Chapter 67: Between Red and blue.
In the dim, sultry room, the air was thick with tension and anticipation. The man, whose name was still a mystery to many, sat in a throne-like chair, his presence radiating an undeniable authority. His long, white hair cascaded luxuriously down his back, catching what little light filtered through the heavy curtains. Each strand gleamed like spun silver, creating a halo that framed his sharp, striking features. His eyes, a deep, intense blue, seemed to smolder with an inner fire as they pierced through the shadows, locking onto anyone who dared to meet his gaze.
He was a vision of power, of confidence—every inch of him spoke of someone who had seen too much and learned how to wield that knowledge with deadly precision. His legs were spread wide in a posture that was both relaxed and dominant, exuding a raw, commanding sensuality that demanded attention. The darkness of the room only served to accentuate the contrast between his radiant hair and the deep, captivating blue of his eyes, making every movement, every glance, a provocative display.
He was ｢Nameless｣, a figure whose very existence was shrouded in enigma and danger.
Across from him stood a creature born from the deepest, most primal fears of humanity. It loomed over the room, its massive frame sculpted from jagged, black stone. Muscles rippled beneath its obsidian skin, each movement a testament to its terrifying strength. Its head was a grotesque vision, a nightmarish grin stretching wide to reveal rows of serrated, razor-sharp teeth. Cold, slitted eyes burned with a predatory intelligence, and a wild mane of icy blue hair ran down its spine, stark against the darkness of its form. Every step it took reverberated through the room like the harbinger of doom itself, a creature poised to unleash unparalleled destruction.
*GRRRR-KRAAAAAWWRRR!* The beast roared, its voice a terrifying symphony of rage and hunger.
But the man, the one who had no name, remained unflinching. His hand moved in a blur, a glint of steel catching the dim light as he slashed through the air. The creature's roar died in its throat, its eyes widening in shock as it looked down at the gaping wound bisecting its body. It hadn't even realized what had happened until it was too late.
"When you all came into this world," the man began, his voice a lethal whisper that cut through the room like a blade, "humanity screamed for you. But when I arrived, the world sang for me."
His words were venom, seeping into the mind of the inhuman beast, poisoning it with fear and confusion as it crumbled to the ground in two lifeless halves.
---
The moment dissolved, and I found myself back in my own reality, the one that was far less dramatic but no less haunting. I was in my room, sprawled out on the floor where I had collapsed after returning from hanging out with Shimo. The exhaustion weighed heavily on me, pulling me down into the hard surface beneath me, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me whole.
But sleep was a luxury I could no longer afford.
There was no reprieve from the relentless barrage of thoughts that clawed at my mind. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I saw it again—the endless ocean, stretching out infinitely in every direction, its surface a disturbing mix of blood-red and alcohol-colored water. This was no ordinary dream; it was a manifestation of the chaos within me, a physical representation of the battles I waged against myself.
I was walking on it now, my steps soundless against the liquid surface. There were no memories playing out around me this time, no haunting reminders of my past mistakes or the faces of those I had lost. Perhaps the absence of these ghosts was a small mercy, a brief respite granted by the current clarity of my mind. But it didn't matter. I kept walking, and walking, and walking—until the endless sea began to shift, revealing something in the distance.
A rocky platform emerged from the water, its surface jagged and rough. The ocean split around it, the left side stained a deep, bloody red while the right side was clear, so clear that I could see the reflection of the rock in the water. It was an unnatural sight, one that defied logic, yet it felt profoundly right, as if this place had always existed within me, waiting to be discovered.
Two figures sat atop the rock. The first was a boy, no older than sixteen, with an air of exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes were tired, as if sleep had eluded him for far too long, but there was still a spark of youthful determination in his gaze. The second figure was a man, much older—perhaps in his mid-thirties—who exuded a quiet, terrifying power. His hair was a mess, his jawline sharp enough to cut, and his eyes...his eyes were hollow, devoid of any emotion, as if the man had seen and experienced too much to feel anything anymore.
They sat with their backs to each other, the boy facing the clear water, the man facing the bloody red. It was as if they were reflections of the same soul, divided by the stark realities of time and experience. When I took a step closer, both of them turned to look at me. The boy smiled—a tired, weary smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—while the man frowned, his eyebrows drawing together into a sharp V.
"Why don't you come here and sit with me?" the boy asked, his voice laced with a forced enthusiasm that rang hollow in the eerie silence.
I nodded, but something in me hesitated. There was a wrongness to this, a nagging sense of unease that I couldn't shake. When the boy extended his hand to help me climb up, I rejected it, choosing instead to pull myself up onto the rock, positioning myself between the two figures.
The man's frown deepened as he watched me, his eyes narrowing with something like disdain. "What do you think you're doing? Sitting here?" he scoffed. "Go sit with that brat."
But before I could respond, the boy spoke up, his tone calm and measured. "Let him be. Who can stop him? The two of us are just manifestations of his thoughts, aren't we?"
