Chapter 22
Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Absolutely Should Not Recall...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[Absolutely, never recall it.]
This is a record, and at the same time, a warning.
I have made countless efforts.
Truly countless efforts—too many to count or remember, so many that if a soul had form, that form would shatter into dust. After all those efforts, I arrived at a single conclusion.
I must not let "it" detect my existence.
In the northern Lichten region's variant of the Creation God Isis's Genesis Myth, there is said to be this passage.
〔It is annihilation, an irreversible catastrophe, defined as inevitability and heading toward mortality, boiling like hell, thus the encroaching darkness—its name is ■■. You shall not call it.〕
Now, I know as well.
What annihilation is, what the catastrophe is, what the inevitability defined toward mortality, boiling like hell and encroaching darkness is...
But we were discovered.
We could not escape.
We will meet destruction at the hands of something we cannot name, define, or even exist before.
As the price for trying to reverse mortality, I force death upon myself again by ■■.
Over and over, dozens of times, hundreds of times, endlessly.
The present world is one where everyone's death is foretold, an infinitely despairing worldview.
Now, the only remaining method is one.
To push that thing—which I cannot even describe specifically or define—outside the world's perception.
Can I, who has only ever failed, truly do it?
Is it possible for everyone to absolutely never think of it?
If in some way I recall it, it probably means this destruction will repeat once more. It is born merely by being recalled and grows stronger the more it is focused on.
And I have no idea what number recording this is.
To Arma Cruise,
Arma Cruise.
---
***
“......”
When I came to, I was lying face-down in an awkward position, propped up by pillows fore and aft in preparation for any potential mishap.
It seemed my clumsy attempt at <self-hypnosis> had succeeded, at least...
“What the hell does this even mean?”
The fact that I had written this much was clear, but the scribbles were so chaotic that if anyone found out, I’d never finish school life intact.
My head throbbed incessantly, perhaps a side effect of downing muscle relaxants without any special symptoms.
No, this headache was a kind of warning.
The intangible warning that blocks me the closer I get to that concept.
*Knock knock.*
“Cadet Arma Cruise?”
Noticing my presence, Enoch, stationed outside to guard me, called out.
I hesitated for a moment on what to do, tidied up my spot, cleared my throat, and replied.
“Come in.”
This time, perhaps wanting to confirm my face directly, Enoch quietly opened the door to the hospital room and entered.
Even after standing guard outside for so long, one would expect some sound of dragging feet from fatigue, but Enoch glided silently toward me.
“How is your body feeling?”
“Yes. I woke up a bit earlier than expected. My body’s feeling quite alright now.”
“That’s a relief. Sorry to bother you right after waking, but I have a routine report, so I need to hand over soon.”
“No problem. Go ahead.”
Yet after finishing his words, Enoch didn’t leave; he lingered by the door, showing no sign of departing.
The moment I opened my mouth again in bewilderment.
“Cadet Judith Taylor and Cadet Arthur Usher came by.”
It seemed I’d made them come in vain while I was undergoing <self-hypnosis>.
If they’d arrived while I was madly scribbling that mad prose-like madness, they would’ve broken down the door to enter, but since they didn’t, both must have visited right after.
“I see... I’ll go see them in person if circumstances allow.”
“Yes.”
With nothing more to say, Enoch gave a slight bow and left the room without looking back.
A brief rustling sound followed as the guard shifted.
‘I can’t do this too often from now on.’
Whether from the anesthesia’s aftereffects or my originally poor temperament worsening, my heart pounded rapidly.
I patted my chest, waiting for the rough heartbeat to calm.
‘Absolutely must not let it be recalled.’
And I repeated those words over and over in my mind alone.
The more I pieced the story together, the more despairing thoughts surfaced.
On the day I was hit on the head and passed out, I had definitely confronted something irreverent and ominous.
Its exact form wouldn’t come to mind no matter what, but it was a contradictory existence—infinitely vast if vast, infinitely small if small.
-If in some way I recall it, it probably means this destruction will repeat once more.
The thought that the entity I faced in that dream was the one this scribbled mad warning spoke of wouldn’t leave my head.
Even the very act of thinking I must not recall it, of rejecting the thought and refusing to define it, connected to that existence.
‘Haa...’
For now, I needed to verify the authenticity of this monster of a document I’d written.
The handwriting was a bit shaky, but it was unmistakably mine.
