I walk aimlessly, my retinue of servants increasing with each Anathema I pass by.

I calmly and elegantly look around at the scenery of the palace.

I glance back at the ever-increasing number of servants trailing behind me and I then turn my face forward to my travels, desperately trying to restrain my smile to normal levels (or at least normal according to the standards of this Tormented Zone). They fawn over me, fussing about with my bow and dress.

HAHAHAHAHA! A tear runs down my face.

Their body language blatantly expresses infatuation with me. How dearly amusing. It is so difficult to not preen like a peacock.

They... love me?

I am filled with happiness and revulsion in equal measure, golden Miasma of Vanity spinning around in beautiful spirals over my arms like the turbulence of slow-moving rapids over a rocky waterbed.

My Orbs of Vanity whisper to me through the Miasma. It is only right that they love me.

My mind mentally twitches at the intrusion of thoughts that are not my own. I internally grimace. I am truly not enjoying these thoughts that have come with becoming a Torment. I can feel despair running through my very veins, screaming and wailing in tandem with my soul. Metallic vanity is concentrated in my very arms, wishing to make the world cry tears at my beauty.

With ease, I force my will upon my claws and sharpen my fingers in long talons.

*SHINK*

Without a twitch in my expression, I drag my home-grown weapons along the eyes on my arms, silencing their incessant narcissism. My gray blood sprays all over the floor from my eyes, the orbs – parts of my body – cracking like brittle glasswork.

I can’t resist the need to see the body language of the servants.

They have their hands plastered to their faces in shock, stiffening in horror. If only they weren’t faceless entities with smiling masks. I wish I could have seen their reactions.

*sigh*

I rub my face with my metal hands, oiled as they are with my own blood, before realizing my mistake. I hold a hand out, and a handkerchief is quickly placed in it so I can clean myself up. Unfortunately, this self-harm is only a temporary solution. One of the problems of being a Torment. The closer a creature is to being a living embodiment of Essence, the faster they heal from physical injuries and the much harder it is to actually kill them. Which is why it is pointless for anyone besides Magical Guardians to fight Torments. I mean, it’s a bit more complex than that, but that’s...

Hmmm...

Now, this is odd.

My eyes laser in on a discrepancy in the walls of these hallways. I quickly race towards the wall, scrutinizing the oddity. There are ripples in them in these palatial structures, as if something was messing with the Miasma.

Perhaps a remnant of Betsie’s battles?

The skin of her face, once always filled with compassion no matter her real emotions, was ripped and torn.

Her own flesh had invaded her brain like a vivid scarlet cancer, her nose inverted as it went through her nasal cavity.

Shards of bone poked out of the dome of her skull and her jaw could be found by looking far to the left of her half-eaten corpse.

Fuck! I nearly twitched there.

Starsdamnit Betsie! Your fucking compassion and kindness are haunting me from beyond the grave!

One of my arms shoots out and grabs a nearby servant by their head.

They struggle helplessly against my improved strength. I could crush them so easily compared to when I had first been thrown into this crisis. Destroying them in a fit of rage would relieve my anger so much. They really are the chaff of the Anathema after all. They aren’t even sentient. Their life doesn’t matter.

My fierce grip tightens, the monster’s bone-white mask cracking. Tears fall out of my eyes. They slam their monstrous, gloved hands uselessly against my arms and body.

I just am not coping well with this place. I just want to take out my frustrations on something created by The King. This is all so much.

If I take just a bite, I could wash away the pain with pleasure.

With immense willpower, using Charisma to augment it, I force my fingers to open, releasing the poor servant.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. There is no point in having yet another breakdown. That just makes me an unlikable person. Everyone is ok with a few mental episodes, but well... any more is just impossible to empathize with. People will hate you for being so weak. People will avoid you, and rightfully so, maintain their mental health.

At least, that’s what I learned from Mom. And she’s always right.

I crouch down and apologize to the servant for my needless cruelty.

I follow the ripple, mentally shaking the distraction off. I eliminate my emotions with practiced ease.

Congratulations! You have progressed further on the Truth of The Happy Bard.

You have acquired the skill Mind Control of the Self: Using Will, augmented by your considerable Charisma, you can temporarily delete emotions and memories that are making it difficult to focus on being the perfect you for others.

A feeling of surprise washes over me. Seems like the Purple System agrees with me.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

I activate the ability, my feet automatically carrying me in the direction of the ripple as I sink into the depths of mind.

Within my mind, a sheet of violin music that I just know that others will not enjoy listening to appears. Each note represents a memory. I drag a finger along it, sounding it out as I go. I come across a particularly nasty section.

Outside in the real world, my royal purple eyes glow with intense Charisma as I erase the section. The skill whispers creepily to me that the memory will come back, but for now, I won’t be a disgusting person for being so weak.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After a while walking regally, I really would love to get back to skipping around. It is a far more enjoyable movement and I really love being seen as bubbly and dramatic.

Where’s the fun in being small if you can’t make someone squeal at your cuteness? Oh, and now that I think about it, now that my body has changed and my hair is even longer, I’m going to be able to get away with a lot more outfits!

I stutter to a halt as the source of the oddity becomes evident. Looks like I’ll have to postpone my thoughts on how I’ll be able to braid my hair for now.

A massive metal cylinder absolutely covered in Magical runes of protection stands out blatantly against the palatial Tormented Zone.

It is made of Builder-enhanced metal that is at least 10 feet thick at the smallest and it is twenty feet tall.

