At the very same moment Mr. Sakanami was receiving his call, another event was unfolding elsewhere in the orphanage.
In a large hall, Dr. Mathieu Cordovitch was waiting. Seated in an armchair, he was sipping tea. He was in a reception room, waiting specifically for Dr. Dupont, who was behind an immense door situated to his right. This door, which separated the two rooms, was made of oak. Delicate floral motifs, along with other ornaments, had been carved into it with great finesse. It measured a full two meters wide by three meters high, and its thickness was equally impressive. Not a single sound managed to escape from it.
Dr. Mathieu raised his gaze to survey the room; a long table stood before him, forming a giant circle—an enormous tabletop with a total of some thirty seats. This circular table was, moreover, mounted on a series of tubular beechwood legs, carved into dark brown lion's paws. Resting on this delicate layer of wood was a thin sheet of glass that reflected the ceiling. In the middle of the table, there was a gap where only the glass covered the surface; inside this void, one could make out something resembling a giant bowl, though only its outer walls were visible, with an opening at its very center.
There were also twenty or so people in the room, perhaps more; some were young, others older, men and women alike. Seeing them also waiting, Mathieu realized they too were awaiting the return of Dr. Dupont; he noted that they were primarily scientists and staff members.
Silence reigned in this room. Only the sound of Dr. Mathieu sipping his tea disturbed the quiet. Some individuals turned toward him with annoyance, others rolled their eyes, and the rest remained in stony silence. Only Dr. Dupont, the Professor, the general director, and the priest Daemon Caelestis had entered this room with the very last group.
Looking back up, he noticed the glances being thrown his way; while observing them, he took another sip and made a monstrous slurping noise with his tea. When he finished, he looked at them with a broad smile. Upon seeing this smile, most turned their gaze away, weary of his childish behavior.
Dr. Mathieu noted that he was seated just a couple of steps away from this long circular table; turning his head to the right, he observed that if the door opened, he would not even see who came out of it first, because this door opened inward for entry, but also swung outward for exit, which would completely block his line of sight from that angle.
His observation complete, he turned his attention back to his tea. It was hot, its liquid a brownish-orange. Observing his armchair, he noticed the patterns: rose motifs, everywhere on his chair. He lifted his eyes to look at the other armchairs surrounding him; they all shared the same visual theme, a bubblegum-pink color with roses printed on them—on the sofa to his right, the two other armchairs placed on the sides, and the footstool facing him. In the middle of all this sat the low wooden table, equipped with an ashtray and a cup holder.
Looking over this little corner, Mathieu was somewhat surprised, for just a few steps away stood this magnificent, elaborately crafted circular table, flanked on either side of the room by high-end armchairs; only this particular spot felt out of place, almost like a joke amidst the grandeur of the room.
"Is this space really massive enough to arrange furniture like that? Plus, above each door, there is a cross of God—what's the point of that? We might be in a place where people believe in God, but there's no need to show it off all the time... Truly, I wonder why there are so many people here; is there a scheduled meeting? So many new faces are present, I really wonder why," Mathieu thought as he sipped his tea, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
He was drinking the last sips of his tea while staring blankly into space. He observed each person, trying to understand what he was doing there. Suddenly, voices drew closer to him; a small group of people advanced toward the spot where he was sitting. As he watched them, Mathieu noticed that, much like himself, they were all wearing a doctor's attire of sorts, or at least that famous white lab coat.
They arrived and settled into the armchairs and the sofa of this little nook, which felt almost cut off from the rest of reality; they continued laughing and chatting, paying little attention to Dr. Mathieu sitting right there—though he wasn't paying much attention to them either. A pair of legs, however, brought him back to reality: he was gazing at the low table, recalling various details he had noticed in the room, when he caught sight of this pair of women's legs at the end of the table, resting on the footstool. He raised his head to look at the owner of those legs, and when his eyes landed on her, she was already looking at him.
Looking at him with a smug expression, she took a cigarette with a simple, mechanical gesture and lit it. One of the men sitting on the sofa pushed the ashtray closer to her. In a calm tone, as she exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, she said:
— So you're the new kid from the level one group?
