She had been watching us from the very beginning with that same cold, distant gaze, a subtle, slight smile playing at the corners of her upturned lips... She stood like a mannequin on her balcony, her body perfectly proportioned to her height... She was a breathtaking woman, or rather a femme fatale if one looked at her properly from another angle. Moreover, she was looking at us with amusement; she seemed to relish watching us struggle, even squirming about with such fierce determination in our attempts to understand the impossible.
The situation made everything feel entirely new to all of these young people; Pierre could no longer concentrate properly with all these new details flooding into his brain. The trouble was that we all wanted to understand, but was it truly possible to understand everything? The circumstance drove us to confusion and led us to believe that we could, while reality was quite the opposite.
When Pierre looked at his group, he was somewhat disconcerted by what he saw: they were all like him, staring at a thousand and one new things that had appeared in this place. While looking over his group, Pierre caught sight of Maxime out of the corner of his eye: he was motionless, staring at the platform with a certain boredom, or even a hint of annoyance.
Seeing this, Pierre's mouth twitched into a crooked smile; he hadn't thought of that possibility... no... he had considered it, but didn't want to believe it, nor even hope for it.
Staring right at him, Pierre looked at him with an inquiring expression to confirm his suspicions and to be sure once and for all that he wasn't losing his mind. He turned back to look at the others, and what he saw made him smile... everyone was either on the ground or staring wide-eyed with wonder, which borderlined on the ridiculous. But upon closer inspection, only the thirty newcomers were not reacting... Pierre concluded that they must have already witnessed this demonstration of omnipotence, though he still wondered about the relationship between the other man and them.
"Then again, what are they doing here if they already know everything? And why is that idiot the only one not amazed, or even enraptured, by a spectacle like this?..." Pierre reflected for a few seconds, and then the spark hit him. "Of course! Why was my mind all over the place when the answer was right under my nose: it's his magical item that allowed him to see the future!" thought Pierre, wearing a satisfied smirk.
His eyes remained fixed on him; he was still somewhat surprised by the lack of emotion showing on his impassive face in the face of this widespread absurdity.
However, his train of thought was interrupted a few moments later.
Sister Marie took back control of the situation: "Alright, let's pick up where we left off."
At her intervention, silence returned, though a few murmurs could still be heard here and there. Most of the people present were staring straight at her. He kept his eyes on this entity, or rather this sister, hoping she would finally shed light on their situation.
Instead, she began telling us about all the rules that had to be respected in this new establishment. Pierre looked toward the platform, but his mind was busy thinking of other things, wearing an expression of tranquility almost soothed by the sound of the wind grazing his ear:
"The situation is rather delicate. No one had really anticipated this sudden turn of events with his magical powers; perhaps Maxime had foreseen it, but he hadn't said a word... And still, a question now arose: Should I start all over from scratch?
This plan to have multiple vantage points everywhere, as well as the other plan for what comes next... all of that could vanish now, because magic is absolute, and I saw that very clearly, just like everyone else present, for that matter. They could easily trace things back to me if I did something wrong, or something that harmed them in any way, shape, or form, using a power one wouldn't even suspect...
But isn't this how things were meant to unfold? I doubt my choices! I can already see the end of these choices! Doubt is no longer avoidable; it's a condemnation!
Perseverance... should I persevere with my plan... This plan was almost like an outlet for me, it represented that guiding thread that made me feel alive, I felt almost like I existed... But must one always persevere, even when this plan looks like an arranged suicide? No, at best it's pathetic, or even completely idiotic... At least if the plan were viable, I'd believe in it. But my plan relies solely on the whims of life and people's behavior. It's far too hazardous to work. That kind of plan only works when you're the hero of some crap saga! But here, I'm in the real world, and in this one I'm nobody, and besides, I've never been...
I still believe in it, in this plan! With enough perseverance, it will work! Doubt has no place here anymore!
