ALL NOVEL Chapter 170: The Thousand Tales Parasite!
A few minutes before,
The Room
For eons, there had been no wise men brave enough to change the definition of Room, adding windows as a quintessential part of the word. Now, though, any space enclosed by walls, a floor, and a ceiling was worthy enough to be pronounced a Room.
This Room also adhered to the definition, doing the bare minimum. It had four walls, yes. White. So white that it almost felt as if the Creator of the universe must have referenced it while creating the color white. It also had a white floor and a white ceiling.
The most conflicting thing was that there was no actual way to measure the room.
It seemed to stretch in one direction if concentrated long enough, and its ceiling seemed to go on forever up and up in a never-ending cycle. It was as big as it was small. The points where the walls' edges met felt wrong, too. Like a convolution of grotesque geometry, incomprehensible to sane minds.
The room wasn't empty and had over one color that didn't belong to it.
There was a bed lying against one wall. Its color was black, and even the sheets were black.
A black mist was seeping off the bed and sheets like dry ice. Near the bed was a table. It was black too. On the table were many black flagons of red wine, black cups, and many miscellaneous accessories. On one side of the table, leaning against the wall was a black chair.
A young Cersei was seated on it queenly, sloshing a cup of wine in her hand, and her gaze deep as if brooding over something hard. She was wearing a black gown, the light black mist lifting off it in many thin curls. Her shiny diamond-like earrings were black too.
Opposite the wall portraying this scene was another bed.
Simpler than the one that belonged to Cersei, but equally noble and clean. There was a table on its side, too. On the tables were flagons of wine and two books, the curls of black mist blurring their titles.
In front of the wall, that was connecting these two opposite walls having beds, there was a simple black chair and a black table with no bed. On the table was a huge black Book, giving out the thickest curls of the black mist. It had a thick binding, and it was opened to only a few pages as if someone had just started to write or read it. There was an inkpot, a long quill with black feathers, and a black cloth, probably to clear away stray ink spots, on the table as well.
It felt like every single thing in this room was placed to contrast the Room's whiteness.
Suddenly, a mass of black mist materialized in between the two beds, rising like a column, and becoming a tornado.
Cersei's eyes narrowed and stole her gaze away from whatever she was looking at so deeply.
The tornado of the black mist took the form of a young man, almost 15 years old, with the faintest hint of stubble dancing under his chin. He was wearing a black doublet over breeches, all giving out the same vapory black curls.
He was Petyr Baelish.
Petyr turned to look at Cersei. "You must be happy," he said, smiling slyly. "You have craved for our master's seed for long, I presume. If gods are in your favor, then he might just upgrade your tale after all."
"You presume too much, littlefinger," she said, slowly, sipping her wine. "He will upgrade my tale, I know. Pity the gods have nothing to say in this, otherwise, I would have asked him to let you rot like a boy forever."
Petyr chuckled, taking a seat on the chair by his own bed and table. "A new friend is coming," he told her. "Quite eccentric, this one. You must have heard her. Oh! I can't tell how lovely she is looking in that strange dress. For one moment, even I thought our master would be foolish enough to rip her clothes and take her maidenhead. I did suggest this to him once."
"You dare!" Cersei snapped, shooting up from her chair. "How dare you call him a fool?! Have you lost your mind?!"
Petyr behaved as if he hadn't listened to this outburst.
He picked up one book, opened it up to the bookmark, mumbled something to himself, and only then looked up. The characteristic sly smile on his face couldn't have been any clearer.
"It's you who have lost your mind, my lady," Petyr said, now looking up the same way Cersei had been before his arrival. "You really think he would make you his Queen once he sits on his throne? How naive are you? You think his lust for you means something else? It's our master we are talking about, aren't we? Don't tell me you haven't noticed his use of Emotions Manipulation these days to lock his emotions around us?"
Cersei fumed, arrogance spilling out of her eyes. "He must have his reasons," she said, retaliating, but her voice lacked power. "He does favor me, and there will come a time when he will take me out of this prison for good. One day I will rule worlds, sitting by his side. And you? Humph!"
By the time Cersei finished, the sneer on her face had returned. She smiled triumphantly, returning to her seat.
Petyr seemed to be in the mood for another jape. "Favor? How long will he favor you once he gets to know that we are nothing but the Book's puppets, created to spy on him in return for retaining our memories, I wonder?" he quipped. "Will he favor you once he gets to know that every time he calls us out there, he is writing…
"… A Tale of His Doom?!"
The situation with the Book's Characters was a bit complex to understand at one glance.
They had all their memories till the point when their tales had been devoured by Kai through the Tales of Beedle the Bard. They could think, talk, and see as if looking through Kai's eyes from within the Book itself. However, the moment Kai called them out, they only remembered what had happened when they had been called out by him the last time, i.e. they didn't remember anything from the time spent within the Room of the Book.
Utterly magical thing was that when Kai canceled the Skill, and let them return, the Characters didn't lose any memory of their time spent outside. They also recalled everything they had done and thought before they had been called out.
What they thought within the Room of the Book didn't mean much in itself as, upon being called out, their every single thought and action remained in absolute favor of Kai.
However, the Thousand Tales Parasite indeed stood true to its name, using the Characters to write Kai's hidden tale without his knowledge.
The color of Cersei's skin had turned a shade of pale purple. She matched Petyr's scornful gaze and uttered word after word. "I will never let it happen," she said, gritting her teeth. "I will even stop you if I must. No one can snatch power from my hands, and he's mine!"
Petyr guffawed. "Don't talk like I am not loyal to him. I just like myself more," he said, slyly. "Tch! You are not the Cersei I have heard so much about, I must say. The Cersei I know has the Lannister blood in her veins, proud like a lion, but cunning like a fox. Don't you see? He wants you to think so, my lady. Our master wants to create a ruse between us for the future if needed. How can you not see it?"
Cersei had just parted her lips to counter Petyr's reasoning when another tornado of black mist whirled in the middle of the room. The space left to Petyr's bed, away from the table with the thick book, stretched, and another bed appeared there, with a table and chair of its own.
The tornado took the shape of a short-haired, lanky young man, wearing a long black lab coat.
"He's finally here," Petyr said, smiling, closing his book.
Cersei slammed her cup on the table, wine splashing out of it, and threw herself off the chair again as if knowing what her fellow character had in his mind.
The young man stood there for a second, his eyes closed. Then, with a snap, his eyes opened. He narrowed his eyes, looked around, and then at Petyr and Cersei. Both characters nodded at him.
Rintaro Okabe doubled back, almost as if he was following instructions, and approached the table with the huge, opened book. For some time, in silence, but with extreme speed, the young man went through the few pages like a machine scanning the pages.
When he was finished, Okabe lifted his hands to his face and looked at them.
"Oh, you are real enough," Petyr said. "No need to question your feelings, other than the unconditional loyalty you are feeling for our master."
Cersei snorted.
Okabe took a deep breath and then turned his head towards Petyr. "Is this the same White Room mentioned in the Book, then?"
"No." Petyr shook his head. "When he was in that White Room to ask questions, we were still here, in this Room. However, we couldn't see anything like we can see what's going on outside now by just looking up at the ceiling. You see this black mist? We can use it to conjure anything that we want or can think of."
There was a puzzlement written on the young man's face.
Cersei stepped in, probably worrying about Petyr taking in all the favorable impressions. "The moment we leave this White Room, we forget everything about it. All thoughts, all conversations, and all perceptions of this place vanish from our minds. We remember what had happened last time when our master had called us out, but not anymore. Only when we return do we recall everything again.
"And while we are out there, the Book writes all that we see, hear, or sense about our master. Blasphemy! I call it. Gods were good, for we can't read his thoughts, otherwise, the Book would have written them down as well."
