TTRIA 29

“Hey, can’t you hear me? I’m asking who you are, …ugh!”

Thump! The gentleman’s body crashed roughly to the floor. Jeff, straddling him and gripping his neck, tore off the black mask. The second face of the monster was easily revealed. He was one of the young philanthropists who often attended Eden’s events.

“Ha, haha …disgusting bastards.”

Jeff, letting out a bitter laugh, tightened his grip. Urk, ugh! The man thrashed in pain. Wiping away his amusement, Jeff stared at him impassively. Slowly leaning forward, his hands gained strength. Just as the man’s pupils rolled back under the pressure, Jeff suddenly released his grip.

“Guh, ugh! Huff, huff!”

Gasping harshly, the man instinctively twisted his body. Reaching out and crawling toward the door, it was a primal movement to survive, forgetting Jeff was still on top of him.

“…See? You’re not immune to pain either.”

“Guh, ugh, please, spare me, spare me…!”

“That attitude of not caring unless the pain is directed at you…”

It’s so disgusting I can’t stand it.

Muttering self-deprecatingly, Jeff grabbed the man’s hair and slammed it to the floor. The man’s twitching stopped. He wasn’t dead. His bloodied mouth was still exhaling faint breaths.

At that moment, the proxy’s voice echoed through the room.

“Well, it seems we can’t expect more reactions from him. Let’s move to the next act. This is likely the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”

The next act. Those words sparked an ominous feeling. It might already be too late to find Cecil. The chilling premonition that he might face him on stage now.

“Damn it…”

Heaving with ragged breaths, Jeff glared at the man. His decision was swift. He dragged the man to a corner of the room and stripped off his dress jacket. The size didn’t fit, so he couldn’t button it. But that didn’t matter. It just needed to serve as a brief disguise.

Donning the mask from the floor, Jeff pulled back the curtain. As he sat in the prepared seat, no gazes fell on him. Everyone was focused on the stage. Eddie, on stage, hung limply as if unconscious. He might have died from shock. Jeff’s clenched fists trembled terribly.

“See you shortly.”

Cheers surged like a massive wave, engulfing the room.

When the curtain hiding the stage was lifted again, a new set had formed. The glass tube that held Eddie was gone. Instead, three structures draped in black cloth occupied the space. What they were was unclear, only their massive size was instinctively felt.

“As you’ve likely guessed from the appetizer, yes, today’s theme is ‘pain.’ Let’s briefly touch on what ‘pain’ is. Is it merely physical torment? No. It’s not. As you all know, mental anguish is also a crucial element of pain. Today, you’ll witness a thoroughly comprehensive form of pain.”

The proxy, smiling meaningfully at the audience, gestured lightly, and a white chiffon curtain descended from the ceiling. The stage’s form was faintly visible but not clear—an ambiguous staging neither fully concealing nor revealing. Jeff couldn’t grasp their intent.

“Let’s begin.”

Through the chiffon curtain, the proxy’s figure moved toward the stage’s center. He stopped before the third of the three aligned structures. Suddenly, all lights went out. Darkness fell instantly. A deathly silence filled the room.

“…What?”

Jeff stiffened at the abrupt change. Tension tightened his body. Was it an accident? But the audience’s reaction was too calm. They seemed to know the meaning of this darkness. A chill crept in. The eerily quiet air felt uncomfortable when piano keys and violin strings sounded, followed by a soprano’s voice echoing from the hidden orchestra pit below the stage. The soprano’s high-pitched tone, whether song or recitation, delivered an unsettling, hair-raising sensation. It was suffocating. The layered sounds of different instruments were indescribably unpleasant and chilling.

Before Jeff could adjust to the eerie sound, a circular light shone on the stage’s front, resembling a full moon. The three structures within the massive moon’s light wavered. Likely an optical illusion from the swaying chiffon, to Jeff, it felt like ripples on water under a descended moon.

At that moment.

“Good heavens, unbelievable!”

As the black cloth over the third structure was removed, faint screams and gasps filled the room. Jeff couldn’t avoid reacting either.

“Ha…!”

Inside a massive glass tank was a naked person. It wasn’t just the presence of a person that shocked him. It was the shadow cast behind the crouched man. As the man, adjusting to the light, stood, the shadow’s form emerged.

