that dragged like nails on a metal surface. Shiver was sent across his skin as he started scratching himself out of fear. His fingers dug deep into his skin, hoping this was nothing but a dream.

It hurts.

“Come join us.” She lowered her tone. Every syllable was like pressure applying to Egor’s lungs. “We shall celebrate our first day together.”

***

The first time happened quickly. A flash in the cockpit. Then she was in her room again.

She thought it was one of the strange dreams she has every once in a while after she emerged from the airplane. Until she received the message of Colt going rogue. That strange sensation of deja vu as she opened the group chat and read through the messages from other visionaries, then standing above her followers giving the speech, pulling the lever, watching them choke, once more. She had done it before; she was sure of it. But the day ended with little going out of hand as she hid herself away and drifted into sleep.

It was on the second morning where she woke up in her chamber that she comprehended what was happening to her.

Never-ending first day of chaos.

Every time was not much different from the last, as her schedule remained the same throughout most of the loops. She woke up, held the ceremony, killed Amador or be killed, slaughtered some followers in the name of chaos or be slaughtered.

After a while, she completely forgot how nervous she was on the first day of chaos, and how comforting when she lit the cigarette after watching a live parish in front of her.

She had tried to investigate if the same was happening to other visionaries. She brought up the possibilities with the fellow founders from time to time, but was assured it was still the first day. 

How long has it been? she wondered. Eons, perhaps, they never knew.

In the beginning, she missed her blissful ignorance which enabled her to conduct the ceremony without that extra mile of worry that outside chaos would disturb her and her followers. Then she appreciated the foresight of the event so she could prepare for the day.

Yet as her experience in the loop was enhanced and her view of the world was once more broadened, she felt her calling even greater. She came to realize that she is gifted with her power and her vision. She became more fascinated with the purpose of her power. It was only fair to enlighten her fellow visionaries, who still wondered in the fog of ignorance. By the power she was obtained, by her transcendent experience, by the darkness that comes to all, by the peace that embraces everything—From chaos they shall rise and be reborn.

Her obsession grew along with the progression of loops. Amador’s lingering breaths in the green mist no longer complemented her vision. To the darkest indulgence that was a mere child's play as Harriet surviving pass loops and wanting for more.

When her behavior pattern changed, Colt stopped showing up for days. She stopped conducting her ceremony during that time, while commanding her followers to rampage the island with chaos.

Then she came to her.

The archivist, the huntress, the new head of security herself.

***

[Overarchiver] Why do this? [Harriet] Cleanse and rebirth, it is only fair they are offered this opportunity from me.

***

Desperation engulfed him when he reached the deepest level of the bunker. It was cold and partly flooded with water, a place no one would like to be in so late at night.

Egor was tired.

He docked in a dark corner, surrounded himself with old gadgets that have no other use than being a barrier or a possible camouflage. He was too weary to conceal himself with Aether again. Sneaking across those maniacs and carefully treading down here already took away most of his energy. He pushed the heavy orange glasses that hung above his frozen nose and took a glance at his surroundings.

No one, yet.

He shivered under his big red coat, the one he used to wipe blood on it when his dried skin cracked and bled. Covering his mouth with hands, he felt his temples pulsing like the anomaly’s light travelling across the night sky.

He felt… felt as if someone was drilling into his skull, or something was trying to come out. Unable to slow down his breathing rhythm, his throat tightened as the cold damp air seeped into his bone, with the haunting static noise which rang out through the bunker.

Occasionally there were a shot or two. From what weapon he did not know, but he could recognize some screams or cries that sound distant yet close. He tried to identify any sort of footsteps, but all he could hear were his heartbeats, the wheezing sound that perhaps came from his throat, and all those strange noises that disturbed his already stressed mind.

Breath in. 

He tried to think of what Colt taught him. When he asked about how it was like being a soldier.

Not easy. He remembered Colt explained it to him. But people find their ways, eventually.

Breath out.

He focused his attention on calming himself. Hoping they would leave him at peace. Which was all he ever wanted. 

To be undisturbed.

Then he heard it.

Right above him—one explosion, another scream, smell of gunpowder.

FUCK

***

She learned much from the visit of the archivist. The approximate length of this “first day” (or the length that the archivist remembered), the phenomenon that affect people in different ways, a simple recap of what happened before Harriet’s sudden deviation. She also gradually gained more comprehension of her ability—Nexus—the potential to bring people into the Great Beyond together. Although she has not yet had the knowledge of how to apprehend other powers, she found herself somehow satisfied. 

“We will share our love, our pain, our joy, our suffering.”

Harriet stated this to Julianna, reaching for her face, scrutinizing her dumbfounded expression under that curly hair, while carefully applying a tiny bit of Nexus onto Julianna. 

Glimpse of thoughts, she heard. A vocabulary or two, hard to recognize, from a voice that was not hers but Julianna’s, flashing across her mind before they vanished into black smokes.

“Our thoughts will bind us.” She whispered as she leaned toward Julianna. “Our feelings will unite us.” She stared deep into those azure eyes.

Then something broke.

Julianna slipped away from the chair and stood next to her.

Emptiness.

“To the great beyond”. Julianna coughed as she cast her sight to the door behind her.

Once more, alone with her own thoughts.

“I should go now.” Julianna grabbed her rifle and jumped straight down to the door beneath. “And be careful Harriet.”

“Beware of the snake in the tunnels, Julianna.” 

“Yeh that,” Her sneakers scratched against the metal floor while she pressed the button with the gunstock, “and remember,” she turned and looked at Harriet with an icy gaze, “I tolerate, but won’t indulge.”

She died many times before she finally achieved the effect she was looking for. The memory of Colt using her own trick on her inspired her experiment. That chaotic stream of thoughts and emotions rushed through her veins. The displaced sensation of being devoured by something ancient and then re emerging into this world. She couldn’t quite put it, but it was familiar.

Out of the void. Smokes creeped into her lungs. Mixing smell of burning plastic and flesh. Moans and cries slammed into her eardrums. Breeze brushed softly against her exposed muscle. Blinding sunlight as she regained her arose from the ashes. Burdening by a scorching sensation stretched across her body. There she was, from debris, carrying the suffering, rising into daylight.

Rose again with the proof of rebirth. Such experience. A gift.

The first successful sign of her experiment was when her followers described a burning sensation behind their back. The way they cried out brought back some distant memories. Not long after it, she started to feel them—confused agony, despair. Then she was able to sense the physical pain that cut deep into her flesh without actually harming herself, to capture the fleeting phrases of thoughts inside their mind, to immerse completely in the ranges of sensations. Eventually, she learned how to sever the links right before that moment of departure—when the mind vanished completely from time and space.

