(POV – Protagonist)
We kept heading toward the bright spot ever since we left the diner. For most of the way, Arthur and I stayed silent. The truth is, that silence wasn't from tension or discomfort — there just wasn't much to say. Deep down, Arthur and I never really had much in common, and at that moment, any attempt at conversation would have felt forced.
Still, we'd probably have to walk for a while longer. There was something odd about that silence — just moving forward, step after step, without exchanging a word. Not that it really bothered me; personally, I found it kind of a relief.
But I thought maybe it was a good chance to shake off the boredom, at least a little. What can I do? Apparently, not even anomalies are immune to feeling that dragging emptiness that creeps between one event and the next.
I mean, I really haven't done much since we left the diner. Every time an anomaly shows up, my Alter Ego just pulls it into the mist. Seconds later, he silently reappears in the fog and starts following us again. Usually, he keeps some distance — always lurking — popping up on top of poles, roofs, or buildings as we move forward.
Anyway, as soon as we turned the corner at the intersection, my golden eyes slowly shifted to Arthur. I kept watching him silently, squinting like I was trying to see beyond his expression. I stayed like that for a few seconds, motionless, until he finally noticed my gaze and turned toward me, raising an eyebrow with mild curiosity.
"You know it's kind of creepy when you look at someone with that intense, fixed stare?" Arthur asked, furrowing his brows slightly as he looked at me with curiosity. I blinked slowly, not looking away, staying silent. He sighed, leaning back a bit: "You wanna talk or something?" he continued, his tone softer, "Being silent for too long can be uncomfortable for humans... though I'm not sure how that works for your kind"
Even though I was a bit confused by the word "kind" in that sentence, I just decided to ignore it... maybe out of boredom, maybe just wanting a distraction: (Talk... yeah, I want that)
As soon as I sent the thought to Arthur, he raised his eyebrow again, intrigued, before looking away and staring into the void with a thoughtful expression. Inside, I wondered why he seemed so deep in thought — after all, all I said was I wanted to talk.
Still, something about my request seemed to affect him more than I expected. Seconds later, Arthur broke the silence by raising one finger, catching my attention while his eyes met mine again with a more serious look.
"Alright, how about this: each of us asks one question at a time. Could be anything, just to get to know each other better"
I blinked slowly, frowning, completely confused about where this conversation was headed: (Why?) I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.
Arthur just smiled, like he found my doubt amusing. For a moment, his eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity. Then, in a calm, inviting voice, he said: "That's how humans usually get to know each other better. What do you think? Wanna try?"
I thought about it for a bit, keeping my usual indifferent expression, the mask I wore to hide any deeper feeling. But honestly, I had no reason to say no.
Deep down, all I really wanted was to talk — no matter the topic, the content didn't matter. Just the act of speaking would help me take my mind off that restlessness that kept gnawing at me. With that calm thought, I simply nodded, accepting Arthur's proposal without hesitation.
There was no sign or indication of who should start talking. The silence hung in the air, heavy and awkward, until, without thinking much, I ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind: (Do you... have family?)
Even though my expression didn't change at all when I asked, inside I raised an eyebrow in slight dissatisfaction. My question hadn't come out exactly the way I wanted. Actually, I wanted to know if Arthur still had family — not just if he had any. Though they sounded similar, those two questions carried different shades.
Arthur raised an eyebrow slightly, putting a small smile on his face like he found the question amusing. His eyes brightened with a touch of lightness before he answered: "Yeah, sure. I guess every living thing needs to come from something, an origin that connects it, you know? At least for humans, it's natural to have a family" he said softly, looking away for a moment as if searching for a hidden memory.
I just nodded at Arthur's answer. Of course, I already knew that, but at that moment, there wasn't much to do to correct it — it was too late. So, I let it go. The next moment, Arthur looked at me with a curious gaze and said, pausing a bit before continuing: "I hope that answer satisfied your curiosity. Well, now it's my turn"
He made a thoughtful gesture, as if organizing his thoughts. A few seconds later, locking eyes with me, he asked: "I heard you were found when Laura was doing field research in a forest. Do you remember anything from before you went into that forest?"
As soon as I heard Arthur's words, I stared at him for a few seconds, tilting my neck slightly to the side. My eyes blinked slowly, almost automatically, as if trying to decode something beyond what he said. It was strange.
Even with how casually he asked, like he really wanted to know the answer, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was just probing me, evaluating something hidden.
Why the hell did I feel that? Was it just in my head? Maybe I was overthinking. Either way, it didn't bother me much — I actually didn't mind answering that kind of question.
