Charles Eyler/Dialogue

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Dialogue

HC1[]

In the maze

Hello there.
Isn't it dangerous for a little girl to wander around here all alone?
Is that so.
Well, it's a pity they won't make it back before you meet your death in ten minutes.
Is that all there is to it?
Well, well, aren't you a nice child.
I'm afraid he'll die shortly after.
There is one way to save your friend, however.

The masked man whispers something to Charlotte.

Is that okay?
Even though you disagree with my methods?

The man pets Charlotte's head.

Don't blame yourself for a single thing, child.
Well then...

In Charlotte's body

Aah...the human body is such a fragile thing.
I can't just apologize if I accidentally break it, can I?
...Well then, what do we have here?
Hmm~ All this junk is no good.
Scissors? Not bad, but not the best option either.
Such a shame I'll get this pretty dress dirty.

To White Freya

...That's right. Let's play a game.
Boredom's the worst, isn't it?
Ha, ha.
Open your eyes, here come the scissors!

Opening Monologue[]

This is implied to be Charles' speaking

come gather, both the young and the old!
come enjoy the show!
a show
of lies and gods,
of twists and turns and imperfection
of sterile whiteness and ink-black vomit
blending into splendid gray
of paranoia and psychosis
and the brilliance of a human mind

681 Days Until The Trial[]

Thinking as the girl is bullied

This world is swarming with parasites.
Tiny.
Invisible.

Tenacious.
Once they outwit your immune system, they eat you from the inside.
Use you as an incubator for their offspring.
Control your mind and alter your personality.
They keep reproducing, and reproducing, and reproducing, endlessly reproducing...
Until every single person is consumed by the disease.

Her hair is cut

A lock of hair falls down.
And another one.
And another, and another.
I want to do something, anything.
But all I do is avert my eyes.
And think, Thank god it's not me.
Because I am--

Anri tells him to focus

Anri's voice is a harsh whisper.
...Ah.
Sorry, I got distracted.
The girl acting all conspiratory is Henrietta Warhol. Anri, she insists.
Her nails dig into my sleeves.
Nervous.

She doesn't really want to be here.
What are we doing here in the first place?
Ah. That's right.
We're collecting blackmail on these girls using Anri's phone for a chance to frame them later.
Wasn't my idea.
Collecting receipts on people she'll go shopping with the very next day. Classic Anri.
Getting a hold on these kinds of things makes her feel safer, she says.
Just like carrying a box cutter that she'll never use to save her life.
And she'll never show this footage to the teachers.
Well of course, she has an image to maintain.
Never a single hair strand out of place, her attire perfectly ironed and manicure neatly done. Fake.
I snap an another photo and hand the phone back to Anri. It's time to leave.

Looking back on the bullied girl

The bullied one is squirming, crying pitifully. Crying for help.
Anri catches my sleeve on the ladder two floors above.
The lessons have long since ended.
I... doubt anyone's around.
I take her hand in mine. It's our ritual for comforting each other.
We are no heroes.
I've been a class ghost ever since elementary.
Anri was bullied in middle school.

Memory of Anri

We started talking after I found her locked in the boys' changing room. Half-dressed, crying pitifully in a corner.
I gave her my track pants and she, not knowing how to deal with this display of compassion,
Made sure to call me names and write insults on the class blackboard until the end of the year.
I can't remember when we actually started to get along.
It must've begun somewhere around the time she accidentally discovered my drawings.

Running away

And right now...
There's nothing we can do.
We're terrified.
That's why we take the emergency stairs and run, run, run.
Until we're out of breath.
Until we've reached Anri's home.
Until we're locked in our private boxes called houses.
Still, the image of the beaten up, humiliated girl surrounded by monstrosities won't go away.
One wrong step, and it could've been us.
Sprawled on the concrete floor.

Defenseless.
The parasites would keep
Laughing, laughing, laughing,
Contagious slime dripping from their mouths.

681 Days Until the Trial[]

Interacting with the photo

An old photo of me and my pet. He died a while ago.
It's all her fault.

Interacting with the top drawer

Stationary and receipts inside. Not a single paper out of place.
My medical card is here, too.
"Prone to intrusive thoughts", "suspected Asperger's syndrome"...
Psychotic episodes are the only thing I was prescribed medication for.

Interacting with the middle drawer

There are multiple drawings of Charlotte.
"A perfect girl". "A perfect protagonist".

Interacting with the bottom drawer

Inside is a wallet with Father's money.
It's our only stable source of income.

Interacting with the computer

Ah.
(Uh-oh. She's angry.)
(Let's write something.)

Messaging Anri

[18:51] charlotte: hey, you do the same
[18:53] charlotte: charlotte: ;; no bullying
[18:56] charlotte: do you know how many people would kill for having matching icons with C himself
[18:59] charlotte: can't today, busy
[19:10] charlotte: Hey the mc is not technically a self-insert
[19:10] charlotte: ........i still have the right to be offended
[19:18] charlotte: says a guro enthusiast
[19:10] charlotte: jokes on you, I have 900 kudos
[19:30] charlotte: that's fair, alright
[19:35] charlotte: nah
[19:45] charlotte: you just want free food
[19:46] charlotte: and I have a surge of inspiration
[19:46] charlotte: what will win?
[19:39] charlotte: i'm locking the door

Talking to C

[19:50] charlotte: evening
[19:50] charlotte: i've read the article you sent the other day
[19:51] charlotte: also
[19:51] charlotte: http://n.co/3925x7cn
[19:51] charlotte: philsophy discussion time?
[19:53] charlotte: aw
[19:53] charlotte: doing god's work
[19:53] charlotte: good luck with your script!! i'm sure it'll be divine <3<3
[20:03] charlotte: aw! stop it
[20:04] charlotte: it's the least I can do for you
[20:04] charlotte: your writing is amazing
[20:09] charlotte: heheh, thanks

Scarlett appears

I feel my stomach turn.
...Ugh.
Scarlett Eyler.
My unborn sister.
The perfect girl soaked in womb blood.
The one whom Father told Mom to kill.
The one whose death caused her mental breakdown.
The reason for all my misfortunes.
Of course I do.
Scarlett Eyler has been punishing me for my existence ever since I was born.
"You didn't wash your hands well enough. Scrub them for 10 minutes straight."
"You failed to get a perfect score on the test. Bang your head on the wall until it bleeds."
"You didn't follow the schedule. Hurt yourself with a cardboard knife."
"You didn't clean your room. Feed your pet junk food."
"You ate too much. Starve yourself for three days."
"I'm trying this hard for you, but you're never trying hard enough."
"You won't pass the Trial like this."
...is what she always says, giving me a stern look behind my back.
The Trial is all she ever talks about.
According to Scarlett Eyler, the day of the Trial will be the day I die.
I keep her away by drinking pills.
I swallow 10 tablets, and Scarlett Eyler disappears.

Interacting with the PC again

I turn the PC off.
I should check on Mother.

Talking to Mother

Hello, Mom.
Slept well?
Why don't we have a fancy dinner tomorrow?
I can make your favorite dish.
I saved up some money from freelance work, so you don't have to worry about the cost of the ingredients.
It's okay.
I'll bring it to your room and we'll eat together, okay?
...
Right, Mother.

Thinking of Mother

She's looking right at me, but all she sees is Scarlett Eyler.
The child that never was.

646 Days Until the Trial[]

Messaging Anri

[14:31] charlotte: hey I bought tickets to that new thriller
[14:35] charlotte: gross
[14:39] charlotte: that's better
[14:41] charlotte: yeah it should be hilarious
[14:41] charlotte: roasting central time
[14:47] charlotte: right? <3<3
[14:51] charlotte: ew, photos
[14:51] charlotte: got it

After watching the movie

Pfft! I can't believe you liked THAT.
It was a trainwreck at best.
You just liked the romance subplot, didn't you?
Bingo!
Sure. Anywhere you'd like.
(You're doing it so that you'd brag about it to your friends later, aren't you?)