***

[Overarchiver] Are you sure you are doing it for them? [Harriet] Why do you ask? [Overarchiver] Curiosity.

***

Egor’s screams were drowned by the fireworks.

However, no one can hear him, no one beside the group of hunters that dragged him out of his hiding spot. Gush of blood left a long and dark trail on the snow covered ground. His broken glasses still cling to his broken nose bridge. His hair wet and sticky from the crimson fluid that patiently dripped along his frozen cheek bones.

Yet he felt warmth. An oddity, an anomaly he didn’t predict of occurring. Perhaps he just never imagined himself to be so greatly wounded.

He struggled. Ever so lightly he tried to grab anything while he was on the ground—the wheel of the truck, the crates scattered around his camp, the foot of some random eternalist. But every time he felt the surface of something solid, the energy escaped from his arms, to his palms, then his fingers, and simply vanished, as he watched his fingers waved stiffly inches above the ground. 

He could hear Harriet giving a speech… or was it in his mind? It was hard to make out the exact situation, for he was disturbed by a range of emotions other than pain and fear. Something clouded his mind, some sort of mist. Like the damp and freezing fog that surrounded him on his way up the ridge in the morning. 

Still, fear overcame all as he found himself being tied on a pole barely standing at the end of something made with metal. Two forces from the sides were keeping him on the edge. His arms stretched in the air unwillingly as the ropes buried deep into his skins. His joints struggled under the strength as he fought for balance above something seemingly invisible. Below him was the lake he had looked at for the past months. It did not take him long to realize this was the spot he learned to kill. Now this fate befell onto him.

He felt his skin being torn apart against the rope.

He cursed, but nothing came out of his mouth. He sobbed, but it only enhanced his pain. He tried to look, but it was only a blur.

Someone approached him. Against the white light directing onto his face was a short figure slowly approaching. He panicked without his glasses. It was nearly impossible to recognize the person, but he comprehended through the silhouette, and the uncanny yet familiar glow that grew stronger as she came near.

For a moment, it was like being in another world. Everything was bleak. The chilly wind battered against his face, hanging lifelessly around his shoulder. After the struggles, he had lost his strength. Crystal of tears frozen on his bloodened cheeks. 

But he’s still frightened.

Even with eternity in your hands. To be killed is still a terrible fate. And to be tormented? It was not a fate he would have imagined when he thought of eternity.

And Harriet? Who would’ve thought.

“The cold wind thundered at the gate,”

Suddenly the voice was so clear, if someone is playing a tape in his mind.

“Blotting out the lights,”

It was not his own voice.

“Blinding all…”

He heard a chuckle as the shadow of the person lengthened and touched his demolished feet.

“Fitting, wouldn’t you say? Dear friend.” He heard she whispering,

“Please…” He tried to talk. “Why are you doing this?” Instead, what came out was not a stream of words but blood.

Harriet heard him, of course. She felt all of it.

Anger. Fear. Confusion. Pain. Sorrow. Despair....

Excitement.

This was the moment she was waiting for. And a gift to her dear friends, who had never been given the proper opportunity to experience rebirth, a chance to further broaden their horizon, a way to glance into the hidden side of the world, a peek at the deepest and darkest corner of their minds.

The world denied their chance of such greatness. It was only fair for her to grant them this experience.

“Seekers!” she exclaimed to the anxious listeners surrounding this ceremonial sight. “Tonight our visionary, the great founder of Aeon, my dearest colleague, participates in our first day’s ceremony.”

“Please…” Egor whimpered. He tried to pull the ropes binding his arms, but nothing was affected while his limbs hung motionless in the night air.

“He has gifted us with eternity. Now we reciprocate by bestowing him the path to a new life.”

Slowly, Harriet raised her pistol above her head, and gradually, in a dramatic manner, she straightened her arm and aimed at Egor. Before he could make another attempt to struggle, a gunshot deafened his already injured ears.

He lost his balance, and screamed.

Harriet had shot off one of Egor’s palms, cutting him from the bind. His screams fell into the dark water. He was now only supported by another rope and the metal pole that was keeping him grounded.

Despite losing one hand, what Egor found the most painful was the moment he lost balance when his shoulder was twisted between the gravity and the eternalists holding onto the rope. He groaned as the sharp pain suddenly surged from one side while the other side became numb from the numerous agonies.

Suddenly, a lullaby resonated inside his mind.

He had no memory of hearing it before.

But it sounded comforting, forgotten, and eerie.

At that moment, he saw the pulsing glow of the anomaly in the darkness, gently merging along the mist that covered his mind. 

Blinding all…

She made her way toward the edge of the darkness. The eyes of her colleague staring directly into the sky, emotionless, as he submerged under the murky water. 

The strange song ringing in her mind then engulfed the rejoicing clamors in the background.

She hummed with lips shaped like a crescent moon.

Then the clock struck midnight.

Seeing Egor freezing his delicate hands pains you.

As well as his clothes that do not fit the great outdoors. How can he survive in that outfit,  conducting experiments in the cold? But you like his look, so it much less bothers you.

Still, his bare hands waving in the chilling wind, along with his already fragile snowflake skin, powered only by his ambitious scheme.

Why Egor why? Why do you not put on some gloves?

His knuckles turn red and purple, his skin cracks and bleeds, wounds and band-aids, injures, heals and repeats.

His already frozen palms, touching ice cold metal, skin on the surface, hurts but nothing fatal.

Your imaginations no longer could stand the pain on his hands.

Then you were done. He should have a pair of gloves. But of what kind?

Big pair of fuzzy mittens, Keeps him warm but nothing more. Stylish set of leather ones, looking cool but can’t beat cold. Fitted match of knitted gloves, easy to move but get wet in snow.

What does Egor need? Protection with mobility, sufficient heat and agility. Et voila, fingerless gloves, adequate warmth and liberty.

His fingers will still suffer, but at least it’s better, than losing all fingers.

So there you give him a present, and his smile lights up that moment.

“The most thoughtful gift, I have ever received.” He thanks and cries, fogging his thick glasses. He smiles and sniffles, tries to mumble gratitudes.

Then you embarks to the relentless north, with Egor venturing in his newly gifted gloves. You build a life in the forgotten stones, beneath the towering remains of ancient walls.

With bright minds you build lives from ruins: A town of never-ending entertainments; a harbour of blinding enlightenments; a gateway of creative excitements; and a base of scientific achievements.

You see Egor roving around the island, under the sun and into snow storm, with his gloves a new world to explore.

