To my right stands a full-length mirror, reflecting my face. It looks livid and lifeless; my eyes seem as though they could bulge out at the slightest touch of a breeze. Tiny red streaks have surfaced in the whites of my eyes. Behind me, in the reflection, is that painting—the one I destroyed. But when I turn to look, there is nothing there. Atop the mirror sits a clock with four hands, pointing to 23 hours, 99 minutes, 99 seconds, and 99 ticks. It cannot advance into tomorrow; perhaps it is broken."
I turned back to the mirror and whispered softly, 'Does it hurt? I'm sorry.' I wished the painting had ears to hear my apology, but it only responded by slowly coming into focus, revealing the butterfly-shaped clip.
Clamped onto that ponytail was a colossal butterfly hair clip, dwarfing Endsilver's own face. Its obsidian body stood in stark contrast to her hair, encrusted with glittering stones, while a pair of eyes stared out from the very center.
"Can you see the entire clip?"
I didn't know why I was questioning myself like that, but if I wasn't mistaken, I could see every bit of it.
"If the clip is on the back of her head, shouldn't it be almost completely hidden?"
I... am certain: 'This dream is insane; it is making me see the entire clip ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD,' and I am certain mother isn't turning her back on me, certain she isn't leaving me, certain I haven't been abandoned, certain she still cares for me, and certain I am not alone. The point is, the dream is not caused by mother; of that, I am sure. She wouldn't do this to me. She wouldn't want to do this to me.
I am certain of it.
I am certain of it.
I am certain of it.
I am certain of it.
I watched, and I felt the urge to act. I pulled out a felt-tip pen and began to study it, this painting had replicated that butterfly clip with near-flawless precision.
.The butterfly clip bears an abyssal black, specifically #111111 in the HEX system—comprising eleven red, eleven green, and eleven blue. This shade sharply accentuates mother's brilliant silver hair, specifically HEX #E5E4E2, consisting of nineteen red, eighteen green, and sixteen blue.The butterfly clip measures twenty point eight centimeters in height, with a width of approximately seventeen centimeters. A central eye marks the median radius of the clip, surrounded by twelve concentric circles; each outer ring expands by zero point two centimeters beyond the one within. Located in the upper-left corner, twelve point two centimeters from the center, is a slight thirty-two-degree dent—a defect from the time mother dropped the clip from a height of one point eight five meters to the ground, at that moment, the lacrimal glands in mother's eye sockets shed a considerable amount of Triglycerides composed of a glycerol molecule linked to three fatty acid chains: Palmitic acid, Oleic acid, and Cetyl alcohol. These substances are formed from a long-chain fatty acid combined with a long-chain fatty alcohol through an ester bond. Cholesteryl esters are structured from the combination of cholesterol and a fatty acid, and Phospholipids with the chemical names Phosphatidylcholine or Phosphatidylethanolamine consist of a hydrophilic head and a hydrophobic tail. H2O formed from two Hydrogen atoms and one Oxygen atom bonded together by covalent bonds, along with Sodium Chloride and glycoproteins—a complex protein in which carbohydrate chains are covalently bonded to polypeptide chains—all blended into an unforgettable salty taste.
"Hey, kid... Akusha, isn't it? You need to destroy those nine things. Once that's done, I can enter and pull you out."
Koromachi's voice rang out, jolting me awake, stopping me from smashing my head against the mirror until my skull shattered. A stream of warm blood coiled around me; my head felt slightly pained and strangely... cool. As I reached up, I felt something soft, like a firm piece of jelly—slightly slimy and slippery. I could feel a faint vibration, a rhythmic pulsing that beat in perfect sync with my own heart. It was very warm. My hand was stained with fluid, but this 'water' was remarkably viscous. Yet, in the mirror, aside from my eyes appearing more livid, there was nothing. Everything was fine... in the mirror.
"What have I written?"
I saw that I had scrawled dozens of cryptic characters and incomprehensible words across the wall, yet the conclusion remained blank. I quickly wrote:
"I love you, Mother."
That was the only thing I wanted to say—the only thing I could say right now. Then, as I followed the call of Koromachi's voice... I realized the sound was emanating from a small cake. I picked it up with both hands, only for it to explode into hundreds of fragments, cake flying in every direction until not a single trace remained. In its place, a video tape appeared in my hands.
