Richard looked at the other soul with cautious curiosity.
The fear was still there.
But now—
There was something else.
A need to understand.
He knew very little.
Almost nothing.
About the statue.
About the river.
About why he was different.
And this soul clearly knew more than him.
Especially about things related to memory.
Related to him.
Richard didn't like not knowing.
His thoughts drifted as he tried to organize what to ask first.
Before he could speak, the other soul suddenly said,
"Well, since you're staring at me like that, I suppose introductions are fair."
Its glow brightened slightly in what felt like confidence.
"My name is Rufus Atonal."
A small pause followed.
"And you are?"
Richard hesitated.
It felt strange.
Introducing himself.
As a soul.
For a moment, he wondered—
If names even mattered here.
But the instinct remained.
"Richard," he said quietly.
Then, after an awkward beat,
"Richard… Devereux."
Rufus was silent for a second.
Then—
"That was dramatic," Rufus said lightly. "You said your name like you were confessing to a crime."
Richard felt embarrassed.
"I—no, I just…"
He stopped.
He didn't know how to explain the hesitation.
Rufus chuckled.
"Relax, Richard Richard," he teased. "I won't steal it."
Richard blinked.
"…I didn't say it twice on purpose."
"Oh, I know," Rufus replied casually. "But it sounded like you were buffering."
Despite the situation—
Despite the river.
Despite death itself—
Richard felt the smallest, unfamiliar thing.
Almost like relief.
Someone was speaking normally.
Casually.
As if this wasn't cosmic judgment.
As if this was just… conversation.
Rufus drifted slightly closer again.
"So, Richard," he said, tone shifting to curiosity, "you look like someone who didn't die naturally."
A pause.
"You were thrown, weren't you?"
Richard didn't answer immediately.
But his silence spoke enough.
Rufus hummed.
"Yeah… I thought so."
Richard looked hesitant.
The word thrown still echoed inside him.
He didn't want to relive it.
Not the statue.
Not the pressure.
Not the word failure.
Rufus noticed.
For once, he didn't tease.
He didn't push.
Instead, he drifted slightly upward and stretched lazily.
"Alright," he said lightly, "we'll skip the traumatic part for now."
Richard looked up.
Rufus continued,
"You clearly don't know where you are. And judging by your expression, you're the type who overthinks in silence."
A small pause.
"So let me save you the mental breakdown."
Richard frowned slightly but said nothing.
Rufus pointed — or at least gestured — toward the vast flowing current around them.
"This," he said, "is Vismṛ. The River of Forgetting. Every soul that dies enters through the Door of Death and ends up drifting here."
Richard listened carefully.
"The river washes away memories," Rufus continued. "Not instantly. Slowly. It erases identity, attachments, grudges, love… everything that makes you you."
Richard felt his soul tighten slightly.
Rufus noticed.
"Don't look at me like that. It's not evil. It's necessary."
He drifted in a small circle as he spoke, clearly enjoying explaining.
"Once the soul becomes light enough — no memories, no emotional weight — it flows toward the Door of Life."
"And then?" Richard asked quietly.
"And then," Rufus replied, "rebirth. New body. New life. Zero memory of this conversation. Hopefully better luck."
He paused.
"Usually."
Richard absorbed the information slowly.
"And the valley?" he asked.
Rufus brightened slightly.
"Ah! Life and Death Valley. That's what some civilizations call this entire region. The two doors, the river, the wardens — it's all part of the Cycle."
He lowered his voice slightly.
"There are beings overseeing everything. Powerful ones. The kind that don't need to shout to erase you."
Richard immediately thought of the statue.
Rufus continued,
"They maintain balance. No soul escapes. No memory remains. No interference."
A small pause.
"Except… apparently you."
Richard felt uneasy.
"I don't understand," he admitted. "Why aren't my memories fading?"
Rufus tilted slightly toward him.
"That," he said calmly, "is the interesting part."
He drifted closer, examining Richard again.
"Souls here don't resist. They can't. The river is absolute."
Another pause.
"But something is protecting yours."
Richard felt that word sink in.
Protecting.
He hadn't thought of it that way.
Rufus added casually,
"And no, before you ask, that protection isn't normal."
Silence stretched between them.
For the first time since entering Vismṛ, Richard didn't just feel fear.
He felt something else.
Uncertainty.
And possibility.
Rufus circled Richard slowly, examining him again.
"I'll be honest," he said. "I don't actually know how your memories are intact."
Richard looked at him.
"At first, I thought it was an artifact," Rufus continued casually. "That's the logical explanation. But… no."
He paused.
"No artifact can protect that much memory inside Vismṛ. Not unless it's something absurdly rare."
Richard felt uneasy.
"Then what is it?" he asked quietly.
Rufus shrugged.
"Something is protecting you. That much is obvious."
Richard's thoughts immediately drifted to the statue.
The overwhelming pressure.
The calm voice.
Crush the vessel.
Could it be that being?
But why would it protect him after calling him a failure?
It didn't make sense.
Maybe he was just overthinking again.
While Richard was lost in his doubts, Rufus observed him carefully.
The hesitation.
The silence.
The controlled reactions.
Rufus thought inwardly,
Calm, quiet, protected by something powerful…
A small spark of realization lit up inside him.
Don't tell me…
He drifted back slightly, studying Richard with new curiosity.
This guy… he doesn't look ordinary.
Out loud, Rufus said casually,
"You wouldn't happen to be some young master from a massive family, would you?"
Richard blinked.
"What?"
Rufus waved it off.
"I mean, think about it. Thrown into Vismṛ. Memories intact. Some unknown force shielding your soul. That's not normal."
He leaned closer.
"That's the kind of thing that happens to heirs of terrifying clans."
Richard felt more confused than ever.
"I'm not from any big family," he said slowly. "I'm just… normal."
Rufus stared at him.
Then laughed.
"Everyone says that."
Richard frowned slightly.
"I'm serious."
Rufus tilted his head.
"Hm."
Internally, he wasn't fully convinced.
Either he's lying… or he genuinely has no idea what he is.
Rufus suddenly grinned.
"Well," he said lightly, "if I really did just meet some hidden big shot in Vismṛ, that would be quite the story."
He chuckled.
"Imagine dying and accidentally networking upward."
Despite everything—
Despite the river, the cycle, the fear—
Richard almost smiled.
Almost.
But inside, one thought remained heavy:
If not an artifact… then what is protecting me?
And why?