At last in the eve before the new eternal dawn, Egor comes to you bearing a gift of his own. He meets you when snow starts to fall,  and rambles on what brings him awe.  His voice shakes perhaps out of cold,

“You are here for Mr. Vahn? About Blackreef?” You tried again with the keywords of his visit.

Suddenly, a sparkle shone through his thick glasses.

They know.

“Dr. Y/N is it?” Finally he looked up, but only slightly. “How do you know about Blackreef?”

The uncanny light hovered above the night sky, gently pulsing, shifting, then its frequency rising, like the throbbing energy that raced through inside him. The secrets he once thought lied beneath darkness now exposed under the warm winter sunshine. He was somehow excited. Elation battered against his skulls while he quietly took in several breaths sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“A friend informed me on the subject.” You answered simply with another smile. “Come, sit here, we can talk more over a cup of tea.” 

You gestured him toward a pair of leather armchairs across your desk and watched him sink into it while trying to avoid eye-contact with you. 

He placed the folder next to him and stared at the steam rising from the edge of the cup. When he noticed you turned away to get a notebook, he reached for the cup only to be burnt by the still boiling surface.

But he quickly retrieved his hand and buried it into his coat before you were aware of this minor incident.

“Who is your friend?” He questioned while secretly rubbing his burnt fingers. “Someone with common interests.” He watched you write down something inside that book of yours. “She prefers remaining anonymous for now.”

She? Wenjie? Harriet?

He made a second attempt for the teacup. It had cooled down a bit.

They wouldn’t have known here, would they?

“But if you want to know, you don’t know her personally.” You made a quick grin and closed your notebook.

“What do you know about Blackreef then?” He took out his hands, supported himself at the edge of the seat, and leaned closer. 

His urge to know more was no more concealed under his posture and his glasses. Even being separated by a wooden table, you could sense his eagerness rising like tides as you carefully gave out answers and built up more puzzles for him to solve. More mysteries for him to discover.

“I don’t know more than what Mr. Vahn let on.” You placed your notebook on your lap. “I believe you’re more of an expert than me in that field,” You playfully paused before adding, “Dr. Serling.”

“Well...” He chuckled softly as he fell back into the chairs.

He was as humble as he claimed to be, but how he enjoyed hearing those words. The way the air slammed against the hard palate then escaped through the lips in the end of the pronunciation of “doctor”, only to be followed by another smooth transition of the silent sound and ended with a sweet nasal resonance. How delightful.

Doctor Serling.

“Well, I wouldn’t dare to claim any expertise.” He raised both of his hands, attempting to act with ease and modesty. “But I have spent an extensive amount of time and effort on these subjects.”

“I believe you do. And if we are to believe Mr. Vahn’s statements as well, Blackreef does fascinate our curiosity. It is truly a remarkable place.”

“Do you believe his words, though?” Egor again inclined slightly forward. His elbow rested against the table between you. The smooth bottom of his leather shoes waltzed across the dark green carpet that spreads beneath you like a meadow. “I mean, it does sound crazy don’t you think?”

“It is not my job to judge what Mr. Vahn says. And perhaps you have verified his words with your presence here. Mr. Vahn is difficult to find after all.”

He sure is.

The amount of money, albeit not his own, and efforts Egor had spent to get here were unimaginable. Not to mention how he had to find people to back up his ideas, his pursuits, and the laying of the foundation of the greatest discovery in human history. He had never done anything ambitious like this in his life, and so far, it had been nothing but exhausting. Yet whenever he thought of the possibilities of exploring the untrodden corner of the universe, he ventured on.

Hearing another soul confirming his calling, he was exhilarating.

“Well, I am sure you must be thrilled to finally meet Mr. Vahn.” You stood up from the chair.

Egor, not sure how to react, stood up as fast as you did and bumped his foot against the table. He was finally going to meet the man from the past, the man who went through time, if what he had studied was true, that is.

Of course it is Egor.

But what should he say to the man? Colt Vahn. What do you do when talking to a patient from an asylum? Does the man want to go down to the memory lane? Would the man even talk to him? Is he even capable of convincing the man to help him? Was everything he had read so far all truth but truth? How… 

“Don’t worry Dr. Serling,” as if you could read his mind. After watching him frozen for seconds when the cups fell onto the carpet. You approached him with your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help you talk to him, help you build up trust...just…” you quietly push away the tea cup between you. “Just, maybe don’t bring up Blackreef for now.”

But that’s all I want to talk about.

“What do I say then?” He panicked.

Extensive and introspective conversation on the unexplained mechanism of the world? Infinite possibilities beyond the universe? No problem. Casual and trivial chat on Egor’s unfamiliar subject? That he had always been struggling with. It brought him trauma merely thinking back on his several failed attempts to “converse” with others during social events.

“Perhaps about yourself? Help Mr. Vahn get an idea who you are first, get to know each other.”

Socializing, that is.

“I suppose…”

Wait.

“Wait.” He rose from his contemplation. “I…” It’s not easy for him to ask. “I have another question.” But he was still left in the dark regarding one pressing subject (for him) that demanded an answer before you attended to business.

He caught your hand before you had the time to pick up the cup rolling on the carpet, but quickly retrieved it before he could make a firm grip. Carefully, wishing you didn’t notice, he pretended he was reaching for the folder on the table all alone.

“Yes Dr. Serling?”

“Earlier at the lobby,” His gaze wandered. His fingertips tapped against the folder like a galloping horse. “You said,” Easy there Egor, “you said,” just ask, “you said we were…” 

“Oh!” you gasped, “I am terribly sorry Dr. Serling! I saw you at the lobby and,” You fluttered and took a deep breath, ” and, I panicked, so, I made up an excuse,” you gestured with your hands, losing all calm, while gradually tuning down your volume, “like they do in movies, causing distraction, or something like that… and lead you away from Mrs. Pike.”

Oh. 

“I apologize if it makes you feel uncomfortable...” 

Somehow disappointed, and perhaps ashamed of his guilty thoughts moments before, his gaze couldn’t meet up with yours, but he noticed the way you looked slightly upward as if you had thought of something. Your lips trembled, hesitating to continue.“Oh, I am awfully sorry…” your expression dimmed as you continued, “I might have to put you through that again.”

“You see… Mrs. Pike is not one who keeps secrets.”

Oh?

“So I suppose the news has already traveled throughout the institute.” You laughed dryly and tried to ease the tension in the air.

To your surprise, Egor neither detested nor was furious at the idea. In fact, he was enjoying the whole scenario since he stepped inside the institute. But that was his secret delight.

He would tell no one until someday he can brag about the espionage story of how he founded Aeon. 

Not “brag” Egor. A worth mentioning anecdote.