I am only myself, and I am alone. Solitude has never really been the problem that changes much about my situation, which, by the way, I am experiencing today. Because I've always been alone; solitude has virtues that few people truly suspect... primarily that of madness, but it is a source of perseverance for many, or a catalyst to make us evolve and become a new version of ourselves.
Persevere until you go mad! Persevere until you die from it! Persevere until the end!
I remain true to myself. Because I am a true person, I am an authentic person; I am a genuine being!
God is power or nothingness, whatever the case may be... I will go wherever the wind takes me, and the plan will unfold upon the perseverance of my soul's choices! Destiny may blow against the boat I find myself on, but I will keep trying until someone stops me!" he thought, while looking at the platform with a cold and detached gaze.
She continued explaining certain rules of well-being for us, but also for the "educational" staff, of respect for everyone, of the fraternity we were expected to have among ourselves. Being obedient, overall, was what she was asking us to do and respect.
She rather quickly explained the punishments or sentences if we disobeyed or transgressed certain rules here. To tell the truth, they were relatively measured punishments; perhaps the worst was being locked up for two days in a room isolated from everyone. Of course, to reach that stage, one primarily had to steal, disobey a staff member, hit someone, or show disrespect to an educator; the list was quite long to end up in the hole, perhaps to discourage us from doing foolish things, or simply to prevent us from digging too deep.
She remained silent for a few seconds, then continued, but the tone of her voice was serious, far more serious than it had been a few minutes ago; at least, I sensed a certain form of anxiety regarding us, or quite simply a final form of pity toward us.
— I have one last rule to announce to you, before telling you which person will supervise your group. I would like each of you to listen carefully to this rule, because earlier I definitely noticed that many of you completely brushed off the internal rules, but this final rule will never be repeated again, and I am almost certain it might help you survive, so listen well: as Doctor Dupont put it so well, classes will often end around six-thirty in the evening, you will have free time until eight o'clock to breathe, then you will eat in the dining hall, and after that you will be free until one-thirty. During the following thirty minutes, you must return to your respective rooms as a group and then lock your doors, until your supervisor comes to fetch you the following morning. And I strongly advise you against opening the door to anyone, or even going out during these night hours, for your own safety; do not be too curious about the unknown.
Silence was golden at that moment: no doubt anyone really understood what she was saying; most people were looking at her with a smirk, others were daydreaming at that precise moment, but no one was taking it seriously.
"What is she talking about? Where is she getting at with this?" Pierre was thoughtful. "How was that really a rule? It was more of advice than anything else, or even an obligation to disobey; moreover, by saying that, she was almost pushing us to tacitly agree that we'd do it behind their backs... What is she trying to see by saying this?"
Pierre stopped thinking, let out a sigh of annoyance, and concentrated once again on Sister Marie; she followed up with a supposedly radiant smile, the other two sisters standing beside her did not speak, but both of them wore that... strange smile.
Sister Julie and Sister Angela were looking out at the audience with observant eyes, watching the students' every move and gesture; from time to time, they spoke in low voices to give information to their superior. But between themselves, they didn't hesitate to laugh or share little inside jokes.
Marie was smiling because of a joke Sister Angela had made; she had a beaming smile, her cheeks had turned slightly red, and tiny tears could be seen welling up in her eyes.
She pulled herself together quite quickly, raised a hand in the air to demand everyone's attention, and then gave the final details.
— Well, let's finish now with the assignment of your supervisor for your next two weeks. Listen carefully, because when I call out your group number, you must step forward so that I can see you, and when that is done, the door beneath the platform will open and your supervisor will step out to welcome you. Of course, all the supervisors who follow have not yet shown themselves, to avoid certain problems and prevent any kind of favoritism. She caught her breath, then continued. After that, you will follow your coordinator, she will answer your questions while leading you to your respective quarters, which are assigned to each group.
She turned around and said a few words to Sister Julie; Julie nodded in agreement, then moved away and left the platform through the door where Dupont and the others had gone. She returned a few seconds later with about twenty slips of paper in her hands.
