Chapter 72: 59 - Awakened
As my eyes fluttered open, a faint hum washed over my ears, pulling at my consciousness, a gentle yet firm separation from Selene. The familiar sting of parting, the looming shadow of grim circumstances, settled over me.
And yes, Selene, I knew it.
You are a terrible liar, aren’t you?
But then again, that’s exactly why I love her. The next time we met, I’d kiss her, a silent apology for the distance that always seemed to stretch between us.
What happened next, though, was entirely unexpected.
As my eyes fluttered open, an eerie sensation struck my body, sharp and insistent.
"Ouch," a low groan escaping my lips as I finally managed to recognize the sensation. My legs were fractured, stiff, refusing to obey.
This pain, this damage, was the cost of a rash decision, of trying to save someone who had naively sabotaged her own life for some twisted ideal, claiming it was for my sake. What utter nonsense. An ideal that could never be true.
Speaking of the devil, Helena lay beside me, on an identical bed. I scanned the room. Was this some kind of lavish hospitality suite? No. It seemed more like a rehabilitation room, the kind for students or staff needing immediate magical healing.
But there were no healers, no bustling medical attendants.
Just Helena and me, in a space that felt more like a Spartan dorm room from an orphanage. She was still sleeping, a faint, almost innocent smile playing on her lips. She must be having a nice dream... Yet, a subtle thrum of replenished energy told me we had already undergone some form of healing.
Cautiously, I tried to sit up, pushing my torso with my hands.
Aw, shit, what the f*ck!
A sharp, involuntary cry tore from my throat.
Without meaning to, I dragged my legs, and every bone screamed in protest. The sickeningly clear crackkkk echoed in the quiet room, ratcheting the pain up to an unbearable level.
Never mind.
I sank back onto the pillow, breathless, forced to remain still, unwilling to inflict further damage on my bandaged legs. I hadn’t known they did that here.
My mind drifted.
What situation had Selene walked into, using my body?
The thought brought a fresh wave of anxiety.
Selene, for all her power, was inherently chaotic, a force of nature rather than a creature of nuance. Her understanding of human society, of social graces and expectations, was rudimentary at best.
I just hoped she wouldn’t ruin things for me. Despite her nature, Selene was Kairi now—bound to my name, my face, my fractured reputation.
If she slipped up, if she let even a hint of her true self bleed through, it wouldn’t just be her head on the chopping block.
It would be mine.
The consequences of her actions would inevitably fall upon me, upon the life she was currently inhabiting
Don’t do anything stupid with my mom, you deprived witch.
I muttered the words under my breath, finding a sliver of perverse amusement in mocking her entire existence.
The idea of Selene, the ancient, self-righteous spirit who’d hijacked my life, reduced to playing house with my family while I was stuck here, battered and half-broken, was a source of dark, gallows humor.
The irony wasn’t lost on me though.
It was a cosmic joke, played at my expense, and all I could do was endure it with whatever sardonic wit I could muster.
Just as I settled into my self-deprecating humor, a faint creak broke the stillness of the hospital room. The door swung open with deliberate slowness, as if whoever entered wanted to give us time to notice—to prepare. Or maybe to panic.
Several soft footsteps followed, measured and precise. Then came the sight of him: a man wearing a hat straight out of a carnival magic show, its brim slightly tilted, casting a shadow over his eyes. The shiny badge pinned to his lapel gleamed under the sterile lights—International Magic Association.
Yes, the Authority. Or to be precise, Judgment.
His smile was unnervingly calm as he approached, his voice soft-spoken, soothing, and utterly serene.
"Good morning. My name is Arthur Shakespeare from the International Magic Association. We’d like to ask both of you a few questions."
Mid-introduction, a faint smile blossomed on Helena’s lips.
*Wait... when had she woken up?*
I hadn’t sensed it. No shift in the air, no change in her breathing—nothing. It was a last surprise, one that I had never seen coming.
Last surprise...?*
The phrase stuck, playing on a loop in my mind.
That damn game must still be living rent-free in my head, a relic from the hellish high school deadlines back in Tokyo. The all-nighters, the caffeine-fueled delirium, the way my hands would shake during exams—the relentless pressure, the constant grind of academic life. Tokyo High School. That place had been a true nightmare.
The memory brought with it the phantom joker of exhaustion, a lingering anxiety from a period of my life I was desperate to leave behind – it was like the past was playing a cruel trick on me, a joke with no punchline but plenty of pain.
Tokyo High School.
That place had been a true nightmare.
I said nothing.
My mind raced, trying to process Helena’s unexpected awakening, the arrival of the Authority, and the implications of both. Silence was my only defense, a shield against whatever trap Helena was undoubtedly preparing to spring.
Instead, Helena—her smile now openly devious—eagerly responded.
"Oh, sure! I wouldn’t mind."
Her voice was sickeningly sweet, thick with feigned innocence. I knew that tone, that manufactured eagerness. She was already spinning her web, ready to cast herself as the blameless victim while painting me as the aggressor.
Arthur, his calm smile unwavering, pulled a chair between our beds and sat. The wood groaned under his weight, a quiet protest in the otherwise silent room.
"Thank you both for your cooperation," he said, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
"We understand this has been a traumatic experience. We just need to establish a clear timeline of events. Helena, perhaps you could start by telling us what you remember—from your perspective—leading up to the incident with Mytheia?"