“Ah well, what is done is done” He tried to hide his amusement, “As my father always says, a well-maintained relationship is the foundation of anything.” He coughed, “business relationship that is… so I don’t mind, as long as you wouldn’t mind to be a Missss,” yet his voice cracked, accentuating the word, “‘ess Serling.”

“That I wouldn’t mind.” You chuckled. “Dr. Serling.”

Egor felt the strength escaping his knees when he heard your response. But he managed to stand still, at least he thought he did, then he found himself on the armchair again, barely having the energy to hold on to the edge of the chair.

“Low blood pressure.” he joked, remembering the little breakfast he had this morning. He was so excited he headed out in the cold with almost nothing in his stomach but an egg. “And, and please,” He pushed himself up, “call me Egor, for the act that is,” he paused and added, with an awkward smile, “Mrs. Serling?”

“I’ll go get you something, and notify the staff for Mr. Vahn’s meeting.” You patted his hand laying on the chair arm. Before you left, you stopped at the door, “And please, call me Y/N.”

When you closed the door, Egor again started imagining the future of Aeon. 

Building a new life, a new world deep in the north, where nothing grows, but an anomaly awaits in the cold. 

The way out of a soon desolated earth. The foundation of a new birth.

He thought of the way people used to start an epic story, and he amused the idea with satisfying smirk.

The future of human being,

“It all started with…”

Egor had never visited an asylum before.

Laid between two rows of soaring pines, a cuddle stone road stretched far under the shade. At the end of the road, a grey building stood within this enormous estate. Egor stood in the middle of the road, rubbing his shiny dark leather shoes against the thin layer of brown moss in the space between stones. He gazed ahead then looked behind, finally lowered his sight and stared at the stack of papers neatly placed in a brown folder, where a black-and-white photo of a man was stapled on the cover with an abbreviation marked in the corner—C.V.

He had paid almost his annual fund to get here. He straightened up the collar of his burgundy jacket and made his way to the entrance of Dargyey Institute.

Egor stood in front of the small gate situated in the middle of a concrete wall that extended to the both ends of the building. He prepared himself for what he’s about to see inside. This is the first time he had been to any place like this. Never had he met anyone from an asylum, and none of the materials he read or watched had provided a good impression to him. 

The suffocating structure certainly doesn’t help.

He stood and looked at the towering concrete building that spoke of the enclosure nature of an asylum.

Then he pushed the gate and made his way in.

It was calm.

Despite the lifeless front, both sides of the lobby were covered by extensive glasses, which guided the lights inside the building. He saw a few patients sitting by the windows. Some had eccentric movements with their arms, few mumbling out inaudible phrases, yet the atmosphere of the lobby is generally peaceful. Several staff in white moved through the lobby and made their way deeper into the building, which was hidden behind other concrete walls. His gaze followed them through the walls into a single room somewhere in this facility, where a man sat on his lonesome, perhaps in a lightless cell, mumbling about the mystery of an ancient island, regarding the enigma of time.

“Sir?”

A voice creeped from behind, which failed to capture Egor’s attention as his thoughts wandered through the walls, then across the seas, over the ice, into the cold. He shivered as he tried to visualize the unknown entity which he called “anomaly” permeating the land under the northern lights. He could get excited easily, especially when he was determined.

“Sir? Can I help you?” The loud voice echoed in the almost empty lobby.

It startled Egor. He heard it this time alright. He adjusted his collars once more before turning toward the source of the voice. It was a middle-aged lady in a grey sweater sitting inside a space under a dim sign that wrote “Reception”.

“Oh.” He let out a sign of relief and walked toward the lady in small steps, while holding the folder close to his chest. 

“Um, hello, madame.” He greeted her while he held onto his newly modified glasses, which he was still not used to its heaviness. “I’m looking for Mr. Vahn, Colt Vahn.” “And you are?” She directed her sight back to the book she was reading before she called Egor. 

“Serling, Egor Serling.” He slightly bent forward and brushed across the table with his thin fingers, as if hovering above this lady in his designer clothes may embody his supposed social status. “Sorry you are not on the visitor’s list.” The lady merely took a glance at the notebook covered with unrecognizable tiny scriptures to turn Egor away.

He lost some of his balance and almost knocked his head against the low ceiling of the enclosed reception. He supported himself with his elbows on the icy wall, steadied himself as he leaned forward, trying to read the scribblings.

“Ex...excuse me?” His voice rose a few pitches as his throat dried. “You are not on the list, sir.” “No no, check again.” The tip of his shoes anxiously tapped against the cold floor while his voice trembled. “I called this morning.”

“Sorry sir, I don’t see your name” “There has to be some mi…”

“Egor!” Another stranger’s voice came from behind him. “Dr. Y/N?” The reception lady raised her head and responded to the owner of the voice.

Egor felt a sense of familiarity, but he can’t recall anyone he knew working at this facility, not that he knew a lot of people.

“Sorry Mrs. Pike, this is my fiancé.” Egor felt someone gently tugging the corner of his coat.

Huh?

Egor turned around and saw a figure in a lab coat next to him and smiling. He certainly had not met this person before, but he was convinced he had heard the voice somewhere.

“Oh,” Mrs. Pike gasped behind her reception desk, and a delightful smile emerged upon her face. “Dr. Y/N such news.”

Still incapable of grasping the situation unfolding in front of him, Egor merely stared at you as you made your way next to him and took his hand which had become freezing after his time spent wandering at the gate.

The warmth…

He stared at your face with scrutiny, not listening to any of the conversation you were making with the lady.

“Sorry I forgot to tell you earlier.” You went forth and rested against his shoulder, like how an engaged couple might act in front of people. Egor failed to react as your hand creeped around his waist above his thick wool coat. “He is visiting me and our friend here.”

“Oh, that’s no trouble.” The lady at the front desk laughed softly and waved her hand, finally making a nod at Egor, who had been frozen for several seconds. “My apology, Mr. Serling.”

“Uhh,” An almost inaudible sound escaped from his dry lips. “Well…” He tried to act with ease because at least he had obtained access to the institute. “Um…”. But nothing so far went as he expected.

“Well, we have to go Mrs. Pike, our friend is waiting.”

You took a step while trying to drag Egor away from the reception, but he was pinned on the spot.

“Oh, congratulations, by the way.” The lady added before you were able to take leave.

“Thanks.” Eventually you pulled Egor away with you. He lost his balance as you pulled him from the spot, but quickly regained it when you stopped and carefully had him settled against your back.

“Careful dear.” You giggled as he straightened himself and positioned his glasses.

What is happening?

Egor walked in silence while you took out your card and entered the facility. He was still registering what had just happened as the two of you moved through a hallway and were greeted by several personnel on the way.

