Capgras Syndrome (1)
Through the open door, familiar faces appeared. It was the Count of Ertinez, covered in mud and dust, along with the writers, whom I hadn't seen in nearly a month.
As they entered, the banquet was immediately interrupted. The Count, having removed his mud-caked helmet, approached and knelt on one knee to pay his respects to the king.
"Your Majesty, I greet you."
King Godric, seated in the highest seat, silently scanned the Count's knights, Archbishop Butier, and Sir Orlie. The king then smiled faintly.
"I am glad to see you have returned safely, Count."
"…It is thanks to Your Majesty's grace."
"Enough. What credit is there to me in that? There's no need for such flattery."
The king waved his hand dismissively. The Count bowed deeply, then rose again, his face now solemn, without a trace of emotion.
The Count's gaze turned toward his children: Celestina, Leonardo, and then Ferdinand. It was as if he instinctively checked on their well-being, ensuring they were unharmed.
Soon, Godric spoke up, addressing Archbishop Butier.
"It's been a while, Archbishop. I didn't expect to see you again like this. The last time was when you insisted that Sir Leovald's funeral be held in Sinistra, wasn't it?"
"The request to allow this old man's stubbornness was granted by Your Majesty, and I am deeply grateful for your consideration."
"Ha ha."
Godric suddenly burst into laughter. His red-tinged irises shone brightly, like rubies.
The king, who had always exuded an image of perfect restraint, now displayed an emotion that was intense and unmistakable. He smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming with uncontainable joy, and replied.
"Well, of course. Archbishop, you've always treated Leovald like your own son. You've known him since he was a boy, so it's only natural you'd show such consideration."
"…"
"To one who calls himself a servant of God, everyone in this country must seem like a child of his. But… I hope the funeral was done well."
A deeper wrinkle formed at the corner of Butier's lips.
"So, how is it that the Count has come here with them?"
"…God was in trouble during the crusade, and it was Sir Orlie who helped Him. Additionally, there has been an ongoing issue with the increase of monsters within the Count's territory, so I accompanied the Archbishop to discuss possible solutions."
"Is that so?"
Godric seemed to lose interest in the details, brushing off the Count's answer with an air of indifference. He absentmindedly tapped the table with his fingers and then cast a glance toward them. After a brief moment, he subtly gestured with his fingers.
"The Count's safe return, indeed, is a joyous occasion. How fortunate, even amidst the banquet. There's always room for more celebrations. Everyone, gather round!"
As soon as the command was given, the musicians quickly resumed their performance, and Godric made his declaration.
"We should offer a proper welcome."
This was the scene as observed by others in the room—Godric, the King, and the Count's entourage coming together.
However, before my eyes, something different was unfolding.
Take 1. Ertinez Castle, Banquet Hall (Night/Indoors). The dramatically returned Count of Ertinez disarms and presents himself before the King. Soon after, the identity of a guest is revealed.
Archbishop Butier and King Godric discuss their feelings regarding the funeral of Sir Leovald.
Archbishop Butier: "I am deeply moved by your approval of my stubborn request, Your Majesty."
King Godric: "Of course. You held Leovald dear as if he were your own child, didn't you?"
Up until this point, there was no difference from the existing scenario notes. However, the problem arose right after that.
Take 2. Ertinez Castle■■■ (Night/Interior). The king■■■■■■ to the Count of Ertinez.['Sub-writer 1' rejects the scenario.]
The scene was unfolding so rapidly—almost like time itself was running out.
The moment someone began writing Take 2, it was as though ink was spilled, turning the sentences black. Then another person would snatch the text, and someone else would intervene, pressing the backspace key to rewind.
It was my first time seeing a scenario note being written in real-time. The very foundation of the world, the stage, was confined within those lines of text, constantly influenced by the moment.
The letters were being rearranged, scattered, and repeatedly disappearing. Slowly, they condensed into a dark mass, like ink pooling together.
From a distance, it looked like just a large black stain. But upon closer inspection, the shattered letters buzzed around like swarming bees, unstable, as if ready to burst at any moment.
It was clear that the intense back-and-forth between the writers wouldn't last long. Amid the chaos between Sub Writer 1 and the Main Author, my eyes fell on the silent Assistant Writer, Orlie. He did not look in my direction. He quietly watched Godric.
At last, the massive stain grew larger and larger, and those deleted records reached their breaking point.
