'Ehk! Cough! fuu!'
"Please spare James and Leor, I beg of you… I will do anything. Just spare our lives…" Her voice trembled but held firm. There was no escape, no chance of survival—only despair. But maybe… just maybe, they could live. James would say with his usual sunny grin, say that it was all a joke.
"Alright."
The voice was cold, sharp, yet familiar. The man's smile softened, shifting into something eerily familiar—just like the one James would give.
Her eyes widened to the limit.
'What? Don't be fooled Clara, No, this is not James. He's not my brother... but maybe he could really spare us? A faint glimmer of hope flickered in her emerald green eyes as she looked up at the towering man.'
"Of course, there's a condition."
His next words crushed all hopes and fantasies that had begun to rise ever so slightly.
Her body stiffened, 'Is he going to…' She covered her breasts with her right arm, her jaw clenching.
'But, if he could really spare them…' tears welled up in her eyes.
"...What condition?" she forced out through gritted teeth.
A small smirk tugged at the man's lips, seemingly enjoying the girl's every thought and reaction.
"A riddle. Answer correctly, and I will spare you and your brothers. If not…"
Hhh! Goddess…Thank you.
Her body eased slightly, removing the hand from there.
Doubt creeped in.
She gripped the hem of her white cotton gown tightly, her nails digging into her palms, warm crimson blood tainting the clean white cotton of her night gown.
"But... James, you're inside his body. Can you really give him back?" she finally spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course... Clara, show a little bit of trust."
Her name rolled off his tongue too easily. 'James' moved his right hand, closing in on Clara on the ground, his fingers brushing against her warm, pale skin, gently rubbing her cheek.
Her shoulders shuddered visibly. She shut her eyes tightly, every instinct screaming at her to pull away, but her body refused to move. When she finally dared to open them, her gaze locked onto his—cold, calculating, unreadable.
'James' moved his right hand, closing in on Clara on the ground, feeling her warm pale skin and gently rubbing her right cheek.
She remained frozen.
He smirked, his expression almost... affectionate. His hand slid from her cheek to her soft black hair, ruffling it gently.
Then, his voice sharpened, cutting through the tense silence.
"No storm too fierce, no fire too bright,
I change my form to match the fight.
Your strength, your skill, your might I claim,
Yet in the end, I'm never the same.
Who am I?"
He pulled back his hand. "Two minutes… Starting now." He declared simply.
Clara's brows furrowed, her fingers fidgeting slightly, trying to think straight.
Change my form… No fire is too bright—water? No... what about 'your might I claim'? Maybe wind? No, shadows always move with the person, and they can change their form too...
"Time's running out..." 'James' smiled knowingly, resting his hands on his hips.
'Time? Yes, it could be time, "Your Might I claim" must be referring to aging.
"Three"
'I don't fucking know, I am seriously so useless, Leor would've solved it in an instant.'
Tears streamed down Clara's eyes, but that faint glimmer of hope refused to fade entirely.
"Two."
"It's water!" she blurted out, her voice firm.
She leaned forward, staring intently at 'James,' waiting for his confirmation."
'Water exists in storms and can extinguish fire, it can change form in ice, vapours, it erodes mountains, rocks, or in floods too, and of course, it goes through the constant cycle. No matter how I look at it, this must be it."
For a moment, tense silence.
Then—the world turned upside down.
The lamp—'James'—clock—table—
A sharp burn ripped through her lower back.
There was no pain. Only cold, numb detachment. Her vision blurred, tilting sideways.
Then she saw something she couldn't comprehend.
Her own legs, still standing. Her torso... missing.
She tried to scream, but no sound came.
Only one thought remained—the answer had been wrong.
And now, she was dead.
And her family will also die because of her.
Her fading vision shifted towards 'James.'
He smiled teasingly, as if he had just played a funny prank.
"Wrong answer."
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to suppress the tears welling up. Mom…James…Leo…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Clara? Is something wrong?"
A deep worried voice echoed through the tight wooden hallway.
'James' grin widened.
fwoosh... crackle... pop…
Candles in the hallway flickered slightly, as if trying to say something.
click... clack..
Leor gently pushed open the door, entering the room cautiously.
"Ah, James, you also heard the commotion in her room?" he greeted casually.
Then, Leor's gaze fell to the floor.
His smile faded.
His pupils dilated to the limit.
His face became as pale as a dead man's.