At Mademoiselle Cafe

Then we'll gladly take up on one.
Are you going to eat at all?
I'm digging in.
Ow.
Aren't couples supposed to be affectionate?
Yeah, yeah, right.
Anri's just using me to maintain her social status.
I briefly wonder how is it not obvious to her that nobody really cares.
Yet, I enjoy our time together.
Even though I know our play-pretend relationship will shatter as soon as high school ends.
Then we'll throw away each other like used napkins.

Booting up the PC

Oh, crap. No more pills left.
(sigh)
It's not a fanfic and it isn't not worthless, Scarlett.
Hey, don't insult my daughter.
There's no concept of free will in this story to begin with.
All the characters are controlled by the parasite.
Argh, you're so annoying for a tulpa.
Listen. Even C complimented me.
...Yes. Yes, I do.
Fine, fine. I know.
...
Oh. A message from C.
He's been acting weird lately, so...
Give me five minutes, will you?

Messaging C

I feel my blood go cold.
[18:15] charlotte: are you sure?
...
[18:16] charlotte: i see.
[18:17] charlotte: i'm sorry
[18:17] charlotte: i can't find the words to say
[18:18] charlotte: are you scared? if you are, i will be there for you. i'm your number one fan, remember?
Hold it. It's urgent.
[18:18] charlotte: i will, trust me
[18:19] charlotte: it'll be the first and the last time we meet in person, huh
[18:19] charlotte: don't be. pat pat.
[18:21] charlotte: don't mention it
[18:21] charlotte: have a good night's sleep, ethereal prince

Scarlett turns off the PC

wai--
Wha- HEY!
This isn't the time for it!
C, he, he's going to...
Oh god.
He's going to die.
You wouldn't dare.
Shut up.
I'm not listening to you anymore.

Being held out of the window

If I fall now, I won't be able to see him.
I have to see him. I have to follow the schedule.
I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I won't do this again!
Please let me meet him.
Her words are an array of meaningless letters.
I slide down the wall, breathing heavily.
(Haa...haa...)
That evening I couldn't study at all.

After studying

I need to check up on Mother.

Talking to Mother

Mother?
The weather is good today.
Feel like going for a walk?
It's okay. You don't have to force yourself.
Don't worry about it. How are you feeling?
Is there a specific reason for it?
I see. Shouldn't the pills help?
...
Wish it came sooner, right?
It's okay, Mother.
I'll study hard and become a doctor.
Then, you won't have to worry about anything.
Mm.

625 Days Until the Trial[]

At the rooftop. Note: Much of this dialogue is internal narration by Charles, which has been italicized by me.

10:30 AM. It's a sunny day outside.
I greet C with a small handwave and let out a sigh of relief.
Thank god. His face isn't distorted. (actually italicized in game)
He flinches and his whole body becomes tense, but as soon as he realizes it's me, he loosens up a little.
Are you alright?
God, what am I even saying? Of course he isn't.
...Don't mention it.
C is shorter than me.
For some reason I always thought he'd be the taller one out of us two.
It's a flight of stairs, but he's completely out of breath.
Looks like PE isn't your best subject.
"No, you don't look like a Lovecraftian nightmare to me", I don't say.
Gods! Look at you!
The only difference there is between you and your icon are those deep eyebags.
And, well, you're a midget. That counts too.
It's you who should be disappointed in me, mr C.
That is the sad reality of online chats.
Charlotte turned out to be Charles, whoops.
Bet you wanted to see the girl of your dreams.
...
If you say so.
Too bad you don't know Scarlett Eyler.
By the way...may I ask for your real name? Like, not an online handle?
I see.
Likewise.
I'm glad I got to meet you in person before you...
Ah.
An awkward pause falls between us.
I wait for an explanation, a crack in his defenses, a breakdown.
But none comes. There's only the deafening silence.
I have to say something. Anything.
May I ask...how did you come up with this?
The whole...universe birth theory.
So it's like...a world that consists entirely of you?
So it's entirely possible that our world is just someone's mind taking shape.
Then the cruel gods up above would definitely laugh at us both.
That would be just the worst, don't you think?
I'd cleanse this disease-stricken world of all contamination.
I...
I don't think I'm cut out for that.
Gods are creators.
Even when I tried to write my own story, all I did was taking your setting and twist it to my liking.
I'm not original at all.
And my writing has too many plot holes and pandering.
My story's protagonist is a little girl, too. Everyone and their dog has done it already.
Even when writing villains, I end up falling into cliches like demons and contracts and such.
Says C himself, a web celebrity--
I take off my glove and reach out.

Holding hands

It's the only way of comfort I know.
In a corner of my eye, I see him blinking vigorously. Oh.
I want to take him away from this awful place, somewhere, anywhere-- but stop myself.
It's not my decision to make.
I don't know what he went through, or what his living circumstances are like.
Scarlett Eyler was right.
I know nothing about Vincent.
All I've ever seen was his blinding icon on the screen.
I don't know him at all.
Vincent smiles at me. I know what death feels like.
White is truly a cruel color.

Ah. Uh. Well.
See you in the Heavenly Kingdom?
Hey, Vince? You don't have to do this.
Why become a god of some unknown place when you're the god of my world already?
Don't you know that space is empty?
Don't you know that nothing exists beyond this world?
Then, it occurs to me.
That maybe, he doesn't believe in anything.
That maybe, he made up that story just to convince himself it's going to be okay.
That maybe, all he wanted was to--
Vincent lets go of my hand.
Vi--
Too late.
I lose my balance and lean forward a little.
Fear overwhelms me.

Jumping away from the edge

I feel weak in my knees and stagger back, falling on the concrete floor, panting heavily.
In the end, I let go of his hand. I couldn't follow him anywhere.
I live for Mother. That's how it should always be.
I can't leave this world before she does. That's what I decided for myself a long time ago.
Scarlett Eyler's sighing behind my back.
She's muttering something along the lines of, "Good riddance", "Get back here", and "You Idiot".
Didn't I take the pills?

Vincent is dead

Vincent fell. I called the ambulance and ran, ran, ran away.
All ended well.
There was nothing to be sad about.

Home after the suicide

Can't you leave me alone already?
...
It's getting harder to breathe all over again.
I desperately gasp for air, trying to stay conscious. Trying to stay sane.
All I see before me is Vincent's body -- human, real -- mangled on the ground.
He's gone. Gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
It's you whom I need protection from, you monster.
Say..Why won't you disappear?
Scarlett Eyler obstructs my line of vision and cups my face in her hands. They're as cold as ice.
I cover my ears and try not to scream.

531 Days Until the Trial[]

Anri staying at his house Note: Narration will be italicized as Charles speaks in his head during a lot of this segment.

Oh my god, this really blew up...
What is it?
Oh.
Is it far from here?
...I see.
So you're leaving too, huh.
This means the end of our play-pretend relationship
Tired, tired, tired.
That's all you ever say.
How "the world's unfair".
How "everyone's unfair".
"It's not my fault!" Boo hoo!
I'm sick and tired of your complaining.
I've never met your shut-in brother to begin with.
He could be a corpse for all I know.
Anri.
I know!
Why don't we run away together?
Yeah. I'm serious.
Mhm. Let's skip school tomorrow, alright?
Thus, we set out on a journey.

At the Hotel[]

Interacting with his wardrobe

There's only my coat inside.

Interacting with his nightstand

There's a small chocolate bar inside. I don't like sweet things, so I'd better give it to Anri.

Interacting with Anri's luggage

Anri's luggage. Makes you wonder how she snuck outunnoticed with all these things.

Talking to Anri

Hey, don't jump on it too much.
Oh, I took care of that.
Just a moment.
I bring out the pack of pills and hand it to Anri.
Here. There's enough for two.
Anri throws the pack into my face.
She's in front of me in a second, hitting me relentlessly with her small fists, making me take a step backward with every hit.
Wait--
Miss Warhol?
She doesn't back down, landing a punch after another.
We tumble down to the floor.

