Chapter 17

“Lu, Louis… Are you awake?”

“What’s wrong? Anne, at this late hour?”

“Sorry, but the thunder is so scary… Can I sleep with you just for tonight?”

*

017

Separation Anxiety (Part 1)

*

Anne left.

I stared blankly at the spot where she had been for a long time. It had been a while since we fought. I couldn’t even remember the last time we argued.

We were that close. We got along well from the start, and whenever our opinions clashed, one of us would yield, and we’d move on smoothly.

It had been so long since neither Anne nor I had backed down.

“The truth is…”

But it’s not something that can be compromised, is it? Whether I still love Anne, hate her, or whatever, the reality is that the past, already seared into my mind, isn’t going to change.

How can I not fear the one responsible for the massacre of my village? How can I understand a madman who claims that all that tragedy was for my sake?

“I couldn’t even do it.”

I’m afraid of you.

I hate you.

You, who took everything from me, who threw me into this pure white hell.

But even as I repeated it to myself, I wasn’t sure. If Anne hadn’t been so furious, if she had listened to me no matter what I said…

I still wouldn’t have been able to say what I truly wanted to say. Because it was also the thing I least wanted to say.

I know. I’m a weird guy.

“Pfft…”

A laugh escapes my lips, shattering in the silence.

I’m really crazy. How is this possible? How can I still love that monster?

I wish it were a pure, unconditional love that could even cover up my hatred for you.

But the sudden surge of hatred quickly grew as heavy as the old love. A love-hate so deep and intense that no one person could bear it.

My heart, torn between conflicting emotions, was already a battlefield. No matter how I tried to divert my thoughts, they always returned to you, and even when I succeeded…

When thoughts of you faded, they were replaced by the colors of our past.

‘Snap out of it! Please, just snap out of it…’

‘Do you think she’d like you acting like this, when you used to be so kind?’

Our village, our bond.

I hear the screams of the dying.

The village destroyed by Anne. The yellow roofs, like early spring, scarred with red, the stench of blood thicker than roses, and even the clear waters of the Nern River turned murky.

Wandering through the village conjured by my imagination, searching for survivors, I find no one alive, only tattered corpses and grotesque structures made from human remains.

When I stumble back, fleeing from the guilt, I find myself in the middle of another nightmare.

A torture chamber so bright it stings the eyes. Beneath the dazzling light, atrocities are not hidden, and the blood gushing from repeatedly gouged wounds is vividly red.

“Gasp!”

The shock of hitting my head brings me back to my senses. I must have been staggering just moments ago, but now I’m sprawled on the floor, my head buried in the ground.

Placing my hand on my forehead, I feel the warmth of liquid. There’s no need for first aid, so I wipe it off with my sleeve, and the red quickly spreads across my white priestly robe.

But only for a moment. As Anne had warned, under the harsh light, the bloodstains vanished as if nothing had happened.

“I need to pull myself together.”

I mutter to myself, but my voice lacks strength. Resigned, I lean against the wall and survey the place where I’ve been, and perhaps will remain forever.

A bed, a table, and a chamber pot—a sparse setup. With nothing else to do, I stagger toward the table.

The only activity worth doing in this cramped space is one thing. To ignore the voice that keeps echoing in my ears, I open a book.

The Scripture compiled by the Religious Order. The book is worn from use but well-preserved, without any damage.

Who was its original owner? Someone who stayed in this cell before me? If so, did they, despite being a heretic, study the Scripture so diligently?

What happened to them in the end? They must have left the Reformatory eventually.

Whether they walked out on their own two feet, as Anne boasted, or were carried out as a corpse, I don’t know.

Rustle.

I open the first page of the Scripture and begin reading a familiar story.

It’s the genesis of a world. In the chaos where nothing existed, only the Lord resided. Bored in the infinite void, Ailim yawned three times.

From those yawns, the sky, the earth, and the sea were created, and Ailim lay down where the three worlds met.

From the stirring, beasts were born where the sky and earth met, birds where the sky and sea met, and fish where the earth and sea met.

At the intersection of sky, earth, and sea, where Ailim’s shadow fell, humans were born.

They inherited the world from Ailim and were to rule it.

And then.

The world became humanity’s, but Ailim, worried about their young and foolish children, remained by their side, protecting them. But the ungrateful children grew increasingly dissatisfied.

“We are perfect and complete, so why do we need a god? Even if he claims to be our parent, isn’t he just raising us like livestock, restraining us from becoming greater than him?”

Humans rebelled against the god. Instead of punishing them with a flood, the god gave them everything they desired and fell into a deep sleep.

Thus began the age of humanity. The world I live in now.

“Phew…”

I close the Scripture, overwhelmed by nausea and disgust.

For some reason, my condition is rapidly deteriorating. The light feels even more vicious, stabbing at me, and the silence, devoid of even the sound of turning pages, is suffocating me to the point of breathlessness.

Before I sink back into the swamp of delusions, I frantically recall the next part of the Scripture in my mind. In an age where books are scarce, the Scripture is the only book passed down even in remote villages.

Of course, I know its contents too. Though my memory grows hazier toward the end.

The age of humanity without the god was neither as free nor as glorious as they had imagined. Absolute protection vanished, and absolute abundance was taken away, so humans had to rely solely on their own strength to achieve everything.

But under Ailim’s extreme protection, they hadn’t even learned the simplest skills, so hunting or farming was impossible for early humans. In the end, they repeated what they had always done.

Praying.

But with no one to answer their prayers, as the god had fallen asleep as they wished, humans had to choose a new god. The first to rebel against the god. The one who expressed dissatisfaction and ultimately asked the parent to give them everything and sleep.

Thus, Laube became humanity’s first ruler.

But despite her arrogant speech and fabricated dignity, she was still merely human.

No matter how exceptional, no one could fill the void left by the god. Eventually, Laube, like Ailim before her, was hanged by those who served her.

The people tore the king’s body into a hundred pieces with their bare hands and swallowed her flesh and blood, finally freeing themselves from hunger.

We are all descendants of the King-Eater. Thus, Laube resides in everyone’s heart.

“Tell me.”

The dark voice that leads people to corruption, the exiled evil god worshipped by heretics.

This entity is not mere superstition; as seen in Anne’s actions, it is officially recognized by the Religious Order. Laube, whose body was torn apart, became formless, transforming into all things in the world and whispering in everyone’s voice.

If I were truly a heretic, why can’t I hear the evil god’s voice?

I didn’t care what it took to break this damn silence. Running around like a madman, shouting, flailing my clothes—it only lasted a moment. The moment I stopped, exhausted, the swamp-like silence pulled me back in.

The floor of the Reformatory is unbreakably flat and solid, but the moment I took a step, it felt like the ground would collapse and swallow me whole, like those who disappeared beyond the horizon.

Suffocation, I hate it. The sea of blood, you scared me, the night the thunder roared, I was also afraid of the lightning. The warmth, it stopped the trembling.

Even as I flail my arms as if to embrace something, only emptiness falls into my arms.

The strange symptoms started the moment I was left alone. I know it’s strange, but I don’t know how to restore my convulsing body or my delusional mind.

No, actually, I do know. If only someone, anyone, please, just you were here.

I want to hate you, but I can’t. It’s the only intact thing left in me.

If I lose even that, I feel like I’ll lose myself entirely.

Muttering things even I can’t understand, I suddenly lift my head.

“Anne?”