Even if someone had recently mimicked my handwriting, my eyesight wasn’t so poor that I couldn’t distinguish my own.
I hurriedly prepared to go out and called the shifted guard to head to the library.
The library was a massive building at the center of the upside-down star-shaped island, embracing the chapel in a ㄷ-shape.
*Creeeak...*
With frequent student traffic, the polished, worn doorknob caught my eye.
I cautiously pushed the door open and scanned the interior.
The vast library interior, where air seemed to sink heavily, was packed with books from reachable heights to lofty shelves requiring ladders.
“Let’s see, Genesis Myth... Genesis Myth...”
“One shelf over to the right.”
Responding to my mutter was a person with a low, soft timbre.
Turning that way, a tall red-haired man with a chiseled jaw gave me a silent nod.
“Should you be out of the hospital room already?”
There stood Cadet Dylan, dormitory head of our Wooden Cross Class dorms.
In the Elite Academy where lineage and wealth waged power struggles, Dylan was the only one using a pseudonym, shrouded in secrets.
Beside Dylan, assigned as a protective measure, was his classmate—pale-faced, sickly, and with a dissatisfied expression, unlike Dylan’s leisurely nonchalance.
‘Ah, could it be because of me?’
Having stirred up one incident after another, I’d unintentionally become something like a celebrity.
There were probably more cadets reacting like that than just one.
It seemed I’d have to work tirelessly for a while to change this negatively imprinted image.
I responded to Dylan, still observing me intently, with a smile.
“They said it wasn’t a physical issue, but a mental one.”
“That makes sense.”
Dylan’s peculiar trait was that while everyone easily opened up to him, he didn’t give off a friendly vibe.
Even when he suddenly spoke to me like now, I didn’t feel uncomfortable or burdened by him.
But could I initiate conversation with Dylan first? No, not really.
Perhaps the position of head and his always impeccable perfection unconsciously kept us at a distance.
“But what brings you to the Genesis Myths?”
“Ah. It’s bothering me that I declared myself non-religious in front of so many at the trial.”
“I see.”
He didn’t seem to fully buy my words, but Dylan nodded without pressing further.
His smile, deepening his dimples, softened his intimidating aura.
“You’re free to believe what you want, Cadet Arma Cruise, but at this point, it’s best not to wander too much.”
“Yes. I’ll head back soon.”
“Alright.”
I gave Dylan a slight nod in greeting and quickly selected the northern Lichten variant from the many Genesis Myths in the stacks, then headed back to the hospital wing.
“If you have any worries, anytime—”
Then, Dylan called out to my receding back.
Strangely, his voice lingered long like a whale’s cry.
Without turning, I waved my hand in lieu of a reply.
‘He sees right through me, doesn’t he?’
Despite the unexpected encounter, I returned to the hospital wing even earlier than planned.
The guard tailing me kept a poker face unshaken by minor matters, saying nothing about my little detour.
The moment we entered the hospital wing, he signaled somewhere and resumed his post, bracing for the long, tedious wait.
*Rustle, rustle.*
Back at my bed in haste, I quickly skimmed through the Genesis Myth’s contents.
The cadets borrowing Genesis Myths from the academy must not be pranksters.
The book, having sat there quite some time, was pristine without damage, proving my guess.
“......”
Finally opening the page I wanted, I let out a small sigh, trying not to show my agitation.
‘It’s there.’
The phrase starting with ‘It is annihilation, an irreversible catastrophe’ was clearly printed there.
Unlike other pages, this one alone was framed solely in red—signifying warning—and black—signifying darkness.
The black and red alone were eerie, but the skull motifs adorning each page’s borders were quite symbolic too.
I closed the page.
“Damn it.”
I could confidently say that among the Genesis Myths I’d learned so far as a model student, nothing like this existed.
The class that would study a northern variant would be Black Lily Class, not Wooden Cross.
Even under hypnosis, could one accurately transcribe content from a variant they’d never seen?
With this, my hope that the irreverent scene I witnessed was pure delusion drifted one step further away.
‘I can’t tell anyone......’
And that’s where all the problems begin.
If what I saw wasn’t false, I had to keep silent about the existence born merely by recall and strengthened by attention. Yes, like a ‘taboo.’
In other words, I had to solve all these issues alone.
Against some distant existence I couldn’t even fathom.