On the floor

Ow-ow-ow...
What are you talking about?
Aren't you the one who--
Her tears fall down freely, staining my sweater.
Anri, I--
What do you know?
I didn't plan to live longer than Mother will to begin with", I don't say.
All Mother cares about is Scarlett!
It's her who should've been born instead of me!
Anri slaps my face.

It's not my fault

Ah.
The puzzles pieces start to fall into place.
Anri coloring her hair to match mine. The constant messaging. The fake relationship.
Anri is a liar.
Anri is here.
Anri cares.
It's getting harder to breathe. Anri's crying. My eyes are dry.
..Why would I lie to myself?
It's...not my fault. Satisfied?
It's not...my fault.
It's not my fault.
It's not my fault.
Anri kisses me.
I feel like vomiting.
It's not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault.
We keep repeating it like a mantra, over and over.
Surprisingly, I feel myself calm down a little.
Then, a thought occurs to me.
Maybe this is how Anri calms herself down all the time.
It's just that she would never tell anyone.
We lie on the floor for a long time.
I briefly wonder if it's been properly vacuumed.

Tired

...I want to talk to him again.
He never finished Aether Almanac, you know?
The main character was reborn multiple times trying to save the White Queen, but something always went wrong.
So he had to let her go.
Will I ever be able to let go?
Oh?
You're contradicting yourself, miss Warhol.
Like Charlotte?
But she's the cutest!
Mm.
Anri's such a bully!
I hug her tightly. It might as well be the last hug we share.
Thank you.
I mean it.
I'm sorry I couldn't accept your feelings.

Going home

We packed our things and returned home the next morning.
The next month Anri's family moved to another town, like they initially planned.
A year and a half after, we stopped talking to each other.
All ended well.
There was nothing to be sad about.

Breakdown[]

The last time

Mom.
Mother.
It's morning already.
Mother?
Are you--
...!
...No way...not...you too...
...
...urk...
It's be easier if my mom was a workaholic who was never home.
It'd be easier if we hated each other.
It'd be easier if I didn't remember the days when she was still full of energy.
Who would want to admit their parent giving up on life and slowly rotting in the bedroom?
Who would admit to thinking of their only parent as a parastic existence?
After that day, nothing was the same anymore.

At school Note: Narration will no longer be italicized

...urk...
I rush out of the class, straight to the bathroom stall. The voices of my classmates follow me.
...Haa...haa...
Gh!!
I vomit into the toilet, the morning's breakfast spilling down the drain.
Gross.
...That moment I realized
I could never touch a human being ever again.

Thinking of Vincent

Only your face remained unchanged.
White. Clean. Sterile.
Free of contagious parasites.
Vincent.
I want to become clean, too.
I want to ascend and become white like you.
What in the world should I do to wash this filth off?
Ah.
You knew it all along, didn't you?
It was this simple.

0 Days Until the Trial[]

In the ocean

...
Would an entire ocean really be enough to wash all the ink off me, I wonder?
In the end...
I couldn't replace Scarlett.
Couldn't help the bullied one.
Couldn't choose Anri.
Couldn't bring Mother back.
In the end, I achieved nothing and didn't amount to anything.
I failed the Trial.
If there is afterlife, I don't want to be the protagonist.
Someone like Charlotte would be more fitting for the spotlight.
In the end, my story wasn't about overcoming hardships.
It was a story of giving up.
I hear Scarlett Eyler growl behind my back.
I cover my ears.
Shut up, you monster.
You're not even my sister.
All you are is but an ugly reflection of my own self.
A cancerous tumour on my mind.
Her voice is so loud, so loud.
But the deeper I sink, the quieter it gets.
So I sank, and choked, and gasped for air, and felt my lungs explode.
There was nothing to be sad about.
All ended well, didn't it?

Charles' Room[]

Reviving Q84

...Q84...
Charlotte Unit Q84, how are you feeling?
...
Welcome back.
It's been a while.
I don't really understand it myself, but your soul data didn't get deleted.
It might have something to do with your wish.
...it's not. It's...a defective Charlotte vessel.
Please try to calm down.
Miss Wiltshire, a body is but a mere vessel--
...
I understand.
I'll put you to rest as soon as this is over.
However, for now...
Please. I need you to come with me.
You'll understand as soon as we get there.
I...I can't. I already did what I could.
...
Might as well be.
Ha-ha. I suppose I really am.
We're on 11F.
The room we need to visit is just a few steps away.
I'm perfectly capable of carrying you, miss Wiltshire.

Leaving the room

Ah...well. I left him alone for a while and came back to a corpse.
Yeah. That's what they always do.
Even though I went through the trouble of implementing a no self-harm rule... talk about wasted effort.
Mm.

Father's Room[]

Entering the room

...This is the place.
Alright. Here goes.

After Scarlett becomes Charlotte, while not confirmed to be Charles saying this, it is implied to be him or Umbrella Man

As for what happened next...you already know all of it, don't you?

Recounting the story

Scarlett Eyler became Charlotte Wiltshire.
She used to be cold and calculating, but ended up becoming absentminded and clueless as her mind crumbled under the influence of Mother.
I carefully observed her from afar, and gave her a yellow ribbon to differentiate her from the other Charlottes.
I helped her when she was trapped in the TV world.
"I'll help you kill Wiltshire again", I told her.
That phrase seemed to trigger he memories.
She...remembered who she really was, and it horrified her.
She understood that she failed to prove V19 wrong.
Which, in turn, made her suicidal.
Scarlett Eyler's story should have ended after she wished to save the Oracle.
It should have ended.
But the Oracle intervened.
They created...
It became a world made of Scarlett Eyler's soul data.
You are familiar with the concept by now, aren't you?
Scarlett Eyler couldn't believe that the tenants were real, so imaginary they became.
She was obsessed with the Trial, so it manifested in her world.
I wanted to see for myself what her inner world is like.
Ahem. Still, my journey was rather fruitful.
I was afraid of facing her for so long, but when we finally met again...she didn't have the memories of the past anymore.
Even though I tried to trigger them so many times, she had no recollection of the past events.
She didn't even recognize the excerpt from one of my stories that she used to criticize.
She was...kind. Lost. Clumsy. Easily fooled. Delusional.
"I can hurt her this time around", I thought.
But...
When I fell, she helped me get back to my feet.
Scarlett Eyler would've kicked me until I lost consciousness.
When I got hurt, she tended to my wounds.
Scarlett Eyler would've hurt me even more.
When I cried, she tried to reach out to wipe away my tears.
Scarlett Eyler would've shouted at me.
She's...changed.
So I couldn't hurt her. Nor could I help her.
Ironically, she couldn't pass the Trial herself.
That's--

Father arrives

It's impossible. There's only Mother in the House.
!
Miss Wiltshire, be careful.
If this person is the cognitive version of my Father, then he's even more powerful than Mother is.
Right, because you never cared about me.
You bastard. Was killing her in Mother's womb not enough?
...It was a big deal for Mother.
That's all that matters.
Miss Wiltshire.
We have to help her.
She's not the same.
She sacrificed herself for me.
I forgave her, miss Wiltshire.
Hey, imposter. Can't we transfer her soul data to a new vessel?
Then...what could we...
I'm...not sure if that would be the right choice.
We don't know what the other channel will be like.
And it's not like the current channel will disappear, either.
Wouldn't switching the channel be just an attempt to make us feel better?

HAPPY E&%NdD: Chihdj78UJlhood's E8&nd[]

...Alright...

A new channel

Um...What is she doing?
All the time?
So it's a channel where she doesn't even have a story?
Stop it, miss Wiltshire. It's not funny.
...
...She seems happy.
Blissful, even.