As we walked, I looked up and automatically put a finger under my chin, taking on a thoughtful pose. I stayed there for a few seconds, feeling the slight weight of my own memories jumbling in my mind as I tried to sort them out. Finally, I took a deep breath and answered Arthur's question, my voice slightly hesitant: (My memories before that... are blurry... I remember being... always alone)
Arthur remained silent, absorbing every word I said. Honestly, I barely knew what to say. How could I describe memories of my human life when almost none of them remained clear in my mind? Sometimes, I wasn't even sure if that life really existed.
The more I learned about myself, the further away I felt from truly understanding who I was. So, since I had little to reveal about facts or concrete memories, I decided to open up about what I felt back then — the vague emotions, uncertain doubts, the silent emptiness that followed me. It was the only way to try to translate that part of me that insisted on staying foggy.
Since I returned with Althea, something inside me has been changing. I feel strange, like I'm walking through an unknown mist. Sometimes, I sense feelings I can't remember ever having experienced, but at the same time, they seem oddly familiar — like echoes of a distant memory. It's like being in a lucid dream: you know it's not real, that it's all just an illusion of the mind, yet the feeling is intense, vivid, almost tangible — so real it confuses your senses.
Organizing my thoughts, I kept talking to myself: (I feel... like I'm in a warm place... but at the same time, also cold... I don't really feel anything... except when the heat... and the cold... seem to whisper to me. It's strange... even though I'm immersed in this biting cold... or this suffocating heat... for some reason, I feel happy when they speak to me... Why?)
What I said probably didn't make much sense, and that wasn't my intention. As I said before, all I was trying to do was express what I felt at that moment. However, when talking about cold and heat, I had this strange feeling that I was referring to someone — not something abstract or impersonal. That feeling alone seemed quite unusual and intriguing to me.
While I got lost in my own thoughts, Arthur, who had been silently walking beside me, finally broke the silence with a calm voice, but full of sincerity: "I'm sure those two were important to you, at least that's how it seems to me"
Hearing Arthur's words, I slowly shook my head, subtly, almost involuntarily denying it. He frowned, clearly confused by my reaction, maybe expecting a more direct answer. Then, I took a deep breath and continued, letting my thoughts flow with some difficulty: (There were more... many more... but I can't remember exactly how many... nor their shapes, their smells, or even their appearances... Just... the feelings they carried... But even those, I feel like I can't quite recall properly... They were all... very important to me... As if each one had left an invisible mark, something that still pulses inside me, even though it gets lost in the fog of my memories)
Arthur stayed silent for a few minutes after my words, as if trying to organize his thoughts. The atmosphere seemed heavy with quietness, until he finally broke the silence, his voice calm but sincere: "I know this might sound confusing, but that's also normal among humans. Sometimes... we just feel things we can't put into words. We call those feelings. That's probably what you're experiencing now" He glanced away briefly, as if searching for the right words, then looked back at me with a slight mix of understanding and patience.
I was a bit confused by how he was talking to me like he would to a child, as if patiently teaching me how the world works. From his point of view, maybe I really didn't know how to differentiate emotions — after all, that's something relatively unique to humans.
Even Althea and Nekra struggle to understand their own feelings; a clear example is Nekra herself, who often seems lost when faced with the emotions overwhelming her.
Even though she hated collecting the "Essences" of anomalies, she kept doing it — almost like she had no choice. The curious thing was that, although she claimed to be full of hatred for that task, she barely seemed to understand what it really meant to hate. There was a strange mixture of irony and sarcasm in her that escaped common understanding.
I tried patiently to explain the true weight of that feeling, but from her point of view, it all sounded disconnected, a language too strange to make sense. It was as if her concept of hatred was only a pale shadow, an almost automatic performance in response to what the routine demanded.
Anyway, while my thoughts wandered, Arthur, beside me, broke the silence with a voice tinged with confusion and a hint of concern: "Hmm? Where exactly are we?" He looked around, frowning.
As soon as I heard his words, I lifted my gaze. Indeed, as he said, it was impossible to know exactly where we were. It didn't seem like a city — despite the persistent fog still hovering around us and the solid concrete floor beneath our feet, everything else had vanished.
The buildings that should have surrounded that place had simply disappeared, as if swallowed by the air. It was like being in another dimension, or in a confusing dream, but I was sure it wasn't that. The reason for that certainty appeared just ahead, when a bright light finally tore through the fog.
I couldn't find any other way to describe it except by comparing it to a black hole with an accretion disk — or whatever the correct name for that was. However, for some reason I couldn't explain, it didn't seem natural. There was something there, a strange presence, almost tangible. I felt a peculiar energy emanating from that phenomenon, a kind of vibration that cut through the air around me, but I couldn't exactly identify its nature or origin.