The Name Is Revealed
The stadium hangs in darkness, the glowing screen hovering with a blinking line where the winner's name should be. Every breath is held. Every gaze locked. Every whisper silenced.
Suddenly —
BZZZT.
A sharp crackle of static splits the quiet like lightning through glass.
The screen flashes—
A golden beam erupts upward, blinding and pure, shooting into the Vatican sky.
Then—
WINNER: JIMMY .
The name appears in burning white-gold letters across the sky.
A chorus of gasps ripples like a stormfront through the crowd.
Reactions:
Commentator (shouting, stunned):
"—WHAT?! The winner… is Jimmy ?! No way. How this is possible! I want an explanation."
Crowd (mixed reactions):
"W-Who?"
"He— he won?"
"That betrayed kid?"
"Wait, how did he won—?"
"did not they took all his flags?"
"He actually won. I don't believe it."
"Is not they betray him and took all his flags?"
"I think we should ask for explanation."
"Wait for their reveal."
Reporters stumble forward, camera lights blinking, voices overlapping:
"Where is he? Zoom in—"
"How did he beat them all?"
"Was this a hidden strategy?"
"Unbelievable—someone confirm this isn't a glitch!"
.................................
At the door of the arena, the mysterious girl known only moments ago as "Miss Evergreen" had been striding calmly toward the exit.
The moment the name "Jimmy ."
She freezes mid-step.
Her eyes widen, a subtle twitch in her gloved fingers betraying her composure. The guards escorting her halt too, confused.
.......................................
Nearby contestants of Jimmy—Binny, Eola, Lavi—stare, speechless.
Eola's lips move, dryly:
"No… it can't be…"
A pin drop silent is being made.
.............................
A single cough broke the silence.
Not from the judges.
Not from the officials. Not from anyone.
From him.
Jimmy.
Still seated on the crater's edge, head bowed, he was shaking.
At first, they thought it was exhaustion.
Then—
he laughed.
Low. Dry. Like a rasp pulled from the grave.
And then, louder. Broken. Unhinged.
A laugh beyond joy. Beyond sanity.
The lights above flickered.
Something about the laugh felt wrong. Just felt like, It didn't belong to a boy or, It didn't belong to anyone human.
People turned.
Everyone stared.
His shoulders heaved. His chest convulsed.
He was laughing, coughing—spitting a little blood—but still laughing.
All of them near him, stepped back.
Even a nobleman near him dropped his wine and children are also began to cry in fear.
The blindfold still hung over his face. Still it feels them fear.
And then, without warning—
he pulled it off.
.....................
Gasps tore through the arena like thunder.
in the mixed light and darkness, they looked at it.
Some screamed. Some looked away. Others froze, rooted by something deeper than fear.
In the dim, failing arena light…
his face was not a face.
It was the absence of one.
Where his eyes should have been—there were no eyeballs.
Only empty sockets, blacker than night.
No blood. No bone. Just… a void.
A void that should not have been empty but it was.
But somehow, every people watching could feel it—
Something was staring back.
From inside the darkness.
From beneath the skin.
Watching them all like...
His smile remained twisted, skin pale and drawn like it had forgotten how to stretch properly and he kept laughing.
Low. Shaky. Splitting.
He laughed through his teeth, through the blood still pooling at the corner of his mouth—
a broken, choking sound like someone remembering what laughter used to feel like… before they died.
A group of contestants backed away, one tripping and sobbing.
Another clutched their data sphere like a shield and whispered, "What a horrible face."
Jimmy then stood up and started to go towards ceremony stage.
His eye sockets open.
Unblinking.
Unseeing. But...
All-seeing.
His voice that never been hard but they could hear it now in anyway.
In their heads. In their memories.
Like something they were supposed to forget—but now never could.
And still—
he kept laughing towards the stage.
............................
The announcer's voice crackled through the arena—once crisp, bold, and commanding.
Now It trembled like a leaf caught in a storm.
"S-Sir… p-please… c-could you… patch your eyes back… please… there are many people are here…"
A pause. Another gasp.
Jimmy silently came into stage, methodically, each step at each time.
Like a puppet.
Jimmy reached into his coat and pulled out a simple phone.
The screen glowed, eerie in the dark.
He typed in his phone.
Held it up to the massive broadcast microphone above the arena.
The message and sound beamed across entire arena—
Back at the commentary booth, the announcer—her hands trembling—was still staring at the close-up of his face.
His hollow sockets and the emptiness in those eyes still haunted.
Even the crowd hadn't stopped staring.
The prize ceremony had begun — but nothing felt ceremonial.
The announcer, who had stood poised all morning, suddenly found herself face to face with the one they now only whispered about.
Jimmy.
He stepped forward. Quiet. Calm.
And then… he spoke.
Not loudly. Not like a victor.
But like someone gently waking the world from a dream.
"Good morning, everyone...
My name is Jimmy.
My Whisp's name is Ondinceic... I call her Luna.
Thank you for watching our match."
He paused, glanced at the sky, then back to the stunned crowd.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel fear.
But maybe....
If Swablum takes the clouds away again,
then everything will be fine.
That is all I think... Miss Announcer."
The mic trembled in her hands.
She tried to speak—but stumbled, her knees buckling slightly as she caught herself on the podium.
"Haan... ahh... I—I'm okay... what happened?" she muttered, dazed.
Then she looked at Jimmy's face again—at his eyes—and fainted, collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Gasps echoed through the stands.
And then… something even stranger happened.
...........................................
From the clearing sky, five Swablums descended, their cloudlike wings flapping in slow, graceful rhythm. They circled Jimmy gently, murmuring to each other in misty, bubbly tones.
"Abum... abumm… abu…"
They'd been part of the weather system — summoned to clear clouds after battle events.
But never, never, had they flown down to meet a contestant.
They hovered close, their forms glimmering in the soft light, eyes fixed on Jimmy. The biggest Swablum, with a silver swirl in its fluff, stared longest.
The smallest one floated down… and landed in Jimmy's lap.
Jimmy blinked once and tilted his head. Then, silently, he raised his hand.
And signed:
"What happened?"
The little Swablum blinked back—confused—then turned to the bigger one.
The biggest Swablum spun once in the air and made a series of whirling cloud puffs.
"Abum-abumm... he's asking what happened…"
The little one nodded and echoed,
"Yeah! What happened?"
Jimmy stayed calm—but his fingers moved fast now. He made a sign to call Luna.
A burst of green light shimmered beside him—and Luna appeared, stepping out from the Mind's Garden.
She looked at the Swablums, then at Jimmy, then spoke softly:
"They said… the one who gave them their job told them to stop."
"So they came to see what was happening down here."
Jimmy reached into his bag and pulled out a fruit — a speckled, glossy thing he'd collected from the mountain grove days ago.
He handed one to each Swablum. The largest took it gently, forming a tiny puff of appreciation with its wings.
The others soon followed, nibbling eagerly.
The small one gobbled its fruit immediately.
The little one looked up at him again.
"Abum abu... One more?" it chirped.
Jimmy chuckled softly—still silent—and gave him another. And another.
The little one devoured all three with childlike joy.
Then, without asking, it floated up—
and sat gently on Jimmy's head.
The Question
The little Swablum leaned down, looked at Jimmy's face, then turned to Luna.
"Abum abu abu..."
Luna listened. Her ears flicked.
She turned to Jimmy and translated quietly.
"He asked why… there's nothing in your eyes."
"Like everyone else has."
She looked at the little one sadly, then added:
"I told her… you lost it."
The Swablum blinked. Looked again into Jimmy's face.
"Abum..."
And then came the second question, softer still:
"What happened to your voice?"
"I'm furious no one responded to my question earlier. What, did everyone suddenly forget how to type? Or did the whole committee just collectively vanish into the Lingrithms servers? I could've set the stage on fire, and you'd still be refreshing your tea instead of replying. Honestly, at this point, even the Swablums are showing better communication skills — and they only say 'Abum.'"