He was sitting on the edge of the bed,
his back slightly hunched but leaning against the wall, his hands buried in the pockets of his black trousers.
It was as if his body was trying to shrink into itself.
And...
That black book lay on the table like a breathless corpse... silent, yet subtly creeping into Histori's awareness, as if something invisible pulsed beneath it... perhaps it was breathing, or remembering who had opened it.
Silent.
Faded.
Perhaps it was waiting.
As if inviting Histori to read it.
The other person looked at it for a while, then closed his eyes as if thinking deeply, before opening them again and extending his left hand towards it.
And began to read anew.
Histori felt the book become heavier, though it was a slight weight. If it were in the hands of someone with ordinary observational skills, they wouldn't have noticed such a subtle detail.
He opened the book and was met with the same sentence: "No one deserves to read this book."
The curtains swayed with the air, casting broken shadows across Histori's face, as if the outside world was playing the role of a screen… the moonlight cut through them like pulses from an old film strip.
Sometimes his eyes would stand out, and sometimes his features would be swallowed by darkness.
Intermittently, as if car lights were passing him on a dark highway.
The room was very quiet with dim light, only the sound of pages turning could be heard.
• Some pages of this book might read you, so I advise you to lower your voice or silence it completely while you read.
• I don't know how much life I have left, but I will try to do what I can. This book... in your hands, or your hand, or even your hands, it doesn't matter if you are a boy or a girl.
• You possess something that might save you, and you alone. A surprise awaits you on page 50 if you continue reading. For now, focus starting from page 6.
•Most likely, if you don't have an ability, you will truly learn a lot from this book, including that you are a foolish, unlucky, powerless person, aren't you? You feel inadequate, you feel useless, not for this ridiculous society. I don't believe in good deeds, and I hope you are like me. You just want to be useful to yourself.
These words were not simple. Histori's eyes narrowed, not in coldness or concentration, but as if he were at a funeral, lowering his head to see a coffin being filled with dirt by gravediggers.
Histori remembered his siblings; each of them possessed an ability, except for him. This was the only thing he inherited from his father: a cold reaction, but no ability.
Histori's Perspective
Not once in my life did I feel inferior to my siblings, and even to you. I don't know why, perhaps because they are my family, and I love them.
But even compared to the other people I saw in the streets, watering trees with water from their hands, and children whose mothers compared them to birds—this was no longer a cheap metaphor in novels, but I actually saw some children flying.
I simply didn't care. Deep down, I loved being marginalized in the shadows... no one approached me, no one bothered me, no one was curious about me.
I was a creature who loved peace, but... everything ended when I entered that place.
The Black Dome...
That hell would swallow you if you were distracted for even a second.
And before my mind could wander to unnecessary memories, I returned to reading these yellowed pages.
Have you heard of the Awakened before? I'm sure you're well aware of them. Perhaps someone in your family, or even you, though I don't know you and you don't know me. But if you had an ability, your appreciation for reading the ramblings of an arrogant writer like me would be less.
Histori tilted his neck, and the whispers began to gnaw at his skull, as if this writer was tickling his brain.
Well, the Awakened? Chosen humans, as you say, right?
•Hahaha, you're truly naive. Do you think life gives you things for free? Lies have a price, and truth has a price.
•Even feces have a price if we follow a disgusting logic, so what about superpowers that defy the concepts of nature? Let's go to the Chosen. The Chosen, I believe you know him, is a miniature Awakened, weaker than a normal Awakened, because an Awakened is someone who shares their abilities with a person who has no ability.
Histori's eyes automatically darted to the left. He seemed to avoid looking at the book, even though his face remained expressionless, his mind delving into a distant memory.
Five years ago,
his mother, Regina, sat on her knees, hugging Histori, and said with a warm smile, "One day, I will share my ability, so don't worry, you won't be different from your siblings. That's my promise, my son."
