We were going down the staircase. I had perhaps been descending it for only a few minutes. But suddenly, in a strange way, a feeling settled into both my heart and my mind, as if this staircase had become our death sentence, our slaughterhouse. I felt a palpable unease in the air. With every breath I took, my complexion grew paler. Yet no words could escape my mouth, as if this moment was meant to remain silent in the name of some god—I do not know which; this moment felt as sacred as it was tangible.
Seconds were worth hours, and hours turned into days, even months. The stairs seemed endless; they continued underground, toward the very abyss of human existence, or worse still… What kind of duality could have reached us, driving us so deep into the heart of mankind? Perhaps our choices, or our actions… But it did not matter: the cards had already been dealt above our heads before the game had even begun.
After five minutes—which had felt like hours to me—the light appeared like a door opening before my eyes; it was so intense that it blinded me. Once I passed through it, that sensation vanished, yet I could still feel my heart pounding wildly, and my neck was drenched in sweat after this ordeal. We headed toward the ground floor, where the nuns were standing and talking among themselves. But instead of following them, I slipped away toward the window, from where I could see the chapel and the world that had once belonged to other men. A question then crossed my mind like a knife cutting through human flesh.
"God created Man in His image, with the ability to think and reason for himself. So why do human beings—and I myself—turn away from the righteous path?"
This question struck me as both fascinating and deeply unsettling, for I already knew the answer before I had even fully thought it or asked it. Free will—along with that thirst to understand everything and to transgress the most sacred rules of both the mortal world and the heavens in order to obtain answers: that was the answer. It may not seem like it, but it truly is. God gave us the freedom to think for ourselves, to walk the righteous path or stray from it, only to return later—or to choose entirely different possibilities.
As for me, I decided to leave religion at the age of fifteen, because all of this seemed to me to be a mistake, even an absurdity, which forced me to leave my family as well… You may believe that I believe in nothing, and you might be right in that regard, but I love life—just like anyone else—only in a more philosophical and complex way.
Free will is something complicated: mankind has corrupted it with cults, murders… so many things. Perhaps someone whispered into the ears of men to corrupt them; perhaps I myself will be guilty of something yet to come… But knowledge is just as dangerous as free will, for knowledge is an infinite source that either brings about miracles or condemns humanity to a sentence far worse than death itself.
Something settled in my heart; it was neither painful nor joyful, just foreign—even to me. I placed my hand on my chest: even though I could not feel my skin through my clothes, I heard my heart beating rapidly—far too rapidly for someone who believed himself certain of his choices.
But every good moment spent alone with myself must come to an end, for I was already being called: "Dupont." I looked at him from my perch, trying to guess what he was thinking, but he was as unfathomable as the mist. He gestured for me to come down with a wave of his hand. I went down to join them…
When a question suddenly struck me as I descended the stairs:
"Are you still alive, Mathieu? Or did you die during that dream? Because you haven't been the same since that day, as if you were no longer yourself."
My eyes darkened, but I did not know how to answer that question. I joined them with Sister Marie, who was already speaking to them.
-------------
After telling her about my plan, Morganne looked at me. She did not speak, but her lips were trembling frantically, and her complexion had turned pale—almost ghostly. Yet a small spark still flickered in her eyes. I stared at her with cold eyes, but in a very gentle voice, I said:
"If you understand, Morganne, then answer."
She looked at me and replied in a weak, barely audible voice:
"Yes, I understand, Pierre."
"Then that's perfect. Follow the plan, and you will be rewarded for it, of course."
I let a smile form on my lips as proof of my victory, but my heart remained unmoved; in truth, nothing was decided yet. With that, I turned around and let Morganne rest—for now. I opened the door and left without a sound, just as quietly as I had arrived.
When I stepped outside, the sun struck my face. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and take in the world around me. The warmth was pleasant, as were the light currents of air brushing against my cheeks and hair. After this brief moment of rest, I immediately resumed walking: I needed a person, and fast. If I returned empty-handed, the others would doubt me and my ability to handle a problem. The issue was choosing someone who would fit into my plan. With a careful gaze, I examined my surroundings, but found nothing. I continued along the paths, still searching—yet nothing. The world was vast, like this garden, and the person I had in mind still had not appeared.
After wandering along the paths for two or three minutes, I spotted a girl in the distance being insulted by others, called every name imaginable. She was on the ground; the rest of the group stared at her with fury, insulting her, even hitting her and criticizing her. After all, she was the former "queen" of this group…
"You think you're better than us when you're nothing! Stay in your place, you parasite!"
