Chapter 294 - Conversations with oneself
Scarlett stared down at the young girl beside her, a cocktail of wariness and incredulity coiling tightly within her. The younger Scarlett was back. She hadn’t expected her to reappear now, and certainly not in a memory tied to Arlene.
Her gaze darted around the room. Arlene and the others were still deeply engrossed in their talks, none of them so much as batting an eye at the small girl who had seemingly materialised out of thin air. Not even a flicker of recognition passed across their faces, as if the girl were nothing but a figment — a ghost in the backdrop of these events.
Scarlett’s eyes lingered on Arlene. “…Is there a reason that they do not notice you?” she asked, voice low to avoid drawing attention.
Next to her, the younger Scarlett smiled, a cold, knowing expression that felt all too familiar. “Why would they? I was never here in this Memory,” she replied, her tone detached, as though stating the obvious. “Why should they see what never existed?”
Scarlett’s brow rose. Memory, not dream or vision, or anything else. Once again, the younger Scarlett spoke with a conviction and understanding that did not fit her appearance.
“At least, that is what I assume,” the girl added, tilting her head as a dark red lock fell across her forehead. “How should I know more than you?”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes, turning to consider her young look-alike. Was she implying that her existence here was somehow tied to Scarlett’s own understanding and experience? Like…what? Some sort of projection or manifestation of her subconscious?
Was this the original Scarlett or not?
“If you are hoping that I am here to provide all the answers, you will be disappointed,” the younger Scarlett said. “My presence here is more your doing than mine.”
Scarlett frowned. Did this have something to do with what The Gentleman had hinted at about a medium? If she was that medium, or related to it in some way, then it was likely that her presence was influencing these constructed Memories. If so, she couldn’t deny the possibility that she had inadvertently wanted this younger Scarlett to appear. But would that explain the girl’s apparent self-awareness?
Scarlett scanned the room again, ensuring no one noticed their exchange, before turning back to the girl. “One question, then. Are you real?”
The younger Scarlett’s smile pulled into a tight, disdainful line. “Real? What gives you the right to ask that? I would certainly consider myself more real than you.”