[The Narrator tells you to not listen.]
It had been a month since the Narrator’s writing surfaced in front of me.
At that moment, however, in dainty cursive, the Narrator made a statement.
This statement wasn’t a narration, but instead a means of communication.
I had begun to be less trusting of this system, so I instead responded to Jibril.
"Will do. Thank you, Jibril."
Jibril only nodded, and placed his hand on my neck, about to stitch.
[Don’t listen.]
[Regulus.]
[The Narrator is pleading with you.]
[Regulus, the Narrator tells you to not listen.]
[Regulus.]
I ignored the writings that appeared before me.
[Regulus.]
[Regulus.]
It was the same as back when I was locked up.
The Narrator would repeat my name over and over again.
[Regulus.]
There was no sound, of course, since it wasn’t narrating anything.
But it irritated me with a passion.
In that pure white room, even the visits made by Horace didn’t help.
All I heard was my name and it became exasperating to even hear it.
[Regulus.]
The words would echo on the walls, through my ears, through my cranium, and never stopped.
I genuinely hated it. In all actuality, who wouldn’t?
It only came to a halt whenever I responded back.
I refused to.
Jibril continued to yap on about current crimes and news like serial killers and the like.
Even when my only visitor, Horace, hopped by, sometimes with delicacies like oranges, pie, milk, or amongst those, I was still unsettled.
Though it didn’t help my case, I became easily irritated whenever I was spoken to.
The repeating messages by the Narrator came to a halt eventually. It had been a few days before my first day of school.
[Regulus.]
[The Narrator wishes that you would answer him.]
Wow, who would’ve thought that there would be a gender reveal right then?
So, the Narrator is male, huh...
[Regulus.]
I completely closed my eyes to block out the screens of text that appeared before me.
That proved to be advantageous to me, for Jibril had simply assumed I was in pain.
"Learn to love the pain..."
Jibril droned on.
I peeked a little, opening one of my eyes.
My own name filled my sight.
[REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS. REGULUS...]
It seemed that unless the Narrator was narrating my story, he would usually appear on screens rather than through voice when he had a desire to communicate with me.
With that, the Narrator can be simply shut off with a simple closing of eyes.
I shut my eyes with a smile, barely feeling the stitches any longer.
The satisfaction I felt from defying the Narrator dampened the pain of the sewing, making me feel at ease.
I was sure that Jibril was making an expression of the same satisfaction and pride as he was sewing, probably thinking that I managed to master "loving pain" in a jiffy.
I ended up missing the entirety of the period that followed Masochism 101, so it was the last period of the day by then.
Class: General Mysticism; instructor: "Bull."
When I entered the class which was set in the campus’s chapel and seated myself, I found myself recognizing two people.
"Hey..." I heard one of the entering students, a girl, say to her friend. "Aren’t they the Bohemians?"
"Basil is ever-so handsome!" her friend replied.
Basilian Ramos, the tall blond and brown-eyed young man who was the most popular of the three, was seen standing next to...
"Samreah Sinsuat, huh? She is cute as hell. Smash," a male student quipped with his friend, and his friend punched him on the shoulder with a hush.
Samreah, with brown locks wrapped into twintails, was standing next to Basil.
In the humongous student body, only this group of three were referred to with their real names rather than pseudonyms.
...group of three?
I could have sworn the Bohemians were only two...But if that was so, then they would be referred to as a duo, wouldn’t they?
My eyes remained settled on the duo...trio? I wasn’t sure anymore.
Why did this duo, who was waiting for someone in the front door, standing below the doorframe, seem to have a space in the middle of them?
Why did that space look empty without another person?
...why did I know Basilian’s full name?
Right.
I recalled that time last week at Crook’s.
What was I there for?
It wasn’t like I made friends the first day. Friends that would invite me out anyway.
That day, I spent my free time in the library. At first, I was reading, but ended up listening in on a conversation of the two Bohemians, then...
...then, while exploring, I entered a room where some sort of cult-like gathering was taking place at the library.
Then...
Someone helped me out.
Who was it?
All I could recall was a mask of a wolf that covered half his face...
Who was he?
How did I end up at Crook’s, and then questioned by my adviser?
Did something happen?
"I forgot," said Basil, shutting a book in his hands.
His voice was loud. Extrovert tendencies, I reckoned.
...why was I familiar with his habits when I barely spoke to them at the bar?
"Lemon ain’t around, huh. Still in hiding, I see."
"Fuck," said Sam, her shoulders slouching. "Really? I got too used to waiting for him. He always does this when he does that. How did you know?"
"Right here. Brother wrote a note and slid it in my book."
I saw Sam look over the book he was holding.
"He didn’t send you anything? Not a letter?"
Basil questioned Sam in concern.
"Not a word."
Basil whistled in amusement.
"What a shit boyfriend, that folk," spat Basil, putting an arm around Sam.
Sam, who was usually wary of other men besides Solomon, let him.
...who the hell is Solomon?
The duo left where the doorframe was and seated themselves behind me.
My attention was brought to a shift when a certain blond man with layered hair and casual clothing under his robe entered the classroom, letting the door that was nearly three meters in height shut loudly.