"If you talk to me like that again, I'll beat you to death!"
"Look at yourself—no one wants you, you parasite!"
They hurled insults at her with indescribable contempt. She, however, looked at them with a superior, almost distant expression, without a shred of guilt in her eyes. Then she replied, struggling to her feet, a smile on her lips:
"Say whatever you want, but I'll always remain above that worthless thing hiding behind your group! Like a coward!"
She pointed at a young girl hiding behind a boy—small, red hair, freckles highlighting her small pink lips. Her name was S… Damn it, why can't I remember S…? Whatever. The other girl's name was Vic… yes: Victoria, the group's former favorite. She was arrogant and deeply jealous, though she did have her qualities… At that thought, a smile formed on my face. She wasn't the one I needed on my team—but let's see how things unfold.
Victoria limped closer to the group and said:
"Why don't you come closer, S.? Are you afraid of me? After all, I'm the only one who accepted you in this world that rejected you. So why do you treat me like this, after I brought you happiness?"
The people around the girl began to grow angry; hatred toward Victoria was written all over their faces, yet none of them acted—except one: Ethan, who stepped forward.
"Ethan, have you finally come to your senses?" she said, a wide smile appearing on her lips as he approached. There was sincerity in her eyes, and red patches on her cheeks grew more vivid with every step Ethan took.
Ethan stopped in front of Victoria. She grabbed his right leg and clung to it, saying:
"You see this girl, Ethan?"—pointing at S.—"She's nobody. Why do you care about her so much?"
At those words, Ethan removed her hands from him, shoved her violently, and then slapped her hard. The blow was so violent that she fell to the ground, still in shock from this sudden betrayal by the man she loved. Tears began to flow from her bloodshot eyes.
"Why… why are you doing this to me?" she stammered.
He cut her off sharply:
"Do you ever look at yourself, Victoria? Huh? You think you're the center of the world, but you're not. You belittle others on a whim, you're full of yourself. That's why I support S., not you!"
She couldn't believe her ears—hearing such harsh words from the man she had once loved. She crawled toward him on the ground, begging on her knees for his forgiveness, but nothing changed. He looked at her with contempt, without the slightest trace of pity.
From my point of view, S. seemed to be laughing in a way that made her almost invisible to the others; I, however, could still see her. She had trapped her opponents at their own game…
Clap clap clap
Suddenly, everyone turned toward the path from which a man was approaching. He walked toward them, applauding the scene, an odd smile on his lips. He was short, wearing black shorts and a light-blue T-shirt; his hair was coal-black and his eyes steel gray. He continued forward until he stood about a meter from the group. He stopped, ceased applauding, and said:
"I didn't expect to witness such a scene when I came here. Now I'm curious: why are you lynching this girl you once admired so much, for the sake of a complete stranger?"
I pointed at the young girl—the one pretending to be afraid behind someone else. Their reaction was entirely predictable: they pointed at me and hurled insults my way. But instead of feeling hurt, a smile spread across my face; their insults faded in the face of my reaction. I spoke:
"Look at your reactions—they prove that you were all fooled because of this person, which is rather humiliating, isn't it? You say Victoria manipulated you, right? Yet now you're being fooled again, in the exact same way she fooled you back then."
Ethan shouted at me:
"Who are you to talk about her like that, huh? Who do you think you are to say such nonsense?"
I pointed one finger at Ethan and the other toward the sky, took a breath, and said in a calm, determined tone:
"You see, I'm nobody to speak to you about her. I intervene when the situation seems beneficial to me—and especially when I see people bullying others just because they're labeled as the villains."
"Shut the hell up, asshole, and tell me who you are!" Ethan yelled, beside himself, ready to attack me.
"My name doesn't matter here. I just came to help a young woman in distress, that's all. Otherwise, why would I interfere in a simple argument?"
My insolence irritated Ethan to the point where he began walking toward me with clenched fists, before other boys and girls stepped in to stop him. Another boy from the group spoke up:
"I see you want to play the hero. But what do you gain by helping that intolerable person?"
I looked at him for a moment, then shrugged, lifting my shoulders and arms. My response was simple, yet effective:
"Nothing. I like helping people in trouble when I see them. That's all."
"No, I don't believe that for a second. I don't know who you are, but you lie as easily as you breathe."
"My name is the Savior in situations like this. As I told Ethan earlier, I simply came to help this young woman."