Q84 won't stop changing the channel

Miss Wiltshire, stop it!
...I know. I know, okay?
We're both frustrated.
But there's really nothing we can do.
Not all problems can be solved.
Not all things can be fixed.
It's something we have to live with, no matter how much it frustrates us.
I never asked to be born.
It always should have been her.
Yet Father chose me.
Him and Mother were already apart at that time, yet he still chose to let me live.
So I lived constantly trying to make up for everything Mother has lost.
For every breakdown she had.
For every time we called the ambulance.
For ever time she cried.
Nothing else mattered.
And now...look at this world.
Repetitive. Meaningless. Futile.
It's almost laughable how unoriginal my stories are.
None of you deserved this.
And I can't even die here.
Trust me, I've tried.
...Are you sure we--
You...want to make Pythias out of them?
That's true. Like I said, no matter what we do, there will be no right answer.
The House is essentially self-destructive.
Wait a minute.
Didn't you want me to put you to rest?
...
I...

True End: Goodbye, Charlotte[]

Deciding to free Charlotte

I...
Miss Wiltshire, you don't have to--
...

...Alright. I'll come back soon.

Burying Vincent

Ha-ha. Not even I know.
No matter how many corpses I drop here, it never gets filled up.
...Yeah. I really messed up.
In the end, all I did was postpone the inevitable.
No matter what, there's no way I could've helped him.
There was no awy of "fixing" him, either.
I knew that somewhere on a subconscious level, didn't I?
That's why the House is the way it is.
Were I convinced that I could change him, or anyone...
They would've ended up being the brainwashed, unnaturally happy versions of themselves.
Never once have I wished for that.
However, the images of people I knew still became distorted in this place.
Especially Vincent's.
I was so fascinated with the idea of him that I failed to see him as a real person.
That's why in the House, he's all but an empty shell. An imaginary construct.
This place is no Heavenly Kingdom, after all.
Now then.
...
He really is gone, isn't he.
Goodbye, Vincent.

Vincent is gone

Miss Wiltshire?
There's one more place I'd like to visit, if you don't mind.
Oh, this? It's mr Honikker's invention.

Killing Mother

You know, miss Wiltshire?
Unit V19 believed this world to be made purely for entertainment, but I don't feel like that's the case with the House.
During my lifetime in the True Realm, I always wanted to be liked by others.
Yet somehow, it never seemed to work out.
No matter what I did, I was either a ghost or a burden.
A kid no one wants to sit with, no matter how good my grades got.
Never expressing my opinion aloud, always going along with the flow.
Constantly shape-shifting. Adapting my personality traits to match others.
Saying what others want to hear just so that they would want to be around me.
Wanting to connect with others, yet pushing them away as soon as we got close.
Repulsed by physical closeness, I drifted away from human contact further and further.
Yet, somehow, through art and writing.
I was able to connect with others in a way that didn't feel repulsive.
Miss Warhol, Vincent...
I would've never been able to open up to them if it wasn't for my work, however small and insignificant it was.
After all, all my life I defined myself with things I could put on paper.
So even here, this world subconsciously ended up relying on it.
"Without fiction, without an appealing protagonist, no one would bother staying in the House."
That's how I must've felt.
I can only hope that the Puppeteers observing us will forgive this weakness of mine.
If it was you, miss Wiltshire, you surely would've made the ending spectacular, wouldn't you?
But with me, the msot I can do is come in terms with the loss of my loved ones.
Losing Scarlett to Father's decision. Losing Mother to mental illness. Losing Vincent to delusions.
There doesn't seem to be an end to my regrets is there?
Now then, back to the purpose of our visit to this room.
...
Hello, Mother.
I'm here.
I know.
You already did the best you could.
You gave birth to so many wonderful children.
Just like you wanted, right?
Everything's okay.
You can rest now.
You'll be the last of your kind, Q84.
There'll be no more stories.
No more dreams.
No more control.
At last, we will be free of everything.
No more restrictions! No more fate! No more endings! Wonderful, isn't it?
Mother...will no longer...
...
...
...

Afterword

Ah. Um, hello. This is a bit sudden, isn't it?
Especially since we haven't talked directly before.
You got to spend time with all the other parts of me, but I, the core part, always ended up being a side character.
But...you have reached the ending of this story, and there's no one else left to say the final word.
So, please bear with me for a moment.
...So, here we are.
Everyone's gone.
The House has crumbled.
A fitting end for a self-destructive world.
In the end, it was no place for all of us to stay.
Now that there's no Mother, the walls of the House can no longer confine me.
However, before I leave, I wanted to thank you in person.
I'm fairly sure this ending wasn't what you wanted, or what you were here for.

Speaking through the others

After all, in the end, I couldn't become "Charlotte Wiltshire".
Or "Scarlett Eyler".
Or a proper "Vincent Wordsworth".
By the way, "Wordsworth" is a surname I made up. It has nothing to do with the real Vincent.
Even technically this game doesn't pack much fun gameplay.
All there is...is FRUSTRATION!
Endless screaming into the void with pent up anger.
A disappointing world of a disappointing person.
A game with no winners.
Yet another world where your choices didn't matter.

Charles again

But...
You still stayed until the end.
Through allusions and metaphors, fairytales and delusions, we were able to have a conversation.
And, after letting it all out, getting it out there, I was able to let go of my regrets.
Just because you listened.
That's why...thank you for paying a visit to the House.
I hope you enjoyed your stay. Even a little bit.
Ah, but...I might be not the one you want to hear a "thank you" from.
Let's try it again.

Heaven's Gate[]

#1 Vincent Fennell[]

Vincent Fennell is watching a small trail of ants go by, his gaze remaining disinterested.
I approach him out of curiosity.
Oh. Winged ants. That's rare.
That's good. Bugs are yucky.
Stop it! Let it go!
...just because we are bigger, that doesn't mean we should hurt them.
...
Mom says even the smallest lives matter.
...
If you d-don't stop, I'll tell the nurses.
What's up with him...
From that day on, I decide that I don't like Vincent Fennell at all.

#2 Tazos[]

Ah...no. Mom says chips are bad for health.
Ugh
What's so special about him?
All he has is a pack of tazos.
Lost in thought, I trip and drop the box with the classroom turtle that I was carrying.
The nurses yell at me and make me stand in a corner for half an hour.
I blame it on Vincent, too.

#3 Mother[]

When I'm five, we move into a flat swarming with cockroaches and pigeons living on the balcony.
"Why is this place so dirty, Mom?" I ask.
"I want to go back home," I tell her, "Why did we have to leave?"
The surrounding dirt makes my skin crawl.
Later I overhear our neighbors talking and learn that the former owner was a drug addict.
Died of overdose, they say.
When I raise my voice, Mother tells me to keep quiet.
When I walk around the house, Mother says that my footsteps are too loud.
When I become excited, Mother reprimands me for misbehaving.
One evening, she has a breakdown over unsorted clothes in the drawers.
We're talking normally, then the next moment the house is filled with shouting and sounds of my clothes being violently thrown on the floor.
There must be something else she's angry at, but I'm too young to understand.
I apologize over and over, promising I won't do that ever again, as if I committed a grave sin.
I'm sorry Mother.
I'll make everything right.
I won't become a burden.

#4 Concert[]

We're having a concert to celebrate Autumn.
Our nurses are wearing dresses with paper maple leaves sewn onto them.
I recite a poem aloud, trying not to mess it up halfway.
It has four lines.
I'm so nervous that my voice comes out too quietly, even though I recite it perfectly.
Vincent got six lines.
It must be because the nurses think he's the smartest in the group.
Hell, he even goes to chess club.
Vincent recites the poem in a monotonous voice like he doesn't give a care.
Vincen't almost always the last to be picked up by his parents.
Sometimes nobody comes, and he just goes home alone.
I tell Mom about that, and she totally freaks out.
I don't know what to say to that.

#5 Valentines Day[]

I get sick and throw up onto my festive shirt.
I didn't like it much, anyway. Mom did, though.
Vincent is at the nurse's office, too.
He tripped and scraped his knee.
The nurse is drawing a net on it with green antiseptic.
The scrape seems bad, but he's not even wincing, his stare staying blank.
Doesn't he feel any pain?
Maybe he's actually a robot?
I want to ask him that, but my headache is too strong, so I ignore him.
All I want is to go home and watch cartoons in bed.
Thankfully, Mom's quick to come to my rescue.
Afterwards, I stay home for a whole week.

#6 New Stage[]

Time passes fast.
My kindergarten graduation album is filled with pictures of other kids running around and a macro photograph of myself in some kind of medieval clothing from the photoshoot.
It's my favorite one, but I'll never admit htat.
I can barely contain my excitement for the first day of school.
Vincent goes to a different one, but it doesn't matter.
I didn't like him much anyway.

#7 Friends[]

Elementary school is boring.
I solve all the problems in my math workbook in one evening, and as a consequence, end up dying of boredom at actual lessons.
As the school days pass, I get so excited about my intellectual abilities that I point out others' mistakes every time I notice them.
The girl sitting next to me seems to enjoy my company - mainly because she gets to copy my answers during tests.
In the meantime, I find a new way to make friends.
All you have to do is buy them food or share yours.
Then everyone will gather around you, excited to get sweets for free.
I spend all my pocket money on snacks, and still end up being chosen last at P.E. lessons.
It takes me some time and an afterschool beating to learn not to poke my nose into others' business.
It's not my fault people cheat on tests.
I'm just doing what's right.
At least, that's what I think.
Apparently, people don't like snitches.
Nor do they like being responsible, or proper.
While I'm doing everything not to be a burden, they're giving their all to cause trouble.
I feel like this will take some time to sink in.
Over the years, I learn to keep my mouth shut.
From a moderately talkative kid I turn into a complete class ghost.
By the end of fourth year, everyone still calls me by my last name.

#8 Reunion[]

In middle school, we see each other again.
Vincent looks more frail than I remember him being.
Maybe it's just that I've gotten taller.
When he sees me, he smiles.
In fact, he smiles to everyone.
The usual unchanging blank expression that he had in kindergarten is gone from his face, replaced with a mask.
It's unsettling.
I don't smile back.
Somehow, we end up doing a class project together.
By the time I gathered the courage to ask someone to invite me, everyone else had already found a partner.
But there was an open spot in his group.
The other two kids just want easy marks, so only the two of us actually end up working.
Vincent is...surprisingly nice to work with.
He's a good team player, very considerate and giving his all to complete the task.
A complete contrast to most of the kids.
For the first time in a while, I have fun working in a group.

Texting Vincent

here, I'm sending over the presentation files
...

Wow!

He's.. he's thankful for my effort!
this must be the first time in five years of school.
I'm so moved that I put his name first on the project's title slide.
It's the project presentations day.
Vincent, who was chosen as our group's representative, has a clear, powerful voice.
Unlike me, who gets so anxious that I stumbe on every word, earning giggles from classmates.
I hate myself for it.
Regardless, our group gets the highest marks.
"Maybe teamwork isn't half bad," I catch myself thinking.

#9 Weakling[]

Vincent loses consciousness during one of our P.E. lessons.
I've never really noticed it before, but he really has the worst stamina in class.
While I fail all the speed tests, I can endure running long distances just fine.
He, however, looks completely exhausted after just a few laps.
After overhearing one of the conversations between teachers, I learn that Vincent has health complications.
...
Vincent? Dying?
The possiblity has never occurred to me before.
Maybe children don't think too deeply about life and death in general.
I look at him sitting on a bench near the teacher, watching us run.
We never really talk.
But, I've been watching him for a while.
So to me, it feels like we share a connection.

#10 Henrietta Warhol[]

I often volunteer to stay behind on class duty.
Henrietta Warhol gets bullied into it.
The other girls call her "smelly" and "cowtits" and make her do things instead of them.
So right now, she's unenthusiastically scrubbing a dirty desk with a wet rag.
You should use detergent to scrub this off.
I like cleaning.
Or more like, I can't trust anyone with it.
Everyone's too sloppy and lazyt o properly clean all the dust.
Just thinking of sitting behind a dirty desk makes my skin crawl.
You can go home, I planned to stay after lessons anyway.
I have piano class coming up in two hours.
Just enough time to clean and do homework.
Damn, that's complicated.
...okay.
We clean in silence.
I don't really know what to talk about with her.
Henrietta doesn't seem like she's up for discussing homework, either.
Henrietta?
Give me your hand.
I place a candy in it.
Here. Good work today.
Carrying snacks around still remains as a habit of mine.
Might as well try to win Warhol's goodwill with it.
Henrietta stays weirdly silent.
Unless you don't like barberry flavor.
You're welcome.
Henrietta awkwardly stumbles out of the classroom without saying so much as a goodbye.
Weeks later, we start talking during lunch breaks sometimes.
The other girls mock and tease her for it, but Henrietta learns to talk back.
Maybe she's more confident about herself when she feels less alone.

Texting Anri

but mom!

#11 Past[]

Mother never tells me anything about her past, or Father, and I never ask.
It's something we never talk about.
All I can do is listen to her occasionally cry at night and keep quiet about it in the morning.
She's holding up well, but I can't help but worry that one day she might trip and fall, and never get up.
The thought makes my hands itch, and I spend ten minutes in the bathroom trying to wash it off.
I want to grow up and become someone she can depend on.

#13 School Trip[]

During the first year of high school, we go on a school trip.
I don't have anyone to make promises about sitting together with, so right now, I'm left with three choices.
A:Sitting with the teacher.
B:Sitting with one of the class bullies.
C: Approaching mr. Fennell, who happesn to have a seat open near him.
I decide that the latter is the lesser evil.
Mind if I sit here?
Thanks.
Oh. Now that I think of it, it's the front seat.
I shouldn't be taking it.
Sucks to be you.
Vincent laughs dryly. His laughter doesn't reach his eyes.
I just messed up my second informal conversation with him.
By the time I gather myself again, Vincent's long since asleep.
His head is bumping against the bus window in small intervals.
I bring out my MP3 player, but minutes later everyone decides to watch an action movie.
The loud sound doesn't seem to bother Vincent, who's sleeping with earplugs.
I should've brought some too.
In the end, I settle on watching the movie, and lose the track of time.
By the time we arrive at the hotel, it's past midnight.
I get a room with three guys who don't mind me ditching them during the night. Success.
At best they'll get drunk and play cards in someone else's room until sunrise and at worst one of them brought drugs. Maybe both.
We get up the stairs and unlock our room.
It has a bed and a shower, so it's perfect.
My classmates leave the room as soon as they finish unpacking.
As expected, they don't bother inviting me anywhere.
Glad they know I hate having fun.
I spend half of the night sketching ideas for comics I might draw someday.
All of them feel like I've seen them before.

In the morning

In the morning, I emit the light of freshness.
I like being up early.
The hotel dining room is dead silent, like a cemetery.
Out of my classmates, only some girls and Vincent are present.
I decide to drop into the seat near him.

Talking to Vincent

Morning.
Was getting my beauty sleep.
Did you party with everyone?
Have to admit, I have a hard time imagining you drinking.
Augh, don't remind me.
I woke up to sounds of someone puking in the toilet next door.
My face says it all.
Still, the image of Vincent downing alcohol like a glass of juice seems really funny to me, so I can't help but laugh out loud.
Vincent gives me a questioning look, so I quickly try to change the topic before he asks anything.
When I drink, I just become sleepy.
Boring, right?
Nah...if anything, I shut up for good.
Then fall asleep.
I think I'm the type people would call an ambulance for because they'd drunkedly think I died of lethal ethanol intake.
Well...

Anri goes missing

The trip itself is nothing special.
Art museums never interested me much.
During one of the excursions, Henrietta gets lost, and I volunteer to look for her.
Thankfully, I spot her at the statue near the museum with a dead phone.
Henrietta doesn't let go of my shirt until we get back to the group.

The 2nd night of the trip

The night at the hotel on our way back doesn't go as smoothly as the first one.
This time I have to share a room with a guy who doesn't mind other people seeing him make out with his girlfriend right in the room.
I do, so I grab my jacket and make my escape.
It's already past curfew.
Probably not the best idea to spend the night on the hotel stairs, but whatever.
Just as I start to doze off, someone shakes my shoulder.
...?
It's Vincent.
Ah. Thanks.
I didn't mean to fall asleep.
Why are you out at this hour?
We're not allowed to leave the rooms at night, you know?
Uh.
I guess I'm not a fan of voyeurism?
No, that sounded bad. Forget it.
Yeah, that's a pleasant way to put it.
...
I don't know what to say to that, so I just pick at my skin.
No, that's...
Fine? Pitiful? Awful? ...None of these seem to fit.
I'm not someone who should comment.
We sit in silence for some time.
Nah. I'll wait it out a bit more.
Night. Thanks for keeping me company.
Half an hour later I return to my room, only to find my classmate sleeping soundly.
This asshole.
I fall asleep thinking that it would be nice to go somewhere with my class again.

#14 Passwords[]

Texting Vincent

sure, just gonna grab something to eat
is it the usual place?

Going to eat

Vincent likes to eat outside.
"It's more quiet here," he says.
After the class trip, we've started hanging out more often.
Sometimes he invites me for lunch - like today.
Don't you think the education system is flawed?
Hmm...
I'm rather thinking about the things we learn.
Take today's test, for example.
Do you actually know what the entropy of isolated system never decreases means? Can you explain that?
See?
You only learned the answer the teacher wanted to see.
Not only will you forget this knowledge, but you'll have no clue what you were writing about.
We're only learning keywords that we don't know the meaning of, and don't gain any practical knowledge.
Right.
I just wanted you to hear me out on this.
If given the opportunity, I'd like to change something myself.
It'd be ridiculous to tell others how to do their work.
Then, mass media is just entirely made out of them.
It's just template phrases that are guaranteed to cause a reaction...
Yeah. Like articles bashing local art exhibitions are actually written to promote them.
Oh, crap. I think the break will end soon.
You still haven't finished your food.
We hurriedly finish our modest lunch and run to class.

#15 Puberty[]

Thinking and talking to Anri

The older we get, the more disturbed and obnoxious everyone becomes.
They're trying to connect, clumsily, erratically.
Which I understand to some degree, but I've always been fine in my own company.
Also Vincent's, but he can be tiring, too.
Sometimes he starts ranting on subjects I don't understand, which gets tedious.
Like hell do I give a damn about politics.
Go back to your containment board for god's sake.
Henrietta isn't a saint, either.
Am I actually masochistic for enjoying being badmouthed by her?
At least she has the same horrible taste in anime.
Miss Warhol, you absolutely have to consult me on dating sims.
We could make a fortune off this.
It's your fault for trying to seem something you're not~
So, how about it? You and me, a doujin circle?
Just copy the popular troupes.
Everyone only wants things they're used to.
Talking to miss Warhol always lifts up my mood.

Texting Vincent

what's up with the emergence of the web cults lately?
eh— What?! Really?
the text you wrote was awfully convincing, though
why heaven's gate though?
yeah, sounds pretentious as fuck
so an empty promise of virtue, huh
still, isn't it uh. kind of dangerous?
people might believe you guys for real.

#17 Trust[]

Vincent peeks over my shoulder, startling me with his voice.
Ah...haha...This barely counts as as writing.
Fennell steps over the bench, now facing me directly.
No, not exactly. Not more than usual. It's just...
I don't know how to communicate my thoughts to others.
The whole plot looks too contrived. I'd stop reading after the first page.
No!
If anything, it's my own fault that I'm a clumsy writer, not theirs.
...I don't. I mean, I really want to.
But I'd be lying if I said I did.
Vincent leans closer into my personal space, making me recoil a bit.
His prescence suddenly overbearing, Vincent looms over me.
My breathing hitches.
I feel small.
Wouldn't I be making a fool out of myself if I admit my weaknesses?
You...
With those words, Vincent leaves my personal bubble and drops on a bench beside me.
Haa...I suppose that's one way to go about it.
If it were me, I'd rather have the work exist separately from its author.
If anything, I'd prefer working as anonymously as possible.
Haha...the way you put it sounds like selling your mind to others.
Mr Fennell, you're intense.
That's...a lot of knowledge for someone as young as you, mr. Fennell.
Oh, I didn't know.
Is he writing something too?
Yeah. Thanks. I owe you one.
Actually, would you like to read what I've written so far?
I think I could use some feedback.
Bring it on.
I'll fetch you my notebook next week, then.
There's a lot written, so you can take your time with it—

Student council

During our final high school year, Vincent joins the student council, and invites me to do the same.
I think it's not about good ideas, but rather the ability to convince others.
Which is something you have.
Argh, so persistent.
Okay, fine. I'll tag along.
Huh...Wait! That's the opposite of words of encouragement!
It's past 6pm. We're ones of the last students leaving school.
I stretch and allow myself to let out a prolonged yawn.
Today's meeting was so tiring...I need a no-people day soon.
Says Vincent who talked during the whole meeting.
How do you even have energy for all that arguing?
More like uncivilized discourse.
Everyone was basically trying to shout louder than the others.
I can't believe you.
Well, the weather's not bad.
I was planning to invite you for a walk anyway.
Good plan.
I let my vision lose focus, and feel the world around me slow down.
We part ways after an hour of strolling around the park.
Feeling re-energized, I spend the whole evening leisurely studying subjects ahead of the program.

#18 Social Media[]

We're waiting for the next class to start.
Henrietta sits near me on the windowsill, dozing off with a chem textbook in her hands.
I'm so tired of social media.
Everyone's talking so much, but no one's talking about things that really matter.
And I feel bad for contributing.
Henrietta yawns and stretches, then pinches my nose.
Shut it. I know. I'm just saying how I feel.
And I feel tired.
Way to trivialize him!
He's like...a god.
Okay, good point.
Just because he has the human decency to make effort to be kind to others.
He's hardworking, reliable and after talking to him I always feel like I've ascended to some new level of human consciousness.
Also, he appreciates the concept of personal space. Unlike some.
Now you're just being jealous.
See?
No human decency.
Vincent would be like, 'Would you kindly back off'.
Hahaha. Might as well be.
I wonder if he's ever gotten angry at someone.
Mean Anri is the best Anri.
Actually, any Anri is great.
I can't exactly tell you not to worry about it, though.
But, I like you the way you are.

#19 Possessions[]

Vincent comes over to do a research project for school.
I welcome him into my room with rubber gloves still on my hands.
Of course.
Cleaning, done!
Clothes, ironed!
I can focus on schoolwork in peace.
I just can't seem to focus when there's something out of place.
I end up thinking about a single sheet of paper lying around unsorted instead of doing something useful.
Oh, but that's not the worst of it.
Don't like stuff piling up?
I briefly wonder if that's really the only reason, but decide not to press on.
(Let's change the topic...)
That being said, remember when we were all about collecting stickers and stuff?
I still have my collection.
I can't bring myself to throw away my cat toys, too.
It's kind of embarrassing.
Well...yeah. When you put it like that...
What about you?
Didn't you have your favorite stuff?
...Oh. I see. And then?
At the moment, Vincent's gaze seemed...empty.
His face didn't convey any particular emotion, even though he was smiling - which felt horribly out of place.
For a second, it felt like we weren't talking about bootleg Digimon stickers, but something else entirely.
Well, uh. Yeah. I see.
You must have no interest in material possessions. That's admirable.
His words sound hollow.

#20 Uncertainty[]

The sun is about to rise. Henry's fallen asleep on a bean bag with a joystick in his hands.
Anri comes to hang out on weekends.
Sometimes she brings her brother, whom she's bregrudgingly babysitting.
We play video games and eat snacks.
When Anri's not in a school environment, she's far less stressed out.
Even her voice sounds lower than usual.
Crap, your brother is good at rhythm games.
Aren't you being a little harsh?
Maybe his mind just works differently from the rest?
Your parents don't have to buy all of that, you know.
Sheesh.
Yes?
What?
Aren't all of these just things a decent person would do, miss Warhol...
I fail to see your point.
Aren't you the one who's always like...
Ahhh, I wish someone would call me princess and take me on cute dates~~
We'd buy matching clothes and cuddle on a sofa—
Anri nudges me with her elbow. Violently.
Does it need a specific term?
If you're talking about becoming each other's possession, then I'm against it.
No one ever belongs to anyone.
Yet for some reason everyone thinks a meaningless string of letters can bind people to them.
It rubs me the wrong way.
That would mean treating others as commodities.
Which, in turn, contributes to a mindset intrinsic to a capitalist society.
Sorry.
I just don't know yet.
Anri leans in and kisses me.
Hm...
It was supposed to be this amazingly good thing that every story leads up to...
But it didn't really feel like anything out of the ordinary.
Um, I think it'd be the same.
You know I'm not too comfortable with physical stuff.
Is there something wrong with me, after all?
...
Sorry. I just feel like I'm constantly letting people down.
Vincent's always surrounded by people, though.
He only started isolating himself just recently.
Maybe he was just bored around you?
Hahaha! Where did that come from?
If I cloned myself or had my personality divided into parts, it'd end in a mass suicide.
...
I'm sorry.
You're right.
Thank you, Anri.

#21 Paralysis[]

I wake up with a headache and stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I look into the mirror and notice that I only blink with one eye.
Weird.
But whatever.
School proceeds as normal, until I start feeling extremely fatigued during the 5th period.
Something's not right.
I end up calling Mom.
She always knows what to do.
Great. Out of all the rare illnesses, my body decided to get this one.
Missing a month of school before exams sounds like the worst case scenario.
It's just half of my face staying unresponsive, yet my whole body feels numb.
I can barely focus on the phone screen as I type a message back to Anri, who was curious enough to investigate my sudden disappearance from class.

Texting Anri

got hospitalized with face paralysis
"The fuck is that," indeed.
One of my eyes can't blink and my mouth is stuck in a convulted grimace.
Thank god no one will come to visit.
I close my eyes (one manually) and hope that the numbness will go away in the morning.
It doesn't.
Hospital food is tasteless.
That doesn't really matter, since I'm going to be discharged today.
No one stays at hospitals for more than two days unless you're fatally injured.
Mother asked her acquaintances to give me a ride home.
What followed were two weeks of pills and 24-hour sleep, and two more weeks of staring at the ceiling because my mind couldn't focus on anything else.
Bless her.
Among the stuff Anri brought, I find a notebook with Vincent's name on it.
I'm mortified.
I ended up being a burden to them both.
I try to shake the feeling off and be sincerely grateful, but end up being choked by guilt.
I have to catch up.
Become better.
More capable.
If I'm not ahead of others, then my self-worth is no better than zero.
I-
I need to thank people who care about me soon.
When I was finally able to come outside after what felt like forever, dandelions were in full bloom.

#22 Care[]

Vincent has his nose buried into a notebook lately.
He's definitely writing something, but I never pry.
Hmm...Playing god or making a fool out of myself...tough choice indeed...
The latter sounds like less pressure, so I'd take that one.
That way, every reader can become a co-creator, even if they get laughs at my expense.
Besides, if something's considered ideal, you can only make copies of it without creating anything new.
That doesn't sound too creative to me.
More importantly, what'd be your choice?
How are your grades coming along, by the way?
Wow. You're amazing.
Nah. I totally blew my chem and math grades.
Took me a bit of time to come to terms with the fact that I'm not that smart.
Wish I didn't grow up thinking that doing well in academics would guarantee me a secure future, though.
Or anything really.
Right now I just want to sleep my life away.
She's...okay. Surprisingly enough.
I'm doing my best to help her, too.
Even if it means working in retail.
She used to be far more violent before.
Never laid a hand on me, though.
It was always something else.
Utensils, clothes, books.
The only thing I regret is that as a kid, I tried to make her less aggressive by saying I'll kill myself.
That was extremely selfish of me.
Still, it's so weird.
Out of all solutions my 4-year-old mind always jumped to suicide.
I guess I just wanted to guilt trip her into caring.
What do you mean?
Sounds fishy.
But, as long as you don't want to talk about it, I'll bug off.

#23 Visit[]

Who could it be?
Maybe I should pretend we're not home...
...!
Anri?!
What happened?
Shit, okay, don't talk.
Mom, call the ambulance.
Anri, I'll help you lie down, okay?
Don't worry about it.
It's going to be alright.
If her lung isn't punctured, that is.
Here.
Sorry for the makeshift scarf pillow. I'll get you a real one in a bit.
I'll try to stop the bleeding now.
But, uh, I only have theoretical knowledge about it. Forgive me if it hurts.
Mom will google the right way to do it, so trust us.
She must be in shock.
I help her take off her shirt and look at the wound, trying not to focus on the blood oozing out.
It's most definitely a knife wound.
Okay, this should do it.
I throw the bloodstained shirt into cold water and let out a sigh.
The ambulance arrives quickly.
I follow her to the hospital, hoping that it's nothing serious.
When I see Anri again, she has the same absent-minded look on her face.
What did they say?
That's good.
...
I'm scared, too.
Ever since we moved into that place, I've been paranoid of every sound.
We got rid of the cockroaches, but the neighbours stayed.
Want me to get you some pepper spray? I have some in my bag.
But they are ordinary.
My mom got stalked by some psycho for over a year.
I got smacked with a broken bottle on the street some time ago.
Our neighbour's dog got mauled by a pack of strays.
Life's full of misfortunes like that.
It is.
But there's nothing we can do about it, can we?
...
Miss Warhol.
I didn't get to ask, but what exactly happened back then?

#25 Love[]

We're strolling in the park after school again.
The weather isn't particularly good, but I have an umbrella with me.
Vincent doesn't mind the rain, but I do, so I follow him like the butler of a rich household.
His throat is bandaged.
Vincent doesn't bring it up, and I don't ask.
We stop at a small bridge.
No way! Is it a love confession, mr. Fennell?
Oh. What's it called?
Sounds fancy.
Of course. I mean, you can't write badly.
It's the first time I've heard him use "love" in regard to something.
"I should read it soon," I thought, yet ended up postponing it until the very last minute.
One's writing is the mirror of one's soul.
I was afraid of my imaginary construct of Vincent shattering upon looking into it.

#26 Interlude: Aether Almanac[]

I dream of falling into a pit of identical corpses, and wake up in a cold sweat.

#27 Different[]

Anri's idly browsing her phone as I struggle to finish a mission in a shooter I was playing.
Oh.
Stop it, I'm not a blind follower.
I read his writing the other day.
It's good. Like, really good.
But...
I didn't like it.
Well...the overarching theme of his stories is that only you can save yourself.
It's like...other people don't exist, or can't be of any help even if they're around.
His characters either choose solitude or end up in circumstances where they are surrounded by their own selves.
Don't you think it's close-minded to think that way?
What do you mean?
Anri rubs her temples and gives me a reprimanding stare.

Vincent stays away from school for a long time

Vincent skips school for three weeks.
When I see him again, there's a mask plastered to his face.
Vincent Fennell is...
Smiling.

#29 Exams[]

Exams are stressful, but they're nothing I'm unprepared for.
After all, I've always been a diligent student.
I get paired with Anri during the language exam, and we pass with flying colors.
Vincent, however, remains as distant as ever.
For the past month we haven't gotten to talk at all.
I wonder what he is thinking.
No, no. Vincent's not that petty.
The truth is yours, imaginary mr. Fennell.
"I understood that the way I use words impacts people around me, so I decided to distance myself from people who are easily influenced."
...More plausible.
But doesn't that mean he thinks very little of me?
Argh.
There's no guarantee that we'll keep in touch after graduating, either.
I can't shake off the feeling of frustration welling up, and end up losing sleep at night.
I'm so anxious that I decide to discuss it with Anri.
She likes food, so I lure her in by inviting her to a cafe.

Talking to Anri

(Ah...Maybe telling her wasn't a good idea after all...)
So what if he's a cult leader!
I want to talk to him again.
Besides, he only helped copywrite the texts.
It's not like he involved himself in their activity.
Listen, I'm sure he understands the weight of his actions.
His current isolation must be just damage control.
God, Anri. Are we talking about the same person here?
He's the most tactful person I know. He wouldn't...
You can't cry if you're dead, miss Warhol.
But it is! Everyone has their own brains.
If they decided to self-destruct after hearing they're in a video game, then they were already predisposed to it.
They just saw the cult site and BAM! Confirmation bias activated.
They wanted a motive, they got it.
I would never end my life just because I stumbled on some creepypasta on the Internet.
It would take more than that. Like...Mother's death.
Or my own health deteriorating to the point where I start hurting others. Then, I...
Ah. I'm sorry.
I don't think I'm completely right, either.
Circumstances are different in each individual's case. I know that.
I'm just worried about him.
Knowing Vincent, he'll never talk about himself.
Which is okay with me, if that's what he wants.
But if I keep ignoring this, what if he...what if...
I think of running on the field. Children are laughing, illuminated by sun.
...
I walk Anri home and wave her goodbye.
When I see Vincent next time, what should I tell him?
No matter what I'll say, I find myself afraid of hearing his answer.

#30 Graduation[]

Anri looks nice

The graduation day finally comes. Time sure flies.
Who...?
I think you just aged by nine years —
OW! Okay, okay, seven—
Please stop kicking me, miss Warhol.
I look like my father.
I don't know anymore.
All that matters is that Mother is doing better.
Thanks. You too.

Leaving Anri

I look for Vincent in the crowd.
He's talking to one of our teachers, all smiles, as usual.
I join in as his shadow.
You look tired.
She's participating in a photoshoot with other girls.
I ran away as soon as I saw the camera.
And, it's too stuffy in this suit.
Yeah. I just want it to be over soon.

Going to the conference hall

By the time we get to the rented conference hall, it's already evening.
The banquet doesn't interest me, but I already paid for it, so I stuff myself full with random appetizers.
Vincent's dissecting a steamed carrot with a precision of a surgeon at a nearby table.
He seems bored.
The moment I decide to approach him, he's engaging in a conversation with someone else.
Too bad.
I decide to look for Anri, and find her surrounded by girls on a floor below.
She looks like she's having fun, so I leave her to it.
It dawns at me that out of all the people in class, I only managed to become somewhat friendly with two.
With the rest, I don't really have anything to talk about.
Unless it's homework.
Maybe it's for the best if we forget each other's names after we all go separate ways.
In a corner of my eye, I see Vincent leaving the hall.
You're leaving?
Oh. Alright.
It doesn't look like he's going to come back.
See you later, then.
Crap, his coat is still here.

Chasing after Vincent

When I run out of the building, Vincent is nowhere to be seen.
I jog a bit to the main road until I spot the familiar silhouette.
Fennell! Wait. Your coat...
...
It didn't seem like it.
...
Mind if I walk with you for a bit?
We walk in silence.
There's too much on my mind, but I can't put any of it into words.
Somehow we ditched the prom night without planning to.
I don't think anybody's going to look for me today, anyway.

On the hill Note: Narration will be italicized for this portion

I'm not fond of high places.
It feels all too familiar for some reason. I feel sick.
...no.
I feel like I could fall down any second.
I crouch down, my head spinning.
I'm not alright.
It's like we've been here before.
Yet, it's not the same.
...
You...
You never talk about anything that really matters, do you?
Always all smiles and big talk.
Talking, talking, talking, yet nothing you say has real weight to it.
I'm sick of your smiling face.
Ack. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
My personality has nothing to do with this.
That's because of how my Mother is. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
That's because I don't want to be a burden!
But for you, it's all about your image.
At very least I'd listen to what you have to say.
You just don't trust me enough.
You don't trust anyone.
Needles and knives.
His words pierce through, but I don't falter.
...I know.
Yet, I want to understand you.
It's not your fault that I don't.
You're someone I've always looked up to.
You could do things I couldn't and find the right words to influence others.
It always felt like your opinion mattered.
I crouch down and face the ground, suddenly flustered.
I...
I thought I wouldn't mind losing my individuality if it'd mean getting influenced by yours.
I remember Vincent in the kindergarten.
Emotionally dead kid gathering crowds around him with useless trinkets from popular shows.
The only time he ever showed emotion was when he tore off wings from those ants, claiming to be in control.
Control.
Is that what it's all about?
You...claim that you don't mean things you say.
That your personality is fabricated.
I don't think you're being entirely honest.
Argh, he's insufferable. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
You —
However, Vincent isn't looking at me.
His mind is elsewhere.
...
Still...
You've been trying your best, haven't you?
All this talk about "a quiet place", those bruises...
I think it's pretty obvious at this point that whoever you live with, they've been...
I stumble on my own words.
...They haven't been treating you well.
The Vincent I remember was an empty husk of a person.
It's like you were never physically there at all.
Yet, with time, you were able to regain control over your life.
It's not like you became someone whom others look up to overnight.
You worked hard for it.
Because you care.
Would you rather dissociate for the rest of your life?
...!
Huh...? (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
My eyes begins to sting, but no tears come out.
I...
I may be insignificant and frankly boring...
But I'm going to do my best to become someone you can consider your equal.
So that you won't feel so alone. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
I'll keep doing my best, so...
So you...so I...
In a corner of my eye I see Vincent crouching down near me. Putting a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't push yourself," he says, his gaze remaining frozen. "You're already doing enough."
Empty words and template phrases.
Neither of us can find comfort in each other's words.
Neither of us know what to do.
"I want you to live," I croak out, not to a corpse, not to an imaginary construct, not to a vacant shell, but to Vincent Fennell himself.
History repeats.
I can't see his face.
No tears, no surprises.
That's how Vincent Fennell is.
Yet, his words sounded almost thankful.
Vincent gets up and extends his hand to me.
I reach out, and accept his hand.
The future remains uncertain. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
Yet, I feel like I'll be able to fall asleep tonight. (actually italicized in game, and is narration)
The sun rises.
A new day has come.

— 7 —[]

"What? Ah. Sorry. What were you talking about?"
"I couldn't hear you well in this noise."
"..."
"Okay."
"I mean, why not? If you want to. Listen, I—"

— 9 —[]

What would they do? Stuff me with pills?"
"They didn't help Mother."
"..."
"If I say anything, she'll throw my pet cat out of the window. Or worse."

— 14 —[]

"You only get insulted when you view something as insulting, C says," he elaborated. "So no, it doesn't."
"What, you wanted to console me, miss Warhol?"
"Sorry."
"Know what Stoics says? You're provoked by your own judgement of the situation."
"And, we can't expect people to view us the way we perceive ourselves."
"So don't worry about me."

5...[]

C: You should leave him alone, Henrietta Warhol.
C: So am I. Please stop writing us.
C: You're a hindrance.
C: If you continue pestering us, I'll make your personal information public.
C: You have things to hide, don't you?

4...[]

C: anri, hi
C: I'm sorry for the last time
C: feel free to block me
C: more or less
C: like usual. i'm trying to spend more time with her
C: how are you holding up?
C: Do you have plans for uni or?
C: haha, yeah. only the job you're crazy about can get you a good income
C: or just luck really
C: higher education won't really promise you a good place in life
C: i'll know in a month. I don't really remember the day of the exam
C: kill myself i guess
C: haha no jk
C: I know. I'm being serious
C: I have Mother to take care of, so don't worry.

3...[]

C: anri, hi! how are you? <3
C: of course it's me
C: im okay! XXXXXX specifically asked not to talk about the remnants, though.

1...[]

C: shit
C: I'm so sorry
C: if you're reading this, it's me
C: I'm not okay
C: I'm not sure if I'm myself anymore
C: sometimes I just close my eyes and then find myself at an unfamiliar place several hours later
C: I passed the exams, but I'm failing classes. hard.
C: I feel like vomiting just looking at people
C: they don't look human
C: I'm afraid if we meet again you won't look human, too
C: so please, don't try to find me
C: Mother is not okay
C: She's not responding anymore
C: everything is distorted
C: and I'm clearly bothering you
C: I
C: I need to put a stop to this