He sighed and said inwardly in a distant voice,
The Chosen... usually weaker than the Awakened because the Awakened doesn't lose their power but also weakens. And usually, an Awakened cannot transfer 100% of their abilities, but only 30% or 50% in the strongest cases.
My heart couldn't bear to see my mother weaken for my sake, even though her fiery abilities were truly magnificent.
They matched her red eyes.
But I had given up and didn't reject my fate. In the end, I wasn't resentful or angry; I just lived with my situation, as a blind person lives with their cane.
Resisting something impossible to change is just a double loss of your time and strength.
Nevertheless, my father, being powerless, made me enter a hell I wished he would spare me from, but... my father insisted and put me in a fait accompli and challenges that even those with abilities don't engage in.
I returned to the book again. The night was already halfway through.
But there's something else, or rather, another category that no one knows about. Not Awakened, not Chosen, but something dark.
Histori said at this moment, and it was the first time he spoke aloud since the reading session began.
"Impossible... Is there a category other than the Awakened and the Chosen?"
And as if the writer was answering him himself,
•Yes, there is another category. Very few know about them, and it is rumored that they became extinct in ancient times. But do you think that's true? Personally, I don't think so, because we are not in the age of dinosaurs where a silly meteor comes to wipe out a certain lineage. We are not foolish, short-sighted, my dear reader, are we?
That category is called the Anivea. A very rare category, rarer than you can imagine. The probability of being struck by lightning or winning the lottery is greater than the probability of meeting any of them.
I don't know if they have multiplied in your era, but they will remain very rare. Do you know why?
Because they are good at hiding, and secondly, and most importantly, because they kill and slaughter each other without the slightest hesitation.
This is a common custom. Shedding their blood and killing their children and women is a step to reduce their offspring so that they remain rare and sacred, as they claim. Perhaps in every 500 million, you might find one.
Who knows, maybe even less, it might reach one in a billion.
•The Anivea are very powerful... terrifyingly and ridiculously so.
A child among them could stand against 100 Awakened or 1000 Chosen. This alone is cause for fear, isn't it? You might be asking yourself now, how did I know this? Who am I? And why didn't I put my name or the book's title?
•If your memory is strong, you'll remember that I promised you a surprise when you reached page 50, and we are now on page 49. We arrived quickly, no doubt my chatter pleased you. And now... try to turn the page.
Histori tilted his neck to the left again, as if trying to read his intention, and when he tried to turn the page, Histori's eyes widened slightly as he touched the pages. He couldn't turn the page.
It didn't move, but a mass of pages rose strangely.
The remaining pages became a single block, as if each page swallowed the next.
The matter was similar to a piece of wood.
"What is this?" Histori asked himself, carefully trying to separate the pages, but he discovered that there was some substance making the edges of the pages stick together.
He didn't know if it was glue or some organic chemical, but he was confident that the book would tear if he tried to force them apart. But the writer hinted at something at the bottom of the page he intended to turn.
When you put a mosquito on a man's testicles, he'll realize there are things that can't be solved by force, hahaha. Did you like the trick, you scoundrel?
He threw the book onto the table with heavy eyes, then crawled under the blanket as if retreating from a losing battle.
He muttered in a low voice, without anger... just fatigue and a mix of his usual indifference.
"You're the most scoundrel writer I've ever met."
And he let his mind swim in several thoughts, including... "The Anivea."
Are there really creatures with such power, and are they human?
Morning arrived at 6:55. Histori had woken up and said, while interacting with the alarm, he turned it off before that annoying ring came.
"It seems my body won't give up its habit, even if it doesn't get enough sleep," he said as he got up to start his school day.
Bitter coffee and toast were all he ate in the morning, along with his cold shower.
The cold water poured over him like a punch from the outside world. He didn't complain. He just closed his eyes and let his mind replay the scenes from last night:
The book... the glue... the Anivea.
He put on his school uniform and proceeded to leave, closing his apartment door and walking down the hallway.