He looked at her, not quite understanding. Mathieu observed her for another moment, while also looking at the people gathered around him. Then he spoke in a calm tone, matching the person sitting across from him; he placed his freshly emptied teacup back onto the low table and gave her his reply:
— Yes... I suppose so. I just arrived three days ago, so you could say I'm new to the "level 1 team." On the other hand, I'm not sure I'm the only newcomer in this establishment.
— I didn't say otherwise. It was a matter of courtesy, anyway you can take it that way, she said, looking at him.
— For a matter of courtesy, it's still most peculiar... Besides, it's fairly obvious that I'm new here. A little bit of observation of one's surroundings would have been enough to figure that out, Mathieu said, settling back comfortably into his armchair.
— Indeed, you're not wrong, your observation is quite accurate, she said while smoking. But I wasn't talking about that at all, you see; I knew you were a newcomer. Generally, people joining the base arrive two months in advance and tour the zero and one teams, but you—I had never seen you before, and as you said, you had just arrived here three days ago; so we came over to you, somewhat concerned for you.
Mathieu looked at her with a hint of incomprehension in his eyes. A man cleared his throat to make himself heard. He looked at the woman with the cigarette with annoyance, then turned to Mathieu and said in a clear voice:
He was a brown-haired man in his thirties, or perhaps a bit older; his features were those of a man of forty, slightly full in the cheeks, with the beginnings of a receding hairline, yet his gaze remained sharp. He had light brown hair, wore a white lab coat, and underneath, a simple shirt and trousers.
— My apologies, Mathieu, she's rather the direct type, if you know what I mean... By the way, can I call you Mathieu? Because "Doctor Mathieu" feels a bit too professional for our casual chat—or well, if you really want us to speak formally, if it makes you uncomfortable... Ah, by the way, I forgot to introduce myself with all this: my name is Xavier O'Connor.
— Don't bother with formalities, Xavier. In any case, these rules of custom were created by men... especially these rules of decorum. And like any rule created by men, they can just as easily be reshaped to fit our needs and as we please. So let's not get hung up on what we call each other, at least while we're here among ourselves.
— I'm delighted to hear that, then, Mathieu, Xavier said. Let's start over, then...
He was interrupted by the woman with the cigarette; she looked at Mathieu with slight amusement, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, and said in a playful voice:
— From what I see, you're quite skilled at buttering people up. What's more, you express yourself extraordinarily well. You seem rather special, you do! she said in a lighthearted tone. By the way, my name is Grace Sullivan, and we more or less come from block F5d.
— Just like plenty of people who want to get into the good graces of their elders or superiors, Mathieu said, looking at her. Still, I am rather surprised, Grace: why come here, right to where I am? I'm not the type to believe in fate and these nice, chance encounters... Tell me what you're really after, and let's stop beating around the bush, if you please.
— You're very perceptive, but still, you lack the experience when it comes to reading between the lines, Grace said, smoking her cigarette.
A young woman sitting on one of the two sofas stood up; she had a fair face, a few light pink freckles, eyes as calm as the sea yet deeply black, and pitch-black hair that was slightly messy. She wore a white shirt with a white jacket over it, and a white lab coat.
From what Mathieu had gathered while listening to them talk among themselves, her name was Emma Fitzgerald; she was part of their team, quite young—though Mathieu guessed she must be a few years older than him.
— He may be perceptive, but he has no experience, Grace. Why did we even come to meet him? He won't bring us anything good; besides, Dr. Dupont seems to have taken him under his wing, Emma said, looking at Grace, then casting a sideways glance at Mathieu. He seems to be one of that old fox's favorites, and he's far too young to help us.
— What business is it of yours, Fitzgerald? said a man who stood up from his seat in turn.
Mathieu observed him. He was a man in his thirties. He wore a black suit beneath his lab coat, and his dark blonde hair was impeccably styled. His expression was hard; he stared at Emma sternly, challenging the doubts she was casting on the boss's choice.
— You should calm down, William. She's only giving her opinion, there's nothing wrong with that, said a man sitting next to Mathieu.
