Surrealism (1)
“...Aren’t you sad?”
It was an unfamiliar voice. Quiet and warm, strangely clear and pure. As if it had been peering gently into the depths of me all along.
“...Who are you?”
“Haha, well... does it matter?”
A short silence. The voice laughs softly.
“Everyone saw your work and called it beautiful.”
“They said it was awe-inspiring. That they couldn’t tear their eyes away.”
I slowly close my eyes. Faint images rise.
The massive angel statue bathed in light. The audience holding their breath. And the applause.
“...I was happy,” I say.
“Yeah. You looked truly blissful.”
It’s a kind voice. But that makes it all the harder to bear.
“Yet in the end, they all screamed.”
“...”
“They called it a monster. Terrifying.”
“No one loved your work to the very end.”
A sudden emptiness blooms inside my chest, silent as a void. But soon, I force the corners of my mouth upward.
“...People instinctively fear the unfamiliar. New art needs time to be recognized.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“...Yes.”
“Then why did you look like you were about to cry?”
My words catch in my throat for a moment.
“...”
“Even with all that applause, why were you so anxious?”
The voice remains gentle. No blame, no mockery. And yet—strangely, it cuts deeper.
“Because you wanted to be understood.”
“...”
“Not just the surface, but the depths within.”
The tips of my lips tremble faintly.
“People loved the angel’s form.”
“The white sculpture. The elegant curves. The sacred exterior.”
“But they couldn’t stomach the blood and flesh inside.”
“...No.”
This time, my reply comes a little quicker.
“The people here will understand someday. Just like the people in the city did.”
“Art is—”
“Then why did you smile at the end?”
“Pardon...?”
My breath catches.
“While everyone was crying and fleeing, why were you so happy?”
The voice draws closer. Close enough to brush my ear.
“Because in that moment, they all looked at your work until the end.”
“...”
“They couldn’t run. Couldn’t look away.”
“For the first time, they saw the ‘inside’ you wanted to show.”
My fingertips tremble faintly.
“Did you really want to be understood?”
“Or did you want to force them to stare until the end?”
“...”
Through that silence, the voice whispers very tenderly.
“It’s okay.”
“You don’t need their recognition anymore.”
“You don’t need them to understand to the end.”
“You don’t need to fear their disgust.”
My breath quivers ever so slightly.
“The people here will never truly understand you.”
“So.”
Close to my ear, like a warm sigh.
“Live for yourself alone from now on.”
“Whether they cry or scream.”
“If you find it beautiful, that’s enough.”
My fingertips shake. But the voice stays gentle to the end.
“Cast aside others’ gazes.”
“No need for audiences, understanding, or love.”
“Only for yourself.”
“...No.”
But there’s no strength in my voice.
“Art... if it doesn’t reach anyone... it’s...!!”
My lips stop. I want to argue, but strangely, no words come.
At that moment—
Bang!!
“Hey!! Keep your damn sleep-talking down, you psycho bitch!!”
My vision flips. Damp concrete ceiling. Flickering fluorescent light. Rusted iron bars.
...I stare blankly at the ceiling for a while. The scent of blood still lingers at the tip of my nose. Applause and screams tangle indistinguishably deep in my ears.
Slowly, I cover my face with my hands.
“...Really.”
A small sigh escapes.
“...What an unpleasant dream.”
But it’s strange.
Live for yourself alone.
...I slowly close and open my eyes.
No. I don’t like that. An exhibition hall no one visits is too quiet. A work no one gazes at will only gather dust in a dark warehouse and die.
The moment I sit up—
A sharp throb.
“...Ow.”
I clutch my stomach. Every breath sends a stinging ache through my ribs.
Tsurugi was merciless, far more than I expected. If the Justice Realization Department hadn’t swarmed in, I could have appreciated her a bit more calmly.
My ribs throb again. Probably that final kick.
...Still, if it had been one-on-one, I might have hoped for a different outcome. She was truly delightful.
Creeeak. The cell door opens.
Blue uniform. Cold eyes. Expressionless face. Kanna Ogata of Valkyrie Police Academy.
Kanna looks down at me wordlessly for a moment. Like someone checking hazardous material.
“...Yumesakai Rakuka.”
“...Yes.”
“Interrogation time. Come on.”
I slowly rise. But as my foot hits the floor, pain flares again.
“...Ngh.”
Kanna’s gaze flicks briefly to my stomach.
“...You took quite a beating.”
“Just a little.”
I rub my stomach slowly.
“My ribs feel a bit creaky.”
“...Save it from the one who did the beating.”
A cold reply. We walk down the corridor. Damp walls. Dim fluorescents. Distant radio chatter. And the interrogation room.
One table. Two chairs. Harsh light.
Kanna sits across from me. She flips through papers, then speaks low.
“...First, do you admit to seriously injuring multiple Justice Realization Department students during your arrest?”
“Yes.”
An utterly compliant answer.
“I admit it fully.”
Kanna’s eyebrow twitches faintly.
“...Throat, armpits, inner thighs. All vital points.”