He took a glance at his hand holding yours, looked up at your white coat, your back where he just softly brushed against. Then he observed his surroundings. The dead scenery on the other side of the window actually looks quite pleasant from inside under the winter sunshine. The sunlight bounced across the hallway against bright and grey surfaces, creating a bright and calming atmosphere. He could almost forget how his knuckles burned from standing in the wind while building up his courage to venture in, and how his skin seemed to become more vulnerable, along with his failing eyesight.

Even then, he could feel inches of his skin flakes escaping from the surface of his palm and fell into yours. The dead cells merged into another vibrant environment. Egor found that thought to be quite amusing.

No one had held him like this before, especially since his skin condition started to deteriorate.

“Sorry to bring you in like this.” Eventually you arrived at a dark wooden door. You stopped at the entrance to your office and turned to him—Only to see a befuddled expression beneath those thick, round glasses. “Oh… sorry,” You let go of his hand. “I haven’t introduced myself, Dr. Serling.”

Then you opened the door and gestured to him inside before you closed the door behind you.

Dr. Serling?

“The name is Y/N, I was the one you talked to this morning.” No reaction from Egor. His mind still wandered, his gaze afar, his posture stiff. “On the phone, that is.”

He stood in silence while holding the folder by his waist. He squeezed the hand with a little warmth still clinging onto it.

“Dr. Serling?” You waved before his eyes. Nothing. 

Dr. Serling.

The corner of his lips twitches slightly upward. No one had ever unironically called him a doctor.

He is petrified by the sight of a nuclear explosion. He feels the ground trembling even while he is high up on the ridge. 

That crazy bitch! Why did we even let her come near a nuclear core in the first place?!

Egor quickly assembles his equipment and injures his shivering hands before finishing his work. The muscles tighten as his skin experiences a burning sensation. He screams with frustration, before he slides down the snowy hills with his unbefitting shoes toward Array J, all while cursing at the couple who he now holds a grudge against after today's events. Biting his already cracked lips he curses under his breath.

First day is now ruined. But there is still hope!

As per his calculation, only two visionaries have died today, and they will come back tomorrow. There’s still a long way to break the loop with this clumsy strategy.

If that is Colt’s true intention.

This occasional optimism is perhaps the reason that keeps him alive till this day.

Then he looks attentively to the south, where Array J is located slightly down the ridge. At least he still has his experiment. If it succeeds, he will be able to finally advance in conducting extra-temporal contact. He hasn’t thought much about the precise detail of the what, or when regarding his exploration, but the mere possibility of completing the first stage on the first day excites him. He will finally be able to assert his position and earn the respect he deserves as a True Visionary, who dares to venture beyond time and space, to seek and discover what no one has ever achieved—and to be invisible no more.

He quivers at the final thought, doubting again if he genuinely desires to be seen. Yet he shakes away the dubious idea and attempts to bring his attention back to the task at hand. When he looks around to confirm his location, he sees the lake nesting beneath the giant stabilizer. Array J is right next to him, he is able to return to his base before sun down and prepare the security system in case there are intruders who want to ruin his date with science.

Yet when he begins installing his equipment, he is once again attacked by an agonizing pain that penetrates his heart and a brutal image which he now suspects is actually a flashback. 

Amidst the darkness, a blink of light and a circle of warmth.  In the cold, the falling snow, descending, landing in the thick red pool. From afar were silent steps. Noises from the past? Gone again at last.

The suspicion that was creeping in the back of his mind now has become a hypothesis. Yet it terrifies him to the core. If my hunch, no, theory is true, everything he has done so far, all that he has left behind until now, will be in vain. And he will truly become invisible. A boy with his toy.

What if…? No. It can’t be.

He immediately decides the priority and leaves without finishing his work. Because right now he still has time to make it to Wenjie’s lab to discuss his hypothesis. Two of Aeon’s brightest minds work hand in hand—he is somewhat amused by this albeit with the dire situation. Perhaps it is a mechanism of the mind attempting to guide itself away from distress.

As he stumbles down the hill he sees Wenjie’s lab resting on the other side of the half frozen lake. Covered in snow, the structure looks ominous and much larger than his containers on the other side of the Complex.

He starts running when he reaches the main gate, and sees the masked Eternalists notice him while he passes them by. He can feel their stares filled with curiosity and hostility under those uncanny masks. He can sense they are talking about him, like always, laughing at whatever he does, at his potential failures.

“What is he doing here?” He can almost hear their whispers. “Probably fucked something up, again.” Their giggles ring in his head.

When he eventually reaches Wenjie lab entrance across the loop control room, he hears Aleksis begging Wenjie’s to join his party. He never received a formal invitation like this. He had to ask and was ignored as usual. 

“I WILL TELL YOU ALL MY SECRET”

The maddening voice echoes around Wenjie’s lab when he opens the door to see three Wenjies discussing the party invitation.

“Wenjie…s?”

Egor stands there in awe, wiping the fog on his big orange glasses with his wet sleeves, almost forgetting the purpose of his visit. 

“What are you doing here Egor?” The Wenjie who stands closest to him asks. “We are conducting an experiment that demands no interruption.” Another by the window follows. “Egor?” The third one raises her voice and stares intensely at Egor, who has frozen for seconds. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“Oh!” Egor startles himself as he takes a step back and corners himself against the wall. “Well, umm I…”  Calm down Egor. The brightest of minds discussing science. Wenjie is a brilliant scientist, of course she needs herself to help herself…? “I am here to ask you, no, to suggest you with a hypothesis.” He mumbles while gripping the side of his glasses.

“Sorry Egor, I am very busy right now.” The Wenjie by the window walks back to her task. “We don’t have time to help you.” Another one says while turning to her desk. “Not today.” The one closest to him waves her hand, asking him to leave.

“But you are going to the party?”

He couldn’t help it.

“You don’t have time to talk to me but you have time to go to that asshole’s party?” His voice trembles as he tries to resist giving into his emotion. “Surrounded by those intoxicated clowns.” Yet he cannot register this sentiment. Jealousy? Rage? Frustration? Fear? “Those simpletons with no acknowledgement of what we have achieved.”

“Don’t take it personally, Egor.” A Wenjie responds with her usual distant tone, she continues as other Wenjies occupy themselves with work, “We go there with a purpose. To uncover the secrets of this island.”

Secrets…wait!

“Wenjie,” “Egor I already said we are busy” “I have to ask you about the loop.” He sounds more assertive than ever. “Yes?.” She sighs. “Where do you place the data of the loop?” “Yes, just across the bridges.” She points toward the other side of her lab. “Just... take it and leave, we are VERY busy.”

