Wayne used the portal and came back to his room, but as soon as he arrived, his heart skipped a beat. Fable's doll-like body was full of cracks, deep ones, running all over like broken glass. Panic rushed through Wayne like a wave. He took a step forward, his voice trembling, "Fable… are you okay?"
Fable slowly turned his head and gave a weak smile. "Don't worry. I'm starting to get free," he said calmly, controlling the doll's body better than before. "I'm turning back into my original self. Soon, I'll return to the place I came from."
Fable sat down on his own this time, something he couldn't do earlier. Wayne's eyes widened. That meant he was regaining his powers.
"That's… a good thing, I guess," Wayne said softly, his voice mixed with relief and confusion. He pulled out the Thunder Call and handed it to Fable with both hands. "Here, this belongs to you."
But Fable pushed it back gently. "Keep it. The Child Emperor is dead. I have no use for it now. And besides… your parents are saved. Go. Go see them."
Wayne blinked, then smiled brightly as it suddenly hit him. "Oh yeah!" he whispered, feeling his heart beat faster with joy. He turned and ran towards the living room, his footsteps light with hope.
He reached the room and stopped in his tracks. His parents were there, standing together and talking quietly. The scene felt warm, peaceful, almost like a dream. Wayne's eyes shimmered as he slowly walked closer. His smile grew wider.
"Father! Mother! Are you okay? Did that monster hurt you?" he asked with deep concern.
But they didn't even look at him.
They kept talking to each other, as if he wasn't there.
Wayne frowned. "What happened?" he whispered. He reached out and tried to shake his father's shoulder. But—his hand passed right through.
Like his father's body was nothing but air.
His whole body froze.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Cold sweat ran down his neck.
And then—he turned his head around.
And saw it.
Another Wayne was standing behind him.
There, in the middle of the room, another version of himself just stood quietly while their parents argued loudly in front of him.
"Enough is enough!" his mother shouted, her voice sharp and full of pain. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't have any affair! If I wanted to leave you, I would've done that long ago!"
His father clenched his fists. "Don't lie to me! I saw everything with my own eyes! I'm done! I want a divorce!"
"Then so be it, I want devorce too!" his mother replied, "And Wayne will be with me. You'll only be a negative influence on him!"
"I don't have any problem either. Who knows if he's even my child or not!" his father replied coldly as he turned away and went inside his room. His mother followed, both of them full of rage.
"What is going on?" the real Wayne whispered, frozen in place as he watched his parents storm off into their room, their faces twisted with anger.
Inside the bedroom, the voices grew louder. They argued back and forth, full of blame and bitterness. In the end, they agreed—this would be the last night they shared the same room. Tomorrow, they would file for divorce.
Wayne remained in the living room, standing quietly between the TV and the sofa. His mind was spinning, but something else caught his eye. The other Wayne—his duplicate—was walking toward the kitchen.
Wayne followed him silently, his feet moving on their own. In the kitchen, the duplicate Wayne looked completely furious. His small fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. He paced the kitchen, full of rage and frustration. Then his eyes landed on something.
A booze bottle. One of his father's.
Even though he was just a child, he picked it up and started drinking. One gulp, two gulps, and then he drank more. Before long, more than half of the bottle was gone.
Real Wayne's eyes widened in shock. Something was wrong.
The duplicate Wayne started changing.
His skin became pale and thin, like paper. His arms stretched out, his fingers long and bony. A long, emperor-like robe appeared over his body, flowing without wind. His eyes bulged, like they were about to pop out, and his teeth sharpened into jagged, monster-like fangs.
"Child Emperor?" Wayne thought in horror, his body trembling from head to toe.
It was him. The monster. The Child Emperor.
But the Child Emperor didn't seem to see the real Wayne standing there. He grabbed a kitchen knife, stood up, and silently began walking toward the bedroom.
From the bedroom, music played from the radio. A French song. Wayne's father had turned it on, just to annoy his mother.
The soft voice of the singer echoed through the hall.
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal
Tout ça m'est bien égal
Real Wayne stood at the door, frozen. He couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch.
The Child Emperor stepped inside.
He raised his arm.
And plunged the knife into his father's neck.
Kacha! Kacha! Kacha!
The blade went in again. And again. There wasn't even time to scream. His father gasped and shook, struggling silently.
In the chaos, his wrist hit the bedside. The watch on his arm came loose, flew to the floor, and cracked open. The time stopped.
1:40.
Then the Child Emperor turned to his mother.
She screamed.
But it was too late.
Stab in the stomach. Stab in the neck. One after another. In seconds, she too stopped moving.
Blood poured from their wounds like a fountain, soaking the bed, staining the floor. A horrible, wet smell filled the air.
Then the Child Emperor turned back.
He looked straight at Wayne.
And smiled.
His teeth gleamed, sharp and bloody.
Then—woshh.
He vanished.
So did the bodies.
But the bloodstains remained.
The bed was dry now, but clearly stained. So was the floor.
Wayne slowly looked down at his own hands.
They were covered in blood.
And in that moment, everything became clear.
The Child Emperor… was him.
It felt like something inside Wayne finally woke up. Without thinking, he rushed into the room and ran straight to his parents' cupboard.
His hand trembled as he reached for the handle. This time, the door opened without resistance. And what he saw inside made his heart stop.
Lying there were the dead, rotting bodies of his father and mother.
Wayne gasped. His legs gave out, and he stumbled back, falling onto the edge of his bed. His whole body shook as tears filled his eyes.
"I… I killed my own parents?" he whispered, placing his hand on his forehead. His voice was weak and filled with pain. "Why? Why didn't I remember any of this?"
Just then, he heard a voice.
"You always knew."
Wayne's eyes snapped to the right. Sitting there was Fable, still in his small doll form. But now, there were deep cracks spreading all over his body. Pieces of him looked like they could fall off at any moment.
"You always knew," Fable said again, his voice calm and quiet. "I'm your knowing self."
Wayne didn't respond. He was breathing heavily, as if his body already understood the truth he had forgotten.
"It's not Sunday. Sunday… Sunday was the day you killed your parents," Fable continued, his eyes locked onto Wayne's. "But your mind couldn't take it. So it shut down. You erased the truth and made up a lie… that the Child Emperor took them away."
Wayne's lips parted in shock, his mind spinning.
"All of it," Fable said softly. "The Child Emperor… the portal… me trying to guide you… it was all your imagination. I was the part of you that knew the truth. I tried to remind you… but you always pushed it away."
Wayne looked down. His face was pale, and his voice came out in a broken whisper. "H-how many days… has it been?"
"Three days," Fable replied gently. "Each day, you repeated the same thing. You forgot everything that happened the day before. But today… finally… I was able to show you the full truth."
As Fable spoke, his small doll body started crumbling. Cracks turned to dust, and pieces floated into the air like glowing magic particles.
The air around them shimmered faintly as Fable gave one last smile.
"Now you know everything," he said. "We both are one."
With those words, his body turned completely into dust and disappeared.
Wayne sat on the floor, his eyes wide open, filled with pain and emptiness. His hand trembled as he looked at the thunder call.
It was none other than his own old Nokia keyboard phone lying beside him.
It was just his phone. Nothing magical, nothing strange. Just a normal phone.
And yet, it felt like thunder had struck him. Because he remembered now—what he had done. What he had dialed.
911.
He had shouted his full address in panic. Back then, he thought he was using thunder call. But in truth, he was calling the police to come… to his own crime scene.
He stared at the phone like it had betrayed him, but deep down, he knew—it wasn't the phone. It was him.
The police could arrive at any moment.
Now, he had only two paths left.
First, he could break down completely. Cry like a helpless child, sob for what he had done, fall to his knees and wait to be arrested. Face the truth. Confess his sins.
Or—
He could laugh.
Laugh at everything.
At life.
At fate.
At his own stupidity.
At all the pain he suffered, hoping one day things would return to normal.
And with a twisted smile, he chose to laugh.
At first, it came out as a small puff.
"Pft… pfft…"
Then louder.
"Heh… hehe… HEHEHEHEHAHAAHHAHAHAAA—!!"
"GYAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
He clutched his stomach, rolling on the floor as tears ran down his face—but they weren't tears of sadness. He didn't know what they were anymore. His heart felt lighter than ever. For the first time, he felt free. As if all chains had broken. He could fly in the sky, run across oceans, do anything.
He was lost in his own broken world.
——————
While Wayne was still laughing like a man gone mad, the police finally arrived at the house.
Several officers had responded to the emergency call—just in case. The boy had shouted his address in such panic, they feared something terrible had happened.
A high-ranking female officer walked in first. She was calm but alert, her sharp eyes scanning everything.
Then she saw Wayne.
Sitting on the floor. Laughing like a madman.
His eyes were wide. His smile twisted. His laughter echoed through the quiet room.
The officer frowned. Something smelled awful. Thick. Rotting.
She raised a hand to cover her nose and slowly walked toward the cupboard.
And when she opened it—
She froze.
Inside were two dead bodies. A man and a woman.
Already rotting.
Her expression darkened. She closed the cupboard slowly, then turned toward Wayne again, who was still laughing like nothing mattered.
She let out a quiet breath and muttered under her breath:
"There's no doubt about it… He's either going to Juvenile prison, a mental hospital… or maybe both."