CH 293 – Delete, Escape, Undo (Part 5)

“Now just sign here, hon.”

The toad-faced woman tapped the bottom of the lengthy contract.

Alice’s pen hovered over the line.

“And once I do… it’ll be gone?” She asked.

“Deleted off the face of existence itself,” the woman croaked.

Alice held the pen over the line. A static buzzed in her ears. This was the moment that she had prepared for so long: her long-awaited revenge.

Yet now that it was here, her hand hesitated.

Alice’s eyes drifted to a small scar on her right hand. It was one of many. Her realm had been cruel to her at every turn, starting with her very birth. The injuries had piled on so much that even the best healing potions could not eventually undo the damage.

Until the age of five, she did not understand why her mother seemed to hate her so much. She would punish her for the most minute of mistakes. Sometimes imagined mistakes.

Then it all clicked when her mother drunkenly revealed that Alice was not her daughter. Alice had always known the Duchess did not conceive her—it was common knowledge that she was born via a surrogate since her mother was unable to conceive on her own. But that was merely a tale spun to hide the unappealing truth.

Alice was the product of the Duke’s lustful night with a traveling performer. A bastard. But a rare one. Despite spreading his seed liberally across willing and unwilling subjects, none ever took root until Alice. Thus, she was accepted from the dancer, who was happier with a bag of coins than a child, and made heir.

But being made heir and being treated as one were two different matters.

The Duchess’s distaste and contempt were evident to all, while the Duke was often away and had no interest in household matters or raising his one and only daughter. The few friendly maids or tutors who came around ultimately revealed they had ulterior motives. It was a miserable existence.

When the Duke’s ambition against the crown fizzled out in defeat and her parents were executed, Alice didn’t even cry. They were strangers to her at best.

However, they dragged her down with them. The title that should have secured her a life of privilege instead became a dagger in her side, and the royal family had no sympathy for the young daughter of a traitor.

She was forced out of her home and shunned wherever she went. Alice couldn’t escape her name, resorting to carnival tricks for the remainder of her short childhood to earn her keep. At one of these performances, her talent for magic was discovered by the headmaster of Rosel Academy. To his credit, he fought to allow her to attend the prestigious academy that ought to have been her right from the start.

But perhaps her life would have been better if he had just let her be.

Donning the pristine navy blue uniform, Alice naively thought her life would finally improve. But her damned name followed her like a ghoul. Students who had lost family in the war took out their anger on her. Others were jealous of her talents and sabotaged her at every turn. The remainder either followed the flow or ignored her.

Floating buckets of water over her head and misfired spells in class were commonplace. Once, she was even “accidentally” teleported into the cursed lands of a ghost kingdom, where she remained for two weeks before managing to get out.

But she was talented. She knew it. Talented enough that Eclipse put a target on her back, believing her an other-realmer. It took great effort to persuade them to let her live; she signed what was practically a slave contract in exchange. Yet despite the workload Eclipse heaved upon her, she also gained access to powerful knowledge, much of which the organization itself did not understand.

Then, one fateful day, her lovely classmates sealed her inside a cavern full of magical monsters during class. It was yet another distasteful “prank,” but unlike the others, due to the incompetence or neglect of her instructor, it cost her life.

In her dying final moments, she drew the summoning diagram she had personally designed, using her own blood and offering up her soul as payment to enact her revenge.

She swore then to wipe them all out—every last one of them.

“Hon?”

Alice jerked up, looking up at the lazy gaze of the administrator.

“I have all these to get through too,” the woman motioned to a stack of papers the height of a small child. “I put your request on top because it was a favor to a colleague…. But I don’t have all day.”

Alice smiled at the wording.

In here, in this realm, it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. No matter what section of the Agency of Order she was in, there were only ever ceilings and walls. There was no perceivable view to the outside. Some ceilings were made of cheap, white, cork-like material; others were impressively high and made of vaulted stone.

“I’ll sign,” Alice said.

She placed the tip on the white space above the line and curved her signature onto the paper.

“What now?” Alice asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” The woman scoffed. “It’s deleted. Your signature was all that was needed for me to file it away.”

Alice stared down at the black ink.

“That’s it…?”

Alice didn’t know what she would feel, finally exacting her revenge. She had imagined it: the fulfillment, the energy. But there was none of it. At the very least, she had expected something external, like an explosion or a boom. Some sign that an entire realm had been wiped from existence.

Instead, there was only the faint creaking of the administrator's chair and the quietness of the Agency around her.

Everything felt empty and hollow, much like the giant grey space of this part of the Agency, with its tall ceilings and bare interiors. The promise of revenge that had carried her through pain, humiliation, and death itself had ended with a mere signature on a line.

“Yes, that’s it.” The woman took the contract and placed it inside a yellowed white bin. She picked up another contract from the top of the tall pile to her right and began scanning it.

“Can it be undone?” Alice asked.

“Having second thoughts? Already?” The woman clicked her tongue, without looking up. “No, your contract is in the Deleted bin. It cannot be moved.”

Alice stared at the short stack of papers in the yellowed plastic bin. There were others in there. She had caught the name on the one on top, now below her own contract. The name was in a blocky sort of writing that had been easily readable at a glance: Kevin. He was the other lone individual who knew and used this loophole to speed up approvals.

“You are now a Celestial without a realm to rule. What you do now is up to you, hon. But unless you want to be deleted yourself, you’ll need to pony up the needed Nexus points before the next payment round.”

“Thank you.” Alice nodded and walked away, without a real destination in mind.

She knew of the mechanics. It had all been explained to her. But she had been so focused on seeing her revenge to the end that she hadn’t thought much regarding what she would do after. There didn’t seem to be anything remaining for her to do.

Now all that was left were her doubts.

Instead of victory, she felt a strange pressure building up in her chest. It spread slowly and sickeningly.

Was it guilt?

She hadn’t thought past the mechanics of her revenge. But now, with nothing left to live for, the result of her revenge was all she could think about. The results that she had, up until now, ignored. Those that did not know her and did not deserve the fate she had inflicted upon the whole realm.

Alice looked up and breathed out a heavy sigh. Her eyes blurred with unexpected tears.

Revenge tasted bitter and nauseating and not nearly as satisfying as she had imagined it to be.

​

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

​

“Isn’t this bad?” I whispered to Apophis. "Us being here?"

~Hardly, Apophis hissed back. In fact, this is the best and safest place for you, if you want to get back into your own realm.

I blinked.

“How so?” I asked.

~Master, how do you suppose Players enter Games?

I did not reply. It was honestly a matter I did not consider much.

~One method is to use one’s personal Game System to log in to another Game… but that you cannot access. The second way is through the Agency of Order, the Game Access Division.

“So that is where I need to go?” I asked.

~Yes, you need to go to the Game Access Division and go through the portal reserved for your realm’s Game.

I sighed in relief. I thought I had jumped into the hottest of boiling pots of all, entering this realm. Instead, I had finally found my ticket home.

“What about the realm I left?” I asked.

I had disappeared from it with quite a bit of unfinished business. It didn’t feel right, given all that Augustus had done for me. I owed him several favors now. And I had made genuine friends there whom I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to. Dmitry. Helen. Paisley. And many more in my classes and dorm.

“If their realm is under Celestial rule, does that mean they’re all Players now? Can I contact them somehow?”

Apophis slid across my shoulder.

~Master, when a realm is under Celestial rule, it depends on the Celestial. Some enact Player-rights upon all. Some only allow a select few. Others have their own preferences on how to manage their realm.

“I see…” I only really knew of Magdalena’s realm, and that was my core basis.

~As it happens to be, you can check the status of that realm over there.

Although Apophis was technically invisible, I could sense his tail pointing in the direction of the lone woman sitting behind a glass screen. A green-shaded lamp with a yellow light lit up the bottom of her face as she read through some paperwork.

I blinked.

“How do you know?” I asked.

~Master, I know the Agency of Order like the back of my hand, Apophis snickered, and I felt him slide down my left arm.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

~To eat, Apophis replied. Master, I am famished, and in terrible need of substance.

I suddenly felt a strange panic at the thought of being left alone. I had Void, but he was about as knowledgeable about where we were as I was.

“Now? Can’t it wait?” I asked. “I’ll be lost without you. And won’t you be in danger?”

~Master, do not concern yourself with my safety. And my meal won’t take long. Check on the realm, and then remain here as you are. And even if I do not return, for some reason, it is literally impossible to get lost in a realm devoted to Order. Everything is marked, and there are maps everywhere. You will be able to get back home.

{{ ~Void, make sure to take care of Mama while I’m gone. Protect Luca. }}

I heard Apophis speak to Void, and his message, which should have been reassuring and slightly heart-warming, only made the rumbling in my stomach worse. It was too unlike Apophis.

{{ Of course! I will keep Mama safe, Grandpa! }}

I had an uncanny feeling that Apophis was leaving.