His steps were cold, as if each step drew heat from the ground to his heel.
With his hands in his pockets, gazing with almost sleepy, contemplative eyes at the ground, he began talking to himself, continuing the events of last night in his head.
< Histori's Perspective >
That writer...
He's not narcissistic for nothing. That glue trick, even I didn't think such a surprise could be expected from a writer.
This is the first time I've seen a writer control the time and speed of the reader's own reading.
That layer of glue will disappear, but with time. The illogical thing is that when I bought it and opened it, there was no substance resembling that, which means...
That substance reacts with a specific time after opening the book.
From the book's width and thickness, I assumed it consisted of 250 pages.
Since the reader placed 50 pages and then the timer started, it means that other pages will begin to appear after another 50 days... an additional 50 pages will be revealed.
If my conclusion is correct, I literally need 200 days to finish this book.
Truly amazing, due to how strange it is.
But there was something that caught my attention, and that was the handwriting.
His handwriting was clear, but the ink's thickness and flow behind each letter were not uniform, indicating he was writing quickly, fearing death, as if someone was chasing him.
I don't know, but something inside me tells me he died a very ugly death, because his way of speaking and his intelligence indicate he was an arrogant narcissist who posed a threat to a certain sect or organization, and they most likely possessed abilities.
As I was walking, I heard a soft female voice behind me.
"Good morning."
But I ignored that voice and continued walking, but she caught up to me and said, "Hey, you! Wait a minute!"
She quickened her steps until they synchronized with mine. It was Sisika, with the same glassy purple eyes, but their wideness had turned into narrowness and annoyance, and a pouting lip, as if a child had had her candy stolen.
"Why didn't you wait?"
said with a normal expression, still looking straight ahead, not slowing my pace, "Why should I wait when I know you'll catch up to me?"
She paused slightly, as if she had hit her dull head with a brass hammer, but she shook her head and muttered, "Damn... he has an answer for everything." Then she looked at me and raised her voice to say, "Good morning."
I said without changing my expression, "Good morning, Sisika."
She replied with a natural smile, as if trying to lighten the mood, "Oh, you still remember my name?"
I gave her a sidelong glance, "It's hard to forget someone who greets me every day."
Sisika crossed her arms, "What do you mean?"
Meanwhile, a student passed us and greeted me, but I didn't look at him, as if I hadn't heard him. He seemed embarrassed and angry, if that's the right word.
His narrowed eyes explained everything. His gaze at me was a mix of embarrassment and anger.
Sisika whispered, "Umm, excuse me, someone greeted you."
Did she think I hadn't noticed him? As much as I'm certain that's unlikely, I continued walking without stopping. As we entered the classroom hallways and branching corridors, I said, "I don't want to increase the number of people I greet. That's an unnecessary burden."
Sisika seemed a bit tense after I said that. She didn't look comfortable, then she said in a slightly lowered voice, as if whispering, "Am I bothering you?"
I replied with a normal expression and a quick answer, "No."
After I said that, she seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
Sisika doesn't seem like a bad girl to me, but kind people are the ones you should be most wary of, because even if they have a strong mind, discovering their intentions remains difficult.
I turned into another corridor and entered the restroom, leaving her to continue on her way.
This was necessary so I wouldn't enter the classroom with her. I wasn't ready to face baseless rumors, especially since I hadn't even completed a month since coming to this school.
I entered the classroom.
Everything was normal.
Two separate groups of girls gathered around two different girls, one of whom was Sisika.
And some boys gathered, but their gatherings didn't exceed 3 people, unlike the girls, 7 or 6 crowded together as if in a prison.
Mahoro Ryota remained, fiddling with his phone as usual. He didn't seem to like making friends. I usually found him alone.
I sat in my seat behind him, and minutes later, he looked over his shoulder at me and said with a normal expression, "I need you after class. Meet me on the rooftop."