A slender body with an inverted triangular head. Round eyes and antennae. Scythe-like forelegs bristling with spines moved.

A praying mantis.

The praying mantis’s shadow followed the man’s movements.

“Every time I see it, it’s fascinating. What kind of trick is this?”

Though the dissonant serenade continued, some sharp reactions pierced through. They saw the figure as a clever trick, not truth. Amid the marveling crowd, Jeff alone couldn’t speak.

The proxy, staring at the man in the tank, pulled out a keyring. He opened the tank’s door and unlocked the man’s shackles. The man was docile. Despite gaining freedom, he didn’t try to escape, only gazed at the proxy. Satisfied, the proxy patted his head and moved to the second structure.

The cloth was removed again, revealing another man—and another praying mantis. Boos rose instead of gasps, deeming it unoriginal, but they turned to cheers as the situation unfolded.

The first man followed the proxy into the second tank. The two men, made of blood, flesh, and bone, were similar, but their shadows differed. Though both bore praying mantis shadows, the first man’s was larger.

The proxy unlocked the second man’s shackles and locked the tank’s door. Amid the soprano’s scream-like song, the two figures brutally clashed. The audience’s gazes fixed not on the ‘human’ strangling but on the ‘shadow’ swinging sharp forelegs. Their movements intensified with the rising music and vile cheers.

Kill him! Fight back! Tear his throat!

Soon, bloodied handprints stained the tank. As the instruments and soprano abruptly stopped, one man collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. The proxy unlocked the door. The man with the larger mantis shadow walked out. Cheers for the victor followed.

“…….”

Jeff, frozen as if bound, trembling as he watched, wanted to vomit from the surging nausea. He wanted to flee. But his body wouldn’t move.

“They’re insane… all insane.”

His mind was foggy. Tears kept streaming under the black mask.

Is this reality? Can this be real? No. Maybe it’s a nightmare. Yes, a damn disgusting nightmare. This can’t be reality.

But his hopes were crushed. The final structure was revealed. Unlike before, a round dome-shaped black cloth fell quickly. The figure inside was the one Jeff least wanted to see at this moment.

A beautiful butterfly’s shadow.

“…….”

It was Cecil.

Jeff’s mother was a warm-hearted woman, but in crucial moments, she was fiercely resolute.

At the end of her life, during their final farewell, her body, marred by wounds, had no unscarred part. All that was visible were her faint amber eyes, staring intensely at young Jeff. They weren’t the eyes of someone facing death.

Jeff was scared of that gaze. He flinched without realizing. As he loosened his grip and stepped back.

“Forget.”

He couldn’t forget the raspy, chilling voice.

“Forget it all. The moment you’re bound, life becomes hell. Forget everything and live a whole life.”

That day was just an unfortunate accident. The hallucinations from the fire’s intense heat were all he saw, so forget the painful images and focus on filling his future life. Whispering slowly but firmly, his mother,

“…Yes, I will. I’ll forget everything.”

Closed her eyes only after hearing Jeff’s reply. Thus, she left Jeff’s side, believing her young son’s lie, as if relieved.

“…I’ll forget.”

But Mother, how can I forget? How can I forget that day’s images, fear, and pain?

If she knew her command to forget became a shackle making it impossible, she would have been deeply saddened. Knowing her intent, Jeff couldn’t shake it off. Uncovering without forgetting was like a lifeline sustaining his lonely life.

After that accident, Jeff developed a habit of observing people’s shadows. He checked every person’s shadow—doctors and patients at the hospital, detectives investigating the case, orphanage staff, and children like him. But they all had ordinary human shadows, none resembling insects.

If people’s shadows revealed nothing, what about ‘real’ insects? The strange habit born from the accident shifted to focusing on the ‘insect’ itself.

What if real ‘insects’ could become human? What if special ‘insects’ could transform into humans! Finding such beings could unravel Allen’s mystery. Moreover, his mother’s murder could be redefined—not as a murderer who killed her sibling, but as a victim resisting an ‘insect’ monster.

“Liar Jeff!”

