Dusty (1)
Zepeto's advice was simple. If it felt uncomfortable, just adjust my posture. So I decided to give that a try first. Surprisingly, my vision didn't suddenly clear up, and I didn't start embracing the whole world or anything like that. Destiny and Heart Image still felt utterly repulsive, and watching Evel's magic lessons made a queasy discomfort bubble up from deep in my chest.
Scritch, scratch.
[Don't hit your friends.]
I watched Evel's magic practice from a safe distance while scribbling out my reflection essay. Writing things down helped me sort out my thoughts. And in doing so, certain realizations came naturally.
First, there was this thing wriggling inside me. The White Tower's wizards called it my Destiny. An irreverent fate that was slowly gnawing away at my sense of self, warping it bit by bit. From a modern perspective, it'd be a mental illness. From a medieval one, a curse or demonic possession. Even setting aside the fatalistic angle, we could all agree there was something exerting a seriously negative influence on my mind. Today, let's dig into that.
"Look at this! I can make it this big now!"
Evel approached me with a bright smile, a large water orb floating lightly in her hand. I stared at it silently for a moment.
"That's amazing. Good job."
"Hehe."
I stroked her head and praised her. No discomfort this time. One fact confirmed: the thing inside me wasn't reacting to magic itself. It didn't care about spells made by simply channeling mana.
So what did set it off?
"Wanna see something even cooler? Like this..."
Evel closed her eyes and focused. The water orb began to freeze from the inside out, turning white. I stared at it again...
Thwack!
"Ow!"
Oh no. She'd gotten too close, and before I could even grab my reflection paper, my body reacted first. My fist shot out like lightning, flicking her right on the forehead.
"Waaah!"
Evel ran off to tattle to Zepeto, tears and snot streaming down her face. But it was fine. I had a stockpile of pre-written reflections ready. The utility of prepaid apologies was truly magnificent.
Anyway, the conclusion was clear. What it'd been reacting to all this time wasn't the magic itself, but the Heart Image infused within it. Only when Evel imposed her image of ice to freeze the water did it freak out.
Why? Didn't matter. Whether this thing was my Destiny, a evil spirit, or some reincarnation side effect turned mental illness—it was irrelevant. What mattered was that it was using my space without permission.
If I pictured my mind as a house, this guy was an unwelcome guest sprawled out starfished in the middle of the living room. And every time someone rang the doorbell and shoved in a Heart Image, this jerk—the one closest to the entrance—would charge out and grab them by the collar.
This wouldn't do. This was my body, my mind. I was the homeowner.
I held my breath and closed my eyes. Then I peered into the depths of my inner self.
In the pitch-black darkness, there it was: a sticky, repulsive haze planted squarely on the center of the living room sofa.
Get out of the way.
I focused my will and shoved the lump aside. It clung and resisted with a slimy grip. But it was useless. I was the owner of this house.
In my imagination, I conjured a broom. Then I started sweeping that black mass out of the living room like dust.
Swoosh, swoosh.
I shoved it into the corner, the darkest nook where no light reached. It looked just like a lump of old dust crammed there. Then I drew an invisible line around it. A quarantine zone, of sorts.
The thing buzzed angrily from its corner. But something was missing. Just shoving it aside didn't dilute its presence enough. I needed to fully otherize it from my self—to make it truly alien.
It needed a name. Something utterly pathetic, insignificant, and unlikely to grate on my nerves.
"...Dusty."
I murmured it aloud.
"From now on, you're Dusty."
People might think it was silly—like Jekyll and Hyde playing both parts solo—but this was actually a proven modern psychology technique. Externalizing the problem. And the effect was more immediate than I'd expected.
Everything looked a bit crisper now, except when looking at Evel or Zepeto. Like the living room of my self had expanded a little. In the distance, Evel had stopped crying and returned to her practice. I took in the sight fully.
Dusty squirmed in its corner of my mind, but it was far more tolerable now. Like noise from the apartment above, muffled in a soundproof booth.
A satisfied smile tugged at my lips. With lighter hands, I picked up my pen.
[I won't break Evel's thick skull again. That was all Dusty's doing. I'll keep it in check.]
# Dusty was a bigger asshole than I'd thought.
Once I'd shoved it into the corner and reclaimed control of my self, it became crystal clear. What I'd lost to that thing wasn't just my name.
I'd lost far more. Starting with my personality.
