Fever Bloom (3)

Fever bloom.

It refers to the red spots that appear on the skin when a person is severely ill.

A pain that remains as a trace.

These recorded flowers bloom during the most severe period of illness, in other words, just before the body begins to recover.

Therefore, fever blooms symbolize.

The most desperate moment, and the most hopeful moment.

-Choose.

It may sound like a paradox.

But this is rather a law that aligns with the truth.

The darkest hour of the night is also the closest to the breaking of dawn.

The harshest winter is also the closest season to embracing the soft warmth.

Life is the same.

-Choose, Raiden.

Painful, painful, and painful.

Even if the tears streaming down my cheeks become a sea that laps at my feet.

Eventually, the moment when the fever blooms will come.

Because there is a total amount to the misfortune that life bestows.

If you walk a thorny path with ragged breaths, you are bound to step onto a soft snowfield someday.

We live a beautiful paradox.

Following the serenades that play out life, we draw our individual dance lines.

-What do you want to do?

Life is a fever bloom.

Although it’s impossible to choose what kind of pain you will receive.

The choice of how to overcome that pain lies within each individual’s hands.

Some will push forward, breaking through the fever blossoms.

Others will succumb, sinking down, intoxicated by the dizzying floral scent.

-Nothing will bind you. So, decide with a peaceful heart.

The world is always posing the question:

To turn your back and flee, or to stubbornly push forward.

A haven to tie off all pain, or the lingering regret that will hurl you back into hell.

If you had to choose one…

-Which would you choose?

What choice will *you* make?

*

“Cough…! Hah…!!”

I woke with a dry cough, rolling across the bed.

My focus blurred and spread.

Through my blinking vision, I saw the dawn-lit room.

I tried to gather my panting breaths, letting out a tearing groan.

“Haa… ugh, uh…”

As I pinched my temples against the throbbing headache, the contents of the dream that had just consumed my consciousness flashed through my mind.

The voices lingering in my ear cleared the hazy remnants of sleep.

-Yes, your thoughts are correct.

-…You were a reincarnation, Lyden.

A sticky, strange feeling crept down my spine, a feeling of déjà vu, and then, pathos.

Lost in a complex mixture of feelings, I had stiffened, but soon, I pinched my own thigh and pulled myself together.

I steadied my wandering gaze.

A lukewarm heat lingered on my fingertips.

The warmth of the two boys seemed still vivid.

A dizzying sense of reality washed over me.

It made my hand tremble slightly.

“……”

I could feel it.

Very clearly.

I can feel something inside me has changed.

I clenched my twitching fingers into tight fists and pulled my sprawled-out body upright.

A stumble…

My feet, having left the bed, softly touched the floor.

Forcibly steadying my wobbling legs, I groped my way forward.

My precarious steps led, of all places, to the full-length mirror.

Standing before the clear reflection, I took in my own image.

“……”

Gloomy, inky black hair.

Black eyes, disturbingly deep and sunken.

An awkward smile, stitched onto my mouth like a tattered rag.

Not dead, but…

A boy too ambiguous to call alive.

Looking at the boy standing beyond the mirror, I mumbled a dazed word.

“……Raiden.”

The boy’s name, which I had ignored with the excuse of not knowing, I uttered it.

.

.

.

Several days passed again after that.

That dream… or rather, now I even doubt if it was simply within the realm of a dream.

By the time I came to my senses, four days had already gone by.

As for what life has been like since then… well, there really wasn’t anything different than before.

It’s been nothing more than locking myself in my narrow room, lost in smoke and sleep, and wasting each meaningless day.

A life that hasn’t really changed.

Now that the truths that had disappeared are all revealed, if you were to ask why I’ve continued this such a degenerate life…

‘……So, what am I supposed to do here?’

I was confused.

I couldn’t figure out what kind of movement I should be showing.

Just half a year ago, I was the Empire’s worst scoundrel.

Because I carried the memories of my past life as Naru, there was a disconnect of over 22 years for me… but there was no way others would know that.

I had already hurt countless people around me.

And because of that, I had earned the hatred and scorn of many.

Even if they knew now that I was Raiden, it was too late to fix anything.

The past was already a complete mess.

And I, living in the present, was far too weak to rectify any of it.

