Volume 4—Chapter 93: The First Surges (4)
The infirmary is quiet, far too quiet compared to the rest of the bustling school. White curtains hang between the beds, swaying faintly whenever the ceiling fan pushes the stale air around. The scent of antiseptic lingers, sharp and clean, as if trying to wash away not only germs but every trace of weakness that ends up here.
Each bed tells a different story. One moment it holds a student who fainted from exhaustion, another time someone who pushed themselves too far in a game or PE. In this small room, victories and failures, both large and small, are reduced to the same posture: lying still, waiting to recover.
Life feels the same sometimes. We run, we struggle, we push ourselves to the brink, and eventually we end up at our own “infirmary,” forced to pause. The infirmary is not just a place for sickness, but a reminder that even the strongest need rest, that fragility is part of being alive.
Well… as for me, I ended up here because of my first period. It’s embarrassing, terrifying even. To think that blood could come out of there… I honestly panicked. On top of that, my head keeps throbbing, and my body feels heavy, like someone drained all the strength out of me. All I can do is lie here on this bed, wrapped in the faint smell of antiseptic and clean sheets.
Sleep may make it better, at least for a little while.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to glance out the window. The pool glimmers under the sun, and I can hear the distant splashes and shouts from the PE class outside. They look so carefree, moving their bodies through the water, while I feel stuck and fragile.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to see any more, and before I realise it, the heaviness pulls me under. Sleep comes quickly, almost like an escape.
When I open my eyes… my surroundings have changed. The clean scent of the infirmary is gone, replaced by the dry, metallic tang of dust. I am standing in a wasteland, almost devoid of light. The sky is a dull, heavy grey, and the air feels thick, like it hasn’t moved for centuries. Everything I see is ruins, crumbling buildings levelled to the ground, their jagged silhouettes like broken teeth jutting out of the earth.
“Where am I?”
Huh? My voice… It’s different. Still high-pitched, but lower and rougher. Did I get a sore throat? No… it didn’t look like it.
I look down at my body.
“A male body?”
I whisper to myself. Or am I just… flat-chested right now? My mind can’t keep up with what my eyes are telling me.
What happened to me? I want to see my face, but there’s no mirror in this wasteland. Only cracked glass and ash.
“What are you doing standing there alone?” a man’s voice came from behind.
I turned. A silhouette stood there, his face blurred in my mind, as if hidden in eternal darkness.
“You look dumbfounded… did you see another scene from the future?” he asked.
He stepped closer, his presence strangely familiar. A hand reached out and rested on my head. The touch was warm, yet distant, like comfort wrapped in shadows.
“Did you also feel sad for the world like your sister?”
Sister? Irana? No… that wasn’t who he meant. Then who?
“The future is bleak.” The words slipped from me before I realised.
“Bleak, huh? Tell me about it,” he said.
“Mortals are selfish and ruined the world… the beautiful world that we create.” The words slipped from my mouth again.
What the hell is happening?
“That is how mortals are,” the man answered, calm and steady. “Without guidance, they fall to desire. And desire, left unchecked, leads only to ruin.”
Yeah… that sounded true. I thought of my father from my previous life. His greed, his pride… they dragged us all down. One man’s mistake, yet two others were forced to suffer beside him. All because he chased what he wanted.
“Then… is that reality? Something that will happen no matter what?” My voice wavered.
“What is the point of mortals even existing?”
The man did not answer right away. His silhouette lingered before me, silent, as if weighing the weight of my words.
“Perhaps there is no point,” he finally said. “Or perhaps the point is simply to try… even if they fail, even if they destroy. Existence itself becomes its own reason.”
“That’s…” I muttered. “If they are bound to ruin everything, what good comes from their existence?”
“They also build. Their existence is a contradiction, yet in that contradiction, the world moves. Without them, nothing would change.”
“Change?” I repeated. “If every change leads to ruin, then what meaning is there in it?”
His hand lingered on my head. “Meaning is fragile. Reality itself twists under the weight of desire. But there must be one who can hold it steady, who can decide how the world endures.”
I blinked. “And that is…?”
“You,” he said simply. “You see beyond what is in front of you, even when you do not understand why. That sight makes you the one who will carry the Authority over Reality.”
With that word, the scene dissolved like a mirage, leaving me adrift in a black void.
I blinked, waiting for something to appear, but there was nothing, only silence.
So… this is a dream?
A strange one at that.
Authority over reality, huh?
The phrase lingered in my head, heavy and foreign. Did it mean I could bend the world at will, twist it as easily as turning a hand?
But what would be the point of that?
Changing reality is just running away, isn’t it? Escaping without facing what’s already there… shirking the weight of responsibility instead of shouldering it.
…
My Reverse Life… a life opposite to the one I had before.
But isn’t that just another form of running away?
A new beginning, yes, yet it doesn’t erase the truth… I still turned my back and fled by giving up doing nothing.
I guess I am a hypocrite.
Author's Note
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.