This man was also quite young, even younger than Mathieu. The latter felt a bit disconcerted as he looked at him closely: he had light brown hair, a youthful haircut, a light-colored shirt, trousers to match, and, like the others, a fine white lab coat.
— You should keep your mouth shut, Ethan! William said, turning toward him. She's doubting our leader's choice! She questions his authority every time she opens her mouth, she needs to stop doing that, it's becoming almost a form of rebellion in the long run!
— Always exaggerating; there's nothing wrong with knowing where we're headed after all, William. You're not actually going to blame us for having doubts about Mathieu, Ethan said—then caught himself and turned to Mathieu. You don't mind us using you in our discussion, do you? He's so stubborn he refuses to see that there's a risk.
Mathieu looked at him with a slight raise of his eyebrows, then nodded in silence. Seeing this, Ethan pointed out the detail to William. The latter wanted to retort, but was cut off by Grace.
— Mister William Carter, and you, Mister Ethan Campbell, I would like you to calm down; don't you see you're embarrassing us with this scene? Ms. Fitzgerald has every right to be wary of good old Dr. Mathieu; he's a stranger to our objectives and, on top of that, appears close to Dupont—even he seems unaware of the situation he's in. So put an end to this scene.
The two men didn't say another word; a silence settled over the room. William still gave Emma and Ethan a dark look. Grace put her hand to her face and let out a tired sigh; she reached for another cigarette to calm herself.
Mathieu observed the entire scene with a fresh perspective; he realized he was dealing with a group that had a well-crafted plan and thoroughly supplied information.
"It seems the cage is closing in now, all because of that old fox; he has put me in a most delicate situation. On one hand, everyone seems to believe I maintain a special relationship with him, and on the other, these eight people come to see me just to argue among themselves—you could say I'm in a bit of a mess. I just hope they'll at least teach me something I don't know here; especially since, according to the explanations I received when I applied here as a doctor, there wasn't nearly as much staff mentioned in the contracts, nor the slightest mention of some random block with some random number. What on earth did I get myself into by applying to this establishment?" Mathieu thought as he watched them.
Grace continued; she looked at him, then at the other people seated around them, smoked for a few moments longer, and then stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. Her expression was that of a weary person; she seemed to have lived through so much that her gaze could not contain it all. Mathieu noticed this the more he observed her, but she still kept that slight smile at the corners of her lips, perhaps to mock someone, or simply to shield herself from something.
Grace was a rather elderly woman in her fifties; her hair was grizzled white, her eyes calm, though rather deep dark circles could be seen beneath them. She wore light-colored trousers with a beige t-shirt, and of course, that famous white lab coat.
Mathieu continued to observe her and all the others; they did not seem to fully understand their primary objective. He had grasped certain things from watching them, but still did not understand their real target or their true intention.
— You must excuse me, Dr. Cordovitch, for all this fuss; as you can clearly see, tension is running high among us, so I hope you will forgive us, Grace said, looking at Mathieu.
— Don't worry about these inconveniences, Grace; I think I've already figured out that this source of tension in your group comes from me, Mathieu said, looking back at her. But now I'd like some answers from you: why all this? Why this somewhat grotesque display? And above all, why come to me?
— That's a lot of questions, my dear Mathieu.
— I know... but I still want to know. Certain things are happening without my consent, while I'm right here in this room where everything is taking place. So yes, I want to know a part of this truth, if you'd be so kind as to tell me, Grace.
— If that's what you want.
She smiled at him, then looked seriously at the others, pausing on a certain Benjamin Turner. He was a man with dark-blonde, almost brown hair and deep blue eyes; he was tall, with fine features—a handsome man. He wore his white lab coat with grey trousers. When he caught Grace Sullivan's eye, he gave a nod, moved slightly, and a sort of soap bubble appeared in front of him. It drifted to the middle of the low table, then suddenly grew to enclose the area where they were sitting.
The walls of the bubble were thin, almost transparent; everything outside could be seen clearly, and from the inside as well. Seeing this, Mathieu was shocked; he hadn't budged an inch, but his eyes certainly had. He had already witnessed the changes in scenery, but seeing a bubble enclose them now left him stupefied.
