Gulp!
Gulp!
Gulp!
In just a few sips, Lorelei downed the entire cup of hot coffee. Only after it was gone did she realise the roof of her mouth and nearly the whole of her tongue had gone red and bubbled with small, uneven sores filled with serum. The flavour and aroma were simply too alluring for her, and she—heavy with emotion—had nowhere else to direct her anger, fear, sadness, and grief. Just as the old man had said, the coffee was rich with flavour. A bright acidity spread across her palate first, chased by the calming warmth of sweetness. The creaminess, despite the absence of any cream, temporarily soothed the burning—but of course, only temporarily.
She dropped the cup onto the counter and exaggeratedly opened her mouth, waving a hand inside and blowing to chase the heat burning her from within. Even her oesophagus and stomach burned. A contaminating heat spread through her limbs, drawing sweat from every pore. Shiniel—balanced between falling asleep and clinging to the last thread of consciousness she had left—watched Lorelei through the thin light slipping between her crossed arms. The grey energy particles around her face flickered a fiery red in Shiniel's eye as Lorelei shifted and wriggled.
The old man chuckled softly, playing with the corners of his moustache and accenting the tips even higher. With the slow movement, akin to a man of his age, he reached down, pulled open a drawer by its silvery-grey handle, and lifted out a little pack of white cubes pressed against the other items he used to serve clients. From it, he chose a single perfect cube, its edges still sharp, and closed the drawer.
"Here you go," he chuckled softly.
Lorelei stopped waving her hands and took the cube. Even through her pain, the wariness of a stranger was still engraved in her. She studied the perfect cube, then lifted her gaze to the old man, her mouth still frozen in that odd expression.
"Let that good ol' trick do you good."
Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from pain. The heat had already spread into her palms, leaving them moist and sweaty beneath her gloves.
"wHa is tsh," she said, speaking through her swollen mouth.
"It'll stop the swelling…
A pause that spoke volumes nested between his words. The old man seemed to be forgetting something. He opened the drawer again and took out a pile of handkerchiefs covering another box, identical to the one he had taken the white cube from. Beneath the last piece of cloth, a box of blue cubes was uncovered. With a slow tilt of his head—and Lorelei's eyes scrutinising him in utter confusion, he spoke the rest of his sentence.
… I think."
He gave a delicate, awkward smile and handed her one of the blue cubes, almost as perfectly squarish as its differently coloured peer.
"One of them is pure acid…
Even though Lorelei wasn't familiar with this old man, the silence after the first part of his sentence was enough for her to guess what he would say next.
… I think."
With a little nod, he pointed at the blue cube.
"It's that one…
Lorelei's mouth twitched in annoyance as her brows furrowed, slightly creasing her forehead.
… I think."
With irritation and the burning heat gnawing at her from within overriding her rationality and her judgment, Lorelei took both cubes and shoved them into her mouth, letting them dissolve slowly in the saliva pooling inside, her mouth left agape. The old man froze completely, his awkward smile still tracing his face beneath the puffy white hair of the delicate moustache lightly weighing on his lips.
"How'd it do?" he asked, doubt harbouring his words.
A cold feeling swirled around her mouth, like waves of ice hammering every corner of her cavity. It felt immensely refreshing after the aching burn. Gradually the swelling dissipated and deflated, giving the inside of her mouth back its original texture. Once she swallowed the fully dissolved cubes, the same feeling took over the heat. The two vied for dominance before the cold won out and calmed her all the way down to the pit of her stomach. The old man stayed stunned, eyes wide, holding a grey plaque against his torso. With hesitation, he spoke.
"Oh…"
Lorelei, bathed in this comfortable relief, looked awkwardly at the old man. His face dilated into an odd expression — almost as strange as hers.
Why is he looking at me like that? she thought, swallowing again.
Something dripped from her mouth even though she had just swallowed. Suddenly her mouth went numb; the cold freshness she had felt was cut short and replaced by a bitter taste. In that instant, she understood what that "Oh…" had meant.
"Wha—"
Lorelei felt her body dissolve, as if she had become boneless — jello made of nothing but flesh and blood. Her vision contorted and wavered. A wave of energy hit her — or rather, a wave of fatigue. Her mind and body had run through every possible emotion before she collapsed onto the counter.
"My apologies…"
* * *
"Argh…"
Lorelei contorted on a soft surface. She twisted her body, still aching from the lingering pain of whatever that old man had fed her. With only a tiny wisp of light to guide her through the still darkness, she tapped along the wall and pressed her back against the bed's headrest.
"Ow…"
Her voice carried all the pain and discomfort she felt in her own body. A shell that belonged to her, yet felt utterly unfamiliar. Her head still throbbed as she rubbed her temples, remembering the unpleasant face she had seen before passing out: the old man. She heaved a long sigh, then touched the blanket weighing on her legs. Its soft, fur-like texture pleased the tips of her fingers as she ran her hands along it. A soft creak broke the silence, a familiar wood creak, one that reminded her of where she was. Lorelei turned her head, almost forcibly dragging it round, and looked at the bed beside her. It had the same layout as hers: white sheets, a red furred blanket, aged brown wood adorning the sides, and little ceramic bowls resting on the square edges of the headrest. Shiniel, who had apparently regained her usual composure, leaned against the wall beneath the heavy red blanket, playing with her silver necklace.