She handed them to Sister Marie, who placed the stack of documents on a small table; she took the first sheet from the top of the pile, skimmed through it, and hastily grabbed the microphone.
— Well, let's begin. Make sure to listen carefully, I'd like to avoid repeating myself too much, so please pay close attention!
She called out the first group: they walked toward her at a fairly brisk pace; in this group, there were six girls and four boys. I only knew two of these boys, or rather I should say I only knew the first names of the first two boys; as for the other two, I had absolutely no idea who they were. The first boy had black hair, with a gap left in his bangs showing his forehead; his eyes were just as black as his hair. He walked with his hands in his pockets, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, and his name was Kenji Trueld. Another boy was right behind him, shorter than Kenji; his hair was a dark brown that looked lighter in the sun, and his eyes were a deep blue. His facial features were furrowed as he walked; he wore a short brown coat, beneath which could be seen a shirt and black trousers, and his name was Alexie Kordian. As for the six girls, they didn't ring any bells, just like the remaining two boys.
Upon seeing them, Yvonne let out a soft sigh of relief and immediately smiled at Azaka; they were surely her so-called friends... Sister Marie examined them using a sheet of paper; it lasted a few seconds, or perhaps a bit longer, but it was quick. When Sister Marie lifted her eyes from the paper, the door swung open: a man in a black suit was waiting inside for them. He must have been in his thirties, with fairly light brown hair mixed with a few strands of white, and a light, unkempt beard. His eyes were calm yet deadpan, resembling those of a dead fish. He gestured for them to follow him inside, and their group rushed in after him.
Then she called the groups one after another, but something struck Pierre by the time the eleventh group was walking past:
"There were all sorts of people, just like with the supervisors; this thought struck me as foolish too. There are eight billion of us on Earth, so it's a good thing we don't all look alike... But I don't know, they're all dressed the same way, with their trendy haircuts, or with their so-called fashionable clothes, when in reality everyone wears the exact same thing as their neighbor. Is humanity truly something so linear? Don't they search for that scrap of essence dwelling within them? Besides, all these people are so peculiar, they're hypocritical, even irrational, so why blindly follow trends? Fads, or certain doctrines of the moment, generally last only a fleeting moment, and others vanish in an instant; they'll tell you: 'Let there be light and light there shall be!' as they are so fond of saying, and they will always look at you with their so-called superiority, while in reality society keeps them right in its pocket... True subhumans. Only individualism pushed to the extreme triumphs in this kind of world where everything is run with an iron fist, backed by manipulation in every single one of their words... Some people had strange faces, others had more or less peculiar manners that stood out... Basically, the human norm. But I don't know, all this lovely crowd almost seems so unreal, practically fake.
If you looked closely at the supervisors, there was a bit of everything: young people, old people, some even still being mere children. Out of the eleven groups that had gone before us, a lot of people had passed by, a good number of students I didn't even know—at least for the most part, I had never crossed paths with them, let alone seen them... After all, I don't go out much... maybe that's a reason... But still, seeing so many new faces, both male and female, is both slightly unsettling and exciting, realizing that so many people exist of whom we are entirely unaware... This society is as beautiful as it is foreign to my way of seeing things.
Yet this makes me equally happy, I don't even know why, but I feel a contradictory sentiment in my heart: I love everyone, all of them, every single one! But I also hate them; my love for them is destruction, its flames will blow over them and destroy everything that exists, until my love returns.
Yet this is almost foreign to me, who thinks only of myself, of my own success and survival; these new feelings make me a stranger to my own body.
Sometimes, I no longer even know if it is their true face or simply a mask that everyone wears... Are they real, or merely a disturbance of my mind... for me to love them this much? Or has my mind changed, just like me?!"
The eleventh group had just gone inside; she gave them her little words of encouragement that no one could really understand. With each group that passed through the door, she spoke into the microphone, but no sound actually came out—at least not for us—yet every group reacted to her words. The people around began to believe this, or else entertained other theories circulating among them.
