Chapter 62 - PEA-SIZED BRAIN
Consciousness returned like a tide, slow and inexorable. My eyelids, heavy as lead, fluttered open, revealing a world blurred and indistinct. A dull ache pulsed behind my temples, a lingering echo of the void from which I'd just emerged. I found myself sprawled inelegantly across a cold, unyielding surface, my limbs leaden and unresponsive. Each breath was a conscious effort, shallow and tentative, as I struggled to orient myself in this unfamiliar space.
With agonizing slowness, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, muscles protesting every movement. As my vision cleared, I found myself in a corridor of impossible opulence, its very existence a paradox that sent a shiver of unease down my spine.
The walls gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, adorned with intricate golden patterns that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light. These gilded surfaces hemmed me in, creating a narrow passageway that felt both luxurious and suffocating. My fingertips brushed against the cool, polished stone beneath me, its smooth texture a stark contrast to my current state of dishevelment.
The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of aged wood and a cloying sweetness reminiscent of lilies on the verge of decay. It was a heady mixture that whispered of carefully guarded secrets and hidden dangers. Before me stood three doors, identical panels of polished mahogany that gleamed under the soft, sourceless illumination that filled the space.
The doors to my left and right remained stubbornly silent, their polished surfaces offering distorted reflections of my bewildered countenance. My hair was a tangled mess, plastered to my forehead with sweat, and my clothes clung to my skin, damp and rumpled. But it was the door directly ahead that commanded my attention, seeming to vibrate with a low, almost imperceptible hum. I could feel it through the soles of my feet, a subtle resonance that echoed deep within my bones.
From behind this central door, a voice suddenly emerged – a child's voice, at once innocent and unsettlingly knowing. It sang a rhyme that sent chills racing down my spine:
"A little child, and A little kid.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC7K0qMP21o
Gosspel. Gosspel.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCBJ1YwnSJs
Little does she know.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2tUsEjlJyb
Little Little Little.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJl90NMEON
Golden Black8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡShw9ddsQU7
Obsidian Black8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu08YSdZlSD
Black Gold."
The nonsensical words hung in the air like shards of glass, pricking at the edges of my memory. I sat frozen, listening to the lingering echoes, trying desperately to make sense of the senseless. An inexplicable compulsion seized me, an irresistible urge to understand, to connect with the source of that haunting voice.
With shaky, uncertain legs, I pushed myself to my feet. My hand, moving as if possessed by a will of its own, reached for the cool, smooth metal of the doorknob. Just as my fingers made contact, I heard the soft click of a lock disengaging from within. The heavy door swung inward with silent, almost theatrical grace.
In the doorway stood a boy, impossibly young, with a shock of coral hair that seemed to defy gravity itself. He wore a simple ensemble – a crisp white shirt and black shorts, his small bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem. The child stood perfectly still, one hand still clasping the doorknob. His eyes, a startling shade of magenta, locked onto mine with an intensity that was deeply unsettling, as if he could peer directly into the depths of my soul. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly parched.
Drawn by some invisible thread, I took a hesitant step forward, a question forming on my lips. But before I could give voice to my thoughts, fate intervened. My foot slipped on an unseen patch of moisture, and I felt my balance desert me. Arms flailing wildly, I tried in vain to regain my footing. The world tilted and blurred around me as I tumbled forward, reality itself seeming to unravel in that moment.
*THWAAK*
Pain exploded behind my eyes, a searing, white-hot agony that threatened to consume me entirely. "Oww..." I gasped, the sound muffled against the hard surface I'd collided with. For a moment, I lay there, stunned and disoriented, my head throbbing in perfect synchronicity with my racing heart. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, my vision swimming in and out of focus.
The opulent corridor had vanished. In its place was a dimly lit room, a space that felt both alien and strangely familiar. A bed stood beside me, draped with a dark navy blanket that spilled onto the floor in artful disarray. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, undercut by something else – something metallic and unsettling. Disoriented and nauseous, I reached out, grasping the bed frame for support, desperate to anchor myself to something tangible and real.
But as I straightened my legs, a wave of dizziness crashed over me. The room spun wildly, as if I were trapped in some mad carousel. My legs, suddenly boneless, gave way beneath me. I collapsed back against the wall, gasping for breath, feeling the rough texture of plaster against my cheek and the chill of stone seeping into my skin.
