Act 3, Chapter 101: Paying off the debt

Day in the story: 29th January (Thursday), past 10 p.m.—21 hours into the time trial

Alexandra May

“Did you hear me?” I asked, annoyed by the Korean man’s indifference and the way he carried himself. “Did you do something to me when I was here last time?”

He finally looked upward toward the strange daylight ceiling. Outside this place, it was already night. We had waited for darkness, hoping it would lessen our chances of getting caught, and yet here I was, arguing with the caretaker anyway.

“I did no such thing,” he replied, looking back at me. I was fucking frustrated by the unknown nature of my condition. “What is it that malady you are dealing with?” He answered, as if reading my thoughts.

“Oh, fuck you, Mr. Jeon,” I replied, turning my eyes away from him and closing all the additional ones on my body. I couldn’t look at him. My brains told the same story as the voice in my own head, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow manipulating me with those eyes of his. I felt strangely drawn toward him whenever they met mine.

“Please,” Damien whispered from the side. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this. I thought you might help me convince him to let us go, not make things more difficult.”

“He’s not going to report this,” I replied. “If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. Isn’t that right?” I looked back toward the caretaker.

“I came to pay my respects to the man you came here to bury.”

“Why? And how do you even know it’s a man?” I countered. “Nobody said it was. Another lucky guess?”

“You would not go through all this trouble for a burial unless it was important. And yes, I apologize for my assumption. It could have been Mr. Reyes’s grandmother, although I suspect Mr. Leben would object to burying her on Guild grounds.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Thus I concluded it must be the prodigal brother of the man whose tree I care for.”

“You know about that?” I asked, deciding then and there that this man needed watching. He knew far more than he let on. Of that I was one hundred percent certain.

Maybe Maya could figure out what kind of Authority he wields, I thought and just a heartbeat later, Alex, who had stayed back, summoned the spellbook and called Maya through it. She darted toward the crucifix-like treetops and disappeared behind their crowns, slowly circling toward our position. I would have to keep the man occupied long enough for her to get close without being noticed.

“Each person who dies and is brought to me is special to me,” he replied, pointing toward the hastily dug grave in the distance. We all turned and began walking that way. Dam resumed supporting me.

“Is?” He asked. “Do you believe there is something of them left in this world?”

“We all exist in the past at some point. Some of us will continue into the future. Who is to say that time is relevant at all?”

“I’d confidently say that billions of people would disagree with that notion,” I replied, glancing toward him.

His hair was messy, tousled, but in a way that suggested intention rather than neglect. He dressed plainly too, as if trying his best not to stand out, and yet he did. How could he not in a place where he was usually the only living person?

“The agreement of society is a strong suggestion for the universe to act a certain way. That much is true. But it is still only a suggestion. Truth may be something entirely different, love.”

“You talk like an old man, but your face doesn’t match the words.” I hoped the remark would stir him enough to keep his attention on me. He looked over and smiled from ear to ear. Maya seized the opportunity and made a wide half-circle behind us, slipping from one tree to the next. Close enough now to feel even the slightest use of Authority.

“That’s rude. Please excuse her.”

“No need, Damien. She is right. I am often called an old soul.” That was something Sophie used to call herself from time to time, with her love of plants, flowers, and being a genuinely good person. I wondered if he knew that too, or if I was reaching. “I can see that you are conflicted,” he said as we approached the others.

Mason stood, clenched his fists, and marched over to meet us.

“Y’all gotta forgive me. I had to do it. Malik would’ve wanted to be with his brother.” He bowed his head. “All the blame is on me and I am the one that should get punished.”

“I know.” The caretaker touched Mason’s shoulder. “I know. I am not here to disturb you, stop you, or tell anyone about your transgression. What you did was wrong, but your heart is in the right place.”

“Weren’t you just talking shit about good intentions?” I asked.

“I am a hypocrite by choice,” he replied. “But I am also one with a heart. I’ll say and do whatever needs to be said and done to make things right.” He delivered it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it took a second to register.

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“What?” Mason asked, looking from him to me and back again.

“You may put Malik’s brother into the earth,” the caretaker said. “Let his music play for him wherever they end up.”

“No strings attached?”

“No, my good man,” Jeon replied, but I knew better by now. Most strings are so thin they are already invisible, and by the time someone pulls on them, one is already fully entangled and ready to be hanged. Such was the nature of dealing with people who wielded power capable of shaping the universe to their whims. “I know that may be difficult to believe, but choices are what ultimately set us apart. Sometimes we do not have many of them at our disposal. Life places us in situations that force us down a single path. But I have found that opportunities present themselves more often than not, and it is our obligation to ourselves to find the strength to choose rather than relying on the current of fate to carry us forward.”

“And what if that’s impossible too?” Mason asked, while Damien helped me stand and lean against Alex once more.

“A wise man, not unlike yourself, once told me...” Jeon began then paused, looking intently at the amalgam of Jason and Malik.

“Oh, sorry. Mason. My name is Mason.”

“Yes. Not unlike you, dear Mason. This wise man once told me that if all paths lead to undesirable outcomes, then perhaps we owe it to the universe to stop, return to the beginning, and carve out one entirely of our own making. Make destiny your own bitch, no matter the cost—those were his words, I believe. It was a long time ago, so the phrasing may be hazy.”

“You’re older than you look, aren’t you?” Mason asked.

“Yes. My appearance is certainly deceptive in that regard.”

“What happened to the guy who told you that? Did he make his own path? Or was it you who had to make it?”

“We both did, together. Although he is no longer with me and I carry on without him, I still catch glimpses of him in others.”

“Cryptic as hell,” I muttered, unable to contain my irritation with his constant evasiveness. “As if you couldn’t be at least a little specific. All these riddles and half-answers, the veils of mystery, the misdirection, the habit of nudging people from the sidelines—it’s so damn infuriating.”

“As is everything that happens outside your control,” Jeon replied and then he walked over to Robbie’s body.

“Malik was a man whose heart was in the right place. This man had his misplaced.” The moment he spoke, everyone present turned to look at me. I responded with a shrug. As much as I wanted to press him further, I knew this wasn’t the time or place for it. I would spy on him instead. After that little remark of his, everyone fell silent nonetheless.

Soon, Robert Reyes’s body lay in the hole, and Mason stood over it with a large clump of freshly dug earth in his hand. He looked at it for a moment before tossing it onto the dead man below.

“You knew what love was, but you ain’t think it was worth the effort. Just know that when you died, all of us put in the effort and took that risk to show you somethin’—for your brother, you was always enough. You always was.” He opened his hand and let the remaining soil slip through his fingers into the grave.

Nickolas, who had been strangely absent-minded throughout the entire encounter, stepped forward, patted Mason on the back, and pushed a mound of dirt into the hole with his foot.

Damien transformed his arms into hooved tentacles and began diligently covering the remains while the rest of us remained silent.

Maya, meanwhile, had not sensed the slightest trace of Authority from the Korean man. He simply stood there and watched, his attention focused mostly on Mason. Then, when everyone else was occupied with the burial, he turned toward me once more, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I am certain that the next time we meet, you will see me in a different light.”

“Dream on.” I didn’t satisfy him with a look, though Alex did. “You’re just as shady as the rest of them, magical people. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ran this entire show and got something out of it from your benefactor. You deal with death, time, or decay, right? Or is it just cryptic nonsense and unsettling vibes?”

"You could say that time lies within the scope of my interests," he replied. His frown shifted into something resembling a smile, or at least the suggestion of one.

"You can see the future?"

"Not any more than you do. I watch it unfold like everyone else."

I indulged in a moment of reticence and left him without an answer of my own.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us before we go?" Alex asked instead of me after the brief pause. During it, Mason, Nick, and Damien finished the inhumation. What remained of Malik knelt over the freshly turned soil, while Lebens began making their way toward us.

"A great many things, love," the caretaker replied after which he bowed and turned to walk away.

"Dam," Alex called out, meeting the giant man's eyes and holding them while I watched the strange caretaker retreat. "Is there such a thing as a role in the Universe?"

"What do you mean by that, dear?"

"An archetype. Something taken directly out of art."

"I still don't follow." Dam crossed his enormous hairy arms over his chest. "Be more specific."

"There are classical tropes, especially in literature, but in art in general as well," I explained. "A trickster is a good example. It's represented across many cultures, religions, and myths. Or a crone, some old woman with a wealth of knowledge and a terrible attitude who still ends up guiding people. Or a wise old bastard who speaks entirely in riddles and expects the hero on their journey to somehow understand them. That last one I hate the most. Such an overused cliché."

"I get it now." Dam nodded slowly. "You think the Universe imposes those roles on people?"

"He said it himself." I pointed at the man disappearing into the distance. "Society holds Authority. Bloody hell, even grains of sand can change how they appear in Ideworld through some miraculous shared belief. So is it possible that if someone accepts an imposed role, they gain something from it?"

"You think..." Nickolas' eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, that's brilliant!" He nearly shouted the words. "By making people believe that you embody a common concept, you're borrowing the traits associated with it. Through that, you gain Authority through those traits."

"Is that true?" Damien asked, turning toward him.

"I can't see why it wouldn't be." Alex looked at Nickolas and smiled. "Though I think that man took it a bit too much to heart."

"I always liked him." Damien stroked his beard. "Any time I came here, and mind you, those weren't happy occasions, he'd give me genuinely good advice and never ask for anything in return. Maybe he's just like that."

“Or maybe he’s investing with his time, giving it to people in time’s of need, when we are at our most vulnerable state, so you feel indebted to him, and he can call for a return on that investment.”

“You spend too much time with Sophie,” Nickolas interjected, and immediately his face soured and his gaze intensified. “Can you send me back already?” He exhaled, releasing some of the tension from his muscles.

“Think we done here. I’d appreciate a lift too, you know?” Mason added.