Ruvian didn’t wait for the next note to land, as he couldn’t afford to sink again, not now when he had already pieced together the rules of her performance and the verses of her song attack.
He drew in a deep breath, then bit first on the inside of his cheek, then again on his lower lip, driving pressure until he tasted iron and warmth blooming across his tongue.
With that taste came pain, and with that pain came clarity.
The sting wasn’t strong enough to cripple him, but he needed something to keep his awareness spiked high, to force his mind to stay above the waterline where the song couldn’t drag him down.
He kept thinking, kept forcing thought to churn even as the pain lingered at the edges of his jaw.
His breathing was uneven but not uncontrolled now, his vision clearer. He flexed his fingers and felt the tremble in his knuckles fade, good enough to tell him he had reclaimed control of the upper half of his body. Though his legs still felt distant, weak and slow to respond.
She hadn’t played yet.
But when his gaze locked once more onto the woman who stood at the centre of it all, he saw that something had changed; she was genuinely smiling at him.
“Interesting~ But what a shame~ That won't be enough,” she said playfully.
And without a warning, she began to play again.
Ruvian’s jaw clenched, blood still staining his teeth, thoughts still grinding against themselves as he braced to hold the line.
The strings cried, the melody sharpened, darker and more violent than the previous one. And the bodies responded.
Ruvian could see them all clearly from where he stood, could count how many had remained upright after the first massacre.
He winced, then snarled, pulling his hands up to his ears, pressing them hard, trying to muffle the sound.
But he couldn’t run. His legs have been uncooperative since the beginning.
Another body collapsed behind him.
Then two more, he didn’t look anymore.
He could feel it; he was one of the last few.
‘In the end, was my effort futile?’
And then… his hands began to slip from exhaustion. His mind, once so sharp, now wandered, between stuttering memories and broken strands of fragments of this damned story he had once read.
‘God damn it, was there something I didn't know about this woman? Was I careless and so full of myself?’
Suddenly, the woman laughed, twisting upward into that strange, high-pitched laugh. Her blindfolded face tilted slightly, still smiling with the casual joy.
And Ruvian… he also smirked. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝓷𝓮𝓽
There was no clever ploy waiting behind the curve of his lips. It was instinct, raw, sour defiance.
He refused to give her the satisfaction even if he couldn’t fight back anymore.
A final thought rose in his skull, fierce and burning through the fog of collapse… was the last coherent thing he managed to hold onto.
Since he couldn't move his legs, his hand could still perform what his thoughts intended. He slowly raised his hand and flicked his middle finger.
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“Want to know something? You and this novel are so fucked up!”
The nyckelharpa gave a final sound and the blind songstress, glowing now in her ecstasy, tilted her head forward and giggled in a sweet voice.
“True, this world is truly… fucked up.”
“I suppose,” she whispered, tapping one blood-slicked key on her nyckelharpa.
“That’s exactly why she brought you here…” She paused. Then, she leaned in slightly, full of reverence and addressed him:
“....Bearer of the First Fable.”
Ruvian stood there, his body held together by tension and spite, blood still drying on his lips, fingers twitching slightly at his sides.
He tried to recall the sensation of movement.
‘Bearer of the First Fable... What the hell was that supposed to mean?’
His eyes narrowed instinctively, and he managed to calm down.
“…What did you just call me?”
His voice was hoarse, dry, but steady or at least he hoped it sounded that way. The blindfolded woman only tilted her head again, as if his confusion delighted her even more than his resistance had.
“Ah, right~” she said suddenly, clapping her hands once with a theatrical little flick of her wrists.
“I’ve done my part now. My task has been completed, I just did what she had instructed me to do.”
She leaned forward slightly, and though the blindfold still covered her eyes, Ruvian felt her gaze pierce through him.
“Oh, and…” she added with a giggle that betrayed nothing but mischief, “she left a little message for you. Said to tell you this when it was all done…”
She paused, letting the silence dangle for a beat. Then, in a sing-song voice that mimicked teasing familiarity a little too well, she said:
“I hope you like the welcome, Yuzuki-kun.”
His breath stopped halfway through a swallow, and his body tensed. His eyes widened slightly.
That… was his name. But not in this world.
“…What did you just say?”
His question was ignored because in the next instant, her hand dropped to her instrument again – just a single sound and the world… shattered.
Like glass cracking across invisible seams. The air fractured with lines of white, reality splitting outward as if a broken mirror and Ruvian’s senses reeled.
The plaza vanished, the bodies disappeared. And the blood, the stench, the screams, all erased in an instant.
The gentle evening light returned.
And when Ruvian blinked continuously, forcing his mind to reattach to the moment, he found himself standing again at the same centre of Evermere Plaza.
Standing in the same place where the tragedy happened.
But this time, the fountain was full. Water gurgled softly from its peak. People walked past him, chatting casually, laughing even, some glancing at him only in passing like he was just another lost teen.
There were no headless corpses anymore, nor a crimson pool on the ground. But, the taste of blood was still in his mouth.
His cheek throbbed where he had bitten it. Ruvian’s hand slowly lifted to his mouth, touched the warm slick at the corner of his lips and stared at the red stain on his fingers.
Then, her voice returned calmly.
“You hurt yourself quite a bit,” she said from a few paces away, no longer standing ominously close.
“Even while trapped in an illusion that strong. Most would have lost themselves after the first verse, but you… You tore through it. I was planning to make the welcoming short and simple but it ended up longer than what I’d planned.”
She raised a hand lazily, a brief glow dancing at her fingertips. The light simply spread, warmth moving beneath the skin, sealing his wounds and knitting the pain away.
“This is my token of apology.” The blood dried, the ache dulled. His head cleared just a little more. But still, the questions mounted.
“…W-who are you?” Ruvian asked quietly, the tremor in his voice now replaced with something colder, sharper.
“And what is this? Why me? Why was I summoned to this damned world?”
He didn’t raise his voice, screaming wouldn’t bring answers any faster. The blindfolded woman smiled again.
“You won't gain anything from learning about me. I’ve just been created for this moment. After I’m done with greeting you, this body will disappear,” she said, almost casually.
The moment settled deep.
The blindfolded figure took a single, unhurried step forward.
Her hands came together in a gentle clap.
Then, the world responded instantly. Not with sound but with stillness. Everything suddenly stopped. A breeze that had been rustling through the plaza fell silent mid-motion.
The crowd, once bustling around the fountain, froze where they stood. Even birds stopped mid-flight, their wings frozen in wide arcs.
Ruvian turned in place slowly, taking it in.
Only he and the blindfolded woman moved now.
Her voice lowered, not in threat, but in reverence.
“From this moment onward, this world will no longer remain hidden in its misery. The Curator of Dreams will open this world for the eyes who watch from beyond. They will feast upon your story.”
She turned her head slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear.
“Watch closely, then, for you are no longer alone.”
Ruvian could feel that the weight of her words wasn’t just exposition.
[The Watchers of Good Endings have arrived in this world!]
[From here on, the world is theirs to witness, and they will watch as they please!]
[Your story has been marked and serialised!]
[Entertain your readers, Bearer of The First Fable!]