Obsession... What's That? I Just Wish Someone Would Help Me Escape - Chapter 66
Isn’t that my secret? How did he know before I did?
It seems both of them had figured it out long before me.
I sighed as I tied my hair up.
“Since both of you are in the same cursed position, does it really matter if he knows?”
Johann put on a mock hurt expression, pretending to be upset.
“Enrique… You told him? Our precious little secret…”
Maybe Johann just really enjoys creating secrets.
Since I was already in the same boat as them, I explained everything to Johann and Enrique about my abilities and the ones I had stolen.
Of course, I kept quiet about Marvas. [1]
“Well, since it’s come to this, why not awaken and show us the ability you stole from the executioner?”
Johann spoke as if it were the easiest thing in the world, reclining with his fingers interlaced behind his head.
But with that damned Grandis having arrived, I knew I had to awaken as soon as possible.
“So… how exactly does one awaken?”
“Awakening isn’t a big deal. What’s so hard about it? I awakened when I fell out of a tree at seven years old,” Johann replied, clicking his tongue at my question.
What does falling from a tree have to do with awakening…?
“I awakened after getting mad because the library book I wanted wasn’t returned,” Enrique explained kindly, despite how trivial his reason seemed to me.
“Try focusing your mana. You need to concentrate on your heart, which is the energy source. Imagine filling an empty cup with water through your heart,” he said.
Focusing mana was the most basic method for ability activation. No matter how powerful your ability is, if your mana level is low, its power is limited.
That’s why training to increase mana capacity starts at a young age.
“The collars we’re wearing react to mana. Won’t they explode or electrocute us?” I fiddled with the collar around my neck, which resembled a choker.
They had collars on prisoners like dogs—what terrible taste.
“The control collar is there to prevent you from exceeding a certain power level. Don’t worry about it. Just focus here,” Enrique said, pointing to his chest.
I already knew the theory, but it didn’t work in practice.
It was as if the engine that produced mana—the fuel for my abilities—wasn’t functioning.
Closing my eyes, I followed Enrique’s instructions and imagined filling an empty cup with water.
Sparks crackled from the control collar around my neck.
It was a sign that I was beginning to convert mana into ability power, but then…
‘You need to take your medicine, dear.’
The clear water in the cup suddenly turned into a strange-colored medicine, and an image of my mother handing it to me flashed in my mind.
“Ah!”
I jolted and opened my eyes, feeling a sharp, electrifying pain in my heart.
“It’s not working… The more I focus, the more it feels like my heart is being torn apart.”
Johann tilted his head in confusion.
“That happens when there’s a restriction in place.”
“A restriction?”
“Don’t you remember anything? Like specific conditions for awakening?”
I thought hard.
The platinum-haired man had said something about accepting a god and having faith as the condition for awakening.
Faith? How does one even do that?
Isn’t faith subjective and based on personal interpretation? How does it work? Do I need to show loyalty like a devoted servant?
“Oh, nameless god! I believe in you!”
I flung myself onto the ground, yelling like a cult follower, hoping this would prove my faith.
Enrique and Johann stared at me as if I had lost my mind.
“Just go to sleep.”
A guard banged on the iron door, shouting, and scolded us as he passed by.
My face flushed with embarrassment.
Thankfully, it was lights out, so I could escape the awkward stares of Enrique and Johann.
“Hmph… Stop overthinking it and take your time. We still have some time before the Winner’s Tournament.”
Johann muttered as he was laying out his bedding, though I couldn’t tell if it was encouragement or just more cursing.
I looked gloomily at the shadows of Enrique and Johann in the dark.
“What if I don’t make it in time?”
“Well, then you die.”
His simple and blunt conclusion left little room for hope.
Were they only worried about me dying with their words?
When I actually die, I bet they won’t mourn at my cremation; instead, they’ll roast some potatoes while reminiscing about old times.
As I lay in bed, I called out silently to the mysterious man who claimed to be my personal god, but there was no response.
Johann still had his leg draped over mine, and Enrique had casually pressed his back against mine.
What’s with these two? They’re like cats rubbing against catnip.
T/N:
[1] ↩
