Blood rushed to my head, and my whole body burned hot. The fear that had long crouched in the depths, holding its breath, slowly rose within me.Simon. Simon… Simon.I had treated him as though he were dead all this time. After leaving Bluebell, I had consciously erased his name. Our reunion could never happen while we lived—if we ever met, it would just be a reenactment of Bluebell. So I forgot every survivor of Bluebell. I forgot the dead too—or rather, I dulled myself to them. Once dulled, the vividness fades over time until it’s finally forgotten… Just as my father’s death wore away with the years, so too would the remnants of hatred and fear…But I was wrong. Death may be forgotten, but life is never erased. As proof, Simon appeared. Simon appeared to rape me and, colluding with that stranger, inflict new marks of abuse. And Simon would surely kill me. In reprisal for failing to kill him at Bluebell five years ago, I would pay here in Leverham. Fear swept through me. Buthatredoverwhelmedfear. The twenty-year-old boy who had been passively abused in that grim boarding school at Bluebell died in that fire. After fleeing Bluebell, I was no longer that boy—and I have never been him again. I turned my head to the door. Beyond the firmly shut door, there was no sound.Simon. You will pull out my tongue to compensate for your loss and frustration, but I will give you nothing… I will not kill Simon anymore. The flames of that day, the years that passed, the life I endured shattered my ignorance. Now I know: for Simon, the pain of failing to capture me is far more excruciating than the agony of being killed by me.I will not kill Simon. I will simply slip from his grasp. I will vanish before him once more, leaving a loss and hatred in his heart that can never erode, so that he will long for me, chase me, and never let my existence grow dull. I will waste no more time on revenge.Why Simon was here, how he learned about me, what he’d done all this time, why he used the alias Caster, what his relationship was with that stranger companion, what became of George who survived with him… I had many questions, but I did not want any answers. Finding those answers was not my task. My task was to survive again and vanish before Simon’s eyes, inflicting on him a loss and hatred that would never wear away.For now, there was nothing I could do. Both my wrists were bound to the bed rails; there was no escape. I would only prepare and wait. They would return soon—James terrified, Simon anxious, and that stranger…About the stranger, I could not know. The mere thought of him made me shudder at his peculiarly cold hands. They did not feel human body heat. They did not feel like human skin. They did not feel human. It was an alien sensation I could only describe as such.And I knew exactly one person whose hands were that cold. I swallowed dryly. I felt uneasy about that stranger.True to expectation, before long the door swung open, and thankfully James entered. He was now the easiest target. His face was drained of color with panic. He paced at the door, then hesitated before approaching. In that moment, his lips, parched and cracked, trembled as his tongue moistened them, and he stood stiffly by the bed.I spoke first. “Unlock my cuffs, you bastard.”My bound wrists rattled against the cuffs. “If you don’t want to get any more tangled up in this.”James bit his lip, terror clear on his face. His shoulder shook as he mumbled, “…It’s already too late.”I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. James said, “That man… Mr. Acacia showed me… those devices… you… damn, I never imagined it… fucking…”He trailed off in despair, clutching his face, and slumped to the floor. I had no intention of succumbing to fear along with him. I spoke icily, “He’s not coming in right now to pull out my tongue, so how is it too late? Hurry up and unlock—”Before I could finish, the door burst open again. Simon entered. He paused as I stopped speaking and looked at him. As Simon stepped into the trailer, he said in a monotone, “James, don’t listen to her.”Behind Simon appeared that stranger. Without a word, they both approached the bed. The stranger carried a sleek black briefcase with a handle. From that gentleman’s refined bag, they produced handcuffs and leg irons. I laughed in disbelief. As I laughed, the stranger fixed me with that sinister, slick yellow face. Both he and Simon climbed onto the bed.The stranger forcibly gagged me. Their movements were swift and efficient, practiced. They were formidable operators. They pulled my ankles forward and locked on the irons, flipped me over, brought my hands behind my back, and snapped the cuffs shut. The stranger’s hands were horrifically cold, Simon’s hands, still warm as they had been when he