That became his label at some point. To the orphanage kids, Jeff was a crazy liar. Despite their young age for fantasies, they despised others’ absurd tales, likely due to being thrust into harsh reality.

Jeff didn’t deny it. Yes, I’m a liar. I promised to forget but haven’t. I live bound to that day’s memories, defying my mother’s words. He couldn’t claim otherwise. So he accepted it. Obsessing over not forgetting rather than trying to forget felt like avoiding the worst.

Though now a crazy liar, if he found and proved the ‘insect’s’ existence, everyone would recognize his efforts. Someday, when he reunited with his mother, she’d praise him. Like that distant day, with warm hands and voice.

Consoling himself, he steeled his heart, but sometimes thought: waiting for a day beyond death felt too far. Even if she scolded him for breaking his promise, he wished she’d appear in his dreams sometimes.

Despite having reason to appear in dreams via memories, she never did. He wanted to see even an angry face.

Some days, suppressing longing was especially hard. Jeff sneaked out of the orphanage to his mother’s grave. Holding wildflowers, he stood before the tombstone in the late evening. Crouching before the stone under the dim sunset, he swallowed tears. Then, he fell asleep. Waking to the cool air, it was dark.

“This is the way…”

Though it was the right path, finding the exit was hard. Confusion and fear darkened his vision. As tears welled up again.

“…….”

A small white butterfly appeared. Plain and unremarkable, it fluttered around Jeff. He stared blankly, then reached out. The butterfly moved away just as his hand neared. Almost touching, its delicate movements captivated him.

Before he knew it, Jeff was chasing the butterfly, forgetting fear. When he noticed the surroundings brighten, the butterfly was gone.

A myth he once read said butterflies symbolize souls. Perhaps that white butterfly was his mother’s soul. Thinking so, his heart stirred whenever he saw one. Initially, it was longing, but it gradually became joy. It might be a silly delusion, but Jeff wanted to believe his mother visited him as a butterfly.

So, Jeff softly smiled whenever he saw a white butterfly in daily life. That fleeting sight piqued other kids’ curiosity, positive or negative. Jeff didn’t know he drew attention. If he had, he wouldn’t have shown his emotions so openly.

If he had, the white butterfly wouldn’t have been caught by the kids’ hands. Its wings and antennae wouldn’t have been torn off.

The crumbling remains of tiny wings.

The small hands and laughter dismantling the tiny butterfly.

He vividly recalled the surging anger. Rushing to crush the culprit’s fingers. Sitting on the ground amid pained cries, clutching the remains. The weight of a life trampled for being small and fragile was unbearably light. That sadness and pain were intolerable.

“…Cecil.”

That day’s cruelly etched memory overlapped with the present. The butterfly’s wings flapping to escape his grasp. Its delicate body being torn apart. Its weakening movements.

“Stop… please stop.”

Please, just stop.

“Don’t do it…”

Don’t hurt him. Don’t torment him. Please leave him alone.

His insides burned as if he’d swallowed poison. The blood in his body seemed to clump together. It was a red mass, a flame, and rage.

“Please, stop it…!”

Jumping up as if in a seizure, the heavy chair fell back with a crash! Despite the loud noise, the audience’s eyes stayed on the stage. The soprano’s eerie song and music, reaching a climax, swallowed the noise. Jeff’s scream-like cry blended into the music.

But not everyone ignored him. Two gazes landed on Jeff. One was the proxy, standing at the stage’s edge, and the other was a gentleman in the front seat. A black-haired man in a black mask. The master of this place, Wayne Gray, turned to look at the box seats.

“Stop it now, you bastard!”

The growled words were drowned by the cheers. Tilting his head briefly, Wayne didn’t seem to recognize Jeff, focusing forward again. Other box-seat audience members stood to see the stage better, and Jeff, masked, seemed one of them.

“Damn it…!”

Jeff gritted his teeth and turned. His only thought was to reach the stage. Pushing through the curtain separating the space, he ran toward the door beyond the waiting area when.

“You filthy rat.”

A horrific pain shot through the back of his head. It happened in an instant. His vision met the floor. A black shoe approached his face.

“Not only ignorant of your place.”

The old man, muttering softly, kicked off Jeff’s mask. Stomping on his exposed cheek, he added grimly.