Night falls, he hears the fireworks blossoming into another explosion in the distance. Another has faded into ashes, for the rest of the night at least. He sets up his last few traps in the bunker while blowing the heads of some Eternalists who failed understand simple instructions that he had given them.

STAY THE FUCK OUT AND STAY DEAD

He wipes his hands off the strange black matter that unfortunately splattered onto him while he was sweeping the facility. 

Although he couldn’t to complete his work on the first day. He remains in the Complex in his secluded containers for contemplation. He is trying to make sense from Wenjie’s recording of her prediction of the loop, and wondering whether Colt is going to join the party of lunatics or plans to do something else. At least three of the visionaries are still alive and not at the party, that is if Julianna hasn’t gotten herself killed, or Charlie Half-Brained Montague hasn’t killed himself yet.

How many first days have there been? He cowers on his bed and ponders.

A hundred? Two? I’ve been stuck in my first step for hundreds of years?

He takes a deep breath, quivering as another image and sensation strike him once more. He couldn’t help but wonder, if all those painful memories are truly his memory, would all he has done been in vain? 

Have I achieved nothing? Nothing on this godforsaken land?

The loop was built by Wenjie who managed to harvest the power of the anomaly. Frank and Harriet brought the people and lives into this island. Aleksis poured his money into building this so-called paradise. Charlie has provided entertainment for the people and continues to be creative with Fia who has brought colors and artistic energy into these desolate fields. Julianna, the guardian of knowledge, documents all their achievements.

What have I done?

Venturing to the end of the sphere? The discoverer of the new world? The founder of Aeon?

Even Harriet said it was not me who found this place.

No. It was Colt.

Who has now become the destroyer of all.

I have sacrificed everything.

EVERYTHING.

“Stop it Egor.” He removes his glasses, covers his face with his hands, and takes a deep breath. The smell of blood from his wounds and a slight moisture from his sour eyes, the freezing night air sneaking through the broken glass, he feels them all.

“It will work.” 

His broken nails dig deeply into his once neatly combed hair. He gasps and wheezes in an uncontrollable rhythm while he rocks his body back and forward.

“It will. iT Will. it wiLL. IT WILL...”

For a second he could not hear anything except his hysterical mumbling. For a moment he feels like he is again all alone in this world. The invisible boy with a broken dream.

Then he hears it…

“I… DID IT!” A man cries out loud just outside of his room.

Egor freezes. Too scared to even move a muscle. He is unable to register the owner of the voice.

“I HAVE A POSITIVE RESULT!” The voice sounds like a broken radio transmitting a message intermittently.

Is that me?

Egor rises from his bed, peeking from the window toward the direction of the voice.

Nothing.

But he can still hear it. Like the sun periodically blocking by the careless clouds, as if the anomaly is communicating with him and blessing him with a ray of sunshine.

It will work.

Yet, the glimpse of hope is soon engulfed by a shadow steadily approaching him in the distance.

“Colt? But my securities…” He walks out of his chamber and grabs his trusty rifle, the one that Colt taught him how to shoot with.

The cool metal clenches onto his already numb hands. What is he doing here?

The crystalized water covers his smooth dark hair. Maybe I can reason with him?

The shadow emerges into the light. The dusty orange bomber jacket, casual and confident as the day he taught Egor how to shoot, as the day he guided Egor onto this island, as the day all the visionaries take the photo together, looking much better when Egor brought him out of that asylum.

I saved him.

“Colt! We need to talk.” He wishes Colt would stop walking, stop approaching him.

“Stop, or I will shoot!” He raises his rifle and points at Colt.

The man who has perhaps murdered at least three people today, and blew up half of the island. The man who might have assassinated his dear friend.

He is a soldier, Egor, who knows what he is capable of?

“Colt stop! We need to talk.”

Colt stops, within a few steps away from him. He smirks, which bewildered Egor. “Shoot.”

“Huh?” Egor is dumbfounded at Colt’s reaction. He hesitates to shoot him right away as Colt stops walking. But he has questions about what he went through today. He quickly realizes Colt is giving him a chance to speak. Or eventually sparing him?

“This…” He gestures around them with his trembling voice, “this isn’t the first time right?” “Depends.” Colt answers nonchalantly, like a veteran he is, which only makes Egor panics.

“Why are you here?” He thought Colt would be at the party, like everyone else. “Well,” Colt laughs, “we are all stuck in here, are we not?”

“Have we been through this conversation before?” Egor feels his stomach twitching. Does he want to know? “More or less.” Colt answers without stalling. His stares wander around Egor as if his mind is somewhere else.

“Are you…” Egor can sense his strength gradually escaping from his grip. “Here to kill me?” Suddenly his only desire is to lie down and to be buried by the unforgiving snow. Like all things on this island, silently, peacefully, resting under a white blanket, on the edge of the world.

“It’s nothing personal.” Colt responses with experience. “I’m sorry, if that makes you feel better.” Colt points his shotgun at Egor as Egor finally loses his grip to the rifle he trusts no more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. But you probably won’t remember.”

Tonight the snow is bright. Tomorrow is another fight.

I’m tired.

He didn’t hear the final shot. He only saw the gentle light gleaming in the dark polar sky.

---

While he walks toward his next destination under the forenoon sunshine to Array P in Zone 2, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Harriet last messaged him.

“What about Colt?” He exclaims,”WHAT ABOUT ME?”

He’s still furious about the fact that he was locked out of the group chat, with no warning. Just like that, the founder of Aeon was kicked out of the group chat where he, one of the foundations of all that have been achieved on Blackreef, perhaps the only one who has the right to be inside—Be humble, Egor—is denied the right to be in the group. No one would be here without me, it’s still an indisputable fact.

“Charlie Half-Brained Montague…” He mutters beneath his breath, treading carefully on the damp grass with his (sole miscalculation when he embarked this expedition) leather shoes, trying not to inhale too much of the freezing morning air that stings his nasals. His warm breath clings onto his spectacles. I should’ve had a hot drink earlier with my egg and toast.

How Harriet vanished without explaining the situation to him enrages him even more. Perhaps she went hiding somewhere on this island after her morning ceremony. After all, according to Julianna, Colt is on a killing spree. Egor tries to convince himself about Harriet ghosting on him like everyone else. Still, she should’ve said something before disappearing.

He is fed up with the impudent attitudes from everyone, especially the Eternalists. If it had not been them messing around his compound all day long, he would’ve made some progress on his experiment. He wouldn’t have to venture across the island on the first day of eternity because of their incompetence.

“All they bring is chaos... Never-ending nightmares from a bunch of masked imbeciles.”

When he reaches the Array, he lays down the equipment and begins to work on aligning the devices with precise measurement.