[■■■■■…!]
Like a dam breaking, a flood of black ink surged forward.
Though it had no effect on the characters within the stage, to those who could see beyond it, the flood of black letters was unmistakably visible.
The tide swelled, drowning not just King Godric, but also Butier, Orlie, and even Leonardo himself, as the darkness encroached upon them.
When the dark night spread in all directions, it consumed everything in its wake.
[Too many 'revisions' have been detected.]
[The variable threatening the stage has been identified.]
[Action: Temporarily revoking the writers'
[Temporarily halting the narration of 'Scenario Note #020'.]
What happens to a story if no one writes it? Will the world come to a complete stop?
Will it remain frozen, stagnant, and untouched, preserved in place, with no further progress?
[The progression of 'Scenario Note #020' will be replaced based on the
The scenario note completely vanished from view, just like the gaps between the lines.
The letters turned to ash, scattering like snowflakes, and in the now brightened scene, what I witnessed was Godric, pulling up his lips in a declaration.
"Let's give them a welcome greeting."
Then, something strange happened.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
The rear guard of the hunting party that had returned with the Count. The crowd hesitated and pulled back, forming a small circle.
In the centre of the circle, a knight was crouched on the floor, twisting his body in agony. Everyone stared at the spot, confused. Soon, the knight's facial features began to melt away, like wax dripping from a candle.
The distorted, melting, and ultimately hollowed-out face scanned the room with empty eye sockets. Before anyone could even stop it, the faceless knight grabbed the nearest person by force.
"Ahhhh!"
As if fitting a piece of a puzzle into the empty space, a new face began to form. The figure stood tall, its lips curling into a smile.
"Are you… ready to receive the truth? I… we… shall bring the truth to you!"
Amidst the chaos, a sharp scream pierced the air.
"An abomination! An abomination has crept into the castle!"
Without hesitation, Orlie leapt forward, charging at the creature. Leonardo followed suit, moving swiftly. The two of them acted with such precision, as if they had planned it beforehand.
Leonardo struck the creature's knee, knocking it off balance, and in one swift motion, Orlie plunged a spear into its neck, severing its head.
Even with its rapid regenerative abilities, the creature—already absorbed by the consumption of a human—could not regenerate its severed head and collapsed.
The severed head rolled to the centre of the banquet hall. Disgustingly, the place where the head stopped was atop a tray, making it appear as if the head was being served as food.
Though these creatures devour humans, even such terrifying predators can, in turn, be reduced to prey, as if mocking the twisted joke of fate. The image of its body splitting open from chin to crown, turning to ash, was etched clearly in my mind.
Amid the chaos, a calm voice from Godric settled over the room. With a mixture of strange composure and concern, he delivered his decree.
"It seems something not human has infiltrated. Who's to say if it will end with that one?"
"This…"
"Since evil has crept into the castle, it is right to seal it off until every trace of it is eradicated. Don't you agree, Count?"
"…"
Godric rose from his seat. His feet stepped where the ashes had settled, dispersing them as he moved.
"It seems one of the Count's entourage must have been involved… Ah. I shall gladly offer my assistance."
People gathered in the sealed space. Count Ertinez glared, his eyes fixed on Godric, who moved through the castle as if it were his own.
Only then did I realize what had truly happened.
Just as I had witnessed, at the moment when the writers' sight was entirely obscured by the black wave, the moment when the musician, in a false display of cheer, banged the drums and played loudly, Sub-Writer 1 moved the creature he had subdued through
"Count Ertinez," Godric whispered solemnly, "For the sake of uncovering the truth, I must ask you to separate from your knights for a time. We cannot be too careful. One has been discovered, but such vile creatures multiply and spread like a swarm of insects."
He spoke in a tone of grave concern.
"Who can say who here is truly human, and who is not?"
It was a blatant lie.
The entire procession that Godric had brought was made up of those very creatures, yet he was skillfully shifting all suspicion onto the Count.
The royal guards, standing ready to draw their swords, watched the Count and his hunting party with sharp, threatening glares. Even the people of Ertinez Castle, swept up by the pressure, looked at the Count with fearful eyes.
At the forefront of this, Godric asked, as if carefully considering his words.
"Will you be able to grant this request?"
The hall froze.
The lord of the castle was now under suspicion, and it was the moment when the defences of El Dante, once thought safe, began to crumble.