I wake up cold, soaked, and muddy. My arms and legs shake as I try to prop myself up. There's a rock with blood on it. It's a familiar shape. I discredit my thoughts, but I pocket the stone anyways. My head hurts, and the storm rages on.

I never liked beds. They remind me of how lonely it is in this house. The house is filled with strangers, people hired by my father to maintain the mansion. I briefly had a dream and woke up in a cold sweat. I don't recall anything, but I couldn't sleep again that night.

After eating the rest of the cantaloupe, I realized something. My life would never be the same. How can I prove if life is real? I will always doubt if what I see is reality. I can try to deceive myself, but I can't stop this feeling that something is wrong or missing. I can't help to feel like something isn't right. Something is wrong with me. Something is missing from this home. It's an indescribable feeling, but the closest I can get is a broader version of the uncanny valley, applying to all things. Everything feels too real. It's this stifled feeling of something trying to claw out of my throat. It's like a scream that doesn't belong to me.

I go to the library and all the books here I read before. Is this a sign that I need to get out more, or something more sinister? I talk another walk around the manor grounds, being cautious to not fall again. I go to an apple tree. This is where I failed to grow a seed in the other place. I don't know what to call the other place since it's either a hallucination or real life.

The next night I had a dream. It was vague, but I was in a position of power. I had people under and beside me working towards something grander. It wasn't as fulfilling as I was hoping, but it was more satisfying than the life I'm living now.

When I awoke, the rock I kept on my bedside table started speaking to me.

"..."

"Is that really you? Flash Gordon?"

"..."

"I don't believe it. Maybe I'm going crazy."

",,,"

"Maybe you're right. If you exist, then is this all not real?"

"..."

"Don't get philosophical! That doesn't answer anything. But since you also remember everything, that answers my question. If this isn't real, then my actions have no consequences! I can do anything I want!"

"..."

"Yeah, what do I want to do? I want to see the differences between this drug-induced hallucination and reality. How much of this is influenced by my subconscious and the magic inside of the herbs? I experienced a life of simple living as a farmer. I might as well go all the way and see what I can do in this reality."

"..."

~

This reality's geography and history are vastly different from the other one.

The first thing I did was go to a real school and get actual degrees. It took a few years, but I'm out of that damn house now. The way I see it, I have two easy options. I can follow my grandfather's path or my father's path. Become a leader or a scholar. I could get into politics or get into science.

My grandfather in this world is what I'd imagine if he didn't retire when he did in the other one. He's a tyrant for the people. He's regarded as the worst and best leader in recent history. Other nations hate him, but his people love him. He goads other people into fighting him so he can swoop in and take over. Once he does, he does his best to ensure everyone has a chance of living a decent life.

I don't know what my father does in his lab. I called it a chemistry lab because the most I saw inside were beakers and vials. He could be making war crimes or researching the cure for cancer.

I debated whether I should spend the rest of my time training and learning, but that might not transfer well. If this is a hallucination, then it's all in my head. Muscle memory won't carry over since I'm not using muscles, and anything I learn could be bogus or something I already know.

I sat in my own home and started thinking. For the first time, I decided to ponder without filter or interruption. I let my mind wander free like a caged songbird stretching its wings in the sky for the first time. I get enough money from my family to survive, so I decide not to participate in society if I don't want to. When I ran out of things to think about, I'd examine the things around me in great detail. When I ran out of stuff, I went on walks to look at more things. Flash Gordon was with me every step of the way,

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

After a year, I decided that I should do something else. So I did. I started a political career that I ended early because it disgusted me. I wrote a book about the other world, but it didn't do well. I took up martial arts, but I wasn't good. I missed the prime moment to start training. I decided to hitchhike across the country and got arrested for soliciting rides.

I got out of prison five years later. While waiting for a trial, I killed a man in self-defense. He admired my face in a way that's not pg-13, and I had to defend myself. Too bad I used more force than "reasonably necessary," and more charges were added. I didn't stop until he stopped twitching. They had to powerwash that cell. Thanks for the assist Flash Gordon. They should've found you before locking you with me.