— Are you sure this bubble protects us? Because right now, I can see everyone right through it, so technically, everyone can see us too, Mathieu said in a suspicious tone, staring at the thin barrier. It's not that I'm trying to discredit the work, far from it, but I must admit I'm somewhat dumbfounded by what I just saw.
— That's completely normal, Dr. Mathieu, Benjamin said with a slight smile. This technique only serves to mask our discussions, not to camouflage us; the practical thing about it is that it's almost undetectable and, above all, easy to perform.
Mathieu looked at him for a moment, then turned his gaze back to this thin barrier; he touched it, but felt nothing—he was touching only air, unable to make physical contact with it. Grace coughed; Mathieu quietly settled back into his seat while observing the thin wall.
— As you've just seen, Mathieu—and I think you've already noticed with all these changes, first to the building, and now with this bubble that just appeared—here, everyone has magical powers.
— That's impossible! That can't exist... Yes, of course, I've seen all this and I accept it, but powers, Grace, that's a bit childish; I'm past the age of believing in God, so powers just make me laugh, Mathieu said, looking at her. Still, I wonder where you come up with such incredible claims.
— There are many things you don't control yet, Mathieu, and this is one of them, Grace said, smiling at him. Unfortunately for you, these are indeed magical powers; it's normal to doubt it, I was just like you when I first arrived here.
— You're pulling my leg, right? Of course not—looking at all your serious faces, I realize I can no longer rely on everyone else's reality, Mathieu said with a sigh. But still, you're not actually going to tell me that this power you're talking about is literally called "magical power"?
She looked at him with a slight smile, drawing once again on her cigarette; the ashtray already held more than five butts, but she wasn't the only one smiling—most of them were grinning upon hearing his response.
— I like that side of you, Mathieu, this ability to rationalize information quite quickly; it's impressive, really, most people are either lost or crying like four-year-olds. To be honest, it's not called "magical power," it has another name, but that's a whole different story.
He looked at her for a few seconds without a word, then opened his mouth to speak when Xavier O'Connor cut him off.
— The powers we possess are divided into three, if you prefer; each of these powers has a rather specific name, but all have a very particular utility. The first is called: the Supreme Principle. If you were lucky or not, you should normally have started with this one. It is divided into three forms, but I will only tell you about the first: at your level, the Supreme Principle consists of a unique mark or seal; it functions in such a way that our very existence becomes a specific power unique to us.
When he finished, he fell silent, but William Carter resumed speaking without giving Mathieu time to ask the questions buzzing in his head.
— For the second power, complementary to the first, a sort of entity related to it, it is named: the Lotus Artifact. As the name suggests, it is an object; it can be anything from a spear to a ring. Of course, you can receive it right at the beginning, or conversely, much later. If it comes right away, it becomes your new law; if it comes later, it reinforces your Supreme Principle... These objects are far stronger and more mysterious than the last of the powers, the one we retrieved from the other side, which isn't truly one of our native powers. The Lotus Artifacts have fourteen different functions, distributed across numerous paths.
— Wait! Wait! What do you mean, the third power isn't really a power we possess? You just said it was part of the three powers we have—so what is it, if it's not one of our powers?
Emma looked at Mathieu with annoyance and answered his question with a hint of irritation in her voice.
— The third power, therefore the Spiritual Treasure, comes from the other side; it comes from another world we call the New World. You could say it is the predecessor of all the powers we know today. We are part of one of its distant branches, if you prefer.
Mathieu wanted to speak again, but was cut off by Benjamin Turner, who smiled at him before continuing while looking right into his eyes.
— For the third and final power, as William and Emma said, it is named: the Spiritual Treasure. It is less complicated to understand than the other two, and much more accessible to buy or find. These can be mystical objects, insects, or tiny creatures; it doesn't necessarily have a specific form. It allows us users to produce specific supernatural abilities. The third power is the most common of all; it is divided into nine types—attack, defense, and seven others—for a total of thirty-six different paths.