Justine, watching the group walk away: — What do you think Sister Marie is saying to each passing group? — For my part, I think she's insulting them with a curse, said Azaka, gazing into the distance at Sister Marie. Anyway, it's not her words that are going to define our future here, so what's the point of listening. Victoria chuckled lightly, unlike Yvonne, who was less receptive. — I think it's more like advice, because what's the point of casting a curse or a string of insults at a moment like this? Personally, I've always quite liked Sister Marie; even if she's a bit strange, her heart is in the right place. Azaka looked at Yvonne with childlike eyes, saying in an undertone: "You are far too naive...!" Then she tapped Justine and Victoria on the shoulders, letting out a happy, nostalgic sigh as she watched them grin foolishly.
Pierre was only half-listening to his group's conversation, staring blankly at the space in front of him as though something were there; his daydreams had completely swallowed him whole.
Sister Marie removed the sheet from her hands to give it to Sister Julie, who handed her a new one. She scanned the page briefly with her eyes, then spoke into the microphone once more: — Group number twelve!! The group of Mr. Pierre Bershacht!!
When her voice reached the depths of Pierre's ears, it snapped him out of his reverie, and Pierre straightened up instantly. He turned his head toward his group, who were already looking at him. Pierre gave them a clear look, and following that, the group stepped forward toward the platform, falling in line one by one.
Pierre was the group leader, so he was at the head of his group, closely followed by Maxime, who seemed to want to speak to him, though Pierre didn't reply to any of his sentences. Maxime was fidgeting beside him, making gestures with his hands trying to explain himself, but Pierre was already paying no attention to him, nor to his remarks.
He was closely followed by Ousmane, Victor, and Charlie. Ousmane was right behind Victor and Charlie, just a couple of steps away, looking as though he were pondering something that troubled him, judging by his gloomy expression, yet he still spoke to no one about what was bothering him so deeply.
...!?
Victor, walking alongside Charlie, noticed a man looking at him in a strange way; about fifty paces separated them, and the man was standing on his right side, right next to a tree.
This man had gray hair, speckled with faint black and white strands, styled in a slightly ruffled, almost unkempt manner. He was a young man, probably in his twenties or a little older, judging by his slender yet athletic build. He gave off an impression of casualness, even nonchalance, while adopting a relaxed posture. His features were refined, and his face was marked by an ironic or mocking smirk. He had narrow, dark eyes and was wearing a red shirt with yellow butterflies near the bottom hem, his jacket just as black as his trousers.
Seeing him, Victor stopped for a few seconds and muttered under his breath: — Why is he looking at me like that? Who is he?
Victor noticed there was another person beside him, but he couldn't quite make out who it was.
Charlie, noticing his friend's sudden absence, turned around and saw him staring off to the side; concerned by his friend's change in behavior, he hurried over to him. — Is there a problem, Victor? Charlie asked anxiously. Is there something weird in the crowd, is that why you're staring at him so intently? — Not really, Charlie. Don't worry about me, I was just lost in thought; let's keep going, if you don't mind.
Victor resumed walking with a determined stride, leaving Charlie completely baffled by what had just happened with Victor.
Ousmane had also noticed this shift. He had wanted to go over to him as well to find out what was troubling him so much, but he hadn't had time to move before Charlie reached him. That gave him a moment to glance to the side, hoping to spot some sort of change in the crowd... but nothing, he saw nothing abnormal or strange, perhaps the mere fact that so many people were staring at him was what made him act that way...
Ousmane soon stopped paying attention, though he would keep it in mind if anything similar happened again. He went back to the thoughts he had been entertaining a few minutes earlier.
About ten paces away from Ousmane was the group of girls, walking at their own pace, chatting and talking amongst themselves in complete serenity. They paid no attention to the surrounding noises, nor even to the brief commotion that had occurred just ahead of them.
