Chapter 23

The eerie silence of this old, yet unsettlingly unchanged, environment engulfed me as if time had rewound in a single, disorienting moment.

As time blurred, passing without measure, my senses slowly crawled back to me. First, the feeling of something cold, almost sludgy, soaking beneath me.

'Is this… water? No, it was too shallow for that. A puddle at best.'

My fingers twitched, brushing the surface, but the disorientation was worse than I expected.

It was like my body refused to respond properly.

I squinted my eyes slightly open, blinking through the daze.

The light... it was wrong.

I was in the middle of a glum forest just moments ago, surrounded by trees and frenzied voices.

But it seemed now—I was inside.

I lay there for a moment, fixated on a low ceiling, uncertain if making the slightest movement would stir another unseen presence.

My breath caught, there was a heavy unease resting atop my chest.

Gradually, I forced myself to inhale deeply, willing the creeping paranoia to perish from my heart, and eventually, I eased myself into an upright position.

I was by myself inside of a room.

The walls were riddled with cracks, their surface worn and weathered, tangled with snaking vines.

It wouldn't surprise me if I was the first person to "step foot" here in years.

There was an unnaturally bright light that poured in through a door standing slightly open, as if waiting for me.

I tried pushing myself the rest of the way to my feet.

I couldn't avoid focusing on the way my own heart was thumping so strongly against my chest, and how it emphasized the confusion and dread that hadn't left me since I awoke in the manor.

"This is technically my own fault," I huffed, placing my hand on my knee for balance.

I glanced down realizing my old clothing had been placed back over my body, though unfortunately the entire back of my coat and pants were soaked with the water that trickled back into the immensely large puddle on the floor.

"What was this place?"

I ran a hand through my damp hair, the air heavy with a smell I couldn't quite place—earthy, yet sterile.

This environment felt... off. Time itself seemed to be in limbo—like it wasn't flowing right here.

"I don't like this… it's-it's too quiet," I whispered, tucking my arms under my hands to squeeze them closer to my sides.

I gazed at the door, squinting against the harsh light spilling through the wide gap.

It wasn't the soft sunlight I'd seen filtering through the trees before.

It was sharper, cutting through the gloom, almost too perfect for this dilapidated room.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm my breathing, but the silence... it was crushing. No wind, no rustle of leaves, no distant murmur of life. Just... stillness.

'Loneliness had been such a constant in that house, it made up most of my memories before all this 'Sequel,' Timestream—whatever the hell it is.

So... why now do I suddenly—'

"You have quite an unpredictable nature."

I nearly leap out of my skin as the familiar voice reverberates from somewhere disturbingly near.

Panic flares for a moment, but it quickly fades as recognition settles in—I know that voice.

'You again?' I don't bother saying it aloud, but my surprise only intensifies when the voice answers, as if it had heard me anyway.

"You remember me?" the voice drifts in again, mysteriously shredding through from no direction.

"Huh? How did you hear me?"

The voice goes dormant again.

I furrow my expression, "Ah-"

It wasn't coming from around me; no, it seemed to rise from the corners of my mind, threading through the cracks in the walls.

"..."

"Of course, I believe you've already spoken to me more than once," I respond after a moment.

"Correct, I've spoken thrice, but you have never been alone once," she says.

"What is going on? Did I die?" Upon asking, I am startled by my composure.

A momentary pause hangs in the room, punctuated by the nearly indistinct sound of a muffled giggle.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Are—are you laughing?" I ask, my cheeks warming for some unknown reason.

"Oh… you heard that? Please forgive me I meant nothing by it. I simply find so much irony in your cluelessness," the voice replies slowly. It continues in a steady tone, "You are not dead. This space is your immunity—I suppose you could consider it like a waiting room with only you, but it always changes to reflect a part of your memory."

"Perhaps this is why you don't have an astrapie," she murmurs after a pause, though I can tell easily that she had intended that for herself.

'Immunity? Immunity from what? Can I leave?' A whirlwind of questions rushes through my mind, making it difficult to keep them in check as I realize she is capable of hearing what I do not convey beyond thoughts.

A faint comfort settles in when the voice answers with a gentle understanding of my situation, as she proceeds to politely reply.

"The 'tax' your companions endure when they traverse epochs or mantras doesn't affect you. While their realities shift, a powerful defense within you awakens instantly. This realm mirrors a part of your consciousness called 'dream.' It protects your memories, cloaking them in an illusion to guard against alteration," they patiently exclaimed.

"'Dream?' If this is a dream, why is it so bare? There's nothing here but peeling walls with greenish tint."

"Well, there is something. It's precisely because you harbor so much guilt that you see nothing but a room of your repression. You and I are experiencing two different atmospheres in this moment."

"Do you see something beyond this dingy room?"

"I do. I see the tragedy that sealed your memories in your first sequence."

The warmth that bloomed in my cheeks dispels as my concern toward their knowledge of my predicament which I cannot reminisce dawns.

'...You know what happened?' I resort to asking in my head after being unable to form words aloud.

"Given this place, like the first, may have been a traumatic commemoration for your past to bear, it is only reasonable that this 'dingy room' is what you would dream of," the voice answered.

