C145: Implication
“Speak up, Isa. You treat me as your pet this whole time?”
“No! Izzy is Izzy! Silly Izzy!” Arriet flailed her hands, cheeks puffing as she pouted. “Isa would never see Izzy as…”
However, Isa stopped mid-sentence.
For a brief moment, a trace of hesitation floated in her eyes.
Yet, that uncertainty vanished in a mere fraction of mili-seconds before she brightened her expression once more and forced the sentence to continue.
“…Pet!”
But that hesitation did not escape Izzy.
“Why did you falter?”
“Ah, eh, um, Isa did not!” Arriet frantically denied it, her eyes darting away as she crawled toward the stuffed animals scattered on the floor.
She grabbed one of them, and shouted excitedly. “Izzy! Look at this! Isa has new toys! Isa somehow found a ke—”
“Don’t change the topic.” Izzy cut her off, her tone turning serious.
“No, Isa would never! Hmph! Izzy thinks Isa is wrong!” Arriet pouted harder, crossing her arms and turning her head away, sulking.
“...”
‘This is… messed up.’ Inside the mindscape, Izzy stroked her temple.
She was no psychologist. She could not understand what this meant on a deeper level, nor did she have any confidence in interpreting Isa’s behavior properly. She had never imagined that her other mind would behave in this manner.
Had Izzy somehow raised her incorrectly?
Because Isa was her young mind, Izzy had not particularly “raised” her in the normal sense.
Isa could practically develop her own personality and quirks independently, forming preferences and thoughts through their shared experiences and knowledge.
Izzy knew herself best, so she had trusted that Isa would naturally mature into a better version of herself.
The mere notion of viewing one being as a pet was a ridiculously dangerous thought.
‘No, wait. She’s my young mind in the first place…’
Had she really acted in this manner in her past life?
‘Now that I think about it…’
Izzy had indeed treated someone like this before.
‘No, not like a pet.’ Izzy immediately shook her head, denying the implication.
Memories flooded into her mind.
She had merely kept that person close, forbidding her from going outside and interacting with unknown people.
This was because her past world had been incredibly dangerous.
People roamed the streets carrying firearms. Individuals vanished every night without a trace.
Streets that looked normal in the morning could become killing grounds by the dark. War could break out without warning.
Not to mention monsters, anomalies, corrupted humans, killing machines,...
The people who stay in the Inner City might be safe, but in the outskirts district, not so much.
Izzy had done it solely to protect that person.
She had, by no means, treated that person as a mere possession or a pet in a cage.
Certainly not.
‘It’s better safe than sorry.’ Steeling her resolve, Izzy lifted her gaze.
She needed to be stricter, more disciplined.
“Isa. Looking at me while talking.”
“Hmph!” Arriet squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears with both hands, continuing to pout.
Izzy frowned. A wave of irritation rose in her mind.
“Isa.”
“Hmph! Izzy is bullying Isa! Isa doesn’t hear anything!”
Veins popped on Izzy’s forehead.
“I-SA.”
“H-hik!” Arriet trembled, her body going rigid as she finally recognized Izzy's icy tone.
“I may have been far too lenient with you.”
“I-Izzy?”
Izzy directly dragged Isa’s consciousness out of the Arriet vessel.
“Wait, Izzy! Isa is telling the truth! The truth! Honest!” Isa cried out as her mind was forcefully dragged from Arriet’s body, flailing in panic.
“That remains to be seen.”
“W… wa! I-Izzy, that hurts, agghhh!”
Izzy pinched Isa’s ear and dragged her into the theatre.
Of course, this was their mindscape, so physical pain did not really exist unless Izzy had intended it, imagined it, and sent the sensation to Isa. Unfortunately, Izzy was capable of doing that.
Then, she brought Isa onto the stage, under the glare of the spotlights. The crimson curtains hung behind them, the rows of empty seats stretching like countless unseen witnesses.
“Kneel here.”
Izzy pointed toward the stage floor.
“I-Izzy?” Isa looked at her with uncertain eyes, murmured in a trembling voice. “Izzy is acting… strange.”
“Isa. I’m going to say it one more time.” Izzy’s voice dropped low.
“Yes!” Isa immediately dropped to her knees, raised both hands together obediently.
Obviously, it would not cause her any pain, nor was it physically exhausting.
This was their shared mindscape. The stage floor beneath her knees was not real, and pain itself only existed here when one of them imagined it.
“You injure my feelings," Izzy stated coldly, looking down at the kneeling girl. "Consider it when you commit such actions.”
“But-but Isa didn’t…” Isa murmured, her lower lip trembling as she pouted. She looked up at Izzy with watering, accusing green eyes.
It was cute. Unfortunately, Izzy needed to remain harsh to prevent further behavioral deviations.
“Nonetheless!” Izzy shouted, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “You called that doll a pet. A doll that looks exactly like me. A pet.”
“...”
“I know you mean it affectionately, but I don’t appreciate the sentiment. It feels like you are looking down on me.” Izzy growled, her brows drawing together. “Think about it in reverse. What if I used a doll that looked like you and called it a pet? How hurtful that would be?”
“T-that…!” Isa stammered, lowering her gaze to the floor. Her fingers curled against her dress as Izzy’s words slowly sank in. “Isa… Isa understands.”
Just as quickly, her green eyes lit up.
“Isa understands, Izzy! The problem is that doll!” She raised one hand brightly.
