Dating
1122 Words
I truly didn't want to be matched with a sentinel by force. Besides the aversion to compulsion, there were other reasons. It wasn't because "being matched with a 'database' sentinel would be a pity for me", for the requirements for sentinels are always higher than for guides; even a sentinel of my level would have superior mental and physical qualities. The real reason is: that the database is for the entire Alliance.
I could be paired with someone from another city or even another country. Guides are required to obey sentinels, as sentinels protect guides. If I were matched with a sentinel from outside this city (which is highly likely), I would have to move to where he was, not the contrary.
I didn't want to leave here, not leave the home I shared with Helen. This was where my previous life was interrupted, where everything pivoted. I couldn't leave. I could not allow myself to leave. I realized that I could not complete my revenge, so I could not allow myself to let go of my hatred. As a guide, I regularly face many other guides' companion-style inquiries and support, cleansing negative feelings from my mind. If I didn't constantly confront and provoke them, the scent of blood would fade. That would be his victory, the victory of him and his lies. No. I saw it: it was him; he killed Helen, he is the murderer. I could not forget. I could not let go.
So, find a local sentinel to pair with.
Thus, I entered my first relationship, with a D-rank sentinel who served in this Tower District and worked daily assisting local criminal investigation officers. I had no particular complaints, except that he was very dull. When we first met, he tried to humorously (in his sight) greet me with, "Hi, are you the killer Eve?"
Since I was still retaking my basic course, I couldn't give him guidance on the spot, which was unfortunate. Setting aside our lack of chemistry, he was a decent person. Moreover, every time I thought of using him, my heart felt he was unjustly treated due to my hatred, making him even more innocent. So, when he invited me for an informal temporary bonding one night, I did not refuse. When others complained about pain during guidance, some said it smiling, and I thought they were just joking. So when he initially complained about pain with a smile, I didn't take it seriously. Soon, however, his smile faded, and he and his spirit animal (a dog) began to scream.
"What is in your mental landscape—"
I'm not very adept at entering my mental landscape. Other guides might manage it with a thought, but it's challenging for me, and sometimes I fail or cannot exit. So I don't often examine my mental landscape.
This time, I tried.
My mental landscape should have been empty. Sometimes, when I haven't encountered a guide for support in a long time, there would be a bloodstained carpet. But this time, I saw "him."
It was a part of "him," a small section of black tentacle writhing on a pure white surface as if stimulated, and now that the stimulation had faded, it slowly sank and disappeared into the white.
When I managed to come out, I saw my boyfriend angrily talking on the phone, shouting, "She's paired! She had a temporary bond with someone else! How should I know who? I wanted to ask you—weren't you saying she was easy to get with no one pursuing her?"
He suddenly noticed I had "returned," and was startled. However, he likely thought I was playing with his feelings by agreeing with him while secretly pairing with someone else. He was very angry with me. If it weren't for the Sentinel Code strictly prohibiting sentinels from harming guides, he would have hit me.
From then on, we became strangers. However, the pairing issue was not resolved. My matchmaker, the dorm supervisor, came to me in the middle of the night and took me to the hospital for an examination. Under the scrutiny of an A-rank guide, they discovered that the bond link from the S-rank sentinel from two years ago had not yet disappeared.
"What does this mean?" I asked urgently. "Did I have contact with him without knowing?"
"No," the A-rank guide replied, "I believe it's because that sentinel's mental power was so strong that his link remained in your mental landscape until now. Don't worry, dear. The link is already very weak and will completely disappear in a while. It won't affect your pairing."
I was disappointed. I returned to my dormitory in the Tower District, feeling deep anguish. The thing he inserted into my mind remained because he was a powerful S-rank sentinel. Yet, I, as a weak D-rank guide, could never find him for revenge. I thought of Helen. When I was young, a teacher at school said I had intellectual problems and suggested Helen send me to a special school. Helen did not. Helen told me I had no problems; I just needed more patience and perseverance. She said I could catch up and even excel with effort.
I was in so much pain. Helen was gone. No one would believe me. No one would tell me again: I'm proud of you. You're my pride.
I didn't want to attend lessons anymore. I took several days off, using up my entire annual leave. For the first time, I thought about suicide. I wanted to meet Helen.
But that day, the phone in my room rang. I thought it was the dorm supervisor, picked it up, and casually said something like I am being fine.
No one answered me, only faint breathing. It wasn't who I thought it was. It wasn't someone I knew.
"Sorry," I said. "May I ask who this is?"
Silence.
Gradually, I don't know why, I felt—or had an intuition, or because he left part of his mental presence in my mental landscape.
"Ray?"
The breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier as if excited yet trying to hold back.
I tightened my grip on the phone. "Me" buzzed restlessly around me. Pain, hatred, frustration, anger. I asked: "Who are you? What's your name? Where are you? I know you killed Helen. I want to find you. If I can't take you to court, I'll kill you myself—"
"The reason the bonding hasn't disappeared," he suddenly said, "is because our compatibility is one hundred percent."
The call was disconnected.
I redialed, but a female voice with a mechanical tone informed me that it was a disconnected number that did not exist.
*
- Writer