"It is not too different from what it would look like had it been left alone," she adds with a solemn drop in her volume.

"Please tell me! Tell me how I can see what you are seeing!" My voice wavers, teetering on desperation.

I had done my best to brush aside her cryptic riddles and distinguish the most essential answers to this universe.

Yet, I realized that even in my original world, I had always been disconnected—from the people, the surroundings, and even from myself.

The waver of silence yields for a bit longer before, finally, "My apologies, but I can't right now."

"Why? Why won't anyone tell me what happened? My uncle, the physicians—they're all so indifferent, just saying I nearly drowned, but they leave out the vital pieces: where was I when it happened, what decisions had I made that placed me there, and who the fuck I even am!" I wonder if my thoughts are somehow amplifying, or if my voice is naturally rising out of agitation.

"I understand, Hoku. It is not a matter of me not wanting to tell you, but that I only know… what you've told me. We are out of time. You needn't burden yourself with these circumstances so soon."

My jaw tightens, and I can feel a vein pulsing on one side.

'. . .'

"Before departing this universe you will have received all of the answers you seek. I can deliver that as a promise."

"How do you—"

Before I can finish asking how she knew, the voice begins to reply, yet the words are abruptly lost to me.

"Lie down, if you want to wake up."

I hesitate dumbfounded, like a sculpted prop in the center of the room.

"You must do it now if you want to leave this place!" her voice pressured, nearly matching the desperation I showed as she calmly conversed.

"Wake up? So this is an actual dream? You weren't declaring it as a figurative?"

I glance around, suddenly more aware of my surroundings.

The vines that had once looked dull, like the last remnants of a dying plant, now had flowers—roses, deep red, almost glowing in the dim light.

They crawled up the walls, spreading in wild patterns, turning this broken room into something… different. Beautiful, even.

"Not completely, no. What you are experiencing is not the full extent of a dream, but— that's not important right now! Hoku my words seriously," She pleaded, pummeling me from my reverie of red flowers.

My legs felt weak, and before I could think it through, I did what the voice told me.

I lay down on the water.

The flowers grew closer, their red petals brushing against my skin, soft like silk, but something was unsettling about it all.

My head met the solid ground closing near the surface of the puddle

Slowly, the flowers covered me, spreading over my chest and arms, curling around me like they were latching onto their last origin of life.

I didn't resist it, I wasn't sure if I could.

I stared up at the ceiling, at the light spilling from the door, and felt my eyes growing heavier.

The flowers continued to climb, and my vision blurred, the space fading into their veil.

'Will you… still be here?' even what I could compose in my mind, seemed to resonate more distantly.

"To restore the original sequence, you must traverse the epochs chosen by its mysterious architect.

You should have grasped by now

…that this Sequel is more than mere chance—it is intricately

…bound

..to your

..very

..essence."

The voice begins to break apart, its resonance scattering into fragments, becoming distant and intangible within seconds.

Another versant pressure is asserted from inside of me, again as if I've been plunged into deep waters.

Pressure swells around me, heavy and all-encompassing.

I become aware of the darkness behind my eyelids, and in that stillness, tiny, distant 'stars' flicker like glimmers of light beneath the waves, though I know my eyes remain closed.

Terror gnaws my chest as the heaviness presses in tighter and starts to suffocate me.

'H-help me! It feels like... I'm—!'

The plea reverberates, fading into empty space until it becomes nothing more than the echo of my own voice.

A sting flares across a different cheek, a vivid spark that pulls me back from the bane of a recurring 'dream'.

It's then that I recall—I'm no longer in my uncle's library or the forest accompanying Yu-ze, and that the last thing I saw before my vision was shrouded was the door—still ajar, still waiting.

The Memoir Chapter 18

To Whom It May Concern,

This is to address 'Patient' 0000. An official death certificate has been issued for the witness who fled the facility, and it is presumed they drowned after their body was recovered twenty-three miles from RedQuadrant in Phanes. We have redirected most of our resources to Aion to preserve evidence for the successful formulas I intend to integrate into the Timestream.

Regardless of whether we come under investigation, we must proceed with code white. I will allow two days for your response; if I do not receive any communication by then, I will instruct the staff from YellowQuadrant to humanely euthanize the remaining patients.

If all goes according to plan and we successfully manipulate a sequence, this will merely mark our first trial.

Weather Ann Mare.

To: "The Abundant Creator"

Rule 22

The Navigator insists he hears a voice that speaks to him at random instants. 'Reader', please don't be alarmed; we've ruled out any signs of psychosis. It seems to be a spectator who feeds off your presence in dreams. This ability is exclusive to the Sequels. Since Feiyu is a sequence, he cannot escape the erosion of his memories. I struggle to comprehend why you differ from... well, your former self, but it may be linked to why 'Zhou Fang' is hiding you from the Creator. While his methods are somewhat—harsh—they might be preferable to enduring another eighty thousand centuries of imprisonment.

Exchange trust and create a bond with the entity while you still can, because its sacrifice may become an imperative alternative in the future.

-The Second Quota's end-

To be continued…