"J-James."
He then ignored 'James' and rushed to Clara's upper body lying on the wooden floor.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, his eyes turning bloodshot.
"Clara!"
"Run... Run, Leor..."
Her lips moved on their own.
"A human's brain can stay active for more than ten minutes after death. Her brain hasn't registered her death yet—it's overloaded with pain." 'James' explained in a calm, almost friendly tone.
Leor gently closed Clara's eyes with his right hand, whipping out a midnight-black revolver in his left, Hidden from James.
Bang!
The gunshot tore through the air with ruthless precision.
He didn't hesitate.
The bullet hit—right between James' eyes.
Blood gushed through the hole in his forehead. 'James' froze, pupils widening, then collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Why, Leor?" 'James' asked in a heavy voice.
"You're not my brother. You're not James."
Leor's grip tightened on his revolver.
"Indeed, he was not."
The calm voice shattered the silence.
Leor blinked.
And when he opened his eyes again—it wasn't 'James' on the floor.
It was Johan.
His lips trembled unnaturally, his breath catching as he stared at his friend.
His friend whom he had just killed.
With his own hands.
"YOU BASTARD!"
Purple veins bulged across his forehead, his breath sharp and ragged, barely able to contain the fury bubbling inside him.
"Why're you screaming at me? You killed Johan yourself."
"But I'm curious, you knew I was here… and you acted that way to lower my guard—then kill me. Impressive. But how did you know?"
Leor flinched.
Then—
"I will kill you!!" Leor declared loudly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three shots.
Each one precise.
One to the heart.
One to the temple.
One to the crouch.
Three gaping holes.
And yet—as soon as they opened, they sewed themselves back up.
Leor's body trembled.
'What the hell? What… Is this?'
Suddenly, he quieted down, his thoughts stopping, and a sudden overwhelming urge surged within him.
An urge to shoot himself in the head.
He was scared, sad—completely hopeless, but there was one thing he knew with absolute certainty, He would never kill himself—No matter what.
"You're messing with my brain! First, you made me kill Johan, and now… Just what the hell are you, why are you even after us?"
His voice cracked a little "I never even met you…Leave…leave my brother's body, Don't make him do this…Please."
It was clear to 'James' that Leor's mental state was deteriorating. He didn't even register his gibberish, asking a question of his own.
"Interesting. You expected me to be talking to Clara, but you didn't know about her death and that I was never present in reality. But, you clearly knew I was real the next time you shot? How is that possible for a human?"
'James' eyes narrowed.
At this moment, Leor completely ignored everything 'James' said, He wasn't scared of death, as it's unavoidable.
But James being the one to kill him, that's way worse for him than just death.
"I indeed cast an illusion on you, But the desire to die—That's just you." He finally answered the original question calmly.
Leor's pupil constricted to the limit.
"I do find it strange, Why're you not sad about the deaths of your sister, best friend, Johan, and me taking over your brother's body…Why are you not in despair, Why do you feel so hollow?"
"..."
'I don't feel anything about their death?'
"Stop joking, It's just you messing with my brain… I'll kill you, To avenge my family…"
"It feels as if you're already corrupted…" 'James' said with a regretful smile.
"Alright, No point talking to a corpse, you can cope all you want…If that's what makes you feel better." He said softly.
He continued after some tense silence, letting his words sink in, adding calmly, "I should destroy you completely, or the corruption might survive, or worse leach onto me…"
That was the last thing Leor could comprehend.
The air thickened, a suffocating, almost crushing feeling on his body. Like an unimaginable force was trying to erase him entirely.
Heat. Unimaginably hot heat. His skin ignites before his nerves can even scream. His bones don't break—they melt, turning into something softer than wax.
His lungs collapse into nothingness before they can even expel a scream. His eyeballs boil inside their sockets, bursting into steam. Every cell, every atom, every thought is being shredded and devoured at the same time.
And then—nothing.
No time to think. No time to fight. Just absolute, complete death.
huff... huff...
Ahhh!
His lungs are back? They burn. His fingers claw at the wooden floor, but there is no wooden floor. Just the softness of a blanket.
The intense pain lingers, every organ of his body burning as if caught on fire, screaming in agony like they still remember being destroyed.
He rolls onto his queen-sized bed's side, coughing up nothing. He stares at his trembling hands. They're whole. His body is whole.
He is alive.
AN: Crouch= balls (Ouch)