I had no idea what feeling should be conjuring in the depths of my measly body.
The surroundings of the room I entered was dark with lit candles that flared up a reddish color.
There was the stench of slaughter that permeated from somewhere and cleared my sinuses up. I even felt it on my brain.
There were nearly fifty people in this cramped room.
When I entered, all of their eyes fell on me.
With a wine glass filled with red liquid in hand, all of the chatter halted.
And they all, with their animal masks, stared directly at me in confusion.
I understood that I was not meant to be here at once.
That I was interfering with some sort of meeting.
Should I have not entered?
Their gazes on me felt uncomfortable.
I began perspiring.
The room was awfully hot despite the cold weather outside.
Hell, I was wearing a god damn robe and too many layers!
My hand moved backward as it reached for the doorknob, urging me to leave.
But, as though there was a god that heard my prayer—
"Ah, Reverie."
It was the voice of a well-endowed man.
—the door opened before me.
I turned to face the man, relief washing over me.
A man who wore a rather realistic mask of a wolf that only covered half of his face was standing in front of me.
The half-faced wolf mask had actual fur glued on it. It couldn’t have been real fur, right? But, in any case, it looked like the real thing. The eyes even glowed slightly.
He looked at me and nodded, before turning to the creepy crowd.
"I’m sorry. He was meant to be my plus one and was waiting for me.
"I suppose you got impatient and entered.
"That’s fine. Let us be off."
He took my wrist and led me out.
We first walked speedily; it was almost like we were sprinting.
There was a certain terror that I felt in that room that could be felt when you have done something against another.
That being:
Lying to someone and them finding out.
Stealing something from someone and them finding out,
Killing someone and being discovered.
It was a heart-pumping and terrible feeling.
It was such a thing that there were no words I could use to describe it.
I had no idea what to make with the fact I had just discovered some sort of cult or underground society...
This wolf-man, who wore a fancy suit, and I passed by the same corridors that I passed contrarily before.
This time, I could take in the decor of our surroundings in a more grave fashion.
I stared at the end of the hallway in which there was a curtained door.
I eventually turned away.
It was a curious thing...the way some of the paintings had figures of men and women with normal bodies, but their faces were smudged and blurred out from existence.
There were golden plates of captions that had certain words erased. These words, I figured, were the names of the forgotten people of the paintings.
Though their faces were no longer legible, they all looked down on me with the same expression.
Remember us.
But the ones with faces looked down on me with arrogant faces.
I understood then that even if you lived a remarkable life, there were still a multitude of chances that you would be forgotten.
I would know.
I had forgotten the majority of my life.
And I had thought that I had a good relationship with my so-called "comrades."
But they abandoned me, anyway.
Not even bothering to visit during the time I was locked up. Locked up. Yes, that was a more accurate word than "quarantine." I was not sick at all.
Perhaps it was my fault. I suppose there’s some truth in that.
But they did not even allow me to give an explanation. Not a word.
We walked down staircases as I had done before.
At some point that I hadn’t realized, he had tossed the wolf mask he was wearing.
He walked ahead of me. And, from behind him I managed to take a glance of a crevice of his whole face.
"Lemon!"
We eventually arrived at the library’s exit—which was the entrance depending on where you stood.
A blond delinquent-looking boy who wore the same toga as I was waiting for us.
He was tall and lanky. Under his crimson purple-lined toga was a carelessly buttoned white button-up with the sleeves folded to his elbows.
When he saw "Lemon" he smiled.
"How goes, Lemon?"
Basil, who was rather tall when standing, dapped up Lemon’s hand.
"Lemon" donned a sheer shirt over a white tee that was nearly golden, along with black slacks
I glanced at Basil, but didn’t seem to see me nor recognized me.
I sighed in relief.
As I didn’t leave a clue on who I was, not a word nor showed myself, Basil was unable to determine who I was or what I was doing.
Lemon frowned.
"Don’t call me that, Basil. Or, would you rather I call you "Herb?" Cilantro? Parsley? Mint—"
"I understand, Solomon, so please, kindly stop."
The silence that befell us the next was rather uncomfortable for me, but the blond and dark-haired duo seemed unbothered.
A small smirk cracked in the face of Basil.
Then, the duo laughed.
I was a bit surprised at this, since Solomon seemed to be the serious type. Before this, I couldn’t imagine him even smiling at all.
"You know, some jackass was listening in on our conversation earli..."
Basil glanced at me.
"Who’s the twerp?"
...I wasn’t that short. You’re just inhumanely tall. Inhumane, because could you imagine how taller-than-average people like me when standing next to giraffes felt like?
My chest began to hurt slightly.
"Ah," said Solomon, who seemed to have forgotten about me for a moment.
He thought for a moment.
"He’s...just someone."
Just someone?
"His alias is Reverie, and I had to leave the gathering because of him."
The man who saved me from being sacrificed finally faced me.
He was...
"Aren’t you God?"
Behind him, there was a figure of white light.