Mathieu watched Benjamin finish and observed them before being cut off again; but seeing that no one else was speaking up, he took the floor himself:
— I'm not sure I understood everything between the Supreme Principle, the Lotus Artifact, and the Spiritual Treasure, which isn't really a power. Furthermore, you didn't explain everything correctly to me: first off, for the first one, there are three sub-powers, but you only told me about the first, not the other two—I want to know what the other two are. I want the rest. On top of that, for the second power, I don't understand a single thing about these fourteen types that weren't explained, nor about these paths you said nothing about—I don't know what to make of your explanations. And for the last one, it's perhaps the worst: it is a power, yet at the same time it isn't, since the powers we possess are its descendants—so why count it at all?
They looked at Mathieu attentively, then Grace, in a spontaneous burst, began to applaud, followed by all the others. Mathieu stared at them in astonishment; he no longer knew whether he should laugh, cry, or hurl every insult in the book at them. This lasted less than thirty seconds; when silence returned, Mathieu spoke again.
— Are you making fun of me? Or did I actually hit upon a good answer just now? Because at this point, I don't know what to think of you anymore. You've just explained three powers to me with an almost admirable logic, while conveniently leaving out half of the essential information, and you still find a way to applaud as if the mystery had just been solved. But fine... maybe I'm the one trying too hard to make sense of all this. After all, when answers are lacking, maybe you just have to clap loud enough to make people believe you've found them; it's just like God, you just have to applaud for Him to appear, is that it?
— Of course not, Mathieu, we aren't making fun of you by doing that, we're applauding you instead, Emma said, looking at him. For a beginner like you, it's rather impressive to have grasped all that with so little information on the subject. You could say we only scratched the surface—we only talked about 0.01% of the topic, and you grasped the core of it pretty well, which is already good.
— She's right, Mathieu, Grace replied, looking at him. We only talked about the basics of the powers.
— Why is that? Why not tell me everything directly, instead of beating around the bush like this?
— Because that's not our role, Mathieu, Grace said, looking at him with her cigarette between her lips. Tonight, you'll have all the information on this subject, so don't be impatient; as for what follows, you don't need to have that much information on this point... But tell me, what power do you have, if you don't mind sharing?
They all looked at him without really speaking; he straightened up properly in his armchair, crossed his legs and his fingers, and fixed his gaze on Grace and the others.
— To tell you the truth, I have no idea; perhaps a Supreme Principle, since I haven't received any weird objects or creatures. But I'm not really sure about what I'm saying.
— Really, you don't know? Strange... Tell me, have you had any strange sensations these past few days, or this morning—a dream, or some other oddity that happened to you? Grace said, looking at him with surprise. Think about it, any information will help figure out what power you've received.
Mathieu placed his hand on his forehead and thought; the others looked at each other, then observed the people outside. He quickly noticed that some people were watching them, while others were chatting amongst themselves. But their attention soon shifted back to Mathieu, who seemed to have found his answer.
— Yes, that's it, I think I've found it: this morning, I had a peculiar dream, Mathieu said in a half-whisper. It was far too singular to be normal... or am I losing my mind?
— No, that's precisely it, Grace pointed out to Mathieu. So your dream was the clue, interesting. Well then, welcome to the fold for those who started with a Supreme Principle as their first power. Now, it's up to you to discover what your Supreme Principle does; it's one of the most rewarding experiences you'll have during your stay here.
— Is that a good thing? Because from what I just understood, the Lotus Artifact replaces the first power with its own—is that bad? Mathieu remarked, looking at them. Simple question, since almost everyone starts with the first: is it good news?
— Neither one nor the other, Emma said, looking at him. If you had received the third power as your first power, well, that would have been a bit more complicated for you; but between the second and the first, there isn't all that much difference. The second is simply rarer to obtain than the first.
— Why would the third have been complicated? Mathieu asked, a bit surprised. If the third and second are almost identical, where's the problem?