Then, bringing up the rear, was Léonie; she was staring at them, fixing her gaze on their advancing backs... She wanted to reach out an arm to call out to them, but she didn't. She kept walking alone. As she moved forward, she heard murmurs directed at her, glanced over to catch a group of girls laughing, and at that sight violently turned her head away to focus on the road ahead.
"Despite all these people surrounding me, I feel... alone, so alone... truly alone. It seems as though everyone is so far away even though they are just a couple of steps from me; even so, I feel so distant, as if I were watching them through a window while they laughed in a ballroom illuminated by their happiness, and for me, there was only darkness to keep me company," thought Léonie, watching Justine as she laughed.
Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes; lifting her head, she looked at the girls standing in front of her, her tears hidden by her bangs. She watched Justine laughing with the other girls, and a surge of anger rose in her heart, along with disgust.
When the group finally reached the foot of the platform, Sister Marie spoke into the microphone once more. — Step forward, don't be shy! There, stay just like that for now.
From where we stood, Sister Marie examined all of us with the sheet of paper she held in her hands; her eyes shifted constantly between the paper and us. It lasted a few seconds, or perhaps a bit longer in my estimation, all those eyes fixed upon our feverish silhouettes waiting patiently for what came next. With a cold, satisfied smile, she handed the sheet back to Sister Julie.
Looking pleased, she gave a slight nod; this simple nod was so swift and ordinary that Pierre had barely had time to notice it, carefully observing each group that had passed through one of these doors. Each door was different from the others, not in size or width, but in its patterns or the carvings upon them. Some had the framing of stone walls or brick walls in the background... As for our door, it was simply a large, flexible wooden door of a brilliant brown, and on its handle gleamed gold, or rather gold leaf gilding.
Pierre wondered if destiny was still with us, or simply against us.
After a few seconds, the door swung open with a heavy sound given its size, revealing a brightly lit space where candles were placed everywhere. There was even a magnificent crystal chandelier, shining with a thousand lights, hanging in the middle of this hallway which looked more like a ballroom for dancing or even theater; one would never have guessed it was merely a simple corridor connecting two places. It was covered by a medieval-patterned carpet that ran the length of the hall, and hanging directly on the walls were paintings of all kinds.
One almost forgot the woman standing right in front of the door. She was wearing a three-piece suit—a pale red suit with black on the sleeves, paired with black leather shoes that looked almost like booties.
Upon seeing her, Pierre's heart nearly skipped a beat. What is she doing here? His eyes dropped to the side, and a wicked smile came to him, his heart turning cold; if she was here then... everything made sense, he told himself as he stared at her.
A woman was standing there, around thirty years old, with hair of a black that reflected a dark green, almost emerald hue. Her lips were a brilliant pink, looking almost like a rosebud. Her features were very refined, and she was of breathtaking beauty. Pierre knew her, because she was the one who had given him a tour of the premises upon his arrival at this orphanage, though she had left a few days after he arrived. She was, if he could say so, like his godmother. During the few days she spent with him, she guided him through the place and filled out the final paperwork he needed to provide—a very friendly, empathetic woman of a rare kindness that is seldom seen in this world... But now, she was our group supervisor, our master... Nastassia Aurora.
"Luck no longer exists in this nature that is our society, and if luck no longer exists, then God never existed either... So whom is there to blame, save ourselves and our poor naivety?" thought Pierre.
With a smooth motion, she extended her hand for us to enter. Pierre stepped forward first, and the others followed right behind him. As the door closed, a final parting word from Sister Marie echoed in their tender ears—the same brief words she gave to every group that had passed before, but really, at that moment, those words felt more like mockery than anything else.
— Good luck, my dearest children, may God keep you in His great goodness!!
She watched us vanish behind that door, wearing that same sweet smile that hid her gaze filled with coldness. When the door clicked shut, a faint smile of satisfaction formed at the corners of her reddish lips; she was happy to have been able to accomplish her task, yet again.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading.