44 | authority; disappearing praise

The room that appeared before Lucas' eyes was vague, as if pieced together by the blurry chunks of somebody's memories.

'Another dream?'

As a person who didn't dream, he was aware that his conscious in this scenario was likely not a simple dream, and instead the pull of his soul or whatever his appearance currently was.

He sighed futility. Would he become known as the proud gangster that had an affinity with fainting?

If that happened... maybe he could play off his weakness, and make others complete the troublesome tasks for him instead? A light bulb lit up in his eager mind.

Why pretend to be strong when he could be lazy instead?

Thinking that, his mind was appeased and his turmoil mood settled. Lucas walked into the familiar bedroom fit for a member of the royal family, clean and tidy with not a single strand out of place.

Instead of searching further, he directly moved to a set of chairs and a table on one side, taking a seat calmly.

As soon as the chair creaked, a cloth flew over and settled over the table, followed by various sweets that rearranged themselves with a sparkling glimmer. Lucas watched as the table was set by an invisible pair of hands.

He squinted at the sweets, wondering if it was safe to eat.

According to common lore and myths, there were always some consequences of accepting food from strange places like this. Think of the beautiful goddess who was tricked into remaining in the Underworld.

But then again... free food always tasted better. Lucas solemnly ruminated on that thought, eyebrows drawn in a serious line as he pursed his lips.

The door creaked open in the midst of his contemplation, but he didn't look up despite feeling the cool glance that drifted his way, and the soft footsteps that approached.

Lucas opened his mouth first. "Can this food be eaten?"

The footsteps faltered, startled.

"With no consequences?"

Lucas nodded, and having received confirmation, he stretched a hand out to pick a scone off the tower display. He chewed expressionlessly, though his face softened slightly.

There was no reason for the boy to lie to him—the Story had already been completed. He could give nothing more to the child.

"Will your Story be permanently shut?"

The boy wandered to the opposite seat and hopped on, staring ahead calmly before realizing he was a little too short, blinking twice.

The child stared, and Lucas returned the look before watching as the child walked over to the bed.

Grabbing a pillow, he sat back down again with it tucked underneath, raising a few inches higher to more properly meet Lucas' stare.

Lucas swallowed his bite, licking the crumbs off the corner of his lips. The other waited for him to finish eating before asking,

"You aren't bound by any restrictions?"

Lucas glanced over, moving his gaze down to the small hands placed politely over a lap, and the straight and proper of a little boy, reminded of how young the person sitting before him was.

Yet the childish expression didn't waver, looking ahead calmly.

"If you are one of the survivors of the End's Delusion, why have you chosen to contribute to our suffering? Is that one of your—the Tellers—desire?"

A shake of the head denied his assumptions.

"That means?"

"Then?"

The teller, in the form of a little boy who had lived much longer than his appearance, laughed mockingly to himself. He could hardly associate his innocent and studious past with the present.

He'd adapted to survive his new fate, and lost the self that he most loved in the process.

At the other end of the table, Lucas caught the changing expressions on the boy's face. He didn't know of these facts—had Kane made an unfavourable wish in the end, before being killed?

"What determines whether a wish will be approved or not?"

A dark burst of wind brushed through, obscuring the boy's face momentarily as his brows furrowed.

Lucas didn't rush to ask another question about the apocalypse, lowering his eyes as he took a sip of the pale pink tea that sat on the table before him. "Is your disappearance something you hope for?"

It wasn't an expression that a child should be making.

The melancholic, accepting calmness that beckoned death. To begin with, this boy had somehow clawed his way to the Forsaken Throne, besting all others. How much blood had been shed? How many lives had been lost?

How far did he go to kill the child inside him, in order to become somebody who could reach the top?

A small smile appeared on the boy's face as he displayed a rare look of complaint.

Lucas' mind drifted, and he reached out to place a cheese scone on the boy's plate, resting one hand on the table as he lowered his gaze. The child looked up, baffled.

"Eat. You don't know when you'll be able to again."

"Voice any complaints. Going to the afterlife with a belly full of dissatisfaction will only piss off whatever angel comes to grab you."

Lucas' tone was so domineering and confident, the boy grew more and more uncertain as he nibbled on the offered food. His cheeks bulged slightly as he packed more food in, a glint revealing his indulgence in the taste.

"Are you doubting me?" The man had the confidence to sound offended by the idea, despite his nonsense riddled words.

"You told me you would tell me the method to getting the Forsaken Throne."

The boy stared at him deeply, the round pupils chilling. Even the air seemed to grow more chilly, the silence wrapping around his throat.