“...I am truly sorry about those.”
I bow my head politely.
“It’s an old habit that lingers.”
“...Habit?”
“Before I started with art, I lived a bit roughly.”
I close my eyes.
“When facing combat, I habitually seek exposed vitals first.”
My fingertips trace my throat slowly.
“Throat for blood flow. Armpits for nerves. Inner thighs for mobility.”
“...The human body is more intricate than it seems. A light touch collapses it so easily.”
Kanna says nothing for a long while.
“Is that... your excuse?”
“No.”
I shake my head slowly.
“It was truly dangerous. I’m relieved no one’s life was at risk.”
Kanna’s expression hardens briefly. She realizes it’s no lie. But that makes her face even more displeased.
After a moment, Kanna sets a tablet on the table.
“Then look at this.”
Trinity Exchange Event Catastrophe
73 Excavated Corpses Confirmed Used
Central Exhibition Mass Panic
Shaky footage scrolls by. Students crying. The gallery stained with blood. Spectators screaming as they flee. The collapsing angel statue.
...I gaze at the screen slowly. And murmur very softly.
“...You took excellent photos.”
Bang!!
Kanna slams the table.
“...Is that what matters right now?”
“The composition is just so good.”
A calm voice.
“Especially the final collapse—the colors are—”
“Shut up.”
A low, suppressed voice. The room falls silent after that single word.
I turn back to the screen. Crying students. Trembling voices. Eyes filled with terror.
Ah. Now it starts to feel real.
Unconsciously, my fingertips grope the air.
...No Coste. The familiar grip is gone.
“...I thought you’d watch to the end.”
Kanna’s eyes waver.
“...What?”
“Everyone... didn’t need to flee so desperately.”
“Even if it was scary.”
“...I wanted you all to appreciate it together until the end.”
Kanna falls silent for a moment. I look back at the screen.
“Still... in a way, I’m glad.”
“...Glad about what.”
“You all remember it this much.”
“Being scared that deeply means it lingered.”
Kanna slowly pinches her brow.
“...You’re the worst.”
“...May I take that as a compliment?”
“No.”
A short, firm reply.
“Absolutely not.”
Clank. The door opens. Two in black suits—Student Council members.
“Interrogation ends here.”
“We’ll take custody afterward.”
Handcuffs click on again. Cold metal sensation. Like tape sealing off a gallery piece.
We walk slowly down the corridor. Up ahead, the council members murmur.
“Trinity’s in total uproar.”
“Wild Hunt can’t even issue a statement.”
“Gehenna?”
“Word is, they think it’s fun.”
“Hmm... maybe we can bend a ring finger for this.”
“What?”
“An exhibition causing this much waves... shouldn’t earn at least Docent rank?”
The corridor hushes. Footsteps and breaths fade oddly.
...Such reactions feel a bit lonely. I’m always sincere.
Descending the stairs, my stomach throbs again.
“...Ngh.”
My step falters. Kanna glances back.
“You okay?”
“Yes...”
I steady my breath slowly.
“Just a little pain.”
“...Do you even know what you did wrong?”
I look out the window. It’s night already. My reflection in the glass looks unfamiliar.
“Saying I don’t know feels off.”
“I understand they were shocked. But.”
“I don’t think calling beauty beautiful is wrong.”
Kanna rubs her eyes wearily.
“...That’s exactly the problem.”
Ding. Elevator doors open. End of the hall, waiting room outside the conference room. I sit quietly on the cold metal chair. Handcuffs on wrists. Two guards flanking me. Across the hall, council members coordinate in low voices.
“...Trinity rep not here yet.”
“Wild Hunt?”
“Still chaos inside.”
So noisy. Like backstage before a show.
I lean back against the chair and close my eyes. Then, very softly, I start humming.
“All the time we spent together...”
“I’ll cherish it close... ♪”
Slow, languid tone.
One guard scowls.
“...Hey.”
The humming stops. I open my eyes slowly.
“Yes?”
“You feel like humming right now?”
I think for a moment.
“Of course I’m tense.”
“That’s why I was calming down a bit.”
“...”
“I like this song. It’s a very sad ballad.”
My fingertips toy with the cuffs slowly. Clink. The guards glance at each other. I watch briefly, then resume humming softly.
“Because S doesn’t mean sayonara...”
At that moment, the conference room door opens.
“Yumesakai Rakuka.”
“Come in.”
The humming stops. As I rise slowly—
Throb.
“...Ngh.”
My stomach stings again. But I lift my head as if nothing happened.
“Finally... the curtain rises.”
“...Don’t call a trial a performance.”
I don’t reply. I just gaze inside the room.
Bright lights. Long table. Air thick with suffocating silence.
Everyone’s already seated. Student Council. Trinity. Valkyrie. Wild Hunt reps.
And—Seia Yurizono.
She says nothing to the end. Just watches me quietly with a face that looks strangely sad.
Her eyes make me avert mine briefly.
“...Yumesakai Rakuka.”
A council member opens documents.
“Sit.”