I hadn't always been this prickly. Getting mad about irrationality or unscientific nonsense? That wasn't me at all. Back in my previous life, I was a perfectly ordinary sentimental type from the humanities.
An extreme emotional softie, even. The kind who'd listen to sappy music at 2 a.m., scribble cringey poems in a diary, and go through a whole box of tissues watching sad movies.
But after opening my eyes in this world, I'd changed. Cynical about everything, nitpicking logic, obsessed with science... like a personified "cool guy" YouTube comment.
All Dusty's doing. And the worst part? It didn't even care about reason or science. It just hated Heart Images.
To reject and despise them, it ransacked my mental library. And it found the perfect excuse: just enough half-baked knowledge to make me unquestioningly averse to Destiny and Heart Images.
Then it used that as a defense mechanism to erode my self bit by bit.
"...You little shit."
I conjured a broom in my mind and whacked Dusty repeatedly. It shrank and huddled in its corner.
I reflected on my past behavior. Embarrassing.
If I'd actually known my stuff, maybe it wouldn't have been this bad. But with my shallow knowledge—stuff scraped from Wikipedia—I'd pretended to be an expert. Like some armchair critic nitpicking fantasy videos for "scientific accuracy" in the comments. I'd have gotten lynched in my past life. Probably 50 replies at least.
"Gasp."
Just imagining it made my chest ache...
You're dead today.
After the shame came rage. I hurled the imaginary broom and focused my mind to summon a vacuum cleaner.
Vroooom—!
I jammed the nozzle against the cornered lump. With monstrous suction, Dusty's black body started getting pulled in. Desperate to live, it clawed at the floor, stretching slimily. No sound, but I swear I could almost hear its death throes.
But only for a moment.
Shwoooop—!
Dusty finally lost its grip and tore free from the floor. The gum-like mass swirled into the vacuum's dust bin.
I peered into the transparent canister. There, Dusty thrashed tiny and pathetic, pounding the walls in fury. I could almost hear its resentful screams...
"Phew."
Perfect. Like hacking up stubborn phlegm. Refreshed, I opened my eyes to reality and took up my quill, scribbling on the parchment.
[I've talked Dusty down properly. Thank you.]
#
"Something's changed about you."
"That obvious?"
The White Tower's official "Excellent Wizard," Zepeto, spotted my change at a glance, true to his reputation. Delighted by his sharp eyes, I launched into my tale of subduing Dusty like it was some heroic exploit.
"Hohoho. Imagining the self as a single room? What a clever idea."
Zepeto listened with keen interest, then spoke up.
"But, little one, isn't that a lack of respect?"
"?"
"Cramming it into a narrow barrel in the corner of your self—that's not respect. It's suppression."
I pouted at his words.
"Does a jerk like that even deserve respect?"
"To some degree, yes. You'll be living with Dusty for the rest of your life, after all."
"...Rest of my life?"
I blinked wide-eyed. Zepeto shrugged casually.
"Of course. It's the Destiny you were born with. Locking it away won't make it vanish. It's a chain you'll wear as part of yourself forever."
"...For real?"
"Indeed. Though how lightly you bear that chain is up to you."
He poked my chest lightly with his cane tip.
"Remember this: every mage who tried to suppress their Destiny met ruin. The key is compromise."
There was an eerie warning in his tone. Zepeto was a fine, upstanding man and educator. I should heed him.
"It's not suppression—it's quarantine. Isolating hazards isn't oppression; it's public health."
"Hoho, your words flow like clear spring water."
But for some reason, a strange defiance bubbled up. After all the hell that thing had put me through, I wasn't ready to compromise easily.
"Such a stubborn one. Already showing the sprouts of a true mage."
Zepeto just chuckled at my reaction.
"Well, anyway. That's a fine achievement for now. I'm glad you're more at ease already."
He patted my head and handed me a candy. Grape flavor today.
"Now lift this speech-curse. I can control Dusty fine now."
"We can't say that yet. Let's observe a bit more."
"I said lift it."
"Hohoho. Not quite yet."
It started as treatment, but now I could tell. This old man was just enjoying the situation. Even the noblest soul has their twisted quirks.
"If you don't lift it right now, Dusty says it'll rip out all your beard."
"Oh my... See? Still hard to control. Time for a reflection."
"........."
I was seized by the urge to yank Zepeto's beard right then. But I held back with superhuman patience.
"Soon you could start learning magic yourself. Tomorrow, let's give it a try."
With that, Zepeto left the room. A faint excitement lit my face.
Magic. I was looking forward to it.