It wasn't as bad as I expected. Word got around to what I did to get there with only a rock, and people decided to stay away from me. I petitioned the trial court to get Flash Gordon back since he counts as "evidence," and our journey continued.

I didn't want to join the military in the other life, so I decided to try it. They sent me away since I was a convicted felon. Welp, I tried.

For the rest of my life, I did whatever I wanted. I even succeeded a few of those times. On my deathbed, I did a retrospection of my life. It sucked. I did whatever I wanted, and at some point, I stopped caring. I could run over someone in my car and wouldn't even care to notice. I didn't go to my grandfather's funeral because I was too busy doing something else. Same with my father, but I still don't know if he's dead. I'm assuming so at this point.

I used the last of my strength to hobble out of bed with Flash Gordon in my hand and head to the hospital roof. I look at the infinite expanse of stars, blurred at this point by my age.

"You haven't kicked it yet, have you, Flash Gordon?"

",,,"

"I lived two lives till the end so far. One of simplicity and one embellished with empty actions. Either is too much for me. In the real one, maybe I should live one day at a time with you and everyone else. Let purpose find me instead of the other way around. The only thing I enjoyed was sharing my time with you."

"..."

I got struck by lightning and died on the roof of a hospital.

~

I wake up spasming in a chair. I couldn't breathe for what felt like minutes before I managed to get a gulp of air. I have a metal arm and a system window. The kettle is on the floor, liquid dribbling out of it is still warm. I'm never taking that herb again. What the fuck. What the fuck was that.

Once again, it felt like I was half-asleep and woke up. Like I was living underwater my entire life or turned up the saturation. There are eleven leaves left in the bag. I used two leaves. Does that mean two lives? I'm not going to be testing that. At least not on me.

"Duchess, how long was I gone for?"

[Gone? You were sitting in that chair for ten minutes, twitching.]

"Did you try to do anything to help me?"

[It felt like intervention would've been the worst thing thisss one could do. Thisss one only puts your emotional support rock in your lap.]

"Duchess, how can you tell if anything real? What if life is all an illusion?"

[Don't be dumb. You stink of sweat and psychedelic tea. Take a shower.]

~

The first thing I do is turn off [Broken Liver] and clean myself up. I learned many things from the journey, but the biggest one is probably paranoia. I'm not even convinced that any of this is real. At least my spirit stat went up from that ordeal. It's almost worth it to try it again. But no.

Might

200 (195 + 5)

Agility

200 (185 + 10 + 5)

Vigor

349 (309 + 25 + 15 )

Mind

201 (126 + 75)

Spirit

235 (215 > 225 + 10)

Perception

45

Charisma

50 (35 + 15)

Luck

12 (2 +10)

Unused

0

I decided to go to master Wangs before the allotted time ran out and tell him my answer.

I entered his dojo room, and he seemed to be reminiscing over the paraphilia hung on his walls. I sometimes forget that master Wang isn't just an extremely muscular man in his seventies but someone who has been tempered by the many experiences over the two centuries he lived. Even if you count my hallucinations when calculating my age, he would still be older.

"Master Wang."

"Disciple, do you have an answer, or are you giving up."

"I'm not giving up. I have an answer you might not be satisfied with, but I am."

"Tell me."

"I will tell you the truth and say my simianite brother gave me some herbs to help me on a spiritual journey, and I came to a realization."

"Go on."

"You asked me 'what happens after,' and I can confidently say I don't know."

Master Wang patiently waits and allows me to continue.

"I don't want a meaning to life. I want to live it. If it is one day at a time or one overarching goal that finds me when the time comes. I'll use your teachings to be ready for it."

"What will you use my teachings for?"

He still hasn't left the items on the wall. He still takes his time to observe every one of them.

"Whatever I need to use them for. I only know I'll need them, and you are the only person who can teach me. You are the only person I'm willing to learn martial arts from."

He lets go of a newspaper article. It's about the opening of a new dojo. He looks at me for the first time since I entered this room.

"If we can get that in writing, I'm willing to teach you."

"Thank you, master Wang."

"Your answer was barely good enough."

"Okay, master Wang."

"Like a C on an A to F scale."

"I understand."

"C-"

"..."