— The problem stems from the fact that the third power is only a help to us, or a lever if you prefer to see it that way; we mainly use the first or the second all the time, to fight, defend ourselves, and for all kinds of things, William said seriously. The issue isn't with the objects of the third power, but rather the fact that they are nearly unusable, which is why we turned to the other powers. The main problem with the third is that it takes tons and tons of treasures to produce powerful attacks. And to use these treasures at full power, you have to get rid of the other two powers we carry within us, which poses a most dangerous risk, because you end up completely exposed facing a world you don't know.
— I understand; so you simply have to abandon everything to use the Spiritual Treasure at full power, Mathieu muttered. So, in short, are the Spiritual Treasures the very origin of the powers we possess? Then aren't they stronger than our powers?
— They are certainly the origin of all our powers and all the powers of the other world, but they remain inferior to our powers even when they reach 100% of their capacity, Xavier said with a smile. Before you ask that question: finding a second or a first power, if we already possess one or the other, is very difficult, just as crafting one is; it would take a long time before finding another... You could say the third is the main source of power for the inhabitants of the other world.
— What other world? This whole time, you've been referring to it without ever telling me what this other world actually is. And one final quick question about the powers: why do we still use Spiritual Treasures if they are weaker than our powers?
He asked his question, but received no answer. Grace pointed to a man standing behind her: a rather tall adult with a somewhat slender silhouette, short, slightly ruffled brown eyes, and brown hair. He wore round glasses that enhanced his appearance, along with a light-colored shirt, dark trousers, and a white counselor's lab coat. His appearance was slightly unkempt, with messy hair and an unsophisticated outfit that well matched his clumsy and warm demeanor. He was chatting with other people and didn't notice the sudden gaze fixed upon him.
— Who is he, that you're pointing him out to me like this?
— The person who will talk to you about all this tonight: the powers, the other world, and your specific role, Grace said, gesturing toward the man in the distance, but keeping her eyes locked on Mathieu's. His name is Michael Kell; he's a psychologist just like you, but he handles everyone on our floor. He's a man to be wary of, just like Dupont. Tonight, you might also have another consultant with you, a monk—perhaps Elias Barazov, or someone else—but I hope you get Elias; he's kind-hearted, a real saint.
Mathieu scanned the room, hoping to catch sight of a monk or anyone else suggesting a religious figure, to guess what this Elias looked like. But in the room, there were no monks or anything of the sort, only people in lab coats or suits. He gave a few sideways glances; everyone was waiting for the same person behind that door.
— He's not here, but you must have realized that with all these people who are in no way religious. Even tonight, you have little chance of crossing paths with him; he isn't the only priest or religious person here, Grace said, looking at him.
— Then what use is all this information you've given me, if at the end of the day they're the ones who will give it to me tonight? I don't understand why you're doing this; is there a conspiracy somewhere, or a betrayal underway in this place? If so, warn me now, so I can choose the winning side.
Grace looked at him, stubbed out the cigarette she had just finished in the ashtray, lit another, and took a drag. She exhaled; the smoke washed over her face, briefly revealing her neck and hair before hiding her face behind a cloud of smoke. She spoke:
— There is currently no betrayal underway, nor any rebellion in this place, Mathieu, but you hit the nail on the head about one thing: there is a side to choose. There won't be a right or wrong choice, there will simply be choices to make. Of course, if a battle breaks out, there will inevitably be a winner and a loser, but here, we are simply talking about factions between opposing ideologies. Some people violate nature and humanity simply to achieve their ends—everything they do goes against nature, pure and simple; and we, if you prefer, are fighting against that, or at least acting as a roadblock.
Looking at Mathieu, Grace rested her hand on her chin, cigarette at the corner of her lips; seeing him thus lost in thought, or at least in that posture, she too began to reflect on certain things:
"I would love to explain it to you more simply, Mathieu, or even tell my dear friends... but reality is harder to hear than one truly hopes. Everyone thinks they are acting for the common good, or at least that's what they claim. They all want to create a perfect world according to their own selfish desire; some people believe the end justifies the means, even when it requires a massacre or staining one's hands with the blood of one's own allies. Some people want to play the savior, plagued by a savior complex; they play the good Samaritan, but all end up becoming the shadow of a tyrant. I was never gifted at knowing everything, but I know certain things I shouldn't know, or at least I've seen them; I've learned that a good or bad intention doesn't necessarily make an action right or wrong—it all depends on what it ultimately served. Even our ideologies never stay perfectly the same: they change, they evolve over time, just as the members of our teams change too, just as our principles change too... everything changes, all the time; perhaps that's what is frightening: one day we can share an idea and, the next day, oppose it. We fight for who knows what reason, perhaps for justice? Perhaps for ourselves? In the end, we resemble the others much more than we truly imagine," she thought, looking at Mathieu, who was still reflecting on what she had just said.
