Then he gave his innocent unconscious friend in spite of the latter's words but trustworthy a knowing smile.
"I'll arrange it so that these oh-so-beautiful and ignorant women whom you dream so much of, can have a chance to meet you and scream into your arms."
Then he left the room in his turn for a destination unknown to his friend, who followed him with dreamy eyes.
Miron walked through many dark corridors and down monumental and dusty stairs.
When he left the main building, he had to walk through a huge indoor park surrounded by four high walls, heavily laden with curses, and whose floor was covered with a dark, screaming grass that scratched his skin painfully. In the middle of this sinister place, a huge pool of black water had been built. One didn't have to get close to guess that the water was unfathomably deep, filled with cold monsters and dark spells, and that anyone weak and stupid enough to touch it would lose all magic. As Miron passed by the pool, the water moved, surreptitiously at first, then shook terribly and overflowed. Screams of fear emanated from this unsuspected, sinister realm and echoed darkly, revealing their obvious desire to lure the boy to them and drag him forever into their limbo. Formless beings rose to the surface and seemed to stare at the young mage with debased lust. Shuddering violently with disgust and terror at such abominations, Miron ran to the subordinate buildings where he hoped to find the object that could help him and his friend out of this loathsome disaster.
He had never visited this part of the estate, none of the children were usually allowed in. Their daily life was a strict confinement, not to say imprisonment, physical and moral. Everything was restricted in an unspeakable way. Their daily life consisted of chores, only bone- and mind-breaking chores, and a few classes here and there, either with manipulators who wanted to relieve their boredom or with pure sadists who wanted to have fun making them do painful exercises.
But for the children who were sacrificed like him, he thought derisively, he got a remnant of freedom and the right to move almost anywhere, as long as he didn't go outside the borders. Besides, that would have been impossible given the protective barriers, the defensive spells, not to mention the hideous, barbaric monsters that guarded the boundaries of the little kingdom of evil.
Miron entered and descended to the top level of the basement. Once again, he passed through countless corridors, each more gruesome and darker than the last, until he finally reached the janitor's door. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked twice.
In his cavernous, wicked voice, the tenant responded to this disruption of his sleeping hours.
"Who the hell is that? I'm eating!"
"It's Miron."
A short silence followed this reply, and then the old man laughed a surprised but mischievous laugh.
"What do you want, boy? If you have so much time to waste as to visit me, then you should first think about finding a way to survive."
The young visitor replied, unperturbed,
"It doesn't matter. I'm just here to buy something."
"Oh shit! You should have made that clear earlier. But first," and he changed the tone of his voice which sent a shiver of repulsion through Miron's veins "I need to be sure you can afford to buy it."
"Yes." Miron's response was one of unquestioning calm and certainty.
"Oh great, I always love it when they pretend to be sure. Especially you, my boy. So come on in! Come on in."
Miron pushed open the sinister door smeared with crude spells and entered.
The janitor was sitting in an old chair, a dented bowl of soup in his hand with fleshless bones floating miserably on the surface. Miron approached him and handed him the plate of cakes. The janitor first looked at the beautifully made sweetness whose taste admitted no doubt, smiled wickedly, and stared at Miron.
"You may be only a child, and you look as innocent as anyone at that age, but in the end, I wonder if you are not more corrupt than the master."
The young boy did not even give him the satisfaction of responding to this insulting provocation. Disappointed and frustrated, the janitor asked.
"Very well. And what do you want in return?"
Miron looked around the room, every space of which was occupied by various broken objects, with more than obvious disgust. The room was a perfect reflection of its occupant, small, dirty, messy and smelly, with no chance of change. The walls covered with dark green wallpaper with floral patterns did not match the old, discarded furniture, nor the floor covered with a carpet of banal colors and already worn down to the bone.
"A weapon. An effective weapon, let's be clear." Miron finally answered in a neutral tone. "One that could help Kei and me survive as long as possible."
The janitor laughed openly at Miron, as if he couldn't express himself otherwise. He shrugged, picked up the cake, and leaned heavily against his old chair, making himself as comfortable as possible to enjoy the desert.
"Tell me, beautiful child, besides this good dessert," he said, pointing to the pastry, "why should I help you?"
"Because resisting as long as possible is the purpose of this sordid game, and which will certainly be even more fun for my case". Then Miron took up the janitor's words. "And then, watching others suffer is the only thing that can give some joy to the empty and grim existence of losers like you".
Miron calmly faced the hateful and overwhelmed gaze of the janitor, who wished he had a single argument to rebut these poignant words but unfortunately knew he had none. After an indefinite time, he finally settled for a shrug.
"The last gesture of hope, eh? Look for the weapons you need so badly in these useless things, boy." And he pointed nonchalantly at the pile of debris that filled his room. "You'll probably find at least one. I'm feeling particularly generous tonight. I, for one, am going to take as much time as I need to savor this little treat you've generously brought me."
ns 15.158.61.21da2
