I began reading what he has written for me, mumbling the words under my breath.
"I thought long about what to write here. Vivian says it's pointless. That I would be there to guide you anyway. Well, this lovely little invention of mine needs something written here; otherwise, it doesn't work. It can be anything as long as you know how to write it. Oh, but don't tell that to anybody, alright? The text in the other ones is something I'm really proud of. Just the thought of it being seen by everyone who uses my tomes makes me smile and chuckle."
"These tomes, codices, whatever... The end result might look good on the outside, but if someone were to try to decipher how it works, they would have a headache for months from the sheer mess it is. ...Now that I think about it, I shouldn't put that in writing... Keep this too a secret, alright?"
At some point, I started to smile as I read.
This wasn't what I expected, but I didn't mind it.
Mother said little about Father. If Lily or I asked, she would tell tales, but that didn't mean much in terms of truly knowing who he was or what he was like.
And with all the tales of his crimes, not to mention disappearing on Mother and me…
Mother would grumble and curse Father, but above all, she was… heartbroken and confused. I believe she still loved him. I saw her fidgeting with her ring almost daily — whenever she thought she was alone.
Reading this, I got a sense of what he was like. He sounded… happy. Though that left me feeling unsure.
He made this book and wrote this message for the son he raised, the one he loved. But I... I wasn't sure that was me. Not anymore.
I let out a sigh, shaking my head.
"I really am terrible company when left to my own devices." I mumbled to myself, "Being alone makes my mind wander too much to places it should stay away from — for my own sake."
Pulling myself from my thoughts, I continued reading.
"I urge you to give a read to another codex next time. It's quite a fun read. Poor August Meyer… I poured all my emotions for the bastard into those lines. I swear, the week after I wrote that was the 3rd happiest I have ever been."
The name wasn't familiar, but it made me chuckle. Whoever the guy was, he seemed to have made a lasting impression on my father.
I wonder if he is a friend of Father, or the opposite. This was certainly something I would do to Max.
Whoever August Meyer was, I would look into him.
"I wanted something more personal than that here... Yet I can't figure out what. So I will just write these musings of mine down for you. It's not perfect, it doesn't have to be. You don't have to be. Make mistakes, hold onto what you value, and be yourself. I hope I will be there to tell you these myself. I love you, Alexander. Always."
"I love you, Alexander."
The last line seemed to be written hurriedly.
I don't know why he had to write it again.
I read it, again and again. It just made me feel… different.
I was never good with emotions. Could never find the right spot between being emotionless and being overwhelmed by them.
Putting on a mask, hiding behind sarcasm and smiles... It was so much easier than actually facing myself.
Right now... I felt something in my chest — a tightness that didn't want to go away.
What was it? Regret, love, bitterness? I wasn't sure.
I lost track of time as I read, until finally, I reached for the edge of the page and flipped it to the next one.
What greeted me there was… shocking and confusing.
Blinking rapidly, I turned the book to the side. Then to the other one. Upside-down after that. No matter how I looked at it, it was the same.
A very, very badly drawn cat.
Its hind legs looked like a single block, its body like a sausage, its forelegs like noodles, its whiskers thicker than they should be.
"The hell is this?"
Turning to the next page, I saw a turtle. Next, a bird — or perhaps a bat. Next page, some kind of… fish, maybe. Than a....dog? No, a sheep.
"What the hell?"
"Did he mess up? Or was it Mother? This looks more like a child's sketch book than some kind of magic tome."
Flipping through the entire thing, my confusion only grew as the drawings got worse and worse. At some point, I started just turning each piece of paper faster and faster, with no more than a glance at those horrible drawings.
When I reached the last page, I tried to turn it, just so that nobody could say I didn't look through the entire thing, but it wouldn't budge. I could touch the edge of the page, even start to flip it, but it stopped there. I tried so hard, I thought I would tear it out, but still, it wouldn't budge.
"Come. On! Just let me finish this damn thing!"
After several minutes of trying everything — pulling, shaking, trying to pry it open with whatever I could find — I gave up.
I threw the book to the ground, next to the pile of dirty laundry. It landed open on the page before the last, as if mocking me.
"Great..." I said with a sigh, "Book: 1, Alex: 0... How does this damned thing even work? I don't feel anything different. Fuck it. I will just ask Mother later."
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers to my questions.
"This has to be a joke. What a waste of time. I could have slept instead. Maybe I will just do that..."
"Maybe I should just...Hm?" I heard a soft, rustling sound. Looking to the side, I saw the book turn to its last pages.
"…really? Just like that?"
Sitting up, I glanced at the book on the floor. From here, the last pages looked burnt, their colour darker and stained.
"Huh...That's interesting. Mayb-"
I suddenly felt a piercing headache, like nails pressing into my skull from all sides. Clutching my head with both hands, I fell backwards. My ears buzzed loudly.
"Don't do this, yo-... I'm j-....help...save..." I heard a distorted voice; it sounded old and masculine, but it was hard to make out.
"Then let m-...test...soul..." There was a second voice, this one younger, an adult man's by the sound of it.
"No time...will fade...act now..."
I felt the headache grow worse, the piercing feeling deepening. I rolled from side to side, sweat covering my body. I heard screaming. First, I thought it was mine, but my teeth were clenching together so hard I couldn't open my mouth.
"You basta-...have you don-..." it was the second, younger voice, sounding furious.
"What was... necessary...need his..." The first, older one was still calm.
The scream got louder. I tried to cover my ears, but it didn't help a bit.
Was I having another nightmare? Did I fall asleep without realising it?
No, this one feels different. I
The book? But why?
"No!... Don't you...the process..." The old man was shouting loudly amid the screaming, accompanied by the sound of glass breaking and the wind howling.
"Screw...process..." the second man's voice cut through the cacophony like a knife.
If it was like nails before, now it has turned into hot rods poking right into my brain. My surroundings were getting darker and blurrier. I was going to pass out.
Good. Maybe then the pain will end.
"...can't stop...separate..."
"...what...about other...my...soul?"
"I...no idea...should...vessel..."
All the sounds, the wind, the screaming, everything, all went silent.
"Give me back my son." It was the younger man's voice, clear, like he was just right next to me.
My eyes snapped wide open. The pain vanished as suddenly as it came. I sat up, my breathing shaky and uneven. The edges of my vision were blurry, and I felt lightheaded.
"Wh-what was that..."
I put a hand to my face. I was covered with sweat, and my forehead felt hot.
Is this how the book works? Or did I fail?
It seemed like a logical conclusion. Mother did say that failing had a backlash. Was this it?
"Great... I jinxed myself. I shouldn't have said all that about me failing."
I groaned loudly, massaging my forehead. Even if the pain was gone, my head still felt like a mess.
"Just my luck. Should have just gone to sleep."
As I let my head go, my arm falling to my side, I noticed something. My sheets were missing. It wasn't the usual soft feeling of my bed under me. Instead, it felt just cold. There was nothing under me, where my bed was supposed to be.
"Huh?"
I looked up and realised something.
"This isn't my room... This isn't even a room...Where am I?"
This new place where I found myself was dark and bleak, with absolutely nothing in sight.
As I got to my feet, I saw the book floating in the air in front of me. The markings running through its cover blinked rapidly. Red, white, gold and so on.
It opened violently, pages flipping faster and faster. With a loud ripping sound, a page flew out of it, circling around me in a wide arc. Another followed, then one more. Soon, dozens of pages were moving at once, joining into the whirlwind.
The book never seemed to run out. I knew it was shorter than how many pieces of paper were around me now, but that fact didn't seem to stop the process.
I covered my face with my arms, trying to shield it from the flying sheets of paper as they whooshed by me. Some of them did cut me, on my forearms, a shoulder, and some places on my legs.
Even amid all this chaos, I found myself grinning, my heart pounding in my chest — not from fear.
Excitement.