And then, without warning, they came – the memories. Not my own, I knew with a certainty that defied all logic, but belonging to Helios. Images flooded my mind, a chaotic maelstrom of sights, sounds, and emotions. Moments of intense joy, crushing sorrow, fierce love, and devastating loss surged through me, overwhelming my sense of self. The torrent culminated in a vivid, almost visceral recollection of a night festival – a celebration pulsing with a significance I couldn't comprehend, at once alluring and profoundly dangerous.
I could taste the sweet wine on my tongue, feel the warmth of crackling bonfires on my skin, hear the music and laughter of the reveling crowd. These sensations, so real and yet impossible, threatened to sweep me away on a tide of borrowed experiences.
Each memory seared itself into my consciousness like a brand, a painful intrusion that threatened to shatter my sanity. My head throbbed with an unbearable pressure, as if my skull was about to crack open, releasing the pent-up chaos within.
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The memories, a maelstrom of sensation, began to recede, leaving me gasping for purchase on solid ground. Sanity, a fragile butterfly, tentatively unfolded its wings within the confines of my mind. My breathing, once a desperate struggle, found its rhythm once more. But even as the chaos subsided, a disquieting realization bloomed within me: I was incomplete.
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My fingers, acting on instinct, flew to my throat, seeking the reassuring weight of my necklace. Finding only empty space, a sharp, unwelcome spike of anger pierced through the lingering fog.
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That viperous Duchess of Valentine, I thought, my jaw clenching tight enough to crack a molar. She likely seized the opportunity to relieve me of my necklace while I was indisposed. The mere image of that woman's grasping hands on my treasured possession ignited a slow-burning rage within me. With a visible effort, I composed myself and pushed to my feet.
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My reflection, catching my eye, offered a momentary distraction. "Well," I murmured to the glass, a flicker of wry amusement tugging at my lips. At the very least, I was still swathed in the magnificent red and black gown pilfered from the dilapidated church. One must be grateful for small mercies.
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Such fleeting vanities, however, could not long detain me. More pressing matters clamored for attention. I closed my eyes, tilting my face towards the unseen ceiling, and drew a slow, deliberate breath. The air, thick with the scent of dust and unspoken secrets, filled my lungs. "Life is a fleeting jest," I murmured, exhaling slowly. "It behooves one to seize what pleasure one can."
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"EXACTLY~" The familiar, mischievous cadence of Cillian's voice shattered the fragile stillness. My eyes snapped open, instantly locking onto his.
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Ever the provocateur, he leaned against the doorframe, a predatory smirk playing across his lips. "That's why, your sweet little psycho hubby brought you here!" he announced, his tone a carefully calibrated blend of teasing and thinly veiled menace.
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I offered him only a measured stare, betraying none of the turbulent emotions simmering beneath the surface.
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As if on cue, two figures materialized from the shadows behind Cillian, their arrival adding another layer of intrigue to the already charged atmosphere. First came Kryll, Cillian's inseparable shadow, a striking figure with hair the color of a shadowed forest and eyes that shimmered with vibrant amethyst. Kryll, with his lean frame and air of effortless cool, was a mirror image of Cillian's dangerous charisma. Following close behind was a young woman of almost unsettling sweetness, her features radiating a disarming innocence. A riot of vivid pink hair cascaded down her back in playful pigtails, framing a face dominated by wide, equally pink eyes.
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The trio presented a united front, clad in sleek, form-fitting black attire that whispered of clandestine operations. Despite their coordinated appearance, my face remained an impassive mask, concealing the turmoil within.
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Hmm, I mused internally, my gaze sweeping over the assembled newcomers before pointedly shifting away. That must be Kryll's...companion.
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"WHAT?" Cillian inquired, his voice suddenly laced with a dangerous edge. He took a deliberate step forward, his expression shifting from amusement to something far more calculating.
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I responded with an equally deliberate retreat, my shoulders brushing against the cool, textured surface of the wall. The gesture, subtle yet pointed, was a clear declaration of my displeasure. In that instant, I witnessed yet another mercurial shift in his demeanor, a transformation that never failed to set my teeth on edge.
