Captive of Time

Chapter 3: The Truth

Even though objective time had stopped, Speedy still felt hunger and fatigue, indicating that his biological clock was still functioning.

Each day, after waking up, he would throw himself into his research, study, and work. When hunger first struck, Timer would deliver a meal. The second time he felt hungry, he’d run home, imagining himself dining with an invisible lover. Afterward, they would watch old movies together or play outdated single-player games. Then, they would make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms, marking the end of another “day.”

Speedy interpreted Timer bringing him food as a manifestation of his split personality. He believed that when his second persona took over, he wasn’t aware of it. Each day, his other self would prepare and bring the food, and when he ate, he fantasized that his lover had specially delivered it. In his mind, he wasn’t eating alone, but sharing a sweet meal with his partner—sometimes being fed, sometimes kissed, and sometimes even embraced while eating. Of course, all of this was just his imagination.

He reflected on this often, surprised at his ability to invent such intimate scenarios, feeling that he had wandered far from any semblance of civilized behavior.

Convinced he had already lost his mind, Speedy found it easy to rationalize his sensation of his lover’s presence as an inevitable consequence of his delusion.

The turning point came when the imaginary lover began speaking to him, initiating direct conversation.

Before, their communication had been limited to little notes, discussing mundane matters such as “What do you want to eat today?” or “Is there a game you’d like to play? I’ll find the cartridge.” Speedy’s rational mind understood these were self-written notes, penned in the voice of his imagined lover. Yet, every time he received one, he felt a fleeting joy.

However, once Timer started speaking, everything changed.

At first, Speedy assumed that the conversations were just his own mutterings, transformed in his mind into a dialogue with his lover. The fact that he could imagine it so vividly, even “hearing” Timer’s voice, made him think his “illness” had worsened. He worried that, as this progressed, he might eventually see Timer in physical form.

Logically, he expected Timer’s appearance to match his favorite ideal, but when he thought about it, he realized he had no real-life idols. This led him to a strange concern—what if Timer appeared with the face of WUKONG, the childhood idol he had adored? The thought of engaging in a romantic, overly intimate relationship with WUKONG unsettled him.

But his worries were unnecessary when Timer began saying things that Speedy could never have imagined.

One night, after they had made love, Timer embraced him from behind and softly murmured, “Baby, you’re mine. Only mine.”

In a half-asleep state, Speedy responded, “How am I yours?”

“You’re trapped by time,” Timer chuckled softly, kissing Speedy’s shoulder. “You’re trapped by me.”

A sudden chill ran down Speedy’s spine, jolting him awake.

He had learned about Marxist philosophy in school: matter determines consciousness, and consciousness is a reflection of matter.

If Timer was merely a projection of his mind, conjured to protect him from spiraling into madness in his endless solitude, then Timer’s actions, thoughts, and words should never exceed the limits of Speedy’s imagination. After all, Timer was his own creation. He should never say anything beyond what Speedy could conceive.

Yet, given the way he had envisioned his lover, Timer should never have spoken such words.

Speedy had never considered the possibility that time itself could possess consciousness.

Even though he had been trapped in this timeless moment, he had always sought external causes, ways to break free from other forces. He had never imagined that it was time itself—consciously—that had imprisoned him.

A few strange remarks here and there could be dismissed, but in this surreal world, Speedy couldn’t ignore them. He wasn’t confident that he fully understood himself, nor could he be sure that he wasn’t harboring such subconscious thoughts. Just as he had never been in a romantic relationship before, and had never considered being attracted to men, Timer had always appeared as a dominant, possessive presence, and Speedy had accepted and even relished that dynamic. Perhaps, deep down, he had always been drawn to someone like Timer without realizing it.

But as time passed and their intimacy grew, Speedy’s rationalizations began to falter, and his attempts to excuse Timer’s behavior crumbled. The terrifying truth gradually revealed itself through Timer’s words: Timer was an independent, conscious being, not a figment of Speedy’s imagination.

And Speedy’s current predicament was directly tied to Timer. He began to suspect that everything had been orchestrated by Timer, and that Timer might even have the power to release him, to allow him to return to normal time and the real world.

But Timer had no intention of doing so.

Upon realizing this, Speedy tried everything.

He pleaded. He seduced Timer in the ways he knew Timer liked best. He broke down, sobbed uncontrollably, cursed, and even lashed out physically.

But Timer always stood there quietly, like an indifferent observer, devoid of sympathy or empathy, completely detached from Speedy’s suffering and emotions.

Like time itself, watching the joys and sorrows, struggles and strife of living beings pass by in the endless flow of moments, yet unmoved, proceeding at its steady, relentless pace—nothing could stop it, no one could reverse it, no one could alter it.

Timer would simply hold Speedy, kiss his eyes, and wordlessly ask: Isn’t this good? Isn’t this how it should be?

No, it wasn’t. Not at all. Speedy wanted to go back, to see his family, his friends. He didn’t want to be alone here.

If he expressed this, Timer wouldn’t respond, only hold him tighter.

It’s hard to let go once you’ve experienced something.

Speedy couldn’t escape.

Because no one can resist time.

We are all pushed forward by the tide of time, bound within its linear prison. No one can resist it, no one is exempt, and no one can break free of its confines. Speedy was just like us, except that he had been locked in a single moment, personally guarded by time.

Even though he had learned that the mysterious being beside him might hold the key to everything, after his initial breakdown upon discovering the truth, Speedy soon regained his composure.

It was clear that Timer had no desire to help him escape. In fact, it was only a hypothesis that Timer even had the power to let him go. There was a chance that Timer didn’t have such power at all.

So, Speedy stuck to his original plan: continue his research, continue his studies, and search for a way out.

And he continued living as Timer’s lover.

First, because it was undeniable—Timer was far more powerful in this world than he was. Timer could accomplish things that Speedy couldn’t, and Speedy couldn’t defeat him. Second, despite knowing the truth, Speedy couldn’t bear to lose him. Returning to a life of solitude might truly drive him mad.

Speedy had always prided himself on looking at things from different perspectives. Even after discovering Timer’s true nature, he found a silver lining: he hadn’t gone mad, nor did he have a split personality. In fact, while still in a sound state of mind, he had managed to find an extraordinary being as a lover, and in this one-person world, he had created a happy home.

When he looked at it this way, things didn’t seem so bad.

Yet, despite this self-consolation, knowing that his lover was likely the one who had trapped him in this suspended time, Speedy’s attitude toward Timer visibly cooled.

Now, as Speedy sat engrossed in a book, Timer approached from behind, whispering, “How would you like me to appear today?”

Timer was usually invisible, but occasionally he would take on different forms.

“Whatever,” Speedy replied coldly.

The moment he spoke, a large black snake appeared on the bed, its cold body coiling around him, its head resting at his neck, flicking its tongue with a soft hiss.