But that wasn’t possible. Apophis was contractually obligated to ensure my safety and training. His presence was needed to achieve that. Wasn’t it?

I blinked and watched Apophis slither away. It should have been impossible. He was wearing the Pull Tab necklace. But I could sense him. I could see him.

I smiled.

I had grown during my time at Rosel Academy.

Sighing, I turned toward the woman with the toad-like face and walked on over.

“Hi, I wanted to check on the status of a newly Celestial-ruled realm,” I said.

The woman lazily looked up at me, not saying anything for a few seconds. Her heavy-lidded eyes moved over my face and clothes, as if deciding whether I was worth the trouble.

“Well, do you have a realm ID, hon?” she asked. “I haven't got all day.”

“Right, yes, I do.” I pulled out a notebook from my pocket. It was something I had kept with me during my time at Rosel Academy, not trusting Apophis to be the sole narrator of my days there if I happened to lose my memory again.

“TXKE2276AP,” I read out the number I knew I wouldn’t have been able to remember off the top of my head anyway.

The woman clicked her tongue without breaking eye contact with me.

“No such realm exists,” she replied.

I blinked.

“What? No wait…” I glanced down and repeated the letters and numbers. While my memory wasn’t stellar, I was quite certain I had written down the correct realm ID.

“Sorry, hon, it doesn’t exist,” she replied again.

“Wait—wait, that was the realm ID before it came under Celestial rule,” I quickly said. “Its ID might be different now.”

That was the logical explanation I had come up with.

“Can you look it up based on its old ID?” I asked.

The woman gave out a low sigh.

“Hon, realm IDs never change,” she said. “They are what they are. And that realm does not exist.”

She tapped a paper inside a yellow-white bin.

I looked down and saw the realm ID letter for letter, number for number.

“Yes, that’s the one!” I exclaimed.

And then my eyes fell to the label on the bin.

I blinked.

“Deleted?” I read aloud.

The woman nodded. “Yes, it’s been deleted.”

I smiled, feeling the world spin.

“Wait, but… no…. How? No. That’s not possible. It was going to be under Celestial rule…” I mumbled my thoughts aloud.

“And the Celestial in charge submitted this application for it to be deleted,” the woman said.

“What about the people in there…? Where are—”

“Deleted. They were all deleted.” The woman was clearly getting a little annoyed with me. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t register.

“But if I wanted to get in contact with one of the people? See there’s this mage Augustus—”

“Hon, when a realm is deleted, everyone within it is deleted too. Whoever you have met while playing a Game there no longer exists. Their souls no longer exist.”

“No… no… no…” I felt nauseous. I grabbed hold of the counter to keep myself steady. “They cannot be all gone…”

How could they all be gone? Wasn’t I just with them? Whether it was minutes ago, hours ago, or days ago. They existed. They were real. They couldn’t just... disappear like that? Could they?

My eyes gazed toward the long hall that Apophis had slithered down. My eyes blurred.

Did he know…?

My breathing quickened, but then was forcibly stabilized.

Yes. Yes, Apophis knew. He must have. This must have been the truth that had wiped out my memories three whole times. This was what he attempted to keep hidden from me, until now.

Damn it.

I grabbed hold of a black pen from a metal cupholder and began scribbling down whatever I could in my notebook. I knew what was going to happen to me. I was going to lose my memory. It was a miracle I hadn’t yet.

Or rather than miracles, the rune-embedded shirt that Augustus gave me was likely to thank.

Maybe I could still do something?

I hurriedly tucked the notebook in my breast pocket. Sweat was dropping down the back of my neck and down the sides of my face. I didn’t have much time, magical shirt or no shirt.

“Can you undo it? The deletion?” I asked.

The woman clicked her tongue.

“No. It’s in this bin. It’s been signed. It’s been deleted. You can’t undo it.”

Her mouth continued to move, but I couldn’t register her words anymore. Not that it mattered; she wasn’t who I was trying to communicate with.

“No… no… it can be… Undo it…. ” I staggered. I had to grip the counter to maintain my balance. I grabbed the glass opening to steady myself and avoid falling.

Damn it. What was it? Why was I here?

I felt my vision darken. A pool of black spread out beneath my hands.

“—not allowed!”

My grip slipped, and I felt myself falling. But I never met the ground. Instead, a pair of hands met me. A curtain of black silk flowed over my cheeks before being tucked away behind one ear and revealing a mole beneath one eye. A familiar and comforting scent wafted over from her.

“Mom…?” I mumbled.

And then everything cut out. I lost consciousness.