The arrogance he accused me of only fueled his anger. Then S. spoke for the first time:
"I… I don't understand why you're defending her and not me. She's the one who discredited me all this time—that's why they came to help me."
"Stop, please, wearing that mask—it doesn't suit you. Seeing it annoys me."
At those words, her face darkened instantly, as if I had perceived something I shouldn't have. She quickly recovered, however, and told the group to leave, since neither they nor I truly wanted trouble. Even as they left, Ethan stared at me with piercing eyes. I did nothing in response to this disrespect, for I knew that one day he would ask for help—and that would be the moment he would pay dearly.
As they were leaving, I was about to depart as well to search for the teammate I was missing, when Victoria grabbed my leg to stop me and said:
"Please, help me! Take me into your team, please."
In her tear-filled eyes—remnants of her crying and the slap she had received—one could see all the cruelty a human being can inflict upon themselves. She begged me to take her with me. So I made a choice that went against my initial plan and, helping her up, I said:
"My main goal wasn't to recruit you, but rather to observe the situation unfolding. But now, it would be foolish not to take you after this battle."
She clung to my leg, kissed the thigh she was gripping tightly, and thanked me through sobs: "Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart!" I stroked her head; she couldn't see it, but a strange smile appeared on my face, mixed with another emotion. The only words I managed to say afterward were:
"Come now. I'll introduce you to the group."
-------------
A bell rang throughout the garden—the signal marking the end of the allotted time. All the teenagers began moving toward the refectory or the dining hall, from which several nuns started to emerge. Victor, Ousmane, and Charlie pushed past other students to weave their way through the crowd and reach the meeting point they had agreed on before splitting up. The meeting point wasn't far from the gate: it was near a tree with a bench beneath it, slightly secluded yet visible to everyone.
"Move faster, girls. If we miss the meeting point, things are going to get complicated for us," Ousmane said without looking back at them.
"Tess, why don't you just walk faster? You and your big body are blocking our view!" one of the girls said mockingly, her tone dripping with prejudice.
Ousmane turned his head to face her while continuing to walk. A hint of irritation could be read on his face, but he replied with only a few words:
"You're getting a bit too bold, Justine, for someone who was begging at my feet just a few minutes ago to be accepted into the group."
Justine sharply turned her head away; a trace of anger appeared on her already irritable face as she showed it to the group. But she didn't respond—she merely clicked her tongue to show she was upset.
Charlie, at the front of the group, wore a small smile at the corner of his lips. The situation pleased him—not because he enjoyed arguments, but because he had completely misunderstood what was happening. Victor, walking behind him, slapped his forehead when he saw Charlie's reaction. He knew Charlie had misunderstood—but not to this extent…
Ousmane turned forward again, facing Victor's back as they continued toward the meeting point. Yet he glanced at Charlie in a strange way. He knew Charlie was a simple person—or so he thought—but he had been wrong about what he had seen. Everything was odd, even unsettling. Charlie was far from simple.
…
A little earlier, before recruiting those two girls, we hadn't found anyone. Everyone avoided us—perhaps because of our past, or for other reasons I completely ignored… but one thing was certain: Charlie was beginning to show his true face to everyone.
He was standing in the middle of a path in the garden, where the other orphans walked past without looking at him, as if he were invisible to the world.
That was when I saw his true nature. He began to hunch over, his body tensing in a strange way. I saw madness in his eyes. He fell to the ground, dropping to his knees. Seeing him like that, Victor and I rushed over to see if he was all right…
He looked at us with troubled, almost empty eyes; small tears ran down the corners of his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, then spoke in a cold voice, devoid of life and meaning:
"Why does everyone avoid us?!" he sobbed. "I understand that the world doesn't want us. But even now, in critical moments like this, the world rejects us. Maybe God has abandoned us to our fate… but I want to fight to succeed. If no one wants us, then we'll force them to choose us, no matter the method. We must succeed. Not for ourselves… but for our group. The absurdity of this life makes me sick to the point of vomiting… but if this is God's choice, then so be it! I'll do it—not for God, but for myself… no, for us. I want to live, not die. I just want to live, not remain trapped in this absurdity."
He was sobbing; fear was visible in his eyes. But two things caught Ousmane's attention. The first was that Charlie was smiling while crying—but it was a strange smile, almost disturbing, the smile of a madman.
