281. Resolution
“For the first three months after your death, your parents attempted to bury themselves in the only thing they had left: labor,” the Absolute Being said. His voice was flat, devoid of the pity a human would feel. On the screen, scenes of her father hunched over ledgers until dawn and her mother working overtime in a silent garment factory flashed by. “They sought to drown their grief in the exhaustion of the body. A futile attempt to suppress the chemical signals of the emotion called loss.”
The scene shifted abruptly. The lighting turned a sterile, sickly blue.
“Right around the four-month mark, the weight became too great. Your mother, consumed by the guilt of not being there to see you off in your final moments, could no longer maintain the facade.”
Ravenna’s heart stopped as a new scene materialized: a hospital room that mirrored her own final moments. Her mother lay on the bed, pale and unconscious, while her father sat beside her, his head in his hands, a broken shell of a man.
“She attempted to follow you into the void,” the Absolute Being stated. Ravenna felt her knees buckle. She collapsed onto the white-tiled floor of the Office, hot tears streaming down her face. Seeing her father’s utter devastation was a pain more piercing than she ever felt.
The Absolute Being continued, unfazed by her sobbing. “After your mother recovered, your father made a decisive, radical choice. To save what remained of his family, he sold his small company, the legacy he had spent his life building to finally clear the debts that had tethered your life to toil. He retired to stay by your mother’s side, and she, in turn, walked away from the world of labor as well.”
The screen transitioned to a scene six months after her death. The apartment was quiet, but no longer suffocating. Her parents sat in the living room, staring blankly at a life insurance check that had arrived after months of bureaucratic delays.
“Then came the resolution,” the Absolute Being murmured. “They looked at the money, the price of your life and they remembered the one thing you cared for outside of them. They decided to adopt the teenage girl you had been sponsoring with your meager salary all those years. They used your money to bring her into their home.”
The final scenes began to play. The apartment felt warmer now. A young girl, her face bright with the first traces of hope, was laughing at the dinner table. Ravenna watched as her mother reached out to brush the girl's hair, a small, genuine smile finally touching her lips. Her father looked on, his eyes still sad, but no longer hollow.
The girl had become a pillar of emotional support, a daughter who allowed them to breathe again. Seeing them in a state of healing, finding peace in the legacy she had left behind, caused a new kind of tear to fall from Ravenna’s eyes. These were tears of profound, soul-aching relief.
She smiled through the crying. They were okay. They struggled but they are okay.
“That is the state of their existence one year later, Joy Cha Kim,” the Absolute Being finished, and the massive screen went black, returning the room to its sterile white silence.
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He looked down at the relief-stricken Ravenna, his violet eyes cold and uncomprehending. “This kind of emotional turmoil, this cycle of agony and slow recovery... it is not something you ought to have suffered. If not for the disease of consciousness, the loss of a unit would be as meaningless as a falling leaf. You wouldn't be crying now.”
He sighed, the sound echoing hollowly. “But, with that gesture, I believe we have built a minimum level of trust. I have shown you the truth you craved.”
Ravenna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her legs still felt weak, but she forced herself to stand, her gaze hardening as she reclaimed her role as the Princess. The vulnerability of Joy Cha Kim was tucked away, replaced by the steel of Ravenna Solarius.
She stood tall, her hand resting near the Reputation System’s interface. “What is it you want? You didn't bring me here just to show me a home movie. What do you want from an 'Otherworlder'?”
The Absolute Being tilted his head, his violet eyes reflecting the fluorescent glow of the ceiling. “Nothing much. I am aware that you possess the knowledge of a possible future, a fragment which must have been granted by the Universal Origin.” He walked toward a desk, his movements as smooth as liquid. “I simply need you to stay put, Otherworlder.”
“Stay put?” Ravenna scoffed, a cold, mocking laugh escaping her lips. “You want me to stop interfering with the Cult? To let Anna and your generals revive you so you can 'cure' this world by killing everyone in it? Is that the offer? Don’t protect my people and just live out my last days in comfort? You’re asking me to be a spectator to an apocalypse?”
“I am a fair architect,” the Absolute Being replied, unfazed by her vitriol. “If you agree to remain silent, I shall ensure that the Cult of Absolution bypasses your island. No attacks, no spies, and no hostility toward Kim City until the final Day of Reckoning. You can turn your dukedom into a paradise, and I will let it be the last thing to fade into the silence. In return, you simply must not interfere with my revival.”
“Why on earth do you think I would accept that?” Ravenna’s hand tightened into a fist. “I’ve already died once, so I wouldn’t mind doing it again?. The fact that you’re negotiating at all tells me everything I need to know. You can’t kill me, can you? This thing Universal Origin is too important for some reason that you can’t just kill me.”
The Absolute Being looked at her with an expression of mild, detached boredom. “Why do you care so much, Joy Cha Kim? You are an Otherworlder. This is not your world.”
Ravenna felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat as he continued.
“These are not your people. This is not your family. You simply happen to occupy the flesh of a Solarius descendant, carrying a library of memories that do not belong to you.” He took a step closer, his gaze turning into a sharp, piercing glare. “Do you truly believe you belong here? Do you think these people would love you if they knew you were a ghost from another universe inhabiting their Princess's skin?”
He smirked, a human gesture that felt utterly monstrous on his face. “Do you not want to return to your own world, Joy? To the mother who finally smiled? To the father who sold everything to remember you?”
Ravenna’s composure shattered. She stumbled back, her voice a fragile stutter. “T-there is a way to go back? You’re lying.”
The Absolute Being chuckled, the sound echoing with genuine amusement. “If there is a way in, there is a way out. The laws of the universe are symmetrical, Otherworlder.”
He walked up to her, his presence suddenly overwhelming, filling the sanctuary with a cold pressure. “Your original body on Earth has already been reduced to ash; it is impossible to reinhabit a vessel that no longer exists. But the soul is flexible. You can take this body and I can help you bridge the gap. I can tell you the way back to Earth, to your parents, as a living daughter once more.”
He leaned in, his whisper cold against her ear. “All you have to do is turn your back on this dying world and let me finish my work.”