The silence lasted barely a few seconds within this small group, but it dissipated just as quickly. Grace snapped out of her thoughts and immediately looked at Mathieu, who had also finished pondering his reply.
— If I absolutely must choose a side, then I will choose the side of neutrality—a place where I would be alone, observing everything and everyone, and in the event of a battle or other occurrence, I would choose the faction that feels closest to my values and moral code.
Everyone was smiling; each person had at least the shadow of a grin on their lips, even Grace, who seemed to wear one at the corner of her mouth, which she concealed just as quickly.
— It's fine to think that way, Mathieu, but one cannot remain caught in the crossfire indefinitely; one day, you will have to choose one of these factions that makes you doubt so much, Ethan replied with a slight smile. Being neutral looks good on the surface, but no one is truly neutral; we all lean toward something, good or bad, red or blue—we cannot remain neutral, sooner or later we must choose one of those camps...
He continued talking to Mathieu while looking at him, but the latter was already elsewhere, lost in his own bubble, deep within his mind; he watched him speak without listening, yet gave the impression of being attentive and tuned in to his interlocutor.
"I am far from having one of the most noble or relevant ideologies in this lower world, but I am human, I feel the compassion of the world as well as its indifference. Choosing between one and the other is most vexing—must one necessarily choose a side, align oneself somewhere? God or the Antichrist, is there always a winning side? The universe is as vast as the palm of a hand, one only has to see what can be done with a little effort; you can change a situation or lose it, destiny is just as cruel as any of these factions. There are days when I feel like the stars in the sky, like this blue sun, alone and solitary, in the dimness of the universe, so far and remote that I am no longer sure I truly exist—must existence necessarily precede essence? Sometimes, living is harder than existing; in a world constantly in motion, change is deadly... Living to help others at the cost of some bloodshed, or living alone and for oneself: this, we will always be blamed for. A camp can be a disguised prison, or the beginning of freedom; it all depends on our view of things on the subject," Mathieu thought, pretending to listen.
— So, did you understand why choosing the middle can be a weakness? said Ethan, who had just finished speaking.
Mathieu nodded; seeing this, Ethan was pleased to have gotten his point across. Grace noticed that Mathieu had only listened to the beginning of Ethan's speech; she turned her head to look behind her and observed that many eyes were watching them—for some, it was merely in passing, while for others, the gaze was much more insistent.
She turned back and looked at the members of her group; they were already all watching her, either with a small smile on their lips or with a serious expression. Seeing that they understood, she turned to Mathieu, who was looking at her without truly grasping the situation he had been placed in; she quickly realized that he was beginning to understand the predicament he was in, and knew he was intelligent and pragmatic, yet still a bit too young for her liking.
She took another cigarette, drew a first puff, and spoke again:
— Are you truly ready for the rest of the information, Mathieu? This next part will seem rather special, even completely incomprehensible, but it is better that you learn it from people who will tell you everything about it. Unlike the powers, which will be properly explained to you, the world over there will not be properly explained to you; they will hide certain information from you, or even most of it, so we will do it, and we will explain what you need to know.
— Let's go ahead, explain to me what this world over there is, Mathieu said, sounding a bit impatient. Show me this truth that is eluding me.
— Come now, Mathieu, don't be in such a rush, Grace said, rising from her footstool. Let's have a tea or coffee first before rushing into this long story.
Mathieu looked at her, taken aback; he couldn't understand why he had to wait for this crucial information simply because of the tea or coffee this lady absolutely wanted before continuing. He let out a sigh, somewhat tired, but didn't seem to refuse a small coffee for himself either.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading.