After their conversation, John went back to his room, an idea forming as he climbed the stairs.
I have a problem with the images, and Mom said I have to reread the books to make them clearer... he thought. But what if I use my own memories? Would I be able to see my past self?
As he waited for Alina to bring him the book, John decided to test his theory. At first, his thoughts were too jumbled, preventing him from seeing anything. He needed to calm down, to focus on one single memory to bring it to life in his mind's eye.
The wind whispered through the open window, birds singing in the distance. Slowly, John started remembering a scene. He heard voices—faint at first, impossible to distinguish. But by focusing, pushing past the headaches that came with the effort, the voices became clearer. He recognized Alina's voice, then another—a woman's voice—accompanied by the sound of knocking at the door. Footsteps approached, then the door burst open with a loud bang.
John's eyes flew open. The moment he did, a vivid image appeared before him—the woman from his memory, standing by the window. Then he turned his gaze toward the window itself and saw something that made his breath hitch.
A younger version of himself, falling from the window.
And then the images stopped.
John felt lightheaded, his body drenched in sweat. His exhaustion from staying up all night reading, combined with his lack of proper meals, had weakened him. He decided to go down to the river to bathe—a routine that helped him clear his mind.
As he stepped out of the river, freshly cleaned, a sudden scream startled him. Turning quickly to see what was wrong, he lost his footing and slipped, landing hard on the ground.
"JOHN, YOU STUPID IDIOT!" the woman shouted, clutching her chest. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?! YOU SCARED ME TO DEATH!"
Still covering himself, John stammered, "I—I'm sorry. I didn't see you cleaning the dishes over there."
The woman looked at him with surprise. John never spoke to her so freely before—his words were always short, hesitant. She smirked.
"Well, we both messed up. Now get back in the river and wash off that dirt from your fall. I'll go clean the dishes somewhere else."
John nodded, doing as she said. Once finished, he dried off and returned inside to eat. When he stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to see the woman cooking.
"Uh... excuse me," he said hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"
Alina, without looking up, replied, "None of your business. Eat, then go to your room. I picked a book for you to read."
John sighed. "Yes, Mom..."
He obeyed, finishing his meal quickly, grabbing an apple, and heading upstairs to wait for his book. But time passed, and Alina never came. The sun had already risen by the time he decided to go downstairs and see what was happening.
He found her sitting outside in the same spot as before. When she saw him, she repeated the same phrase.
"None of your business. Eat, then go to your room. I picked a book for you to read."
John frowned. "Mom, you already said that yesterday. I've been waiting for so long, and you never came."
"None of your business. Eat, then go to your room. I picked a book for you to read."
She repeated it again. And again.
A chill ran down John's spine. Something was very wrong. He rushed to find the woman and shook her awake.
"Has Mom been repeating herself lately?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she walked over to Alina, gently touching her shoulder. "It's time to sleep, Mom. You forgot to rest."
John froze.
WHAT? WHEN? WHO? HOW?! His mind raced in circles. The woman... she called Mom... her mom?! That means... she's my sister?!
While John stood there, stunned, Lina helped Alina inside, guiding her to bed. After ensuring their mother was asleep, Lina turned and saw John still standing in the same spot.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Didn't you sleep?"
John clenched his fists, still trying to process everything. Finally, he blurted out, "I don't know what to say, SISTER!"
Lina's eyes locked onto his, her expression unreadable.
"Listen," she said after a pause. "It's complicated, and this isn't the right time or place to explain everything. Go grab the first book you read and reread it. I'll come ask you about it later."
John was boiling inside, ready to explode with questions—but he did as she asked, grabbing Sasaki's Journey and retreating to his room.
Meanwhile:
Lina returned to check on Alina, who was sweating in her sleep. The moment she touched her, Alina woke up, trembling.
"Where is John?" she asked, her voice weak.
Lina calmed her down, reassuring her. "Don't worry, Mom. I did what you asked. Everything is okay. I'll get some water for you to freshen up."
After taking a bath, Alina sat at the table, sipping tea. Lina sat beside her, both of them watching the river in silence as the sun began to set.
"I suppose it's time for John to know the truth," Alina murmured. "Or at least... part of it."
Lina nodded. "I think so too. But I won't be the one to tell him. He doesn't even know my name, or yours, because of the strict rules you made to protect us from the villagers."
Alina sighed deeply. "I know... and I'm so sorry for that. But I had my reasons. Your father didn't help either, and you know that better than anyone..." Her voice broke, tears filling her eyes. "Look at you. Your body is covered in scars—bruises, burns... all because of me. Just for visiting me, your father beat you so badly... I can't forgive myself."
She broke down, clutching Lina tightly. "When John completes his challenge... No, I feel my time is running out. And when I die, I know the villagers will burn this house to the ground. Your father will be the first to set it ablaze. When the time comes, you must let John go. And you must go with him."
Lina wiped her mother's tears away. "Mom, these scars mean nothing. You raised me to be strong, to be independent. You did the same for John. When your time comes, just know we will be okay. I will protect him, and he will protect me. So rest in peace knowing your children are strong. I love you, Mom."
The two embraced, sobbing into each other's arms as the sun sank behind the trees, painting the sky in hues of red and gold.
Watching from his window, John couldn't hear their words. But the sight of them crying together sent a deep ache through his heart. He didn't understand everything yet—but the pain in his chest told him the truth was something heavy, something painful.
Tears slid down his face, illuminated by the fiery glow of the sunset.
Next Chapter: THE TRUTH