“Hmm?” Izzy frowned.
What kind of warped logic was that? She was just about to reprimand Isa again, but Isa cut her off before she could speak.
“If that doll doesn’t look like Izzy anymore, then it won’t be a problem anymore!”
“That…”
That was not the point.
Yet, a wave of uncertainty rose in her mind.
The logic was so bizarre it took her several seconds to digest it.
Izzy tapped her chin, questioning herself.
‘It… actually makes sense, huh, wait?’
The logic, in a very twisted way, did seem sound. If the doll no longer resembled her, then calling it a pet would no longer imply anything about Izzy herself.
Before Izzy could organize her thoughts properly, Isa flew upward, leaving the stage and rushing toward the real world.
“Where are you going?” Izzy noticed her movement, but she did not pursue. She was curious to see what her young mind intended to do.
Isa returned to Arriet’s body.
In the real world, the black-haired girl slowly stood up from the floor. Her expression darkened. She walked toward the nearby table, pulled open one of the drawers, and looked inside.
Inside the drawer lay a kitchen knife, its steel glinting under the dim light.
Arriet picked the weapon up, gripping the handle tightly.
Then she turned toward the gray-haired doll.
A smile appeared on her face.
“If you don't look like Izzy anymore, then it won’t be a problem,” Arriet murmured.
Inside the mindscape, Izzy remained silent.
‘Isn’t this… isn’t this just bullying?’
Something was clearly wrong with Isa’s line of thought here. Seeing the young mind control Arriet’s body, hold a knife, and threaten a doll that looked exactly like them made Izzy begin questioning her own sanity.
‘Ugh. Am I the only abnormal one here?’
Yet Izzy made no move to stop her. In truth, she was curious too.
Why was Isa so obsessed with humiliating that doll?
The gray-haired doll itself also felt extremely suspicious.
In the real world, Arriet picked up the gray-haired doll and smiled darkly. The doll rested limply in her hand, its porcelain face still, navy glass eyes half-hidden beneath gray bangs.
“Izzy said Isa has a problem,” Arriet whispered. “Because you look like her, Isa can’t call you a pet.”
She spoke to the doll as though it could understand her. Then she gently pulled at the doll’s gray hair and placed the knife against it.
“Then Isa just needs to—”
Arriet stopped.
“Need to—”
Her hand trembled.
“To… to…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat. The knife remained against the doll’s hair, but her hand refused to move.
Finally, Arriet looked up toward the ceiling, toward Izzy.
“Isa… Isa can’t do it, Izzy.” Her voice cracked, and she gave a weak, helpless smile. “Isa can’t destroy beautiful things…”
“...” Izzy sighed, her tension relaxing.
It would have been incredibly messed up if Isa had actually done that to something resembling themselves.
Arriet stood there dejectedly for a moment, still holding the doll and knife. Then she lowered both, placed the doll on the table, and left the room with slumped shoulders.
“...”
All the while, Izzy's Field Vision remained active, continuing to linger around the room.
Was it just her imagination?
Did the corner of the doll’s mouth just lift?
—
‘Strange...’ After a brief moment of retrospect, Izzy tapped her chin in thought, her brows drawing together as she sat back in the velvet seat of the crimson theatre.
‘Why am I suddenly so sensitive?’
She felt more bothered by the doll than she had expected. The moment Isa called it a pet, something inside Izzy had reacted more strongly than it should have.
‘It is just a doll. Why am I so worked up?’
To be exact, it was the gray-haired doll that looked exactly like the girl in the painting, exactly like them, Isidora.
She was bothered by the fact that Isa had designated it as a pet.
And by the fact that, for one brief moment, Izzy had seen herself in it.
Was it because the sight triggered some part of her unpleasant memories?
Izzy sighed, shaking her head to clear her mind. There was no point digging into that now.
She returned her focus to Arnold.
In the real world, Arnold moved through the village streets. The vessel had stood motionless for a while now, because Izzy was occupied with Isa.
He surely would have looked incredibly suspicious to any villager walking by.
If someone had actually bothered to focus on him, that was.
Arnold adjusted the bags in his arms. The eastern path lay ahead, leading toward their mansion, and the noise of the village thinned as he approached the forest.
“Good day, brothar.”
However, before he could exit the village, a voice called out to him from behind.
Arnold narrowed his eyes slightly beneath his bandages. He stopped and looked back.
Standing behind him was a young, brown-haired boy.
‘This boy... he must be Bennet. What does he need from me?’ Arnold wondered.
He had never met the boy in this iteration, but he recognized Bennet’s appearance through the information recorded on the black monument.
After all, in the previous iteration, Izzy had deduced that Bennet might have some connection to the “Golden Trader,” mostly because there had been no note written beneath his portrait in Victor’s catalog.
Bennet offered a wide, pleasant smile. He cast a casual glance around, before settling his gaze back to Arnold.
Yet, the boy didn’t say anything. He only walked in a circle around Arnold, his playful eyes studying him from head to toe. His gaze flickered briefly to the bag holding the tools and herbs in Arnold's hand.
‘?’
The boy stared at the bag for a moment longer than Arnold expected, tilting his head.
“What do you need, kid?” Arnold asked.
To be honest, the kid looked eerie. Arnold really had no desire to converse with him right now.
Bennet looked up at him.
“Do corpses also have their monthly courses?”
“Huh?”