was twenty. Even after being bound, I struggled, but it was useless. While they pressed me firmly down together, James emptied the trailer’s closet.Even though it was called a closet, it was so cramped you had to fold yourself in half to fit. They intended to imprison me there. They hoisted me off the bed and dragged me inside. Of course I resisted. In my struggle, everything on the desk crashed and shattered. In that chaos, I briefly freed myself from their grip and crawled in a bid to escape, but they grabbed the nape of my neck and hauled me back.At last, I was jammed into that narrow space, knees bent, thighs and chest pressed flush, unable to lift my head upright. The closet walls were solid and unyielding. The door slammed shut before me. A moment later, I heard the lock click.From beyond the door, the stranger hissed, “Be quiet and get ready. They say pulling out the tongue really hurts.”Footsteps. The door opened. The door closed. Silence settled.I steadied my breath. I listened, waiting ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) for my pulse to slow. Beyond that closet was stillness—but I was not complacent. They might pretend I was trapped and watch from the outside. Since I enlisted, I’ve been schooled in patience and endurance. I waited for the watchers to slip up, for a chance to escape.I was pinned in an almost immobile stance—arms drawn back, ankles shackled. Moreover, the closet was painfully tight, my chest and thighs pressed together. The only saving grace was that I sat facing the closet door. Had I been turned inward, I couldn’t have even tried to escape.Yes. I could get out. They had overlooked one thing: I was a soldier with multiple deployment experiences. I was trained to maintain composure in worst-case scenarios and devise alternative plans—how not just to escape, but how to escape effectively. They didn’t notice what I had hidden in my palm. My clammy hand held a single binder clip.My struggle as they dragged me bound into the closet had been for this moment. Feigning a collision with the desk, I had let all its contents spill, targeting James’s script on top of the pile. His pages were clipped together with that binder clip. Pretending unnecessary resistance, I pulled the clip free and hid it in my palm.I opened my fist and let the clip slide between my fingers. First I bent the wire out of the clip’s grooves. I discarded the clip and straightened the wire into a makeshift pin. My cramped movements made my hand cramp, but I managed to straighten the wire. Next I inserted it into the cuff’s keyhole. With the right tool, popping these cuffs was trivial. I easily unlocked the cuff, turned my wrist, and stilled my breathing.Still no sound outside. The moment had come. Should I continue feigning captivity until I heard some hint of movement, or should I break out at once? I chose the latter. Trapped, I could know nothing of the outer situation. I might wait endlessly only to be dragged out. Whoever lay beyond these doors, I had to get out first.I removed the gag, then swiftly unlocked the ankle irons as I had the cuffs. But the closet door was padlocked. Yet that didn’t guarantee imprisonment. Though the closet was built-in, its three walls were solid, but the door was thin—and its hinges thinner still. No closet inside a trailer could be that sturdy.I lifted my knees and shifted my hips forward, pressing my soles against the door. Testing it once, I then drove my heel hard into the door. The hinges rattled. I couldn’t dawdle for fear the noise would give me away. I kicked again, harder. The hinge broke, and the door fell away like a spring.No one was in the trailer. I crawled out, grabbed the pants and shirt strewn on the floor, and pulled them on. I opened the window opposite the door and tossed my shoes outside. I slid out legs-first and climbed down.The dusk was eerily still. Apparently they’d gone to fetch their “devices.” I didn’t care. This wasn’t the time to guess their movements.I dashed into the woods behind the trailer. Thank God I knew a shortcut no one else did—information I’d gleaned only to meet James for a tryst, but never more useful than now. As soon as I struck the woodland path, I ran without hesitation. By the time I reached the narrow trail to the campsite, a few crewmen carrying beer bottles were crossing from the set.They greeted the sweat-soaked me warmly. One called Oligamy waved his bottle and asked, “Marine, have you had pizza? It’s been almost a fortnight.”“Yeah. Ate my fill. I’m about to head back,” I replied casually. Oligamy raised his bottle. “Beer?”