“But also stupid.”

A ringing filled his ears. In a corner of his vision, filled with the old man’s legs, he saw an upside-down cane handle, stained red in spots. Realizing it was his blood, the old man swung the cane again.

“If you don’t want to die.”

“You should.”

“Have stayed put.”

Sharp pain rained on Jeff’s curled body. The strength was unbelievable for an old man. Unable to groan, Jeff gasped, and the old man’s sneer followed.

“Everything else was fine.”

Thud, the cane fell on the carpet. The shoe pressing Jeff’s cheek grew heavier.

“If only you hadn’t coveted my time.”

It was the only time to touch that skin. The only moment to monopolize that scent! The old man was consumed by rage for ruining the moment he’d awaited for a month.

The black shoe moved from Jeff’s cheek to his throat. The crushing pressure intensified. Stunned from the head blow, Jeff convulsed without resisting. His fingers, clutching the carpet, lost strength. Finally, Jeff’s movements stopped.

“…….”

The old man, staring down, eased the pressure. If alive, Jeff would’ve gasped, but he was still. The old man hadn’t meant to kill him. The outsider who stubbornly endured the mansion’s torment met a futilely bland end.

“Tch. This is troublesome.”

He only meant to vent, but with death, it was irreversible. He’d pay for botching things, but presenting the body without hiding it might earn leniency.

The old man mentally sorted the aftermath and lifted his foot from the body’s neck. He turned to deal with the unconscious guest first. Unaware of the bloodshot eyes glaring at him.

“Urgh!”

Suddenly feeling pain in his leg, the old man collapsed. It was the sensation of bones breaking. Gasping in pain and clutching his leg, a ragged breath erupted behind him. The pale old man turned. Jeff, coughing as if his throat was torn, glared, gripping the cane. His bloodshot, blood-stained eyes didn’t seem human.

“What…!”

The old man’s shocked expression didn’t last. Blood on the cane’s handle sprayed through the air. Crack—! A dull sound rang, and fresh blood seeped into the ornate cane’s crevices.

Thud, drip.

Blood droplets fell on the red carpet. The old man’s face lost expression. His body was limp. In the silence where even the ringing stopped, Jeff stared blankly at the body he’d killed.

He committed murder.

Realizing it was irreversible came much later.

He didn’t know how he escaped that place.

Coming to, he was in a mansion room, then running through a forest. He didn’t notice his breathlessness. His swollen ankle and battered body didn’t hurt. He just ran forward, following his body’s instincts, fleeing toward the annex.

The annex door was, as always, half-open. Jeff crossed the unlit darkness in one go, reaching the second floor. A figure crouched under the bed lifted its head. It wasn’t the one he’d unconsciously longed for. Of course. He was ‘there.’ But… even so.

“…….”

Ego, the black dog with a ‘scent,’ stared at Jeff with unreadable eyes. The dog’s shadow, revealed by moonlight through the window, resembled Cecil’s. At that moment, Jeff’s legs gave out. Collapsing pitifully, he gasped belatedly. But no matter how he heaved, it didn’t ease. Something seemed to block his throat, as if stuck in the moment the shoe crushed his airway.

“Ah…”

Ego made him realize he was strangling himself. The dog, approaching, tugged at his sleeve. Only when his hands were forced away did Jeff grasp his state. He wasn’t in his right mind.

Then, a stinging sensation brushed his thigh. Reflexively reaching into his pocket, a cold glass shard grazed his fingers. Pulling it out, the glass bottle was broken. Amid the handkerchief-wrapped debris, the white butterfly was still. Like the old man left there.

“…I killed him.”

I killed a person.

“I… killed a person.”

It wasn’t an accident.

“…I killed him with my own hands.”

He moved with intent to harm. His reason in that moment was chillingly clear.

…I’m scared. The unspoken words lingered on his tongue. Trembling hands wrapped the handkerchief. Burying his face in it, he curled up. Ego’s presence beside him was felt. In the silence filled only with faint breaths, time passed. Footsteps echoed in his foggy ears.

Slow, dragging steps.

Labored breathing.

A heavy scent.

And.

“…Jeff.”

A fragile yet beautiful shadow.