The sky wasn't fully dark. But it didn't know light either.
Ashen clouds brooded above the city, lying still as if too weary to float.
The sky no longer wept rain, but its traces remained on the streets... Small puddles reflecting the shadow of the world.
almost unmoving.
I sat on an old bench in the middle of the park. The swing beside me creaked as it swayed, though there was no wind, its chains crying like iron abandoned too long. The park was surrounded by gaping buildings. Their walls crawling with mold, their windows cracked, and the voices of the world...
could no longer reach here.
This was where I now existed. A body that could still move, but didn't feel alive.
I once felt happiness in this park.
At least... that's what my memory said.
"You used to play there a lot, Knnight,"
my mother's faint voice once whispered in my memory.
"You laughed so brightly the first time you rode the swing."
I didn't know if it was true. But the memory existed. And that memory was the only source of feeling left.
I didn't feel. I only... pulled memories like dragging faded photographs from a dead drawer.
I guess I'm not a monster. But perhaps... I'm not a sane enough witness to call myself human either.
"How many times have you sat here?"
a strange voice suddenly asked.
Knnight turned his head slowly.
But no one was there.
Or perhaps there was, and I just couldn't tell the difference anymore between reality and the fragments of memories tangled in my mind.
I had grown used to the voices.
Some spoke like old friends. Others... like judges inside my head. But today, all the voices were silent. No one spoke, no one whispered. Only this park, this bench, and the grey sky that seemed to watch in stillness.
I once believed in law. I lived by it, upheld justice, even refused bribes when I was an administrative officer in the eastern district.
But what did I gain?
A curse, Déjà vu, Time fragments repeating like shards of glass stabbing the eye.
I looked at a piece of candy wire left behind in the park. I remembered a small child running toward me, crying, searching for her mother. I wanted to help, but I feared what would happen.
Sharp gazes fell upon me.
Looking at me like a criminal.
And the most painful part wasn't the accusation. It was seeing it happen over and over...
The eyes that seemed to hate me. The same words repeated. The same screams echoing. Even the smell of the air when it all happened never changed.
I was trapped inside the recording of my own life. And when I tried to break free, the world simply... repeated.
I couldn't change the world. I wasn't a magician. I was merely a spectator who had stared too long at a cracked mirror... until I realized, I was the crack itself.
I was never a creator.
Never.
Only a keeper of an abandoned museum... its walls filled with dusty portraits of wounds. And every time I lifted a frame of memory, the outside world began to crumble, as if remembering the pain too.
I called this place Remnactum.
A mental space I could never fully understand.
Silent, cold, and barely alive.
And there, I saw him.
A figure who once shone brightly.
But his light had faded.
I reached out for one emotion. Hoping to warm it... but instead, I destroyed it.
Because every emotion I summoned never became a light... but a fire born from ruins.
I could pull one feeling, if I wanted.
But it was like tearing open my wound and letting the world taste its blood.
Just once, if I pulled too deep...
this world would fracture with me.
But why would I ever do that?
"Because that feeling is the only thing that makes you feel alive,"
the voice in my mind answered.
I lowered my head, staring at my hands.
Cold.
Not from the air, but because my soul no longer inhabited this body. I could feel my pulse... but it felt like watching someone else breathe for me.
I summoned a memory.
My little sister's smile, when I bought her a cheap doll from a night market.
It felt warm...
But too brief...
Then I tried replacing it.
The laughter of people when I was accused of stealing public funds. Even though... I only refused to join their corruption.
Heat... My eyes trembled... My hands shook...
Remnactum: Type Despair.
The ground around Knnight's bench began to crack slowly. The withered grass beneath seemed to lose its will to live, wilting silently. The air thickened, as if the world held its breath, waiting for something inevitable. He felt like exploding all the pent-up memories, a sensation like Mount Merapi boiling in his chest and coal burning in his hands. A dilemma between breaking and breaking apart. His tears had long dried up, and now the pain only pulsed quietly behind heavy eyelids, like an old wound no longer bleeding but torturing him between being torn and tearing apart — he hurriedly held it back.
"Not again... not again..."
"Please..."
"I can still hold it together..."
As far as I knew, this place would never bloom.
Because I carried destruction wherever I went.
And somewhere along the way...
I stopped caring whether this world deserved to be saved or not.
I stood slowly...
as if my body weighed ten times heavier.
My steps left the park, but it never truly left me.