"You're u—"
She let the darkness carry off the rest of her thought as she cut the sentence short, once again realising how stupid it sounded.
Am I?
She raked her throat and tucked it below the collar of her white shirt. The blue light gave an eerie atmosphere to a place that, by definition, should have carried warmth and comfort. Yet neither girl seemed to mind it. They were almost too familiar with it. It was as though the old man knew they would call this atmosphere their comfort rather than a bright yellow light shining the darkness away. It was an atmosphere they had claimed as their own, a world they were used to inhabiting, a feeling they urged themselves to hold on to. Without it, that absence would have been what unsettled them. Despite knowing little to nothing about each other's history, and having nearly resorted to murdering one another, a brittle little thread still connected them: by the heart, and by the past. They had seen an equal measure of this world's ugliness, enough to speak of it for hours on end, yet neither wished to speak of her past to the other, and both were well aware they had gone through similar things. Silence spoke, and darkness answered; thus was the way their friendship grew.
"I'll go take a shower," Shiniel declared, letting her hair loose behind her and walking slowly to the brown door in the furthest corner of the dimly lit room.
She closed the door softly, mindful of how old it was. Even more than their actual room, the bathroom was submerged in absolute darkness, a darkness Shiniel was constantly exposed to. Physical light was not a problem for her, since the energy particles visible to her right eye made up her entire world. It had been so since her second birth. She could see energy particles in their simplest form—as singular particles. Energy is a force condensed and made of tiny individual dots, imperceptible to the human eye. But this very particle was the basis of life; its condensed form, visible to those acute and trained enough, was what they called energy. From the tiniest particles, Shiniel could distinguish not only the nature of an object but also its shape, colour, and properties, though she lacked a little control and mastery over it. Using that very technique, she undressed before turning on the shower head, adjusting it a little higher so that every tiny stream of water landed on her body.
* * *
"Lore—"
"Rei. Call me Rei," Lorelei answered, cutting through the sudden voice.
"… R-ei…"
Her expression stiffened as she waited for the voice—the only voice she wanted to hear—utter her words.
"You finally decided to speak?" she said, clicking her tongue.
"I… I know…"
"You do?"
An odd feeling of anger resurfaced. Lorelei herself didn't understand why she was angry at the figure. Was it because she hadn't told her everything? Because she had thrown her out into that scary place? Because she had lied to her?
No… Lorelei was sure it wasn't any of those. It was simply because the figure hadn't apologised. She hadn't apologised for lying. She hadn't apologised for throwing her in there. And she hadn't apologised for not saying everything.
"You lied to me. I was starting to trust you, you know?" She scoffed at her own words.
Trust? In a world where people murder each other for the sake of their own well-being, that was a word that ought to be pronounced with caution. Yet it was a feeling Lorelei had begun to feel toward the figure. Despite the lies that built their relationship, she knew that lies were the very foundation of loyalty—of the trust humans preach. For that sake, Lorelei accepted the lies the figure spouted at her. She knew the figure was manipulating her, but faced with the unknown, there was no one who knew better about herself than herself.
"I lied?" the figure replied, after letting the silence settle between them. "Was it because I didn't tell you the whole truth that I lied? Everything I did, I did for your sake."
The figure's tone reminded her of the first time they had met, rather, the first time they had spoken. This same tone, once a source of light in a dark tunnel for Lorelei, was nothing now but the lament of an undead.
"Tell me, Rei, must relationships really be built on trust? If relationships aren't built on trust, then the very concept of betraying the other would not exist. People use each other to get what they wish, just like us. We are common, yet we serve different purposes. Was it because I was soft with you for a little while that you got on your high horse, thinking we were on the same level? If you've forgotten, let me remind you once more, Rei… I am superior to you."
Even in her mind, Lorelei could still feel the regret each word carried. Her thoughts weren't pronounced, but Lorelei knew the figure didn't mean any of this. She had seen her memories; though they were only little bits, those memories were still hers. There was not one part of them that didn't carry this crushing regret, this drowning grief. It wasn't her sea that was drowned in blood, death, and sorrow. It was the figure's. Just as they were one and the same, Lorelei would soon become like her. And for that reason, the figure knowingly guided her through it, so that she wouldn't end up like her. So that she wouldn't end up like the one million… nine-hundred and ninety-nine thousand… nine hundred and ninety-nine… Loreleis. That's why the figure put on this obvious act.
"I'm…"
There… There it was.
"I'm sorry, Rei."
A warm smile traced Lorelei's lips. A smile that laid white on red, "It's fine… You can't help it."