Lucas snorted lightly, a sarcastic sound as he tapped his fingers on the table and leaned backwards. "If I could be scared away so easily, then I wouldn't have bothered even considering it."

A brief lapse of silence ensued before the child started to speak again.

"I've heard of those." The four swords in many myths, Excalibur having said to belong to King Arthur. It seemed that the apocalypse continued to adapt to familiar terms.

"Then I just need to collect those swords?"

Now, Lucas hadn't heard about this additional information. It hadn't been part of the original novel that he'd written, though his memory grew foggier by the day.

Another reminder that the world was shaping itself on its own, without his words.

Well, that wouldn't pose to be much of a problem. Rome had the King of Spades Title, while Elias would soon give up the King of Aces Title as according to their agreement. Then it would be transferred to Kane, who shouldn't go against him too much.

He wasn't certain where the last two Kings were, but powerful existences couldn't stay hidden for too long.

He thought back to another matter. One of the Catalysts had been killed... was that by one of the Kings?

The issue was, it could be in any country or at any place.

Regardless, having the information was better than nothing.

"Thank you." said Lucas genuinely, nodding his head across the table after he'd taken his seat again. "There is nothing else."

In fact, he wanted to ask the locations of the other Kings or Catalysts, but he had a feeling that was something which couldn't be spoken so easily. The eight most powerful creatures, blessed with power beyond human means.

How could he find them so easily?

The boy seemed to understand his glance, and nodded politely, taking another sip of his tea. It was a milky colour, and Lucas had a feeling that a few cubes of sugar had been added as well.

"Got it."

Thin bones, and a skinny body with dark eye bags that hung underneath limpid, down turned eyes. Lucas stood up, glancing out the window where the endless night sky stretched out.

He walked over to stand before the boy, who tilted his head curiously.

"There's one more thing."

Lucas stretched out a hand, and ruffled the soft tangles of hair, a smile so slight it could hardly be seen appearing on his lips. His gaze softened, and while the difference was minuscule, it painted his expression in a soothing warmth.

"Thanks for persisting this long. You did good, kid."

For the child who grew up too soon, forced to smother his thoughts and put on a disguise of indifference. Locking away his emotions in his sister's grave.

Lucas' hand lingered over the bed of hair, before he walked towards the door.

He didn't turn around, hearing the inaudible sniff. Behind him, the boy lowered his head and trembled, drops of tears bundling at his eyes before rolling down. His thin lips remained a straight line as he stared at the half eaten display of food.

His malnourished body had stiffened, and a distant thought floated to the top of his disappearing existence.

'If I'd met this person earlier...'

Perhaps his previous little sister could've been saved.

Perhaps he would've known what it was like to be protected, and to trust.

Perhaps...

The boy saw an illusion of a little girl sitting in the seat across from him, piling up food happily as she beamed.

The illusionary world was dyed in the darkest night, but the boy felt a gust of warmth. He heard the door creak open to the side, but kept his glazed gaze on the mirage in front of him.

Lucas stopped at the open door before walking through.

His eyelids moved slightly before the snowy gaze opened to the world.

His head was resting on a strange texture, both soft and firm. He blinked away the hazy images, recognizing the ceiling of the car as his body curled up on the seat.

Moving a little, he felt the fabric under his head shuffle as well.

A head appeared over his clearing vision, a deep cerulean gaze that curved.

"Good morning, darling."

Lucas promptly closed his eyes and uttered blandly, "Good night."

Elias laughed as Lucas reluctantly pried his eyes open once again, sullenly staring at the face in front of him, though he made no movement to move off the thighs of the other man.

This made Elias' smug, casual smile widen further. "Are you comfortable? I'd like to think all my years of exercise have been to be your personal lap pillow."

"...do you have to say such disgusting things when I've just woken up?"

Nora's voice interrupted them, a chortle of relief. "Lucas! You're awake, I'm glad. We're heading back to the hospital's location—we went previously, but there was nobody there. How are you feeling?"

Lucas, still rested on a certain man's thighs, glanced toward the front. "I feel fine. We'll do another examination of the hospital, and then I'll reach out to... Kane."

"Perhaps he was busy exploring a Story, just as you were." mused Elias.

"...that's a possibility."

Rome's head peeked over the seats, wide eyes worriedly staring at Lucas. "Mister, mister... are you really okay? No injuries?"

"No injuries."

"Really?"

"Really."

That was a blatant lie—Lucas felt the discomfort around his abdomen, as well as the tightness of bandages wrapped around it. Not to mention the tiredness in his bones that couldn't simply be slept away.

