Eric's Reverie
1022 Words
Imagine my surprise, Eric, that you turned out to be such a person!
Becky often said that mind-reading magic was both troublesome and dangerous. For every mage who learned it, there were just as many who teetered on the brink of madness. Once triggered, it was a spell nearly impossible to retract; novices would find themselves inundated with a cacophony of voices, whether they wanted to hear them or not.
A mage had to face a mirror, casting hypnotic or other mental spells to set constraints, before mind-reading became truly functional. And therein lay the problem: casting spells upon one's own reflection was an incredibly difficult feat, unattainable for anyone but the most advanced magicians. This was why Becky always discouraged Erica from learning it.
"Until you master self-restriction, pursuing it is a road to ruin."
For Becky, mind-reading only activated when there was a layer of metal between her and the target, a safeguard she'd implemented. Thus, she was using this technique on Eric at that very moment. However, what she unearthed from his mind was a spectrum of emotions she couldn't have anticipated. She released her grip with a start, retreating a few steps in a mix of shock and disbelief.
Imagine my surprise, Eric, that you turned out to be such a person!
Her silent accusation echoed within her, words she wouldn't dare speak aloud, not that the person they concerned could hear her anyway. The young man who'd worked tirelessly all day now slumbered deeply, his serene and gentle expression purely deceptive.
---
Elsewhere in the storeroom, a few others had fallen asleep. When Becky arrived, she saw that only David remained awake, his jacket draped over the sleeping Erica. Before she could tease him about it, she noticed that both Daisy and Bob were similarly covered.
Frowning, Becky inquired, "How many jackets did you bring?"
David confessed, "I thought we'd be provided accommodation, so I packed extra." Who could have guessed their first night here would be spent laboring?
As they conversed, Becky reviewed the results of their night's work. The team had processed two thousand submissions—not as rapid as Eric, but commendable for an average group.
"Well done, everyone," Becky praised with a smile.
David, unswayed by simple compliments, bit his tongue against criticizing Becky’s demanding regime, remembering he had more pressing matters to address.
From his seat, he looked up at Becky, "The Ghost Flower—is it truly your creation?"
Becky arched an eyebrow, "Indeed. I had a feeling naming them 'Becky' would pay off."
David's temple throbbed with frustration, "No, I saw it in the catalog. You discussed your inspiration there."
Inspiration? The mere mention of the term made Becky smirk inexplicably. She seemed to be waiting for David to say more, but when he didn't, she continued, "I half-expected you'd follow up with 'You really love him,' you know?"
David pressed his lips together, though his evasive gaze betrayed the underlying implication.
Becky, not surprised, reminisced, "Logan would often sequester himself in a dark, confined basement to study magic, forbidding anyone, even me, from nearing him. I feared for his loneliness and wished for living companions, thus creating the Ghost Flower—thriving without sunlight."
Listening quietly, David absorbed the story. Despite not being a fan of romantic tales, Becky and Logan's was a curious anomaly. New Englanders were famously intrigued by their history; many women had used their breakup to reject suitors, saying, "If even Becky and Logan couldn't make it, how can we?"
The day they reconcile, men will undoubtedly wave banners in celebration.
Drawn back to the present, David heard Becky say, "But after I created it, I realized such flowers weren't quite right for Logan."
"Why not?"
"Because the Ghost Flower flourishes without light, yet Logan himself was the light..."
Her voice trailed off, almost too soft to hear. Eyes unfocused, she sank into the memory. It turns out, some realizations only come after parting: dreams of harmony shatter upon reflecting on long-buried discord.
That misfit Ghost Flower—what did Logan think when he received it? Even if she erred, nothing warranted his betrayal. Gloom enveloped Becky as memories clung like a swamp's drag...
Fortunately, David's voice ground her back to reality.
"Becky, one more thing," he ventured.
"Go on," she replied.
"The catalog dates the Ghost Flower to fifteen years ago, the same time my parents acquired one. Is it a coincidence, or do you know them?" he inquired.
Becky had expected this question. With honesty, she recounted the events to David in detail. A glimmer of hope brightened his eyes, only to be extinguished upon realizing she knew nothing more.
---
Returning, Becky found Eric awake, diligently working, undiminished in beauty despite fatigue. Captivated, she lingered, observing him until her presence caught his attention. He rose immediately.
"Where have you been?" he asked politely.
"I checked on Erica's team; they did a fine job," she replied.
"Compared to me?" Eric queried without hesitation.
His bluntness disarmed her, yet she answered with a smile, "You're still the best."
His satisfied grin seemed to dismiss all awareness of the insurmountable tasks remaining. Watching him, a pang of guilt pricked Becky. She had read Eric’s mind without consent, a habit she often indulged. More unsettling was the disparity between what she discovered and his outward persona. She resolved to confess.
"Eric, I used mind-reading magic on you," Becky admitted.
He paused, glancing up, his rosy eyes blinking in mild surprise.
"You're unfamiliar with mind-reading magic, aren't you?" she worried, though it wouldn't shock her if he was.
Eric shook his head, puzzled not by the magic, but her motivation.
"Why did you do it?" he probed, locking eyes with hers, brimming with curiosity.
Taken aback, Becky hadn't anticipated such directness. Yet, she could now tell when Eric found joy, and denying it felt unreasonable. Thus, she opted for a white lie.
"To understand you better," she answered.
His expression lit up, as if he'd found what he was searching for.
Beside them, the night's chaos blurred into a backdrop, allowing this moment of connection to linger.
- Writer