The taunts, mistreatments, disregards are nothing novel to him, he could stand them. What crossed his line of tolerance was the endless sabotages by those Eternalists who were supposed to help the Visionaries with their works. Instead, they mocked him when they learned his project behind his back, and still do, right in front of him. 

Make them respect you, Egor.

Instead of bathing in excitement, resentment has clouded his mind. Then he remembers the night when Colt taught him how to shoot. Beside his compound, the two of them stared into the inky lake by the shore. He raised his rifle and followed Colt’s instructions.

Relax The other-worldly coldness of the metal tingles his skin. FEAR

Breathe The crystalized air creeped into his lungs. FEAR

Squeeze Followed by the unforgiving darkness of the sea as he plunged into the abyss while looking to the land. There was Colt, who was smiling with a machete in hand, on the other side of the world. FEAR

His transmitter falls onto the soft grass in silence like the first snowflakes that land in the Complex later in the afternoon. He stumbles forward to pick up the transmitter. 

As he reaches for the transmitter, he feels a burn on his lips as it has cracked as usual due to his skin condition and the dry air. Then he crouches down and wipes his face with his dark red sleeves. Blood pumping through his vein, he felt a sharp pain on his forehead, piercing through his skull. Doesn’t feel like a headache.

“Fuck…”

Faraway, here at Array P, the sound of chaos is almost inaudible. The unforgiving northern wind sweeps away most of the things on land. The raging waves thrust against the steep cliff as splashes of the white freezing water merge with the roaring wind. In the distance, every now and then, the almost negligible sound of chaos tries to proclaim its supremacy.

He thinks of the vibrant colors of Fristad Rock, the excessive decoration in Updaam and the peculiar atmosphere of Karl’s Bay, all the stimulation that has been brought onto this island, this dark and cold corner of the world. As the pain eases, he stands up and glances at himself, a weirdo in a lifeless green field in his red coat and orange glasses. Standing out yet invisible, just as how he is perceived amongst the band of visionaries. Each one seemingly more eccentric than another. Then there he is, a boy with his toys and glasses, chasing his dream in a deserted landscape.

“Gotta stay focused.” He moves on to his next destination, “It’s the first day, don’t fuck up”

It doesn’t take long for him to receive the news regarding Harriet’s death, which he still finds hard to believe Colt was the perpetrator. Harriet’s base was filled with that strange toxic gas which, without proper handling, could have easily blown in the face of her entire cult during that ceremony of hers.

Why would Colt do that?

Array R, located in Zone 1, is the furthest location Egor has ever ventured to on Blackreef. Under the midday sun, where the temperature is even lower due to the altitude of this place, he stands on the highest part of this island in Polar Sea. He could almost see the Complex from here if it had not been covered by the loop structure standing in the center of the land.

On his way here, he was haunted by a disturbing feeling and several unsettling images that flashes through his mind. The thought of being forced to suffocate in the toxic gas like how Harriet might have died sent chills down his spine. 

He can’t help but feel like he is being hunted. Like what Julianna has warned them. The fact that he was kicked out of the group only fuels his paranoia. He feels like he’s being set up, as if all other visionaries have turned on him for their amusement. 

Being thrown into midair only to be slammed hard against concretes; suddenly wake up by that stupid wolf statue at Updaam and being kicked down to the cult’s Bay; being pierced through with a machete in a havoc of red—all these have come across his mind while he made his way up to the mountain.

Is the anomaly trying to tell me something?

While he is contemplating on the possibilities of cosmic communication, he hears the loudest explosion he has ever heard in his entire life. Manages to hold onto the invaluable transmitter, he fails to maintain balance and falls on snow.

The southern sky, a flash of hellish brightness, then the darkest and largest cloud of smoke soar up into the air with unprecedented height.

The end of the world? In the loop?

No.

------

While he walks toward his next destination under the forenoon sunshine to Array P in Zone 2, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Harriet last messaged him.

“What about Colt? WHAT ABOUT ME?”

He’s still furious about the fact that he was locked out of the group chat, without any sign or warning. Just like that, the founder of Aeon was kicked out of the group chat where he, one of the foundations of all that has been achieved on Blackreef, perhaps the only one who has the right to be inside---Be humble, Egor---is denied the right to be in the chat. No one would be here without me, it’s still an indisputable fact.

“The C the C the open C…” Peglar whispered inside his cabin as he stared into his diary.

Although he had spent time only on sea for the past two years, it felt like ages since the last time he witnessed the enchanting sea that lured him into a life as a seaman.

The glittering blue that sang him lullaby as he sat under the pale sunlight. The roaring thunder that pounded against the quiet shore-- he hadn’t seen either of those in months. There hadn’t been much to do and see amidst this dreadful white world.

“It grew so fresh the ever free…”

His fingers brushed across the words he wrote months ago. The rough texture of the paper reminded him of when he brushed his finger across Bridgens frozen cheeks while there was no one around them, inside the labyrinth of ice, beneath the thin sunlight. He could not feel a thing with his numb hands, nor had John felt his touch with his iced face, but he imagined this was what his cheeks would feel like.

Suddenly he quivered. Not out of the coldness that constantly dwelled below deck, nor the intermittent moan of the ship, but a sudden terror slipping into his already dampened skin, as he remembered a poem from Sappho.

But thou shalt ever lie dead, nor shall there be any remembrance of thee then or thereafter, for thou hast not of the roses of Pieria; but thou shalt wander obscure even in the house of Hades, flitting among the shadowy dead.

He lied down to ease the agony spreading across his knuckles, the pain that continued to remind their predicament. He started to breathe slowly and focus on the rhythm. Nowadays every physical activity had become laborious. But that didn’t seem to be the case for his dear friend Bridgens. That old man strolled across the deck with his swift feet. The weary appearance beneath his already pale hair, covered in frost, always greeted Peglar with the warmest smile that could melt his trouble away. Bridgens existence was the ineffable source of illumination in this world of darkness.

His lips curved slightly. These days the mere thought of Bridgens would calm him down. He liked to look back to those days when he would visit Bridgens at his home for, for whatever reason he came up with. The long nights they spent reading poems written in words once foreign to him. How those wise and radiant eyes beamed in the semi darkness across the flickering candle between them. 

When was that, he tried to remember, when they set sail under the broad sky in the Southern hemisphere, when they set foot on those petite islands full of peculiar species? He remembered his nonchalant attitude towards the rumours about Bridgens. Then they grew close with each other after the voyage with the Beagle.

Yes, he remembers, the southern sky, borderless and blue. Or maybe it was pale? Like the sky he’s staring at now, pale and dull like the scenery he had been gazing for the past two years.  His mind wanders in the bloody mist. Has it been two years? Or more?