More of the minor injuries, such as bruises or smaller scratches, had healed for the most part. A convenient improvement to his body.

Regardless, it wasn't something major enough for him to complain about.

Actually, he was more curious about his rewards from the Story. Had they not been announced yet?

Wren, sitting in the front seat, noticed her bond's changing emotions and barked out a laugh. "God, you've barely clung to life, and that's what you're thinking about?"

Lucas replied solemnly. "If I'm risking my life, there better be a reward."

"Well, either the Teller's interference has delayed the rewards, or you received them while you were asleep. Just imagine you're looking at your rewards, and something should appear if it hasn't been delayed."

She was aware of his meeting with the little boy in the midst of his dreams. As expected from a Teller herself, though forcefully molded into one.

He closed his eyes and imagined the rewards as she directly. Immediately, a static voice spoke in his head, and he saw words flickering in the air above him.

[Your rewards are being calculated...]

[Completion of the True Ending has been found! Rewards re-processing...]

[Reward granted.]

[The Evil Queen's Comb (rare)

Description: A comb that the Evil Queen used daily to brush her hair. There may be hair strands still wedged in between it. Can be used to change somebody's appearance once a day. Note: Does not work on those who can see through disguises.

Additional: When was the last time the Evil Queen cleaned her comb that she obsessively used every day??? The answer is, never!]

"......" He really didn't need that extra information. Lucas decided to only use it if he absolutely had to.

[Snow White's Pendant (rare)

Description: An object that can block any attack that matches or is less that the wearer's skill level. If the attack is at a higher level, only part of it will be blocked. Let this charm protect you by shouting, "Big brother, protect me!" Can be used once a day.

Additional: This was a gift from a very loving brother.]

The cold metal brushed over Lucas' collarbones as he realized he was already wearing the necklace, having it put on by the Teller in the Story.

It was useful, not a one time use item—but... Lucas frowned and concluded that he'd also use that only in absolute emergencies.

[Title granted.]

[The title of 'Twisted White' has been bestowed on you! Skills are as followed:

Animal Corpse Collector: ability to use dead animal corpses and manipulate them accordingly. Although speech is not possible, the user will be granted the ability to transmit commands.

The Disdain of Characters in 'Mirror, Mirror': characters related to the story Mirror, Mirror will show an adverse reaction to you, with the exception of the Hunter.]

"......"

Lucas grew more and more speechless. He could either become an oddity that sought after animal corpses, or call out in a doting voice for his older brother—one that didn't exist, by the way.

He struggled to sit up, before a heavy hand pressed down on his chest to keep him lying down. Lucas scowled at Elias, who smiled carelessly.

"No can do, darling. Your injuries aren't so mild."

The white-eyed man's gaze flickered. "Your injuries—did you treat them?"

"Treated to perfection, thanks to Nora."

"I see."

He adapted to his fate of continuing to lie down on the man's thighs and turned to Wren again.

"How do I check my other Titles?"

The woman stared at him blankly. "Ha? You haven't been checking them regularly?"

"I was unconscious most of the time, so I never bothered to check."

"Stupid." mocked Wren in a dragged out tone, earning her a pouted frown from Rome. "Well, just imagine the same thing—kind of think of a list, or some format displaying your Titles."

Lucas followed her instructions, and before long, a list of words appeared before his vision again.

[Cinderella]

[The Punisher's Executioner]

[Twisted White]

He paused at the second listed Title, having only remembered the first and the last. After thinking about it, he imagined something akin to a status window.

[The Punisher's Executioner:

Description: Given to the one who killed the trapped Teller, whose life cycles never ended. There is no additional ability, save for an increased presence and aura.]

He thought back to the warped face in the Prison Story, and of the creature who both wanted death and also wanted to live as he fell under Wren's powers.

So killing him granted him an ability, thought Lucas in a daze.

Then, in his vision after passing several tall buildings, the car slowed around a roundabout, neat rows of trees following the road. They stopped before a three-floor building, with high windows that had a sheen of dust over them.

His eyes flickered, and a small, blurry figure stared at him from one of the high windows.

The car lurched to a stop, and Nora looked back at the passengers. "We've arrived at the hospital."

Lucas felt his heartbeat speed up, a rush of sickening terror making him sweat. A desolate air hung over the silent hospital, and a flock of birds flew away at their approach.

One flew closer to the window and Lucas propped himself up, seeing the large wing span over the glass before escaping.

Behind the fleeting feathers, a person waited at the front entrance.