I knew they were right. The boy was the younger version of me, the one who had once been full of hope and dreams, now worn down by the weight of expectations and failures. The man, however, was something else entirely—he was the future I had escaped, the version of myself that had fallen into the abyss and never crawled back out. He was tall, muscular, a presence that could not be ignored, and yet...those eyes. Those hollow, empty eyes that had seen too much, done too much.
"So tell me," the adult me began, his voice low and commanding, "if you're really thinking about not following the same path as before, why are you getting involved in business politics?"
His words struck me like a physical blow. He was right. If I truly wanted to avoid becoming the man I saw before me, then steering clear of anything that would drag me back into that world should have been my priority. Yet here I was, preparing to dive headfirst into the very thing I had sworn to avoid. All in the name of saving my grandfather. How pathetic. Not even a clear goal in sight, just an instinct to act without thinking.
"Come on," the younger me argued back, his voice defensive, "I want to help my grandfather. Is that so wrong?"
"How about you stop talking, brat?" the adult me snapped, glaring at the younger version of myself before turning that cold, piercing gaze on me. "Remember this—you've let someone inside your heart again, despite how little space there is. Like that time before, do you really want to get betrayed that badly?"
"Hey, she might not betray us!" the younger me shot back, but there was a note of desperation in his voice, a plea that lacked conviction.
The adult me wasn't having any of it. He turned back to me, his expression hard as stone. "You realize she's manipulating you, right? That guy who's been messing with Yuuta...have you considered that he might be connected to this Shimo girl? Or did that thought never cross your mind?"
Silence. There was nothing either of us could say, no retort that wouldn't sound like hollow bravado.
"Let's get real," the adult me continued, his tone icy. "Shimo appeared in your life at just the right moment. If you don't believe me, chalk it up to coincidence. But then there's the other stuff. Didn't you feel like someone was watching you, all the time? And when you finally caught on, it was Shimo, who shrugged it off with some lame excuse about going to her club. A club that's twenty meters away, in the opposite direction. And then there's that guy who's been screwing with Yuuta—he's got a mark on his neck, the same mark Shimo has. Their hair, it's the same—silky, though different colors. That guy's been dyeing his hair. Add that to the watchful eyes, the coincidental meetings...she's playing you. She's using a passive approach so youwon't suspect her, making you believe that everything is just a coincidence. But you're smarter than that, aren't you? You're supposed to be."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The more he spoke, the more his words seemed to unravel the comforting narrative I had built around Shimo. Could it all really be a setup? The timing, the marks, the strange coincidences—it all began to line up in a way that I couldn't ignore.
The boy—the younger me—looked between the two of us, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "But she's...she's different, isn't she? I mean, she doesn't seem like the type to do something like that."
The adult me let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "And that's exactly what she wants you to think. You're so blinded by your desire for connection that you're willing to overlook all the red flags. She's playing you, using your loneliness against you. Don't be naive."
"Enough!" I snapped, the sudden intensity of my voice surprising even myself. I needed space to think, to process everything that was being thrown at me. The truth, as harsh as it was, had a way of cutting deeper than any blade. "I'll figure it out. I don't need you two constantly reminding me of my failures and fears."
The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. The two versions of myself exchanged a glance—one filled with youthful uncertainty, the other with cold, hardened wisdom. Finally, the younger me spoke, his voice soft and almost pleading. "Just...be careful, okay? Don't shut her out completely. You know what it's like to be alone."
"And you," I said, turning to the adult me, "stop trying to protect me by pushing everyone away. I know you've seen more than I can imagine, but I'm not you. Not yet."
The adult me nodded, a subtle but significant acknowledgment. "Fine. But remember, the path you walk now will determine which one of us you become."
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. The choice was mine, and mine alone. I could either follow in his footsteps, becoming the cold, detached figure before me or become the childlike figure.
The scene around us began to shift, the ocean fading away into darkness as I was pulled back to reality. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor of my room again, the harsh light of the setting sun filtering through the blinds. The conversation I'd just had felt like a distant memory, but the impact of it lingered in my chest—a heavy, unshakeable presence.
But where to start? Confronting Shimo directly seemed like the obvious choice, but there was something in me that recoiled at the thought. The younger me had a point—pushing her away without proof could sever a connection I desperately needed. Yet, the evidence my adult self had laid out was compelling, and ignoring it could lead to something far worse than loneliness.
If Shimo really was manipulating me to make me hers, even going as far as to eliminate potential love interests, then it was safe to assume she loved me, right?
Probably.
But I had more pressing matters to attend to. Shoving thoughts of love aside, I picked up my phone and retrieved the card with Luthor's number from under my pillow. I dialed the number and waited. After a few rings, he answered. I had a feeling he might already have my number saved.
"Good evening, young master Ren. How have you been?" Luthor's voice was as smooth as ever.
"As well as one can be. And you?"
"I've been well. May I ask the reason for your call?"
"That sounds delightful. Do you have a place in mind?"
He was probably looking for an excuse to leave work. "Yes. How about meeting at the Nagi restaurant at seven o'clock?"
"Very well. I'll see you then."
"Yes," I replied, and the line went dead.
I glanced at the clock—it was noon. I didn't bother to dwell on whether hanging up so abruptly was rude. That wasn't my concern.