Chapter 2: Voices

Did I die again?

That was the first thought that crossed Yusciel’s mind as she found herself floating suspended in an endless void of pure darkness. There was no scent, no noise; everything exuded an eerie sense of peace. Even moving her body, assuming she had one, seemed impossible. She couldn’t feel anything, not even her limbs—not even a beating heart.

In the midst of this void, if she had a physical body, tears would have streamed down her face, expressing the pain that immediately consumed her mind. ‘This is so unfair… Just when I was about to start a new life… Just when I had overcome so much to get this far… How can it just end like this.’

Her soul wept, a silent agony screaming within her thoughts.

‘Perhaps… It would have been wiser if I had asked for a more powerful race before I reincarnated,’ she pondered, feeling her entirety throbbing in echoes of frustration she couldn’t express. She felt as if drowning in her feelings of regret. ‘Then maybe, just maybe, I could have lived far longer than this.’

The silence was oppressive, suffocating her until, out of nowhere, a sound echoed from the distance, jolting her senses awake to a cold, unsettling sensation that, oddly enough, made her feel alive. Recalling, ‘These sounds… If I remember it correctly, this realm has a gathering place for souls… But then, who is coming for me?’

As she unconsciously scanned the empty void, she felt her eyes caught something within the pure darkness. The outlines of a figure seemed to shift, but she could scarcely make it out. An instinctive urge compelled Yusciel to move forward, to approach it, and it was then she realized she could freely move her body.

‘That’s odd,’ she remarked, turning her vision downward to see only pure darkness. Her hands weren’t there, nor her feet—Yet, she was able to move, floating. It was a peculiar sensation that she couldn’t quite comprehend.

‘If I can move my body… Can I use my Mana?’ She thought, prodding the sensation inside of her form—reaching out to the Mana stored in her body, but she couldn’t feel anything—it was strangely empty.

Despite the strangeness occuring around her, Yusciel pressed on, drawing near to the black outline of a figure. As she did, the mysterious sound became clearer until she could make out a familiar instrument—it was a cello. The strings were plucked, followed by a smooth pull of the bow, creating a repeating pattern of swift reverberating tones. With each step towards the figure, the music grew louder.

‘What is this… music? And this thing?’

Yusciel halted in front of the black figure in the void, a feeling of unease washing over her and causing her body to tense. Something about this figure felt strange compared to the empty darkness around it. It exuded a texture of randomness, a deep blackness that defied description. Casting a quick glance at the all-black surroundings, she realized it was just her and this mysterious object in this void. With an instinctive gulp—imagining if she had a physical form—she composed herself and reached out to touch the textured black figure.

As if responding to her formless touch, ripples emanated outwards. Spreading across as the black texture began expanding through the darkness, its strange patterns enveloping the entire void. Startled, she watched in confusion as the textures shifted, gray colors emerging, gradually blending into white gradients. Eventually, the texture settled into a static pattern of black and white pixels, a scene reminiscent of her previous world.

Confusion clouded her mind as she wondered, ‘What is happening? The music…It’s still there, but distant, straining in my ears—it feels more like static now. Why is it growing so louder?’

The discordant notes of the cello assaulted Yusciel’s senses, each strum straining her ears and causing an endless cold shivering to course through her. As she attempted to block out the grating noises, something within the textured, static surroundings caught her eyes. Patches of black and white appeared to liquefy, mixing and forming into an unfamiliar, shifting shape. The ever-changing, incomprehensible forms twisted and turned, making her feel queasy in the unsettling environment.

Yusciel wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. The sight before her was too difficult to follow, too incomprehensible. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, she sank to the ground, focusing on the nearest object—her thin hands—mysteriously appearing, in hopes of alleviating her sickness.

As she continued to stare at the ground. Below her, it transformed into pristine white tiles, reflecting a metallic sheen. A continuous strip of bright light, akin to a ceiling fixture, shimmered across the floor, prompting her to spin around and survey her surroundings. It was then that she realized she was in a room that felt strangely familiar.

Yusciel’s breath caught in her throat as her surroundings abruptly solidified into a room with glass walls adorned with numerous holographic displays, wires of various sizes lay, and the structure of the room felt all too familiar to Yusciel.

“Yuel… Yuel,” echoed the familiar voice from behind.

In that moment, Yusciel turned around, her heart beating rapidly as her eyes seemed to lose focus. There, she saw a familiar figure sitting in a chair, poking at another figure’s cheeks. A sight—A memory she remembers so well.

—Nemneseia

That was the person’s name, a name that was on the tip of Yusciel’s tongue, if she even had one. Observing Nemneseia’s figure, along with her old form—it disgusted her. Her heart—her very essence felt consumed with hatred. Yusciel couldn’t understand why she was remembering a memory of a past life even though that time had long perished.

The memories… Those repulsive memories that Yusciel buried deep within, to move on from that world, to go forward without looking back. The sight before her made Yusciel’s mind go blank, simply staring in bewilderment at the sight.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘Hey, are you focused on that thing again? Can’t you pay attention to me? Please? Pretty please? Come on, Yuel!’ Nemneseia implored, clinging to the old figure of Yusciel.

Without warning, Yusciel suddenly lunged at Nemneseia’s figure, throwing a punch that passed through her figure like a ghost. Startled, Yusciel stepped back, growing increasingly irritated as she helplessly glared before slowly realizing that her fist had materialized.

Taken aback, Yusciel glanced down to find her legs materializing before spinning around to see her fully formed body, a body of her present world. As she scanned her new existence, a familiar voice broke the silence. It was the voice of her former self. ‘Stop this, Nemneseia. Can't you see? I’ve finally got some free time to do my hobbies, and you’re disturbing me.’

‘I can definitely see that; I got quite that pair of eyes,’ She remarked, grinning as she used her fingers to widen her eyes, revealing the familiar black iris Yusciel knew so well.

‘With giant eyebags,’ the old Yuel amused.

‘Not much less than yours,’ Nemneseia smirked, placing her head on Yuel’s shoulder.

Yusciel was in disbelief. The memory was etched vividly in her mind. Gritting her teeth, she attempted another punch towards Nemneseia’s figure. Each punch carried deadly weight, yet they only phased through the memory she tried to confront. Then, an idea struck her as she sought to summon the fires she was so proud of, but even that, they failed to appear.

‘Is your work really more important than me?’ She mocked.

“AAAAAAAAAA! SHUT UP! Nemneseia! JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” The scream erupted from Yusciel’s lungs, rousing at the most uncomfortable memory she had. Her hands gripped tightly over her body as if trying to stop the wave of alien feeling that was numbing her senses.

‘Of course. That’s why, can you stop disturbing me, Nemneseia?’

Yusciel snapped.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Nemneseia’s mocking voice echoed endlessly in Yusciel’s mind, drowning out her own screech, the sound grating like razor blades stabbing into her ears. She clenched her fists uncontrollably, her jaw tight as she desperately tried to strike down the tormenting mirage. However, her blows continued to phased through the flicking, glitching images, leaving her thrashing a ghost of the past.

“STOP! THIS! Nemneseia!”

A low insistent hum of strings began to fill the emptiness, causing Yusciel to freeze in place. The familiar sound of the instrument she had heard before tugged her anger and pure, uncontrollable hate. The notes felt like an unwelcome presence, urging her to find calmness, filling her mind with a soft, gently strumming that replaced Nemneseia’s mocking voice.

With a forceful release of the string, as if snapping the bow’s string, Yusciel gasped as her eyes shot open. She was greeted with the dim lavender of morning light filtered through gauzy curtains gently fluttering by the windows. The thick scent of burning herbs invaded her nostrils. Yusciel found herself sat upright in the stiff bedding, clutching her chest, gasping for breath.

Sweat slipped from her skin as the remnants of the dream still clung to her thoughts. She reached up, half-expecting to find bleeding knuckles from her mind’s desperate urge to pummel Nemneseia’s haunting figure. Yet, her hands were unmarked, trembling in white paleness. The chill enveloped her, making her skin feel cold and her surroundings felt twisted, a queasiness choking her thoughts.

Yusciel looked around, unease screaming through her body as she struggled to immediately make sense of her surroundings. All she could tell was that she was in a different room, a stranger to her, filled with many faces that blurred together in her vision.

The overwhelming sensation assaulting her senses made her feel nauseous, as if she might vomit. Trying to suppress the uncomfortable feeling, she curled up into a ball, hugging her shivering self tightly.

Without a moment’s pause, Yusciel was suddenly swept into a different thought, ‘What was that? Why am I recalling those memories—What was it that I was remembering again?’

Consumed by her thoughts, something brushed over Yusciel's shoulder. Yusciel reacted fiercely, violently slapping the intrusive touch away. Twisting with a snarl, her voice sharpened to a cutting edge. "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

There, a familiar figure emerged before her sight—a young adult with intense, dark eyes, tousled wavy hair framing a face of angular features, and a tall, slender figure suited in formal attire that exuded a sense of elegance. The eye monocle perched on his face, added an air of sophistication to his appearance. Yusciel instantly recognized the man before her, widening her eyes in shock as she heard his soft, calming voice with a rare concern, “Please, Yusciel, calm down.”

“Eh?” Yusciel’s lips parted in surprise, and she uttered in whisper, “Mr. Celton?” uncertain whether he was truly him or not.

“Yes? It's me, Yusciel.” He responded, his brows furrowing in concern.

The familiar voice and figure brought relief to Yusciel’s senses, causing the tension in her hands to release and be slowly replaced by an ever-growing exhaustion. Blinking slowly, she realized she was seated on a soft, comfortable bed in a well-lit room with open windows on her left, showcasing lush greenery outside. Lively birds sang and flew, accompanied by the bustling sounds of the crowd echoing. As the late morning freshness permeated the room, she couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Where are we?’

Nothing in the room seemed familiar, and Yusciel’s gaze continued roaming as her mind struggled to catch up with the situation. She mindlessly observed the strangers wearing long, white coats over their uniforms, some seated while others stood, varying emotions plastered in their faces as their eyes fixated on her.

The silence felt suffocating until a loud “COUGH! COUGH!” shattered the stillness, causing everyone to avert their gazes towards the source of the sound.

Yusciel’s attention was drawn to a figure of a young teenage girl in a familiar uniform. She had a pale face as others wiped sweat from her brow. This girl, with black hair and eyes, held a bow with a broken string in one hand and accepted a cup of water to sip from with the other. Their eyes briefly met before she turned to talk to others. Meanwhile, Yusciel found a Cello, almost the same height as the young girl’s, resting between her legs.

“It seems she has awakened with a clear conscience, Mr. Celton,” a voice rang out, capturing the director’s attention as he turned to look. Yusciel followed suit, seeing a man in a long white robe with large horns arcing above his ears, brownish-brown clean-cut hair, tapping on Celton’s shoulder. “We will be exiting the room, but call us if anything happens.”

“Thank you, Professor Stewarts.” Said Celton, nodding off his head.

Huh? What happened? I don’t remember… anything that happened…

Yusciel felt as though she was coming to her senses, trying to recall what had happened. There was a large blank area in her memories that refused to provide answers as to why she was in this room. Yusciel's gaze fell upon Celton, seeing him wave the white-robed strangers off. Her fingers tugged insistently at the director's thick coat sleeve, demanding his focus.

“Hey—!?" Yusciel’s voice, dry and croaking—something so unbefitting for someone part of a theater play, immediately alerted her as she instinctively reached for her throat in a panic. Noticing, Celton hurriedly went to a nearby table to fetch water for her as she continued, “Mr. Celton, what happened to me?”

“You… You were stabbed,” said Celton, turning around as his brow furrowed. “Do you remember?”