I placed it on the ground; though I did nothing, it began to emit a sound.
'Happy 9th birthday, my dear son.'
Mother is mistaken. My ninth birthday is still a long way off. Mother... have you forgotten? A senseless stream of water, originating from who knows where, began to flow from my eyes.
My brain began to cry, viscous tears streaming down from my forehead. Yet, the talisman Koromachi had drawn on my hand glowed incessantly with a mystical green light. My palm grew warmer and warmer, and then... Koromachi's voice reappeared.
'You've broken one of them, kid. Keep going, for the rewar— I mean, for your own safety
November 12, 1320
Koromachi was processing the pile of corpses. Some of the bodies had begun to swarm with maggots, which were starting to bulge out from eye sockets, nostrils, and ears.
"You probably already know what the cause of this is, don't you?"
Confused, Koromachi turned toward the Mayor.
"Is your mouth broken? If you talk like that, how is anyone supposed to know what
"Then how do you explain your constant staring at Endsilver's manor?"
"I... I..."
The Mayor took out a bottle of liquor and sat down on the ground.
"If you truly have suspicions, then enter directly. I will defend your actions to the superiors. At most, I will be the one who is reprimanded, while you will remain safe from them."
The Mayor opened the bottle and invited Koromachi to drink with him.
"Refuse. How much will you pay?"
"Eight hundred gold coins."
The carriages arrived, bearing human corpses wrapped in lifeless white shrouds, yet the stench of decay could not be suppressed; that sickeningly sweet odor seeped through, assaulting their senses. Koromachi detested the 'strange wetness' about them; it was not a typical dampness from water. It was viscous and adhesive; every time she touched and then withdrew her hand, it felt as if a layer of glue held fast. Living humans are warm, but their corpses are not; as a result, the shrouds themselves carried a chilling cold. The fabric was soft and fragile, disintegrating the moment it was touched, leaving a residue of damp, coal-black powder on her fingertips. The sounds of flesh and bone, nearly liquified by decomposition, thudded incessantly against the hard wooden surface. Whether noble or commoner, in death, everyone was treated with absolute equality.
Koromachi surveyed her surroundings; all the corpses had been cleared, leaving nothing but a few cadaveric stains upon the ground.
"I am going home."
November 13, 1320
Koromachi walked along that path, pressing her hands against her ears to shut out the sounds of mournful wailing. The beautiful everyday melodies—the chirping of birds, the murmuring of streams—could do nothing to soothe the agony of those cries.
Koromachi ran with great speed until the houses and the wailing cries grew sparse. She looked up; she had arrived at her destination—the Endsilver manor.
A shrill sound emanated from beneath her feet. She saw a greedrabbit, but unlike others of its kind, this creature showed no signs of aggression. Nevertheless, it persistently tried to prevent her from reaching the gate.
"How troublesome."
Koromachi thought to herself.
"Invoke: Organ burs..."
Just as she was about to manifest the spell, the greedrabbit became submissive, harboring a trace of fear as it stepped aside to clear her path.
"That is a good child."
Koromachi approached the door.
A dry, sharp crack—as piercing as an old branch snapping under a heel—echoed from within her own flesh. Stunned, Koromachi looked down at her hands. They remained perfectly intact... upon the ground.
The Greedrabbit took the arm in its mouth and brought it to her.
"Invoke: Heal."
As Koromachi performed the incantation, "red threads" gradually emerged, weaving together her body and the severed arm until it was completely restored. However, the Greedrabbit drew her attention once more; it was laboriously using its small front paws to write a few words in the dirt.
Akusha in there.
"Who is Akusha?"
Koromachi's brow furrowed slightly. She recalled the boy at the bookstore that day; she had been so preoccupied with the "cleanup" that she had forgotten to ask for his name.
"So... that boy from that day is Akusha?"
Koromachi gazed at the barrier, closing her eyes to perceive it more clearly. She could sense nine glowing objects; they were the reason this barrier possessed such terrifying strength. At her current level, it would take at least another ten years to neutralize it. However, if someone was already inside, she could opt for a much faster and simpler method.
"Invoke: Telepathy."