“I’ve had enough. Catch you later.”I tapped Oligamy on the shoulder and hurried toward the camp, feeling his puzzled gaze on my back—but I didn’t care. I’d never see him again after this moment.Once I felt I’d put some distance between myself and the crew’s sightlines, I sprinted. I darted to the camp entrance, jumped into the first truck with keys in the ignition, and didn’t bother grabbing my bag. I had no cash anyway. I started the engine and pulled out immediately. In the side mirror, I saw the foreman running out of the dorm shouting, “Hey! Who the hell are you? Where are you going at this hour?” and I only accelerated. My heart pounded so loudly I felt I could hear it in my ears. I floored the accelerator without hesitation.The camp lay close to Leverham village; the winding mountain road simply prevented speed. I forced myself to calm my nerves. A crash now would complicate things further. No room for error.A glance at my watch showed 9:30 p.m. Still evening. I rummaged in the glove box: a few twenty-dollar bills. With low fuel, I needed to fill up in town and then flee as far as possible before dawn.My hands trembled on the wheel. I swallowed dryly. What had just happened—Simon confronting me with that stranger, nearly having my tongue pulled out—felt like a nightmare. But it wasn’t. It could never be a dream. Simon had appeared before my eyes once again; he could do so any time in the future. I had to leave Mimesas as soon as possible. Hell, I might have to get out of the U.S. entirely.I never dreamed Simon would be in America. Now I remembered James calling him Caster… Caster was the name I’d seen on the trailer, listed as the actor’s name!Only now did I grasp Simon’s connection to James. What an astonishing coincidence. On this vast continent, in this godforsaken patch of woods where no one would ever cross paths, I had lived for weeks right beside Simon…So when had Simon learned of my existence? Was his trap truly over with that assault? No way. There was surely more. There had to be.Just then, a loud “thump” shook the truck. I slammed on the brakes, my spine chilled. A gunshot? No, that couldn’t be it… Frozen, I gripped the wheel and rolled down the window. A flashlight beam revealed only a flat tire on the rear wheel.Relief—but damn my luck. Instead of getting out to check, I kept driving. Few miles to Leverham village. In a populous town I could deal with it. Now, escaping the lonely mountain road was urgent. Reluctantly, I slowed down. Thankfully, I reached Leverham without incident.What surprised me was how quickly a rural town’s day ended. Almost deserted. The gas station I sought had a “Closed” sign. Resigned, I refueled and scouted the tiny main street for any open shop. Only a single restaurant and an Irish-style pub were open. I pulled the truck up to the pub.Inside, a modest crowd gave me some comfort. Three or four tables were occupied, and a few sat at the bar. I approached the bartender, who looked to be in his early sixties, sleeves rolled up.“Sorry to bother you, but I need to get into town urgently—my tire’s blown. Do you know where I can find a replacement?”He glanced at his watch and said, “The station’s your best bet.”“But they’ve gone home for dinner by now, I imagine?”“Probably. Should be back in about an hour.”An hour was too long. I bit my lip. The owner leaned forward: “There’s someone who arrived from the city the other day—ask him if he can give you a lift.” He pointed to a secluded table where a man in a short-sleeved shirt sat alone. Two beer glasses suggested company. I squinted at the back of his head, recognition dawning, and strode over.Without hesitation, I gripped the man’s neck and roughly hauled him up, slamming him against the wall. He spat curses, but when our eyes met, he froze and gaped. I gave him a crooked smile. “You cowardly rodent still sitting here?”Matt swallowed hard. “Ra-Ray… Oh, no… haha… what are you doing here?”“Save the small talk. Good timing. My truck’s still intact, right? Where is it?”“I—I’ve kept it safe…” Matt stammered, handing me the keys. I snatched them and glanced toward the table.“Look, I didn’t mean to—Ray, don’t misunderstand. You know I was broke then… had to scrounge for fare…”“Judging by the looks of things, you conned some other poor bastard for money again.”A soft yet chilling voice spoke from behind, “Not only that.”I turned. There stood someone who shouldn’t be here.“You’re leaving so soon?”“Y-You… you… you’re…”The boy I thought I’d burned to death stood before me, grown into a proper man as imposing as ever. He took a step forward and plunged a syringe into the back of my neck. I watched helplessly as the pistol slid in. My vision clouded. That boy—now a fully formed man—caught me as I collapsed and beamed. No sound came from me. The unsounded words echoed back into me.Ah… Jérôme.He called out, “That won’t do, Raymond. I’ve just arrived!”

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