Clank. The cuffs jingle shortly. I sit slowly. Cold metal bites my wrists, and gazes settle on my skin like dust.
...They’re all watching. To the end. The fact reassures me oddly.
The council member speaks evenly.
“...Defendant Yumesakai Rakuka.”
“Corpse desecration. Grave robbing. Illegal exhibition. Public disturbance.”
“And direct cause of the Wild Hunt-Trinity exchange event’s collapse.”
A calm voice. But weariness seeps through unavoidably.
“...Do you admit the charges?”
“Yes.”
I nod meekly.
“I admit them all.”
The room’s air grows heavier. Her compliance feels unnervingly strange.
A Trinity rep speaks low.
“...Many affected students are still mentally traumatized.”
“Some report hallucinations and insomnia.”
“A few can’t even approach the gallery.”
“I am truly sorry about that.”
I bow deeply and politely.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Then I lift my head slowly.
“But I don’t regret the work itself.”
Someone swallows a sigh. A Valkyrie rep grimaces openly.
“...Still on that?”
“Yes.”
I smile faintly.
“It was the beauty I truly wanted to create.”
“...From 73 corpses woven together?”
“Yes.”
I nod without hesitation.
“Unquestionably one of the masterpieces of my life.”
“...The only regret.”
For a brief moment. My gaze drops below the table.
“Is not showing it directly to the one I respect.”
A faint stir in one corner. But I continue.
“I’m a little... no, very curious what evaluation it would receive.”
The room’s air freezes. Some show open disgust, others avert eyes. But strangely, each expression warms my chest a tiny bit.
The council member closes their eyes slowly. Like enduring a headache.
“...Psych evaluation results submitted.”
Papers flip slowly.
“Expert judgment aligns.”
“Classify Yumesakai Rakuka as mentally unstable, high-risk.”
“Thus, not general correction facility, but transfer to specialized psychiatric isolation.”
Thud. Papers close.
“...That concludes it.”
A very short trial. But no one wants it longer. Like hastening past a disaster.
Suddenly, my eyes meet Seia’s at the room’s end. She says nothing for a long time. Very briefly. Truly briefly. With eyes on the verge of tears, she gazes quietly.
...Why that face? Do I seem that miserable? It’s odd. I thought it was a satisfying exhibition.
Clank. Someone tugs the cuff chain behind me.
“Moving out.”
Kanna Ogata’s blunt voice.
“...Yes.”
I turn slowly. The door opens, cold corridor air brushes my skin. Low voices continue behind.
“...Trinity public opinion’s awful.”
“Media control?”
“Too late.”
Heh. Impressive. One person—no, one work—stirs the world this much. The elation won’t subside.
As we walk the corridor, faint dawn light glimmers beyond the glass. Night-to-morning boundary. Like stage lights dimming post-curtain.
“...Don’t smile.”
Kanna says suddenly.
“...Pardon?”
“Your face right now.”
She adds low after pausing.
“...It’s creepy.”
Short and firm. But faintly weary underneath.
I think, then smile softly.
“Sorry. But I can’t help it.”
My fingertips toy with the cuffs slowly.
“Everyone’s still talking about my work.”
“...”
Kanna says nothing for a while. Only our descending footsteps echo quietly.
Thud.
She asks low suddenly.
“...Why obsess over people so much?”
My step pauses.
“...Obsession?”
“Wanting understanding. Wanting them to look.”
Kanna glances at me.
“...Like a kid scared of being abandoned.”
My breath catches briefly. Then a soft laugh escapes.
“...Is that how I seem?”
“Yeah.”
Short reply. Dawn light stretches through the stairwell window. I gaze at it and speak quietly.
“Of course.”
Kanna’s steps slow slightly.
“Someone... has to see it.”
Kanna offers no reply. Corridor end. White transport van waits. Thick doors. Blacked-out windows. Excessive locks. Less patient transport, more sealed container for something dangerous.
“...Truly insulting treatment.”
“You earned it.”
“Too harsh.”
I grumble and smile faintly. Then—
“...What about confiscated items?”
One student asks.
Kanna replies indifferently.
“All in separate storage.”
“Gallery debris, equipment, records—all seized.”
Short silence. And—
Clank!!
The cuffs shake violently. Kanna’s gaze snaps here. First time. Her composure cracks visibly.
“...And Coste?”
“What?”
“Coste.”
My fingertips tremble faintly.
“...Where does that child go?”
Kanna’s brow furrows.
“You named that freakish sword?”
“Naturally.”
An utterly natural reply. Like speaking of family.
“That child is my precious friend.”
“...”
Dawn air sinks strangely. Kanna stares wordlessly. Then speaks very low.
“...To confiscated storage.”
“Psych ward basement isolation.”
“Classified dangerous item.”
My pupils shake wide.
“...Alone?”
First time. Truly first. Unconcealed anxiety mixes in my voice.
“No...”
The cuffs clank again.
“...You can’t do that.”
My breath quivers faintly.
“That child...”
“...Can’t be left alone.”