Escape - Chapter 22.2
Chapter 22.2
12 tilted his head, silent. This woman, staring up at him so boldly, spoke differently from any human he’d encountered. Not begging for mercy, not threatening vengeance. Their conversation was… strange.
“You look exactly like someone I knew. Not just similar, identical. So there’s something I need to confirm.” Adeline hesitated, glancing down before slowly raising her eyes again. She continued her approach, one step at a time, toward the throne, toward the man who claimed to be the Master of District 12.
The distance was considerable, but Adeline didn’t rush. 12 watched her silently. Step by step, she ascended the stairs, fearlessly approaching the throne. She extended a hand toward him. Just like their first encounter, she seemed to feel neither fear nor revulsion.
Her pale, slender fingers trembled slightly. “Show me your arm.”
12 stared at her small hand, at the almost translucent skin. An unfamiliar, intense desire shot through him. He had felt something similar before, a strange hunger, a killing intent. This was similar, yet different. A thirst, a yearning so intense it bordered on pain.
He offered his arm, placing it in her outstretched hand. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t simply killed her. Why he had opened the path for her. Why, unlike the other players, he felt no urge to destroy her.
“I’m Adeline. That’s all I am.”
Was it because she wasn’t a player? Neither hunter nor prey?
Adeline took his wrist and unbuttoned his white shirt, her touch sending a ripple through him. His golden eyes shimmered in the dim light. Without hesitation, she pushed the sleeve up to his elbow. Their gazes locked on his exposed arm, where a faint, old scar stretched across his skin. 12 felt her hand tremble against his arm.
Tears began to fall, splashing onto his skin. 12 held his breath. She was crying. A wave of discomfort washed over him, a tightness in his chest.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she whispered, the words barely audible. Then, her body crumpled, and she fell against him, sobbing.
12 froze, her arms wrapped around him. She had cried when they first met too, calling him ‘Damian.’ But this was different. Then, her tears had been a mixture of joy and relief, tears of reunion. These were tears of sorrow, of a grief so profound it was almost unbearable to witness.
Slowly, 12 raised his arms, enfolding her small frame in an embrace. As he held her, a familiar scent enveloped him, a scent like fresh-cut grass, a scent both familiar and achingly missed.
He buried his face in the nape of the woman he held, a sense of satisfaction filling him, quelling the hunger that had plagued him for so long. A sudden urge to sink his teeth into her pale, delicate neck arose, but he recognized it as a desire distinct from his hunger.
He tightened his embrace involuntarily, and Adeline cried out, her sobs intensifying. She had already realized the truth the moment she saw his arm. Damian was dead. She knew it the instant she saw that old scar, the mark of glory etched onto the arm of the boy who had saved her from the massacre thirteen years ago. He was Damian, and yet, he was not Damian.
‘Come to think of it, maybe Damian really is alive. Even if he’s dead, if this is a game, wouldn’t there be something like resurrection?’
Luce’s joking words echoed in her mind. A man with the same face as Damian, the same scar, yet he didn’t remember her and acted like a completely different person. There was only one hypothesis that could explain all these unbelievable things: Damian was dead.
That day, he hadn’t escaped the labyrinth; he had been brutally ripped apart, alive. And then, within this strange, incomprehensible system, he had been reborn as another being. How such a thing was possible, she didn’t know. There was no way to explain it. But then again, many inexplicable things had already happened.
“Damian is alive. But that…”
“…is a tragedy.”
After Luce’s words, it was Dr. Kyle’s self-deprecating voice that filled her mind, the one who had sent her into the labyrinth. If this was what he had meant—that being alive wasn’t truly living, that their lives were merely those of components with assigned roles—then calling it a tragedy made sense. It was excessively grotesque. Nauseating. What must it feel like to be born as a monster in a game? To carry only the desire and hunger to kill players, destined to be slain, walking a predetermined path? Probably nothing at all. Not until they took the red pill and realized they were in a strange world.
Come to think of it, something had felt odd throughout the book. The way those trapped in District 13 were described as ‘lions.’ They encountered humans in District 11, but it was the lions, not the humans, who began their journey from District 13.
Shade had clearly said, referring to her, ‘That’ isn’t human. Perhaps they were nothing more than components of the game. Better known as NPCs (Non-Player Characters). Why the system recognized her as a player remained a mystery. But one thing was certain.
“An interesting analogy, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. The existence of God is uncertain, but the programmers who created this place are real. I could leave here right now and contact them.”
Because this world was merely a story, the damned creators actually existed. And so did the humans who consumed them for entertainment.
“I’m going to kill them all.”
The lion had just become aware of you, looking down at her story. Did you enjoy reading the novel?
