"A man gathered our forefathers. He was a knight clad in golden armor draped with a vermillion cloak. He was magnificent. He saved humanity from madness and thus brought us to this sanctuary now called Earth," a man's voice echoed in a large hall.
People were seated on wooden benches, facing the man who was preaching. The preacher was wearing a white robe strapped with a red cloth at the waist. He wore a necklace with a pendant in the form of a golden sword. He stood in front of a long table with a large book placed on it.
Behind him was a round altar. Cemented into the wall was the statue of a knight pointing a large sword toward the roof of the building.
A long aisle separated the rows of benches into two sides.
'We were saved by a knight, huh?' a young man with dark circles under his eyes thought inwardly.
He had short black hair and wore a moderate suit and trousers — which was better than the usual top and jeans he wore every day.
… Not that he loved the tuxedo more than his everyday dressing.
Though he had dark circles under his eyes, Mason maintained an expressionless face, staring at the preacher with a split mind.
The preacher's voice reached the whole chamber, yet it felt like a distant voice to Mason.
'Humans were saved by a knight? How is that possible and still… how is it not possible? Beliefs aren't formed from what we learn but from what we see, hear, and feel,' he thought as the preacher continued his readings.
'… If I draw a number and leave it, someone else who sees it will call it nine, forgetting what he learned in school and that it could be a six. Another person will swear it's the opposite. We all tend to forget logic and develop beliefs from stupidity.'
He sighed lightly and looked beside him. A woman wearing a regal dress was seated beside him and was currently trying to pet a crying baby.
Mason couldn't even hear any cries. Maybe it was tiredness or his perspective on the world… but he was becoming more distant every day.
'… Without stupidity, humans won't be able to survive. What does that mean? Even I don't know yet, but that's what I… know.' He suppressed a smirk.
'… Well, that was ironic.'
Soon, the service was over and everyone was saying the bidding prayers. Before Mason left, he was called back by the preacher.
"Mason, my son, your mom couldn't attend service today, but she called me and informed me you're suffering from insomnia. How are you feeling now, dear?"
Mason stared with an expressionless face and scratched the back of his head lightly.
"I don't know. I can't sleep, and no drugs seem to be working. It's been going on for three weeks now. Today will officially make it a month."
The preacher didn't reply at first, contemplating an idea.
"I don't think it's anything supernatural. Just visit a doctor."
'Sure, why not? Insomnia has nothing to do with his beliefs in heroic knights. So basically, there's nothing he can do? Humanity believes in whatever comforts them. Still… I don't understand the true meaning of belief.'
Mason nodded and walked away.
'… Is belief something we created? Or something that chooses us? If so, was stupidity something that existed before the birth of humanity? Or something created in the form of belief?'
---
A subway train stopped in front of Mason. He was currently in an underground subway, waiting for the train. The metallic door opened, and he stepped inside. He saw a boy his age who had short brown hair and a beautiful face. An unassuming smile was plastered on the stranger's face.
He walked toward the stranger and sat beside him, not paying him any more attention. More people entered, and in seconds, the subway was filled.
The subway moved at a moderate speed, passing through dark tunnels and occasionally running on open rails that briefly displayed the bustling city before entering another tunnel.
Mason bowed his head, staring at his feet with the same mask of indifference.
He looked up and saw a girl his age who wore a black crop top and black baggy jeans. The dress showcased her beautiful feminine shape. The girl was currently wearing a headset, not noticing Mason's gaze.
Of course, he was not a pervert, and actually he wasn't staring at her. His mind was distant from lust, and he was currently thinking of other things far more important than gazing at a girl's waist.
'People live their lives as if they understand it. They don't. They interpret, assume, and act on fragments, never the whole. And somehow, they call that certainty.'
The girl finally caught his gaze. Instead of frowning at him for being perverted, she smiled and waved at him as if they had known each other for years.
Mason was detached, so he didn't even notice her waving. Still, the girl just smiled and took her gaze away.
'Belief is a strange thing. It spreads like a virus, shaping choices more than reason ever could. I wonder… do humans invent it, or does it choose them first? Time passes, but nothing truly changes. People adapt, stumble, rebuild, and forget. They call it progress. I call it repetition with different faces. I observe, I note, I remember. The world doesn't change for me; I change my understanding of it. That is enough.'
His thoughts were interrupted by a cool, young voice.
"Hey… you look tired?"
Mason turned his gaze to the brown-haired stranger and shook his head. The stranger's smile brightened as he placed his hand on Mason's shoulder.
"... I have the perfect medication for it..." the stranger said and continued. "... It works like magic. It will help… you… sleep…" His voice became inaudible every second after noticing Mason's unwavering gaze.
"Ah, my bad. I am Night. Nice to meet you… Uhm?"
"Ooh, I am Mason. Mason Gray."
Night smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mason."
He then dipped his hand into his pocket, brought out a small white pill bottle, and handed it to Mason.
Mason collected it and hid a frown.
"Use it once a day. Trust me."
Mason was about to retort when the subway train stopped and a mechanical, feminine voice echoed in the train.
"First stop, Central District. Mind the gap between train and platform."
The metallic doors screeched open, and a few people came out while some got in. Night stood up and said his goodbyes.
"Well, this is my stop. Let's meet in the not-so-far future, Mason. Don't die, okay?" he said with zero weight and left the train.
Mason watched the door close and then turned his gaze to the people trying to find seats. Unknown to him, the previous girl was walking toward him but stopped when an old man sat beside him.
'Die? Why would I die…?'
The thought passed through Mason's mind, flat and uncolored, but it lingered longer than he liked. People didn't say things like that casually… at least, people who thought normally didn't. But Night didn't strike him as normal. Not dangerous… just strangely sure of something Mason himself didn't know yet.
"Please, watch the closing doors."
The train lurched forward again. Fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, casting quick shadows over the passengers' faces. Mason didn't flinch, but his eyes tracked the dim afterimage instinctively.
'Humans always fear the wrong things. Death, sickness, misfortune… as if randomness ever cared. If I were to die today, it wouldn't be because a stranger predicted it. Yet… people love assigning meaning to coincidence. Belief again.'
He looked down at the pill bottle resting loosely in his palm. It was a normal white pill bottle with no labels. He turned it twice between his fingers.
'This could be poison. Or it could be harmless. But isn't that how life works? Constant choices whose outcomes we pretend to understand.'
He placed the bottle into his jacket pocket.
The old man beside him sneezed suddenly, loudly enough that several passengers flinched. The girl who had waved earlier looked over again, as if wanting to speak to Mason, but he didn't give her anything to read. She sighed dejectedly, and a somber expression appeared on her face as she started typing something on her phone.
Mason looked around. Was it his perspective of the world that made him feel detached? Then why was he always feeling gazes on him?
… He didn't care, but still.
People seemed to project their own emotions onto him—curiosity, anger, fear still… he gave none back.
The speaker crackled overhead.
"Next stop, North Line Transit."
The train passed through a tunnel again and then open rails. The light cast shadows on the subway train's metallic walls before the tunnel darkness swallowed it again.
… Today was feeling really abnormal.
Passengers murmured. A child whimpered.
The old man beside Mason stiffened.
Mason simply blinked, expression steady.
'Fear is a reflex. But confusion… confusion is the moment before belief takes shape. I refuse to be confused. I refuse to believe in anything logical or illogical. I only believe in myself.'