C98: Both of I

Izzy contemplated in her mindscape, she tapped her chin in her own velvet seat inside the crimson Theatre.

‘Something is wrong with the forest.’

Most of the information from the “previous iteration” did not directly involve her main body in the mansion. Nearly all of it concerned the village, far from this attic.

Except the forest.

‘Is it the reason why… I am trapped here?’

Was that the cause? The reason they were still here? Trapped in time?

Did that mean the forest possessed some power to rewind events? To turn back time?

The existence of the monument and these warnings left behind confirmed that the “previous iteration” had failed. And failure resulted in her, the current Izzy, inheriting fragments of information through that black structure.

Izzy knew herself. She would never involve herself in danger unless absolutely necessary. So she knew, at one point, ‘the previous iteration’ must have tried to leave the forest.

Yet, something happened, and she, the current her, was here.

That meant…

‘Something prevented me from leaving the forest.’

There was one particular phrase that revealed a little about the situation.

Her gaze drifted back to the urgent warning etched into the monument, a precise copy of the black monument.

[“Don’t let it inside.”]

The writing there had been frantic, urgent and incomplete.

‘What do they mean by “don’t let it in?” What is “it”? Who is “it”? How did we die? Why?’

Her thoughts raced.

‘How could we escape from “it”?’

The monument provided no direct explanation.

That likely meant the previous iteration did not know either. Or they did not have time to write it down.

‘Why shouldn’t we let it in?’

She began retracing events in order.

The first time they opened the gate, they were dealing with Glen’s band, and got two male vessels and two marionettes just fine.

That meant at that point in time, “it” had not appeared.

Afterward, Arnold opened the gate and went to the village. He met the traveler, and later on still safely returned to the mansion.

Then ‘the previous iteration’ entered the village again. They learned about the language, the Stagefarers, and the Inspectors.

Then the next day, Izzy assumed, was the day the final writing ended. Mary went missing, a lot of mysteries were going on, they found something imitating Mary, and her male vessel, Arnold, died.

After that…

Izzy’s expression hardened.

‘“It” found the mansion.’

And “the previous iteration” must have opened the gate for some reason, and let “it” inside.

Izzy was not cryptic by habit. She always documented information thoroughly. If the final warning was abrupt and incomplete, there was only one reasonable explanation.

‘A sudden death.’

A death too sudden “the previous iteration” couldn't have time to warn them.

A cold dread tripped down her spine.

This meant that they weren’t immortal at all. If something got in and destroyed the portrait, their main body, then—

They would die.

‘...’

Another thought tugged at her mind.

‘Does that mean… whatever is outside can’t enter on its own?’

The fact that “it” had to wait for three whole days confirmed it. Not to mention many times before, when Benjamin was still alive, yet no mention of “it” was found.

That suggested the mansion had protection.

[“There is a barrier to keep it out.”]

Only when they intentionally opened the gate and allowed entry would the barrier permit passage? And that action likely led to their destruction?

‘That’s an interesting hypothesis.’

A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

*Sigh.*

For now, she had no concrete method to verify the theory.

Izzy floated down from her seat, returning to the monument. She wrote her hypotheses onto the monument beside the previous warnings, adding her own structured notes beneath the frantic red text.

For now, let’s find more information first.

—

“Isa.”

Izzy flew back into their mindscape after finishing her analysis at the monument. The crimson theatre faded behind her awareness as she searched for her young mind’s presence. It did not take long to locate her.

Isa was sitting alone at the edge of the amusement park area, perched on a small wooden swing. The ropes stretched upward into the pastel sky, tied to no visible structure. She swayed gently, toes brushing the cloud-like ground.

Her gaze fixed on the black monument that now dominated its center.

Izzy frowned.

“Isa?”

The girl did not react. She just stared absentmindedly, her small form looking lost amidst the hollow, vibrant cheer of the place.

Izzy flew over and shook her shoulder gently.

“Isa.”

“Ah!” Isa flinched and turned abruptly, her green eyes snapping toward Izzy. “Izzy?”

“What’s wrong?”

Isa looked down at her hands, fingers curling slightly in her lap. She glanced back up, hesitation clouding her face.

“Izzy…” Isa murmured, her voice small. “Isa’s bored.”

‘Bored?’

Izzy tilted her head and scanned the surroundings. The amusement park was technically lively. Music drifted through the air. Artificial laughter echoed from nowhere. Decorative lights blinked in patterns along empty booths.

But everything here was empty. There was no trace of people, just the two of them, adrift in a sea of manufactured joy.

‘That makes sense.’

This place was built from imagination from a single mind.

Izzy looked at Isa with complicated eyes.

“Do you want to play something?”

Isa looked up at her mature mind, a flicker of her usual brightness in her eyes.

But she shook her head slowly.

“Maybe later, Izzy.”

‘…’

Without another word, Izzy dropped down onto the swing beside Isa.

The thick wooden plank beneath them creaked in protest, the sound echoing through the stillness of the amusement park.

But since this was their mind, even the imagined chair could endure the weight of a whole elephant if Izzy willed it so.

“Hihi, Isa didn’t think of that,” Isa giggled lightly at the exaggerated sound effect, her small hands clutching the rusted chains of the swing.

Then her laughter faded.

The music of the carousel played on in the distance, a hollow waltz that felt leagues away, its melody drifting like smoke over the empty attractions. The neon lights of the park cast long, garish shadows across the checkered ground.

"Izzy, what if…" Isa’s gaze wandered over the desolate landscape of their shared joy, her green eyes reflecting the flickering lights of the Ferris wheel. "What if, instead of Isa, it was a different mind that stayed with Izzy in this mindscape?"

“?” Izzy tilted her head in confusion. ‘What’s with this strange question?’

She thought about the question for a moment.

‘If the one that stayed in this mindscape isn’t me…? Does that mean instead of my own younger self, a completely foreign mind shared the same body with me?’

‘A stranger?’ Sharing the same body with a completely stranger mind? The thought was deeply distasteful to her. Did that mean Izzy would be forced to allow a stranger to constantly peek into her most private thoughts and memories?

Isa was her young mind, a piece of her own soul. Izzy already knew and accepted it. Because of that connection, it was not difficult to accept that Isa was, ultimately, still a part of herself.

But if sharing the same body was the exact same mechanism as Izzy and Isa’s existence right now, that meant the stranger would most likely be able to access Izzy’s thought processes too. They would know her internal monologue, or even her past too, if Izzy had not discovered and hid the Book of Memory ahead of time.

Was that what Isa was asking? An intruder in her mind?

“Hmm.” Izzy furrowed her brows, leaning back against the chains of the swing as she contemplated the scenario seriously.

Although they could now maintain private thoughts, it was quite difficult to think completely separately in the early days. It had been a chaotic blend of two voices speaking with each other, knowing what the others would say next.

Benjamin had taught them that their minds could influence each other to some extent. What if that secondary mind was inherently malicious? What if it sought to consume her?

Yet… it was not really that difficult to surmise the outcome. At the end of the day, since they shared the same body, that meant they had to learn to live together, or they would surely perish together.

“I would probably ignore it?” she finally answered, tapping her chin in thought. “No, it’s not like anything will change, right? We would still be stuck here.”

It wasn't as if they could be separated. Maybe Benjamin could separate them, but she doubted that version of Izzy would ever allow such a risky procedure.

At most, Izzy could attempt something on her own, something more extreme—

“Izzy won’t suddenly disappear, right?” Isa cut her off mid-thought, her voice small.

Izzy blinked.

‘What is this girl saying?’

“I…”

Izzy paused.

Isa’s piercing, innocent gaze suddenly felt intimidating to her.

There was no childish vagueness in it.

“I…”

No words came out. Izzy’s throat felt as though it had been lined with lead.

Silence stretched between them, suffocating, drowning out the tinny music of the park.

The swings stopped swaying, hanging motionless.

“...”

Izzy clenched her hands unconsciously.

“Stop asking nonsense, Isa.”

“...”

Isa slowly turned her face back toward the empty amusement park. She murmured, almost to herself.

“Isa knows. Izzy doesn’t have a reason to keep living.”

‘...?’

“Izzy has lost her will to live.”

In Izzy’s eyes, the young mind just talked absentmindedly, her fingers tracing a pattern on the rusted chain.

It was as if she were speaking to the empty air, rather than to Izzy herself.

“What are you—”

“Izzy uses the young mind as an excuse. An excuse to keep going.”

“Isa, what—”

“Izzy is tired. She didn’t hear anything.”

‘?’

Izzy frowned. What did the young mind just say?

‘Right. I really should rest.’

A wave of exhaustion washed over her mind. A yawn escaped her.

“Right… I really should.”

Izzy closed her eyes, her head nodding forward.

A strange sound, like scribbling, reverberating from somewhere. Her consciousness began to dim rapidly, the amusement park’s vibrant colors softening into grays, the sounds lowering as if she were being submerged underwater.

A hand gently rested on her head, guiding her to something soft. It was familiar.

“Good night, Izzy,” a soft voice whispered as her consciousness faded.

—

[“Tonight, Izzy will sleep peacefully.”]

That night, Izzy slept peacefully.

—

(Sunday, five days left till Friday, when the full moon Rite starts.)

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