Rintaro Okabe showed none of the eccentric nature that he was known for now. There was something mechanical about him, something inhumane. "So that's how it is," he mumbled. "And he doesn't know of it?"
"Oh, he does," Petyr said, a smile playing on his thin lips. "You see, our master has some kind of… primal Instincts. He senses some things that seem beyond extraordinary more often than not. I've found him guessing and predicting things way ahead in the future as if he is omniscient. It's like a seed that he knows it's there, but he has yet to give it much attention. How colorful flowers would have bloomed if he had cultivated it, I don't know. The seed of his bloodlust has certainly bloomed into a demonic Will. Though, he doesn't know about it yet.
"I feared these Instincts, and it's in my nature to keep thinking of my fears. That's how even after leaving the White Room, I managed to latch on to this thought. There was only one way for me to slow these Instincts down. It was to make him rely on someone against his nature. One can not question my loyalty, for I was indeed thinking of our master's immediate benefit. So, when Morning Mist appeared in his life, I knew she was exactly what I had been looking for."
"Presumptuous!" Cersei snapped again. "Our master decided to make a slave out of her."
Petyr looked at her, smiling. "Did he now?!" he asked, slowly. "I wonder how many of his decisions you think are truly of his own.
"Well, let's not go down that road. What's taking our master this long? He should have called out our new friend, initiating his true memories, and giving him some life."
Rintaro Okabe stood near the table, silent, but not confused.
Cersei must have found her remarks to push into Okabe's mind, but suddenly, she burst out in a puff of black mist, disappearing from her place.
Petyr raised his eyebrows before chuckling. "Well," he said, looking at Okabe, "he seemed to have finally realized the source of the failed Blood Prophecies. He could have just asked me. I would suggest giving the table some space."
Okabe shifted away from the table.
A black mist seeped out of the white floor and became an evil-looking, vile hand. Its long, misty fingers held the quill, dipped it in the ink, and then brought it to the latest entry.
Petyr hurriedly brought his chair near the table and peeked into the book as closely as he could without disturbing the mist.
…
—
Cersei gave a peck on Kai's cheek and then turned away, giggling at Meg. "Know your place, slave," she said, sneering. "Remember what happened to our dear Squirtle?"
"Enough!" Kai snapped. "Meg, I need to check something using her Act. Cersei, use Blood Prophecy." He saw as…
—
…
Petyr backed off, straightening his spine, and then looked up at the ceiling. Okabe had been looking up for some time already.
"Don't worry about her," Petyr said, leaving the chair. "Her arrogance has made her lose her wits. You can't blame her either. Our master does look like Rhaegar a lot, her lost love. Cersei would do anything to have him within her, especially now that she knows that her older self couldn't have the prince. That night he spent with older Cersei had permanently changed our Cersei as well. Let her weave her dreams until our master burns them to ashes. He is a demon, after all. If only he had the wits in a field other than killing, science, and what he thinks is manipulation…"
"And what about you?" the not-so-himself Okabe asked, as Petyr trailed off. "What are your goals?"
"Me?" Petyr let out a low smile. "You read the book, didn't you? Let me ask you, then. What do you think Chaos is?"
Rintaro Okabe said nothing because it wasn't exactly a question.
Petyr's eyes narrowed, his right hand reaching for his throat, where dark imprints of five thin, long fingers should have been if he had a true body. When this hand dropped, his left hand lifted, both hands coming closer as if he was holding a ball.
From all around, the black mist churned, rushing to the gap between his palms like a vortex in the depths of a white sea. When the black mist had gathered enough to look like a solid ball, Petyr stretched his hands away from each other. The black ball stretched along with them, becoming over 10 inches long stick, its texture wooden.
He held the black wooden stick from one end, muttered something under his breath, and flicked it gently, and the tip at the other end of the stick lit up, a bright silver light expanding out with the wooden point at its center.
"Chaos…
Petyr looked back towards the ceiling, and then at Rintaro Okabe. He smiled.
… is a ladder."
Vol 7 - The Will of the Supreme - Ends!!!
