Paranoia
1349 Words
I stood in my mental landscape. Now, it was no longer pure white; there was a bloodstained carpet. My spirit animal began to wander around this space. I was "sensing", or more professionally, "exploring." I didn't possess the advanced skills of that A-rank guide; all I had was patience. I searched for a long time, and in the end, rather than finding "him," it was more accurate to say that "he" found me. He emerged from the white surface like a sprouting seed, extending towards me. I wanted to stomp on "him." "I" was quicker than I was, moving to smash "him" before I could even lift my foot. I thought it was just a small part of "him" that I could handle. I still underestimated the gap between S-rank and D-rank. In an instant, "he" snared "me." I tried to pry "him" off, attempting to save my spirit animal, but as soon as my fingers touched "him," I felt an indescribable emptiness—a void from losing him. A powerful longing, wishing he were here in person.
I immediately let go, and that feeling vanished.
"He" continued to entangle "me," but "I" no longer felt panic. I watched them—a ball and a tentacle—bump and rub against each other as if playing. "I" openly displayed my craving for him.
I curled up in my blanket, not wanting to see my spirit animal. Why was this happening? It shouldn't be this way.
A one hundred percent compatibility sounded absurd. It was impossible to achieve one hundred percent compatibility; over ninety percent is considered a "perfect" match. People cannot fit together like two puzzle pieces—there will always be one or two aspects that don't align perfectly.
Is he lying to me? Why would he lie?
I went to see my dorm supervisor.
"Dear, that's impossible," she said. "You two can't interact. He has no way of knowing your phone number or calling you."
"But he did call me!" I said. "Is what he said true? That our bonding hasn't disappeared because of one hundred percent compatibility?"
"There's no such thing as a one hundred percent match between a sentinel and a guide," she said.
"Could a high compatibility cause a delay in the disappearance of a temporary bonding?" I asked. In the manual I had, the only related statement I could find was: The higher the compatibility, the smoother the bonding between a sentinel and a guide. How does it "smooth"? No explanation was given.
She hesitated. I didn't know what she was hesitating about. She said, "It can, but…"
But an S-rank and a D-rank can't be paired. Even if my compatibility with him were very high, the Tower wouldn't allow an S-rank to bond with a D-rank. As an S-rank, he would be offered many A-rank and above guides with over seventy percent compatibility. Considering his age, he should already have a formal bond with his exclusive guide.
She looked at me with pity. "Eve, let him go. The traces he left will disappear. Look at the people around you who are within reach."
It was disgusting.
"He's the murderer who killed Helen!" I shouted. "He's a criminal! I won't—"
They said that the S-rank sentinel was the best I could have had.
She thought so too.
I attacked her.
A guide attacking another guide is not a very serious crime like a sentinel attacking a guide. And I'm a D, she's a C. Except for the initial strike, she immediately raised a barrier, and "I" couldn't hit her. Her Nightingale quickly subdued "me." Later, she wrote a letter to the Tower, saying that I had never gotten over the shadow of my foster mother's death and was deeply troubled by my paranoia. What I needed was treatment, not confinement.
I was released the next day and sent to the hospital. They thought I had a mental illness, even though I was a guide. My mental landscape was orderly, and my mental power was under control. I couldn't possibly be mentally ill, but they deemed me to meet the diagnostic criteria for paranoid schizophrenia based on "typical symptom presentation".
Afterward, my activities were restricted, and I was under surveillance, unable to leave the Tower District. They said the call I received was a hallucination, and they provided me with communication system records showing that I had randomly dialed a garbled number that day.
I wasn't crazy. I received that call.
I used to think the sentinel was the murderer, lying to the investigators, and they believed him. I didn't think they were covering for him. But now, I was starting to doubt. Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn't leave the Tower, so I wouldn't face my ordinary friends' regretful looks or "conspiracy theorist" judgments. It was the Tower that prevented me from finding him, the Tower that hoped I wouldn't affect him. The A-rank guide who explained things to me deliberately omitted the possibility of compatibility. She and they were in cahoots. The dorm supervisor might also be in league with them. Even if not, they all believed in the Tower and not in me.
The dorm supervisor later introduced other sentinels to me. Or more appropriately, she introduced me to sentinels—some kind-hearted, sympathetic ones who felt sorry for me and wanted to "save" me, to "brighten" my life, to bring me "happiness." I wouldn't attack them. Because they were easy to deal with; I only needed to make them realize that I didn't need anyone to "save" me, and they would naturally leave.
One person didn't leave. He was genuinely a good person. He approached me very patiently, listened to me, and believed in me. However, he said, "Maybe your foster mother was hiding something you didn't know; maybe she was a fugitive in hiding; maybe his secret mission was to execute her for the Alliance. In any case, Eve, you should let go. For the sake of your future life, you're a wonderful person. Your life isn't worth wasting on hatred for someone you can't see. Let go of yourself and look at your current life."
My life. When I graduated from college, one professor asked if I wanted to continue studying with her. I said I did. Now, I couldn't even think about her and that research I could have participated in. Helen had told me that she would support whatever choice I made. Yes, it was difficult to study, and if I couldn't manage it, it was okay. She had saved up a lot of money; she could buy a mechanized farm, and we two women could run it. We could move to the countryside, a pastoral life, away from the hustle and bustle. Of course, if I wanted to stay in the city, she would accompany me. Anyway, I was still young, and I could try anything. Plus, staying in the city meant encountering more charming young boys. I hadn't been in a relationship yet—how regrettable. Love was wonderful. I said I loved her, and that was enough. She said love between lovers was different. But as always, she said I could choose as I wished because love could also bring harm. What she hoped for was that I could live freely and happily, following my heart.
Who ruined my life?
That sentinel named Ray called me. It wasn't a schizophrenic episode, paranoia, or hallucination. I don't know why he desired me so much. Was it the physiological attraction from high compatibility? Was the emptiness and longing I felt the same for him? Anyway, he craved me. And the Tower was also stopping him because I was a D-rank. After all, I hated him, or because of some other "conspiracy theory". So he made that damn call, said that damn thing, not caring at all about what he had done to me. But well, he was waiting for me, hoping I would wait for him as well.
I will wait for him. I will go and destroy him.
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- Writer