Its coloring comprises of mainly steel-gray, with some yellow and black hazard paint, decorated with a few big, flashing warning lights attached to it. In contrast with the rest of the lighting by the living chandeliers, its lights cast the corridors in ominous red light. This design makes the building easier to find in the midst of emergencies.

It is the emergency shelter. My chest tightens. If only I had made it in time...

Well, I didn’t make it in time. There is no point in wishing. If I wish to indulge in dreams, then I am free to bury myself in bitterness on my own free time.

Instead, I have a better idea.

On an impulse, I grab the butler’s jacket right off from his back.

They aren’t really going to think I’m a child if they notice my chest. My chest is fairly average for my age, and that’s ALL it needs to be for me. It is still perfect for me, which makes it perfect, period. It still is a blatant giveaway though, detracting from my role mimicking a child. And screw those who say seventeen is still a child!

The sleeves hang over my shoulders and the lapels bump against my ankles, not quite dragging on the floor. It really exemplifies why I was the bane of our costume-makers in theater.

“Why do you have to be the lead actor? It is such a pain to make specialty costumes for you,” grumbled Helix good-naturedly.

I cannot help but feel bitter that all of these people are in there, safe and sound. Meanwhile, I am out here, and I have been TORTURED!

I walk up to it, trailing a hand across the runes. I peer at my hand with intense curiosity.

How interesting...

I am unharmed.

Well, well, well. Looks like I am still Magical enough that the runes built for keeping Torments out don’t hurt me.

My ever-present smile widens into a wider grin.

Time for some harmless fun.

You see, people cannot leave the shelter until the Tormented Zone is gone. And sure, they have plenty to last them, from TV to electronic books galore! And yet, it is human nature to be curious at what is going on outside of their cozy little hidey hole. Which means they are most certainly keeping watch over the outside world. Some are probably looking at the screens obsessively, still racked with nerves.

It’s not like anyone is going to recognize me after the changes of Fae Heart. I’m still recognizably me, even despite everything, but with all of these changes, they will ignore it faster than you can say “despair.”

I look right at where I know the cameras will be, protected as it is with layers upon layers of Magical Guardian technology.

Time to put Inhuman Movements to the real test: psychological horror.

I reach out a hand, the Skill lengthening my arm to compensate me for my height and add that ick factor. I lightly tap my metallic finger on the camera to get their attention.

I then retract my hand and wave it around jubilantly, as if I am super happy to find them.

I stand up and up and up, my legs lengthening like a cartoon character, though it looks oh so awful and disturbing in real life, until my eye and half of my face is pressed near the camera. Oddly enough, my pants manage to lengthen with my legs too.

My eyes widen with intensity and my mouth splits open across my face, an awful sound of rubber bands snapping as flesh breaks apart to make away for my new maw with excruciating slowness. My Pain Resistance, improved by the System based on all of my experiences, completely nullifies the pain. As a result, I can use Inhuman Movements to my heart’s content, exploiting my new Dexterity to the hilt.

I make sure they hear every. Single. Last. Pop.

My amethyst eye roams around wildly for a second, my iris restricting from being so close to the mirror.

Now, here is the thing. Everyone would expect a “~hello~” in a creepy tone. And I’m sure I could still make plenty of them piss their pants at that. To really creep them out though, you need to throw them off and befuddle them.

I retract back to normal, all of my Inhuman Movements reversing.

“Anyone want to play chess? I have been stuck out here since the whooshy purple magic came zoomin’ to class” I ask brightly and naively, hands behind my back and twisting back and forth in an eager mood for having play time.

For the act, I wait eagerly. Waiting ten minutes. Which takes forever to turn into twenty minutes. And then turns into thirty minutes. After roughly an hour and fourteen minutes, slowly making my posture dejected and depressed in a childish manner.

I slump onto my knees in what looks like a completely unplanned expression of frustration, groaning. I look over to my servants in distress.

“Mr. Butler, sir, are the rest of my class not here? I don’t understand why they don’t want to play. They always wanted to play when the teacher was away!” I say, tears running down my face and sniffling.

The servant quirks their head, dearly confused.

* internal sigh*

My dearest friend, most noble servant that you are, and well-versed in the ways of spiffyness... your acting chops suck.

Welp! Time to improvise! Let’s really play up my obliviousness.

“THANKS MR. BUTLER, SIR!” I leap up to him with YOUTH and VIBRANCY and oh my god I am trying so hard not to laugh. I give him one biiiig hug.

They pat me on my back awkwardly.

Yessss. That awkwardness is perfect.

I disengage from the hug, much to the obvious relief of the poor servant. I muster the smile of an innocent child who is far too attached to a stranger they do not know. I have first-hand experience with this one!

Still though... the hug was really nice. Even if they didn’t really understand, that little bit of solace and comfort was... it was really nice.

I do wonder just what their reactions are. Hahahahahahahahahaha. The urge to laugh maliciously is strong, but I am stronger!

I walk up to the shelter, once more assured! Ready to ask them again! If you don’t succeed, try again and again!

“Um, I’m not sure if you didn’t hear me, but I was wondering if anyone wants to be my friend.” I breathe shallowly and make myself look incredibly nervous.

I stand at the thick stubby vault-like doors, rubbing the back of my head nervously. Awkwardly, I rub my arms in anticipation and pursing my lips in childish impatience. It really is nice to cope with all of my anxiety these past few days by redirecting it to someone else by taking it out on these poor bastards.

“Oh... I see. You guys think I’m... annoying too.” I nervously run my hands through my hair.

“I’m sorry if I was bugging you guys. I understand. I think I am annoying too.”

I walk away from the shelter, leaving them to welter in sympathy.

~ I’ll be back. ~