Mirror of Delirium

In a solemn, grim, almost authorial tone… a mysterious figure spoke to Faithless:

"Welcome, Phainon."

At first, Faithless didn't quite understand—was this person calling someone else by that name? Or… was there truly another bearing it? He murmured to himself:

'Is he referring to me? Why does his voice sound familiar, yet my mind refuses to recognize it?'

Someone knocked three times on the table, producing a sound like weeping, laced with an exaggerated laugh… the darkness peeled away, revealing the formation of a strange place.

It was a vast courtyard, filled with towering Greek columns that stretched into the sky… and from above, columns of blood rained down—though they never touched the ground.

There was a stone table that seemed forged from another dimension… with eight chairs—three on the left, and three on the right.

There was a primary chair, ruined, with a long back, standing only because of a mess of chaotic glyphs. Another chair with a long back had Faithless seated on it.

The atmosphere of the place was cold yet strangely warm, filled with a crimson-black mist. A sacred scent floated in the air. The only light illuminating the area came from a crimson moon that hovered above the main chair at a terrifying distance.

A group of people in formal attire—but with no heads—played a piano stained with faint, unclear blood.

Faithless looked around, stunned by the surreal design of the place… until his eyes caught several figures sitting in the chairs.

They wore Victorian garments, as if from a bygone era. Their faces were obscured—only their mouths and glowing eyes, each with a different hue, were visible.

The central figure had piercing gray eyes that cut through the space as if asserting dominance. Even his posture was elegant, hands placed on the table with all ten fingers steepled together, his chin resting upon them.

'Who are these people? And where am I? What's going on? Did I die from exhaustion and thought, or have I entered another world… is this some kind of court, and they are the judges?' Faithless murmured to himself in a frightened voice.

As he drowned in thought, a hand—firm like a warrior's, yet gentle like a mother's—touched his cheek. It wore black gloves, but the tips of her fingers and nails were exposed.

Faithless lowered his head and looked down directly… to find a tall girl sitting on his lap. She wore a long black coat open from the front, a tight short shirt revealing faint abdominal muscles, and tight gray pants. A blindfold covered her eyes, her hair long and black as coal. She looked up at him and smiled.

Faithless returned a faint smile, still unsure what was happening around him… Then a man to his left, his eyes glowing blue, spoke in an eerie voice:

"She seems to love you deeply, Mr. Phainon. And honestly, I don't blame her."

A girl then spoke in a calm, beautiful voice, her eyes glowing green:

"Stop spouting nonsense, Edric. She's his wife after all. You're just jealous you never got one."

Edric placed his hand on the table and spoke with a mocking tone:

"Look who's talking—Serene, who begged Lord Sullivan to ascend the Insight of Greed so she could be richer than her father… what a joke."

Serene put her hand to her mouth and replied mischievously:

"At least I'm not obsessed, following Lord Sullivan around like a dog."

"You damn witch, what did you say?" Edric growled, black threads emerging from his hand.

"Everyone heard what I said, and so did you." Serene provoked him further, glaring toward the main chair.

Faithless remained stunned, unable to understand what was happening… and the strangest part was discovering he was married to a woman he had never even met.

He looked at her with cold eyes, yet felt a strong bond between them, even if he didn't recognize her. Slowly, he lifted his hand and gently brushed her hair.

Suddenly, flashes of disjointed memories struck his mind, causing him to clutch his head in pain. The girl looked at him with concern, but he resumed stroking her hair and softly said:

"I'm fine… just a minor headache."

Serene and Edric continued their bickering while the others laughed quietly—until the mysterious man tapped the table once, and they all fell silent instantly.

"My apologies, Mr. Phainon, for such an unusual welcome—but this is how we receive our special guests." the figure spoke in a regal tone, his gray eyes ticking like a clock.

'Something is off… I know this voice—but why is my mind rejecting the thought?' Faithless whispered to himself, thinking deeply.

The figure, resting two fingers on his chin and one on his cheek, with one leg crossed over the other, spoke with cold authority:

"I am Lord Sullivan. Forgive the late welcome."

Faithless smiled faintly and spoke in a deep tone:

"Such a mysterious name you bear. It seems you've summoned me here—and even called me by a name that isn't mine."

Lord Sullivan placed his hand on the table and replied in a strange voice:

"It seems you dislike it… it brings back memories you'd rather avoid, so you bury them beneath another name."

He paused for a few seconds, tapped the table again, and continued:

"Letting go of something doesn't mean you've forgotten it—unless you wish to disguise yourself in a new form."

'What the hell is he talking about? What does this mysterious man know about me? Are there things even I don't know about myself?' Faithless muttered internally while glancing toward his wife.

He slowly lifted his head and spoke with a slightly sharp tone:

"I do not fear the future… so why would I fear the past and run from it? But appearing in a place I don't belong, and being called by a name that isn't mine—doesn't that count as something strange?"

Sullivan pulled back his hand and returned it to the table, his gray eyes closed as he replied in a deadly calm tone:

"There is nothing strange about it. You live in an intertwined spiral… at any moment, someone might enter the hall and give you a title you've never heard before."

He added in the same tone:

"Sometimes, you need a new identity—to crush your enemies."