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"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" he roared, his voice suddenly a thunderclap that echoed through the room. He seized my shoulders, shoving me back against the wall with brutal force. "DID YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE YOU COULD SURVIVE WITH THAT PEA-SIZED BRAIN OF YOURS IN A GAME WHERE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE RULES?" His anger was a palpable thing, a suffocating wave that washed over me. I could see the aquamarine of his eyes darken, morphing into the crimson hue I'd witnessed during the barbarian massacre. Kyrll, with a grimace, slammed the door shut, effectively sealing us within the confines of the room.
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I remained silent, my gaze dropping to the floor. It was a carefully calculated act of submission, designed to deflect his immediate rage.
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"Hey," Cillian hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He lowered his head, bringing his face mere inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. "Let's make a deal." The menacing smile that stretched across his lips sent a shiver down my spine. "How about I destroy you in the most exquisite way imaginable, and in return, you simply fade away? Like a butterfly that never even bothered to emerge from its chrysalis."
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My eyes widened, despite my best efforts at control. He was suggesting...death? An end to the game before it had even begun? The audacity of his proposition left me momentarily speechless. His friends, for their part, remained silent, their expressions carefully blank. As if this display of barely-controlled rage, this casual flirtation with murder, was perfectly normal.
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"You know what?" I countered, pushing him away with a force that surprised even me. A smile, sharp and brittle as shattered glass, tugged at the corners of my lips. My hands moved behind my back, clasping together as I adopted a pose of studied nonchalance. "If I were truly intent on ending my own existence, I would simply climb to the summit of your ego and leap to your IQ." My smile widened, blindingly bright.
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The three of them recoiled as if struck.
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"Is that a threat?" Cillian spat, his tone laced with venom, his expression a mask of resentful fury.
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"Does it sound like a compliment?" I retorted, my voice cool and smooth as polished ice. The smile remained fixed on my face, a defiant challenge. "Don't fuck my feelings because you're unsure of your own."
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"Bitch," Cillian snarled, his control finally snapping. "I'll slap you so hard, not even Google will be able to find you. Go take a look in the mirror. You're so fake, you make Barbie look real." He spat the words out like poison before whirling around and stalking towards the door, slamming it shut behind him with a force that rattled the very foundations of the room.
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As the echoes of his departure faded, a strange sense of calm descended. With a deliberate, almost theatrical gesture, I lowered myself into a graceful curtsy, my hand resting delicately upon my chest. I rose slowly, my eyes sweeping over the remaining occupants of the room with an air of regal composure. "Pardon my egregious failure to extend the courtesies befitting your esteemed presence," I began, my voice a melodious instrument of diplomacy. "Permit me to present myself as Luxana, Princess of Domino. It is a profound honor to make your acquaintance."
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My gaze lingered on Kryll, assessing his reaction to my unexpected display of formality. His eyes widened in undisguised astonishment.
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"I am Kryll De Carsian Minar Elmir, son of the esteemed Duke of Carsian," he stammered, visibly flustered by the sudden shift in tone. "Your Highness, it is a privilege beyond words to find myself in your presence. I must, however, implore you to disregard the preceding...unpleasantness. No apology is necessary on your part. Indeed, it is I who am honored to be in your company."
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Before I could respond, the pink-haired girl launched herself at me with the force of a ballistic missile.
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"Hehehe!" she squealed, wrapping her small arms around my waist in a fierce embrace. "I'm REMIIIIIIII!!! Kryll's wifeeeee!" She buried her face in my dress, giggling with unrestrained glee. "You're such a cool big sis! Remi really likes Lulu." She tilted her head back, her pink eyes sparkling with genuine affection.
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Huh? I thought, taken completely by surprise. She...she was impossibly adorable. Up close, her sweetness was almost overwhelming. On impulse, I reached out, cupping her high cheekbones in my hands and pulling her face towards mine in a playful, if somewhat undignified, hug.
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Kryll, recovered from his initial shock, smirked at our childish display.
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"MHM! Kryll's right! Cillian is a bad boy!" Remi declared, seizing my hands in her tiny fists. Her cute, earnest face was a picture of concern as she assured me that I mustn't worry.
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But even as I returned her hug, a disquieting premonition settled over me. Beneath the surface sweetness, beneath the childish exuberance, something felt…wrong. A discordant note in the symphony of this bizarre encounter.
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I stood there, my mind reeling from the whirlwind of information that had just been thrown at me. The warmth of Remi's hug still lingered, but her cheerful question about a mission I knew nothing about left me cold and confused.
To be Continued...
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