The Writer's Block, Chapter 6

6: Shuma-Ti

It’s the third day.

I did not get any sleep last night.

I have to go to the Green Market.

To meet my friends.

I am at the Green Market.

There is no one.

I am sitting at the spot.

Where I cried.

“Hey, look!”

“Human detected.”

“Hmm.”

“It is our greatest honour to meet you again, young man.”

Yes. They are coming. I can’t see them, but I can hear them. I will not run away anymore. I no longer have anything to live for.

… Silvia Grace.

She is the only one who understands all this. She will help me… if she’s alive. I failed. I cannot do anything to prevent her death.

“Would you like some coffee, master?”

Yes. I do need it. Give it to me. Ah, it soothes my nerves. But it doesn’t change anything. My maid, R.E.T.I.N.A., still recognizes me as its master. Good. Thanks so much. I promise, this will be the last cup. After this, you’re free. Go find your true passion. Don’t let others dictate you. I remember you told me that you wanted to be an engineer? Then go. Do it. Don’t come back and visit your poor old master anymore!

“Fear me! For I am now a legendary warrior!”

Yes, you’ve grown a lot, Hyperia. My son, there were many times when I’ve mistreated you; please don’t go telling anyone, okay? Although if you do, I won’t blame you. You’re going to be a teenager soon, and you’ll have to face this cruel, cruel world alone. But I’ve equipped you with skills. Go! Be who I am not! Be a true legendary warrior!

”Two million dollars.”

I’m sorry. I don’t have that much cash with me right now; not at home, or at the bank; not in a hundred years. I am a failure. I have no goals in life. If there’s one thing I should learn from you, brother, it’s to focus on one thing at a time. I get distracted easily. Yes, maybe I should be like you, but I kept resisting myself. Getting paid to kill? That sounds simple, though I really can’t bring myself to kill. But hey, I’m glad I did not.

“Young man, just look at you! What has happened to the great man I’ve once known?

I’m sorry… Equinox, my old pal. That great man is gone. The man who sweeps happily every day, who brings joy to people’s lives. I swept the trash of the most inconsiderate of man, and I did so gleefully. Now I look down upon poor people, although I’m poor myself. I’m such a hypocrite. What happened to me? I don’t know. I don’t even care anymore.

There is no more hope in life.

There is no one.

There is one. A face. On the clouds.

“William Johnson, I believe that you have killed Silvia Grace. You better speak up. I demand full respect from you.”

O mysterious man, I am deeply unsettled by your mysteriousness; but Silvia Grace the woman I love, her murder, I have not done.

“William Johnson, I do not believe you, not even one bit! You are guilty, so admit it!”

O mysterious man, once again I inform you of my innocence. Saddened by this, I very much am. Ask my five great friends! They will deny all that you accuse me of; they will do it proudly!

“William Johnson, don’t you dare run away from me! Do you know who I am? I am the true lover of Silvia Grace, and you killed her!”

O mysterious man, spare me, for I have done no wrong! None in this world loves Silvia Grace more than I. None knows her more than I! None can find her but I!

…The voice’s gone?

Pardon me, but the writer of this story is gone.

The writer formerly known as William Johnson died three days ago, presumably due to a heart attack.

You know what’s stupid? When the only thing motivating you in life is something that doesn’t exist.

Silvia Grace is perfect, at least to William Johnson. But she’s not dead.

She doesn’t exist.

Why waste your time going crazy over something that doesn’t exist for you, when you have something that doesn’t exist for others?

William Johnson is poor. William Johnson is lonely. William Johnson writes shit stories.

But William Johnson has enough to keep him alive. William Johnson didn’t resort to killing for money. William Johnson has a fully functional body. William Johnson is actually quite good-looking. William Johnson lived through a great childhood. William Johnson has a wonderful family.

But what doesn’t exist for William Johnson?

You.

You are Silvia Grace. Yes, you never read the stories of William Johnson. But I can’t blame you; that bastard has never published anything before…

…because he knows that no one will read them.

It’s a contradicting scenario. William Johnson’s unconfident, insecure, unstable, so you can’t really blame him too.

He has just written himself into a corner. No one could rescue him; no one wants to rescue him. Silvia Grace, you made him like this.

I’m just a fortune teller, predicting the futures of everyone in the story.

To him, his whole life is a fantasy. To him, I’m the Master of Fantasy.

To him, I’m his wife, Shuma-Ti.