The tragedy of being intelligent is the realisation that the world does not reward intellect, but rather comfort and ideas that confirm people's biases. Just like waves in the ocean, people clamour together instinctively, seeking each other out in fear of being alone.
And there's nothing wrong with that—it's how humanity survived the desolate eras. We are fragile creatures at our core, and our strength has always come from gathering together.
But that same instinct is like drinking from a poisoned chalice.
"Beware of the black sheep" Ignorance is placed on a pedestal while truth is shunned, because truth disrupts comfort, and comfort is the currency of conformity. When fitting in becomes the highest value, the collective ends up ruled by fools. Fools don't need to think; they simply follow their handlers, indifferent to where they're being led.
That's why sheep don't run when they're being led to the slaughterhouse. They don't think—they follow. And when disaster strikes, they say, "I didn't know. I was doing what everyone else was doing." Placing blame on everyone except themselves.
Oh, how I pity them, the intelligent. They see the world, but they can't change it. No matter how much they try to fight, one shrimp cannot stand against the massive waves of the ocean.
And Remy watched as the giant waves came crashing toward him. The chanting began to subside as the Saint brought her hand to her mouth.
Then came a voice, soft and sweet, like a clear bell striking through the deep ocean.It called out:
Come, come closer… here is paradise.
"Mmmmmmhhmmmmm…" the feminine voice hummed, her tone echoing through the entire hall.
Remy, disoriented, felt an unfamiliar comfort washing over him —a gentle peace, as though everything was finally going to be alright.
"Mom…!? You're here… oh, you don't know how long I've been searching for you… Mom…"Remy found himself calling out, the melody enchanting his mind.The others on the stage were just as overwhelmed — joy overflowing through them.
"Yes… Your king would like to eat grapes…" someone muttered.Everyone was drifting in a dreamlike state — a world where each desire was granted.One by one, wide smiles began to spread across their faces, plastered with bliss.
The Saint continued walking as the melody shifted.
"La… la… la… la…"She stepped toward one of the people. Her fingers brushed his arm.
The man collapsed.
Swaying moments before to the gentle tune, his eyes snapped open.
"Damn it, I almost got swayed by this," Remy spoke, regaining his senses, but I might have been better if he had just remained in the dream, for when he opened his eyes.
Remy saw something he had never seen, not in any nightmare.
The man's expression twisted into horror. He tried to scream — but too late.His blood surged violently beneath his skin, his flesh shrivelling like an apple forgotten under the sun too long…until finally, he crumbled to dust and was gone.
Soon after, the singing ceased, and people began to return to reality.From the stands, Lucy stepped forward. Charles walked beside her, both moving slowly until they reached the Saintes.
Lucy knelt. For the first time, the Saintes walked over and gave her hand, which Lucy kissed.Lucy leaned close, whispering something into her ear.
The Saintes immediately stepped away from Lucy and turned toward Charles.She grabbed his face, inspecting him with cold precision — and then she pointed.
And this time, Remy knew that it was at him.
His heart beat quickly as two knights moved towards him.
"If they take me there, I will get the chance to see Charles; I have to endure till then." He thought as they unlocked his cuffs and dragged him toward the Saintes.
They threw him on his knees, and Remy found himself gazing up, and she was even more intimidating close up
"Oh… ahaha, you really do look like him," she murmured, giggling a little, circling him like a child seeing a new toy.
"What?" Remy's heart stumbled in his chest.When their eyes met, he felt exposed — as though she could see right through the mask Clara had given him.Behind her veil, he could sense the curve of a smile.
"What do you want from me?" he snarled, though the fear in him trembled.
"Me? Nothing… there's nothing you could give even if you wanted"Her voice dripped like honey."But there is something I would like to give you."
Something twisted inside him — his body urging him to trust her, to let his guard fall.But his mind, having witnessed horror, screamed in warning.
It was a war within him.
"You're looking for your mother… right?"
At those words, Remy's heart kicked violently.How does she know? What does she want? What is happening?His thoughts spiralled into panic.
"What the f**k do you know about my mother?"Remy roared, rage twisting his voice. Shadows coiled around his fists, forming into his duel daggers.
"You dare disrespect the Saintes?"A knight stepped forward, steel scraping free of its sheath.
But the Saintes only tilted her head.The knight froze — and immediately bowed, trembling as he hid his blade again.
"Oh, I know far more than you do, at least," she purred."And put those little toys away. They would do absolutely nothing to me."
She plucked a sword from one of her knights and, without hesitation, sliced open her own palm, and golden blood dripped from it, then moments later.The wound sealed shut — flesh knitting back together — as though it had never existed.
"I cannot die," she said softly, almost mournfully. "Even if I wished to."
Remy's disbelief stole every thought.The daggers in his hands faltered.
"You are quite a curious one," she continued, circling him like a scholar studying her specimen."You awakened the Mystic on your own… without a contract. And you resist the very food of this land. It would seem that Hathor's authority does not influence you."
Her hand lifted — pointing toward Charles.
His friend stood there, eyes empty, a grotesque grin carved across his face.
"Perhaps it's your lineage."
Remy's breath hitched.None of this made sense.
"And if you refuse my offer…"Her voice coiled around him — sweet, venomous."You will never see her again. She's dead, you know."She leaned in, whispering the last words like a secret meant to destroy.
"And I am the only one who can bring her back."
The moment her sentence ended, Remy lunged, the blades drawn and aimed straight at her throat.