It took an hour and a half to get there. The chamber door was taller, standing at more than three meters.
Once we were inside, the ceiling had reached a whopping ten meters, the same cobblestone walls could be seen.
The torches that adorned itself in a circular formation lit up as we entered, the flames were blue and I felt my body begin warming up.
In the midst of it all, there was a pool of yellowish liquid and in the middle of it, a podium made of stone.
This was Bachulus' tomb.
But there was an out of place figure that stood in front of us.
Justin stood motionlessly in front of the pool. He looked lonesome—a sight that was strange to me and unfamiliar to the original Justin Fleming.
"Justin," muttered Harriet. Then, she spoke in a low voice, "He kept staring at you earlier when were together."
"Is that so…"
Harriet seemed to be curious about our relationship.
Holding the torch in one hand, I began nearing Justin.
Slowly, but surely.
My steps were calculated, tapping on the stone floor with a sound that echoed.
I could tell Justin was in some sort of a trance, staring at the water.
Attempting to touch his shoulder to calm him down, I said: "Justin—"
"Get away from me!"
Pushing me away, I took a step back in shock, my hand still in the air. I could now see the face he was making.
He looked to be raging, inane like a lunatic.
His brows that were lighter than his own hair went diagonal, his arm covering the tears that fell from his eye ducts that were swollen and red. The scene reminded me of a painting of Lucifer by Alexandre Cabanel.
Justin sandwiched his ears with his palms. "Stop, stop, stop!"
"Justin, calm the hell down!" exclaimed Harriet who was concerned for her friend.
Right. In this fictitious world, we were all comrades.
"Justin, take deep breaths, for fuck's sake!" cried Harriet.
Harriet, whether it was false or not, had shared memories with Justin. According to her, they've been together since childhood. A small circle of friends, they had been before increasing their numbers during high school.
But for someone like me who had experienced camaraderie once during my youth and, even then, I managed to mess it up, I was unsure of what to do.
He began inhaling raggedy, taking in shallow breaths. The torches illuminated his eyes which were pure black and dilated, quite unlike the clear and bright blue eyes I once knew of.
"What's his problem?" uttered Harriet, who seemed to be annoyed at my lack of response, but could not conjure a petty comeback due to the situation.
Justin groaned as he kicked the rims of the pool. "Fucking bastard, Archie!"
Our friendship may have been a lie created by some higher being that controlled the world.
But I could not help but be nostalgic every time I saw him.
"Everything..!" said Justin hysterically, folding into a position akin to cooked shrimp. "I tell you this: everything is a lie!"
Justin often told me how he did not expect to live until twenty when I was nineteen, and him eighteen.
His heart disease was a new discovery that at the time was without a cure. He often joked that his body was as great an innovation as the first cell tower or the internet.
"The world is a lie!"
Did you know that when a person bites into their forearm it makes a sound like a crisp apple? I thought of this statement as Justin dug his teeth on his own flesh.
Though he was sickly, he never showed it on his face.
His face always glowed in a way you would never see his sickness.
"Fucking Archie! It's always Archie and never me!"
His face right now was the complete opposite, screaming in agony. It was an attack on his mental health.
Always giddy with joy, always making new friends as he did with me. People often told me that I was "adopted" by an extrovert that is Justin.
"I resent you so much, Reverie!"
I didn't think he knew how much I appreciated him.
How much he built my confidence through one chapter at a time.
He was my first friend and my first beta reader.
If it hadn't been for him, I would never have written the salvation to my life, Imperfections of a Knight.
And I'm sure even Ben was grateful for his existence. In the novel, Justin's fabricated counterpart was comrades with him. They were together on the moon, together as they trained, together as it was announced that Lucifer-180 was to be sent to the moon.
I wasn't sure if this Justin in front of me shared the memories of the Justin I once knew.
"Never interrupt the story..!" he shrieked, pushing his fingers down his eyeballs, practically groping and scooping it. "Never interrupt!"
I wasn't aware that he even had a hatred for Archie. But, then again, so did I.
"Who are these people? Imperfections of a Knight! What's that…huh…a story..?"
His words began to be more gradual as though he had received divine intervention from some higher being.
Harriet, though she took a step backward and was away from my field of vision, was possibly in a state of fear and confusion. I imagined her eyes had widened at the sight of her friend losing control.
She muttered,"What the hell is he talking about..?"
Then, abruptly, Justin's body bent in an unnatural way. His limbs twisted on the contrary.
The Narrator's powers seemed to weaken in this dungeon, for its presence could not be felt by me, which is likely the reason for Justin's outburst.
He had found out that I'm not meant to be part of this story.
The words of my own pondering bounced off the walls of my mind.
What happens to a fictional character if they realize they are fictional?
I myself was unsure, but the scene and thought of it horrified me.
It was abrupt when Justin's face began to be slashed by his own fingernails.
Rather than blood, however, beams of words and sentences fell out of it.