The Transience of Her

The Revelation, Part 1

Saturday.

Since there's no school today, I should have all the time in the world to sort out and appreciate the rest of the possessions Lianna left behind.

In the fifth box, there were some miscellaneous cloth-based products such as bed sheets and pillows among other things.

My mom volunteers to have them for herself, as she was in need of extra bedding materials that would accentuate the master bedroom that she and dad are sleeping in.

I pretty much go along with it, as I have no need for them myself.

As for the cross-stitch patterns...

She has a bunch of small patterns, all rolled up and stored in a cylinder, waiting for the day they would be framed.

Sadly, that day didn't come.

I unfurl them to reveal...

Patterns of classic 8-bit pixel art patterns.

They're relatively easy to make due to the simplicity of pixel-based sprites, and they're always all the rage at video game conventions.

Some of the patterns in her mini-collection include...

...a set of elemental crystals...

...a certain elven adventurer who can wield swords and magic with relative ease...

…a girl born with the gift of magic, riding a magi-technological contraption...

...an Italian plumber who must save the princess (again) from an over-sized turtle...

...and a blue super fighting robot who fights creations of a scientist hell-bent on world domination.

Mental note to myself: Keep them sealed in their original cylinder until the day I can frame them all, upholding her wish.

Moving on.

Her collection of alternative rock band posters is essentially similar to mine, with a few exceptions.

Two, exactly.

One portrays a solo artist with his guitar in tow. He is known to be the son of another famous musician, who is one-third of a popular musical group of siblings. His songs, as far as I know, retain the same trademarks his father had while putting his own spin on them.

Another is a mother-and-son duo. The mother is quite youthful, which hides the fact that she and her son are just twenty years apart. Reportedly, the incest-filled subtext between the two, especially in their hit single “Our Two-Hit Attack” turned off some listeners.

As I've said before, the posters that she owned that I also own and proudly plaster on the walls will be sold off to fellow fans in the near future.

Well, time to put the two posters in their right places.

There should be some space left on the right-hand size of my room, particularly near the cabinets.

With some sticky blue tack laying around, I stick the posters in a way that will be in harmony with the other posters.

All done.

The afternoon is dedicated to tinkering with the last of her possessions: Her phones – from the feature phones of 20 years ago to the smartphones of more recent years.

They are all in decent shape, and they even have their own sets of chargers and other relevant accessories.

Oh, I recognize this phone!

It's a late 90s to early 2000s phone which is noted for its incredible durability, to the point of becoming the subject of memes.

I recall playing its built-in top-down shooter game. It's quite short, but the controls and the gameplay have aged well.

Well, what can I say?

I've spent practically the entire week acquiring and appreciating all the beloved properties of Lianna.

I felt nothing but a sense of nostalgia and euphoria as I learned more about her interests as well as her history.

And now, the so-called “honeymoon period” has just ended.

Once I fall asleep... I'll face tomorrow.

A different kind of tomorrow.

Sunday.

It's been exactly a week since Lianna's burial.

Now, another event that involves her, albeit indirectly, will commence tonight.

Because I will be facing the man behind the man, so to speak, I won't be playing Skypaths Online today.

Instead, I pass the day away playing some other games such as World of Fleet Girls, Return to Planet Y, and Passive-Aggressive Road Spray Simulator.

I also make it a habit to eat my required three meals a day like I always do.

Evening comes.

I still remember the itinerary.

Meet me at the Freymont Complex, formerly the Porta Coeli Monastery, on the outskirts of town.

For convenience's sake, I'll use a ride-sharing service.

Since the service is only available in the county I'm in, the price should be affordable yet still have the same level of quality as the larger services.

Over dinner, my parents notice the eyes I have.

Dad starts the talk.

“You have an appointment tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I think you have a reunion with an old friend. Am I correct?”

“Yeah, you can say that.”

Mom follows up.

“Well, whatever will happen in that little reunion... always remember that you're in the now. Whatever past you have shared with that friend of yours... face it down. I hear you've quickly gotten over her death by appreciating her collection of games and music, so you can do the same with him.”

Words of encouragement, especially from a beloved parent, can only do so much.

After finishing my dinner, the car from the ride-sharing service arrives.

I bid dad and mom farewell as I get into the car.

As my eyes peer into the night life of the town, I recall from a song I've listened back in primary school that the evening is like the later years of a person's life.

Dark, somber, and full of uncertainty for the day ahead.

She died at nighttime, which adds another sting to my heart now that I've recalled that song.

Thirty minutes later, I arrive at the itinerary, Freymont Complex.

After thanking the driver, I get out of the car.

I am in awe of the long two-storey commercial building that was once a monastery.

And when I mean by long, I really mean it.

I can compare the building's length to that of an American football field – 360 feet, or 109.7 meters.

Surprisingly, the front door is unlocked, with no one else but me in the immediate vicinity.

Noticing that the clock is ticking to 7 pm, the appointed time, I enter the building post-haste.

Before me is a long, straight hallway, with individual doors leading to individual rooms left and right.

As far as I know, before the entire building was converted into an office building, this hallway was home to many individual rooms that housed many monks and nuns living a simple and holy life.

But the aura of this hallway, as I currently see it, is anything but holy.

There are traps I can see that are lined up throughout the hallway – tripwires, laser beams, the stuff.

Well, as someone said, a straight path isn't necessarily the easiest one to trudge.

“What is this, some kind of evil overlord's castle?!”

Even though the exterior is anything but one.

OK, if I need to reach him, who is likely at the end of this hallway, I need to get through these traps first.

First off, the tripwires.

From afar, I can't see them due to its thinness.

To the best of my knowledge, “silly string” will reveal tripwires when those wires are sprayed on.

Oh, someone left a can of it above the fire hose compartment.

I'll just spray this, and...

“As expected. There are so many of them.”

If I cut them off, the effect is the same as tripping or even touching them – triggering something nasty.

Fortunately, the vertical clearance of those wires is good enough for me to just crawl under them with my rather slim body build.

Slowly and carefully, I crawl underneath the tripwires, taking care not to let my skin, or even my clothes, touch them.

Phew. Stage 1 clear.

But it's only the beginning.

Next up, the laser beams.

Due to some particles of dust in the air, I can see faint signs of red laser beams that are usually invisible.

The effect of touching these lasers should be the same as that of touching tripwires – triggering something nasty.

Some kind of powder should be enough to reveal those hidden beams.

The question is, do I have that?

The answer can be found underneath a door in a locked-up room.

There is a container of power foundation (as in, the make-up) just lying around.

Most likely, an office lady dropped it some time ago and forgot about it for some reason.

I open the container and then feel the texture of the foundation itself.

“Still powdery to me.”

Perfect.

I should just take out an ample amount and throw it around the laser beam-rigged area.

After some “applications” of the powder... I can see that the laser beams are arranged quite like the tripwires, only that the vertical clearance is 15 centimeters shorter.

With some effort, I can still squeeze through here.

And off I crawl again!

This time, I get more careful because I could be touching something I actually can't touch, which is far more difficult than I expected.

But then...

A stray zipper from my vest touches a stray laser beam, triggering something.

And that something is...

...just an alarm, which sounds for five minutes before deactivating itself.

No trap doors, no boulders, no sharp spikes from the floor or ceiling, no swinging spiky balls, no other lethal booby traps.

“Man, those beams are just decoys? Man, I got deceived.”

Such misdirection can only mean one thing...

That mysterious guy really likes to toy with my wits.

Oh well, I'll get to the next trap.

Fake or not, I'll still get through all of them.

Third trap.

A simple lock-and-key puzzle.

I can just skip it and proceed to the next portion, but I know that the mysterious guy is watching me from afar, and he doesn't want me slacking off in tackling his puzzle- and trap-laden hallway I'm currently in.

So back to the puzzle.

The lock is on a fantasy-style treasure chest, and there is no key.

So how do I procure one?

Yes! A paper clip.

A certain inventive 80s action hero often used this to improvise things in his numerous missions.

It can pick a lock, for example.

Surprisingly enough, I left a paper clip on my vest; and for some reason, it escaped numerous cycles on the washing machine due to it being confined in a zipped pocket that I eventually forgot to open.

Well, time to put this to good use.

I bend the paper clip that I just took out, and then insert it into the lock, trying to pick it.

Seconds later, I hear a faint click, which should tell me that the treasure chest is unlocked.

I open the chest, and...

A spring toy clown emerges from the chest, with giggling sounds and all!

“What. A jack-in-the-box... something that can only come from a certified jack--”

I cut myself off because I don't want to badmouth him.

Respect, man.

On to the next one.

The next portion of the hallway riddle is a bunch of bear and wolf traps.

Step on them, and writhe in pain as the teeth will chew through the legs.

But what's odd about these bear and wolf traps before me is the fact that they're all “defanged” – i.e. their sharp teeth have been ground down to a smooth, flat surface.

Nevertheless, stepping on them will make me look like an i***t.

There are some gaps in between the traps.

I can just shuffle my feet in between the outside rims of those traps and not lift them outright and thus inadvertently step on one of these bad boys.

With that technique, I draw closer and closer to the door.

The door that signifies the end of this long hallway of traps and riddles.

The door that should lead to that mysterious guy who promises to deliver the “truth”.

Once I get through this final set of traps, I open the door, which is surprisingly unlocked.

A blinding light greets me...

… as well as a shadow of a man.

The man declares thus...

“Long time no see... Soren Orr. Do you still recognize me?”

“I honestly don't.”

“I see. Well then... Welcome to our little reunion!”

We're just getting started.