The park clung to my mind, like an old wound that kept bleeding no matter how far you tried to walk away.
Then, through the mist of my vision, I saw an old building standing at the end of the road. No signboard, no paint left on its walls. Only a thick layer of dust and the smell of old iron seeping from every crack.
It stood mute, like an empty shell too large for one soul…
but perfect for someone who wanted to vanish from the world.
I approached.
Every step felt heavy, as if the ground itself tried to hold me back...
With a gentle push, slowly...
I opened the door.
The hinges screeched sharply, shattering the silence.
Inside... was only a thin darkness resembling mist.
Even sunlight refused to touch this place, and I didn't bother turning on the lights...
Why should I?
Light had long lost its meaning for me.
My footsteps echoed alone on the dusty floor.
I knew this place.
It used to be a small office.
Where I worked, filing documents, drafting reports, handling legal administration.
I did everything meticulously.
With the belief that law... meant truth.
But now...
There were only piles of empty files.
Some were marked with red ink: "CANCELLED", "INVALID", "TRAITOR".
I stood there for a long time, letting my eyes read each stamp one by one.
I didn't regret believing in the law.
I was just... disappointed.
Deeper than time could ever heal.
The desk at the end of the room was still intact.
I sat there, opened the drawer, and took out a battered book.
Not a personal journal, not a law book, not a strategy manual.
Just a collection of memories.
I called it that because the book was full of scribbles—a sort of emotional log.
On the first page it read:
"If I cannot feel... then let me remember."
Every page after contained one emotion.
"Fear – when they looked at me like a beast."
"Happiness – when she gave me a piece of cake and said I deserved something sweet."
"Anger – when I was accused of hiding evidence, even though I was the only one trying to be honest."
"Love – when she said I was weird, but stayed with me that night."
I didn't know who "she" was.
Maybe just a memory I created out of desperation.
Remnactum always worked like a shattered mirror.
Every emotion I pulled, reflected wildly into this world.
The deeper the feeling I pulled from memory... the greater the wound I carved around me.
But every pull... gnawed at me.
Little by little, I became a stranger to the world... even to myself.
One night I cried...
But I didn't know why it happened.
When I saw my reflection in the mirror,
I didn't recognize who was staring back—
a face as vacant as an abandoned relic,
lonely...
Uncared for.
I began to realize…
the person I was now was no longer the one I used to be.
And what hurt even more...
I was starting to get used to it.
"Why don't you try talking to someone?"
That question often echoed inside my head. From people I occasionally met.
The answer was simple.
I was afraid.
Not because they would reject me.
But because I knew they would destroy me without realizing it.
Someone once gave me a smile and I remembered it... and kept it.
But when that person came back... they avoided me, laughed with others, and said things that pierced me, whether they meant to or not.
And as always...
I kept those too.
My memory bank didn't distinguish between wounds and love.
It stored everything.
Everything became energy.
And when its limit overflowed...
The world mirrored my broken mind.
But before I could sink completely... there were small footsteps outside the building.
Light.
Hesitant.
I froze.
Held my breath.
The footsteps approached...
then stopped right outside the door.
Three soft knocks.
I stayed silent.
The door slowly creaked open.
A girl stood at the threshold.
Long hair, sharp eyes but... there was confusion in them.
"Sorry," she said, almost whispering. "I'm looking for shelter... may I?"
I stared at her without a word.
One second. Two seconds.
Memories began flowing in.
Her eyes reminded me of someone.
The way she stood... like someone I once tried to protect.
"You..."
my voice came out slowly.
"Aren't you afraid... this place is cursed?"
She paused.
Then gave a faint smile.
"Sometimes... the scariest places are more honest than people."
That smile... triggered a memory.
I pulled it.
Warmth spread from my chest.
But at the same time, the sky outside began to tremble faintly.
Remnactum started responding.
I quickly turned my face away, holding back the emotional tremor trying to explode.
"You should go," I said.
"Before something happens."
The sky rumbled.
The building shook.
The emotions inside me spilled over—
a mix of joy, fear, and unnamed sorrow.
I needed control.
You're not a monster, Knnight.
he muttered inside.
Don't destroy something again.
But the world never understood the language of warnings.
And the Law of Remnant knew no mercy.
It wasn't Knnight who drew his sword—
it was nature answering when his soul erupted.
It bit, tore, punished whoever reflected his emotions.
"Damn it I just wanted peace."
But the world knew,
peace didn't mean calm.