A pain strikes into his guts, he wants to scream. But he holds it in, with only an imperceivable moan escapes his withered lips. Warmth surrounding him, it reminds him of the countless nights he curled up in his cabin, with his tattered notebook in hand.

Writing and reading, he learned those from Bridgens. And now he couldn’t have survived this far in the eternal darkness without them.

the ever free

Someone has turned off the sun, at least it is what he imagines, as his vision grows dimmer. The pain has gone. Or has it? He could not tell anymore. All he knows is that he wants to sleep. A good night’s sleep, is what he has yearned for, albeit having the experience of spending days in darkness with nothing to do. He recalls that day they spent in the white maze. His hand on Bridgens cheeks. He wishes he could have gone further.

 A good night’s sleep. Goodnight Bridgens.

Deep into the night, only a number of shadows still lingered along the street; the neon light shed its radiant glow on the passing drunkards, who shouted unintelligible phrases into the thick night. Behind a dusty window, on the second floor of an insignificant building by the street, a man folded up clothes and placed them neatly on the stained bedside table. With his elegant fingers, he brushed across the well-placed clothes to get rid of the slight hint of dirt on its surface, then over the business suit on himself to make sure everything was settled. As he looked around for a final examination, he frowned at the strand of hair dangling by the bed; he collected it gently, almost in slow motion, and threw it inside the bin not far away from the bed. He picked up his shoes to have the carpet smother his steps. Before finally leaving this room which is packed with a scent of mould, he took a final glance at the person who seemed to be having a pleasant dream.

After he stepped out of that nameless building, he lowered his gaze and adjusted his black rim glasses, and eventually faded into the dark of the night.

By tomorrow morning, he would no longer remember that sweet face of the pretty man sleeping on the bed. All he would remember were the clash of flesh and swift breathes echoed inside his head. By tomorrow morning, he would be alone once more, for another weekend that felt like it would last forever. The office he works in is always bustling with energy, leaving it on a Friday night has been so far proved dreadful. After attending the wedding not long ago, Monday has become his favourite day of a week. It is always a delight to talk nonsense with his colleagues on a busy day, to observe the happiness spilling out from their contagious smile, to picture himself luxuriate in the same jubilation simply by observing them.

Striding up the street he stopped in front of a photography store and stared at the countless smiling faces that reminded of him the yearning.

“I want to love.”

He remembered how he said this to Mr. Kurosawa, his boss that tumbled twice in the name of love; how Kurosawa only replied with a confident smile, tapping his knees with self-assurance, before jumping into the crowd and retrieve the wedding bouquet from the newly wed; how Kurosawa seemed to obtain a new pair of wings and radiated with a gracious glow. He thought to himself, that one day he would like to be like Kurosawa.

To love without restraint, to fight without reservation, to never regret and resent failure—for Takekawa Masamune, a real estate agent marching toward his fifty, he has yet mastered the lesson of love.

CLICK

Amid the silence, he heard a sudden noise that resembles the sound of a shutter. When he raised his gaze, he saw a stranger facing him with a camera in hand, who stared into the dark camera with a smile on his face.

“Hey!” He called for the stranger.

“Uh… Yes?” He seemed to be startled by the sudden interaction, which made him look like a schoolboy who was just caught pranking. He straightened his torso but hesitated to meet Takekawa’s gaze.

Takekawa frowned and stared at the strangers. At the moment, he was free from the responsibility of being a proper polite salesman. He continued in an unpleasant tone. “I thought asking before taking a stranger’s photo should be common sense.”

“Oh…” The stranger seemed to be left speechless. After a closer inspection, Takekawa had found this stranger to be quite handsome—the perfectly fit shirt brought out his slim figure; and apart from all the packages he’s carrying, he seemed to have a tidy personality. Yet his expression showed something different. “Ah, yes… um, may I take your photo?”

“You should’ve asked that earlier!”  Despite his sharp remark, an awkward smile emerged on the stranger’s face.

“Indeed… Sorry to bother you,” He bowed while he spoke.

Before Takekawa could react, the strangers was already running toward the opposite direction.

He stood and saw the stranger rushing further away from him. The image of him running out of breaths came vivid inside Takekawa’s mind, as he watches the heavy backpack bounces up and down while the stranger sprinted away. 

It was only till the next day, he would remember his confusion, “Did he just smiled?”

***

“Good morning!” With a bright smile hanging upon his face, Haruta walked into the office with his usual enthusiasm and the volume that would wake the deepest sleeper. Weeks has passed since Maki was transferred to Singapore. For the first few weeks, Haruta had been absent-minded. However, as time passed, living by himself seemed to become easier and easier.

After all that had happened, Takekawa had already let go his obsession with Maki. Now he truly wishes nothing but happiness for these two friends of his. Yet, maybe it was because of some sort of immaturity which was sparked by loneliness, he still could not help but feel the jealousy rose from deep within, when he heard Haruta calling Maki “Ryota” on the phone.

“Good morning Haruta,” He stares at Haruta who is beaming, “Something good happened?” “Hmm? Is it that obvious?”

Hands on his cheeks, Haruta makes his usual shocked-face with his eyes wide open. That expression disappears soon though, as he returns to the smile earlier. He takes out his phone, and lays it in front of Takekawa. On the phone, there seems to be nothing but a photo of fried chicken, which doesn’t seem particularly delicious. Receiving no reactions from Takekawa, Haruta continues with his hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“Hehe, believe it or not, after a thousand times of experiment… Finally, I finally made some edible fried chicken yesterday!” Haruta retrieves his phone and falls back onto his seat. “On top of that, it’s pretty good! When I showed my success to Maki, he replied, ‘Not bad! looking forward to it.’” He speaks with his arms high up, as if he is stretching. “Can you believe that? Maki complimenting me? THAT MAKI? Well, time to work harder to make more tasty fried chicken!” “That is good news. Congrats to you! But if you are improving cooking, you should try some healthier dishes.”

Luxuriating in his excitement, Haruta hadn’t noticed how flat of a tone Takekawa spoke with, nor had he prepared for such sharp remark from Takekawa.

“Haha, that is true. You’re right.” To that Haruta can only reply with a couple of hollow laughters. All of a sudden, he straightens up on his seat, like he just remember something he’s not supposed to forget. He takes a quick glimpse at his watch and at the calendar laying flatly on the table, before jumping from his seat like a stream of electricity just running across his veins.

“I just remember I have an appointment with a customer. I will leave you to take care of here, Takekawa!” Halfway through the sentence, he is already at the door. Takekawa takes a final glance at Haruta who’s busy rushing out the office, before returning to the pile of files lying on his desk.