“…It would have been nice if I had known a bit sooner.”

A bitter mumble escapes my lips, followed by a smoky breath.

I flick the stick held between my fingers.

If only I had become aware of my past life earlier… before everything went wrong.

When no one was hurt, when no one had left my side.

When my heart wasn’t broken.

I might have been able to protect the time when my mother was still alive.

“…Damn it.”

Thoughts pierce through my chest.

I chew on a light curse.

Knowing that it was nothing but meaningless “what ifs,” I still hoped that the word “if” could save me.

“Now as then. I’m still just a pathetic mess…”

I force a self-deprecating smile and shake off the tangled thoughts.

To kill the swirling emotions, I fumble for the Annihilation Herb box on my bedside.

But, no matter how many times I reach out blindly, I can’t find it.

I had no choice but to lift my body from the tangled sheets.

A dizzy spell makes me briefly hunch my shoulders, then my vision clears, revealing the floor littered with empty containers.

“Ah…”

Only then did I belatedly realize that the Annihilation Herb I had just held was the last one.

I had clearly brought dozens of boxes into the room last time.

That massive stock had vanished in just a few weeks.

“…Maybe I’ve been smoking too much.”

I hummed to myself, staring at the trash scattered on the floor.

Well… I’d been living with it in my mouth all day, if there was still plenty left, *that* would be the weird thing.

Looks like I’ll have to request next month’s shipment from Millyum ahead of time.

“Haah… what am I going to do right now…”

A sigh, heavy with helplessness, escapes my lips.

It’ll take at least a fortnight, even the shortest, for the delivery to arrive.

Whether I can endure such a long time is…

“… I definitely can’t make it.”

A surge of frustration contorts my brow, and forgotten memories slowly surface.

Come to think of it… when I was moving my things from the dorm, I sent some of the harder-to-carry items ahead to my family home.

I remember loading a few boxes of withered bloom there.

“Gilbert definitely said he’d put the early deliveries in the third-floor storage…”

He said he’d move them to my room later, but.

I locked myself in my room the moment I got home, refusing entry to everyone, so they must still be in the storage.

Should I call someone? The thought barely forms before my gaze falls on the clock on the wall.

Tick, tock…

The hands point to exactly 2:30 in the morning.

The mansion’s asleep by now.

Calling someone at this hour would be a bit inconsiderate.

“…Guess I’ll have to go myself.”

I groan as I get out of bed.

The sensation of gravity crushing my body after so long – it’s something I can’t really get used to.

I moved with dragging steps.

Truth be told, I could have waited a few hours.

Once morning came, I could call the servants, but.

My brain, pickled to the point of dissolving in withered bloom for the past fortnight, is still craving those emerald vapors even now.

I clench my trembling hands from the withdrawal, and open the door.

-Click, creak…

The sound of the locked door opening is followed by the small sound of hinges echoing in the darkness.

It’s really laughable… that the only thing that could get me out of my room after being cooped up for the past few weeks was a mere antidepressant.

.

.

.

I walked quietly through the mansion, draped in darkness.

It was late, and aside from a few servants, it seemed hardly anyone was still awake.

I stepped carefully, so as not to disturb anyone’s slumber.

-Thump thump…

The atmosphere of the silent mansion was truly serene.

In this scenery I hadn’t walked in ages, I silently absorbed the scenes of times past.

The hallway I’d roamed with short legs in my childhood.

The room where I’d laughed and chatted with kind servants.

The stairs where I’d almost fallen while playing with Ariel.

The workshop where I would sometimes sneak in to see my father working late into the night.

“……”

It was a nostalgic sight.

A place that represented happier times.

I tried desperately to shake off the heavy feelings, but the more I did, the deeper the memories ensnared me.

-Thump…

Stumbling along, half out of it, my legs eventually came to a stop.

As if my body remembered, naturally.

When I belatedly regained my senses and raised my head… a door with the following nameplate greeted me.

[Philli’s library]

(Philli’s study)

“Ah…”

Frozen, I stared at the nameplate.

The name ‘Philli’ filled the silver surface with gold letters.

It was a place so clear.

Back when I was a little younger.

Every night, I would come here, crying and calling out for someone.

“……Mother.”

Phillipa Licht… no, it was my mother’s study.