The people standing there in black uniforms also began repeating the same slogan.
The camera slowly shifted outside,
"Outside the place where the ceremony was held, a massive crowd had gathered, especially a large number of girls. In the glow of the camera lights, a unique passion was visible on every face, and a sparkle of hope shone in their eyes. On their faces, only one phrase could be seen —"
"We love you,
Kryos Ven Darion"
"The news, like a spark leaping past doors, was spreading with the fury of great flames—wild and untamed, as if the jungle itself belonged to it. Though the news came from a land that was not only an enemy of Nelse but its fiercest rival, it carried weight far beyond its origin.
In Nelse, a place where the people were neither permitted to retrace even four steps behind their scars, nor allowed outsiders ( remines) to set foot within their guarded borders, this news moved differently. But what are news stories, really? Perhaps they are made from something unlike human nature—because they need neither the skin of familiar feet nor the fingers of permission to trespass into foreign jungles and set them ablaze.
The sensational headline that caught Sadako's eye had comments pouring beneath it like a sudden downpour. Her eyes, moving from the headline, wandered toward those remarks. And yet, it felt as though the rain was flowing in reverse—because the comments, though pretending to be casual, still managed to shake her."
The sensational news that had caught Sadako's eye was showered with a downpour of comments beneath it. His eyes, after scanning the headlines, naturally drifted towards the comments. But it seemed this downpour flowed in reverse—because despite trying not to be startled, he was startled.
The first comment read something like this:
"Even with the mask, I can tell—he's incredibly handsome. His eyes... they have a glimmer in them."
Reading this, a strange tickling sensation crawled through his mind.
He continued reading. The comments ahead were even more intense:
"He is looking very hot! The hot mask man."
"I want to see his face—desperately."
"Remne girls are so lucky to have someone like him."
"I heard he belongs to the richest family in Remne, maybe even the youngest son of that household."
Below that comment was a reply:
"You're only finding that out now? I've known it all along—because he's my boyfriend."
And to that reply, another response came:
"Stop lying. Why would he ever love you?"
And yet again, a reply to that reply:
"Why not? He will love me."
More replies trickled in below, but seeing the nature of these comments, Sadako had had enough. His stomach felt full—stuffed with the shallowness—and he could no longer bear to read any more of this kind.
There were also some strange kinds of comments — like finding a lump of black salt in a jar of fine white sugar. That was the metaphor this comment seemed to carry.
As always, Remne emerged as a corrupted nation. The rich son of a wealthy family was handed obsidian — something he perhaps didn't even understand well. But who cares? Maybe people like us, the Nelse, are supposed to just be happy about it.
Like every comment, this one too had replies. The only difference was — this time, they were filled with insults.
Sadako thought to himself, "These days, money and looks matter more to people than character or citizenship."
He brushed off these thoughts, calling them childish and immature, and let them slip away from his mind.
Not giving the matter any more attention, he turned off his phone, and, lost in thought, began gazing at the shimmering moon.
He was looking at the moon with his eyes, but perhaps the moonlight had failed to color his thoughts in its silver hues —
for his mind seemed stuck on some other path,
a path where even the light of the moon appeared dull.
Just then, he heard a faint rustling sound, coming from the far corner.
The moonlight was dim, and the darkness was thick — but in that darkness, Sadako could see a shadow.
And there was just enough light for him to tell —
that the shadow belonged to a girl.
It was none other than Sydrala.
She stood in the corner like a witch — enough to frighten any soft-hearted child.
Why is Sydrala standing here so late at night? he thought, glancing toward her.
Sydrala flinched slightly, perhaps realizing that she'd been caught.
Sadako, who had been leaning against the railing, noticed a little farther beside him — near the wall — a large, beautiful flower pot pressed close against it. From the pot grew a lush green plant with wide, leafy foliage.
The wall this plant leaned against belonged to the topmost room of the house — a room built just beneath the open terrace.
To reach the terrace, one had to pass through this room.
The room was exquisite, crafted from smooth, expensive wood.
Its entrance and exit were made of glass — thick glass framed with strong, white-colored, pearl-like plastic on all four sides.
The interior walls were decorated with PVC panels, some intricately designed with carved wood, while other parts were covered with glossy laminate sheets.
Sydrala stood there still — unmoving — and the lights in the room were completely off.
Sadako called out to her in a calm and steady voice,
"Sydrala? What are you doing here?"
Sydrala, who had been standing completely still,
a figure of silence in the middle of the dense darkness—
the one who had lit a flicker of light inside herself—
even that seemed to have dimmed now,
because in her ears echoed the colorless voice of her uncle calling her name.
Sadako knew the sound had reached Sydrala's ears,
but she was behaving as if she didn't exist there at all.
He called out again,
"Sydrala, I know you're right here.
What are you doing here so late at night?"
Sadako assumed Sydrala wouldn't come,
so he decided to leave quietly.
Just as he began to turn away,
he saw a pair of feet stepping out of the shadows into the moonlight.
When Sadako lifted his gaze from the feet upward,
he saw Sydrala standing in front of him—
but the glow that once adorned her beautiful face
was completely gone.
Sadako thought to himself,
"Why is Sydrala so afraid of me?
It feels as if I'm some terrible person
about to harm an innocent girl."
With a still expression and a steady voice,
he asked her,
"Sydrala, what are you doing here so late at night?"
At first, Sydrala didn't look at him,
then suddenly, flustered, she spoke,
"Uncle… I… I… I woke up from sleep…"
(Now how do I tell them, I'm afraid...)
Uncle… I had a terrifying dream.
Someone was trying to push me into water — a woman — as if she was pressing down on the veins of my neck with her thin, delicate fingers.
I was struggling, desperate, but I couldn't free myself.
I tried so hard… and yet I couldn't…
Suddenly, I found myself standing at the edge of deep water — as if I'd been pulled from a dark room to that shore.
One more step, and I'd be lost in the depth.
I couldn't see her face, but her hands… her hands wanted to throw me into that deep, dark blue water.
And I was still fighting, still trapped, unable to escape.
Just one step ahead of me was a deep pond, its blue waters quietly flowing — so quiet, it turned the calm inside me into fear.
Then suddenly, her grip weakened, and for a moment, I breathed.
But that breath of relief vanished the moment I realised — she had already pushed me in.
The water slowly began pulling me into its depths… and before anything more could happen, I woke up.
Hearing this, Sadako's expression shifted — just for a second — to something puzzled and disturbed.
There was sweat on my face.
I didn't want to stay in that room alone for even a minute.
I stepped outside and drank some cold water.
I saw your room's door open and peeked inside — but you weren't there either.
The dream had shaken me so badly… dark thoughts began to flood my mind.
So I came looking for you.
And I found you here.
.
She lowered her gaze slightly as she said this to Sadako — and quietly told herself in her heart,
"I had just taken a breath of relief… and then you caught me again."
Sadako looked at Sydrala and said calmly,
"You shouldn't be afraid of such dreams.
They don't mean anything.
Dreams like these are shaped by our own mind — when we think about something deeply but cannot express it… our thoughts take the form of dreams."
Her voice was still and quiet, almost like flowing water.
Before Sydrala could say anything in response, Sadako added,
"You should go to sleep now."
Sydrala could never disobey her uncle. Without another word, she turned and went to bed.
Sadako, meanwhile, stood lost in thought.
With a strange expression on his face, he gazed one last time at the moonlight before returning to his room to sleep.
There was something odd in his eyes —
as if a thousand questions were circling in his mind,
and none of them had found their answers.