The second strange thing was Victor himself. He didn't react, as if everything seemed distant to him. When Charlie spoke, Victor appeared detached from the world, as though none of it concerned him. What was even more disturbing was when he approached Charlie: he crouched in front of him, grabbed his shoulders, squeezed them, and shook him violently. It lasted less than thirty seconds, yet it burned itself into my memory. Then Victor opened his mouth, still wearing that detached expression:
"Maybe, Charlie… maybe God has abandoned us to our fate and decided our destiny in our place. But to me, we are not born to become toys or objects for someone else. We become what we choose to be. So yes, Charlie, we can't stay here on the ground, waiting for hands to reach out to us. Maybe… we have to create them ourselves. Through our own choices, through our actions. So you're going to stand up… and start existing."
I was standing there, watching them talk. I didn't know where to put myself at that precise moment, because everyone around us was staring at them with distorted, judgmental looks. I could tell they were criticizing them, but I did nothing. I didn't defend them. I watched the scene with total incomprehension—toward them, and toward myself.
Why didn't I say anything? Normally, I would have reacted, I would have defended them… but at that exact moment, my body refused to move, and my mouth refused to speak. Perhaps it was the fear of being judged again by those sharp gazes that already wounded me. But that discussion… it made no sense at all. How could someone reach such conclusions and lose all hope in God?
…
Ousmane stopped thinking about what he had seen earlier, though a lingering sense of confusion still lingered in his mind… but what was the point of dwelling on it now? He would tell the others later.
Charlie and the others left the crowd and walked a few meters farther to reach the meeting point. Looking ahead, Charlie saw Yvonne talking with an unfamiliar young woman. Maxime was sprawled on the bench. When he saw the rest of the group approaching, he straightened up and waved.
The group headed toward Maxime and Yvonne with this new person.
Charlie walked up to Maxime and said:
"Well, at least you managed to find someone, because we really struggled to recruit those two girls." He pointed at them. "But… who is this new person?" Charlie suddenly asked, watching her talk with Yvonne.
"Ahah! So she interests you that much!" Maxime blurted out. He had seen through Charlie so easily that he laughed, unlike Charlie, who turned bright red, clumsily trying to recover.
"N-no… no… there's a m-misunderstanding… I just wanted to know who she was, that's all…"
By the end of his sentence, Maxime burst out laughing.
"Ahahaha!!!"
"You know, Charlie… life is just as absurd as wars, yet we still wage them. Do you know why? Because we are selfish and arrogant toward others. Love leads to conflicts—sometimes even wars. So I'd tell you to calm down about that, haha."
Maxime replied, laughing. But Yvonne could see that his words concealed something else, deeply rooted within him. At times, she didn't know whether he was joking or being serious. He was strange when it came to certain aspects of life.
Pff! The wind whispered between his fingers.
Paff! Azaka's hand struck the top of Maxime's head. She stepped toward Charlie and said:
"As for me, I'm Azaka, a friend of Yvonne's. And in any case, thank you for asking, Charlie." A smile appeared on her lips—very subtle, yet her gaze was clearly fixed on him. "And above all, don't listen to that grumpy old man, Maxime," she added, brushing a few strands of hair aside without taking her eyes off him.
She shone like a blazing star to Charlie. He was hypnotized; his heart was racing. He reached out his hand…
Footsteps sounded nearby. Everyone turned in that direction—except Charlie. He froze mid-gesture, unnoticed by the others, and lowered his hand.
From where the footsteps came, Pierre appeared with an unfamiliar girl following him at a steady pace. From their point of view, she was glued to him, holding onto his sleeve like a lost child. Justine and her friend couldn't help commenting:
"A real child."
"He looks handsome, but why does he bring back trash like that?"
True gossipers… They began saying more and more nonsense about Pierre and this new person.
Yvonne, however, observed everything differently from those two thoughtless girls. She watched Pierre from afar as he approached… but suddenly, a voice interrupted her thoughts: Maxime.
He was still sitting on his bench, slightly apart. He seemed present without truly being there. But when he saw Pierre with that girl, his expression changed. The strangest thing was his silent monologue: he murmured to the wind, almost inaudibly—but by chance, I managed to hear it:
"Oh… he chose again. Phsss…" He sighed, for reasons I didn't understand. Then he immediately looked away, staring at the sky. "Why must everything always repeat itself…"
I didn't know what he was talking about, but he seemed tired, irritated, or annoyed. Then suddenly, he snapped his head toward me:
"Did you hear?" he asked.
He stood up and began walking toward me. When he reached me, he still didn't speak. Instead, he stared at Pierre. Always Pierre… I didn't know why, but the two were linked by something. But what? If only I could—
"You know, Yvonne… I've never been able to tolerate that kind of person. They're so attractive that you forget who they really are."
He cut me off abruptly, as if he already knew what I was thinking.
"You're the strange one, Maxime. Look—everyone is going to Pierre to see the new recruit… and you're just sulking in your corner. Wait, don't tell me you're jealous of him?"
"Maybe. Who knows, Yvonne? What is the world made of? Everything here is nothing but illusion—every smile, every breath, even every person. Maybe I'm jealous of his ignorance… but that's also why I hate him so much. Do you believe in God, Yvonne? I don't. How can one believe in those monsters who play with our lives? Do you think I'm crazy? Maybe I am, after staring at them for too long. You don't need to answer—I already know your response. But do you know that often, nothingness is more honest than all the illusions in the world…"
I looked at him with complete incomprehension in my eyes. I was about to say something when Azaka called out to us.
-------------
I was leaving the path with Victoria. The bell echoed throughout the garden; all the groups were beginning to move toward the hall… We were heading to our meeting point where the others were waiting, but along the way, neither she nor I spoke. It was a chilling silence for others, but I savored that moment, because I knew that once I arrived, things I had not planned would unfold.
When we reached the meeting point, everyone was already there—from Charlie, who had begun walking toward us, to Maxime, who was watching us from his bench. I quickly noticed the new members of the group: that mixed-race girl, then those two girls who were staring us down… When I saw that girl with her little-princess demeanor (Justine), always followed everywhere by her small servant or gossip companion, a long smile spread across my face. I raised my hand to my mouth to hide the smile forming. God must have carried out my plan, because she was exactly the one I needed for Morganne… At that moment, Victoria looked at me with clear confusion on her face.
"Are you sure everything's okay in your head?" she said, placing her hand on her face, then added with a hint of stress in her voice, "Are you sure the others will accept me?"
"Don't worry about that. Everything will be fine."
The others began to approach, and of course they started asking questions: "What's your name?" "Are you okay?" … I said nothing, because everyone was talking—from Charlie to Ousmane; even Victor was making the effort. Yet I didn't know why it irritated me. All those rats gathered together, talking among themselves, made me feel sick. How did God manage to create such things? I heard that girl named Justine speaking again with her lackey or servant about us; but that girl, Azaka, was watching me in silence with that violet eye tinged with azure blue—an anomaly of nature, a demon or perhaps a witch… She stepped toward me, her eyes fixed on my entire being.
"I was already given a description of you, but now I realize you're worse than what I was told. You're arrogant, almost contemptuous toward others. You're narcissistic."
I watched her spill all that nonsense. Me, arrogant? Never. I am humble and fair with people. I only despise those who are inferior to me—that's all. Why would I be the monster she described? Yet her seriousness made me want to laugh.
"Hahaha!"
"Why are you laughing when I'm telling the truth about you?"
Everyone was watching us with worried expressions. Others showed no reaction at all. That's when I noticed two people were missing: Yvonne and Maxime. My gaze found them quickly—they hadn't moved at all, still standing by the tree. Maxime and Yvonne were looking at me—or rather, Maxime was looking at me, and Yvonne was following his gaze. I quickly understood where all of Azaka's ideas came from. But I didn't know why he was staring at me so intently. Azaka noticed my gaze shift; she turned and saw them.
"MAXIME, YVONNE, COME HERE!" she shouted as soon as she spotted them far from the group.
At that moment, everyone turned to look at Yvonne and Maxime. No one was paying attention to me anymore, so I stepped closer to Azaka and whispered in her ear, "We'll talk about it later—right now, we're being waited for."
She said nothing, let out a small smile, and whispered back into my ear:
"Don't worry about that. We can talk about it now, because the mask you're wearing is quite unbearable. Still, I think you have reasons to hide behind it… but you should be careful: hiding too much will lead you to a fall—a true descent into hell."
I stared at her, incredulous. She stepped back and moved toward the others who were approaching Maxime and Yvonne.
A thought struck my mind like an illumination… or like a fatality:
"How is it that everyone in my group feels so foreign, so mysterious compared to what I had seen just a few weeks ago? Where do all these changes in personality come from? Or even changes in who they are?"
My expression grew serious.
But we couldn't stay away from the group for too long as everyone was gathering near the dining hall, so we quickly decided to rejoin them, as the nuns and the supervisors were beginning to come out.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading.