Nia'le found solace on the couch, immersed in the world of a weighty tome. The rhythmic sounds of Tassa cleaning and dusting filled the living room around him. "You might at least keep it down," he suggested, but Tassa paid no heed, diligently continuing her chores.
Without further protest, Nia'le decided to retreat upstairs, the book cradled in his left hand. Tassa's voice echoed behind him as she called out his name, a demand for attention that went unanswered. Unperturbed, Nia'le listened, curious about what she had to say.
"Clean your room, understood," Tassa declared, hands on her hips, a stern expression on her face. Her threat hung in the air, promising consequences if Nia'le failed to comply. "When I get there and I still see it untidy, I will make you wipe it using your tongue, understood?"
Nia'le, now on the ascent, rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the proposition. With a muttered response over his shoulder, he dismissed her warning. "You can't even see it."
Tassa's laughter echoed through the room, a playful imitation of Santa Claus that quickly transitioned into a serious demeanor. "Hohohoho," she chuckled, her finger raised in the air with the refinement of rich British women from days gone by. Abruptly, she shifted her focus, addressing Nia'le with a stern expression.
"I don't need to see it if I can smell it. Now, clean your room and also clean yourself," Tassa declared, her distaste for untidiness apparent. "If there is one thing that I hate the most, it's untidy, unclean, dirty, and disgusting. Now, go on, clean yourself."
Nia'le, ever the nonchalant one, rolled his eyes and couldn't resist a playful jab. "I don't like your gray dress. It doesn't look good on you."
Tassa, taken aback, placed her hands on her cheeks and blushed, batting her eyes in response. "Oh, you don't need to like it because the love of my life gave it to me. And I will wear everything that he has given me because I love him."
Curiosity got the better of Nia'le as he probed further, "Does he like you?"
The question caught Tassa off guard, prompting an exclamation. "What do you mean by that!"
Nia'le, perhaps wisely, chose not to argue further and simply retreated to his room, leaving Tassa downstairs with folded arms. Undeterred, she muttered, "Who asked you anyway!"
In the grand halls of Ixartxist mansion, a sudden appearance disrupted the tranquility. Suman materialized in Ixartxist's room, his voice echoing with the weight of biblical verses. "(1) Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. (2) For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies."
Ixartxist, intrigued, gazed at Suman and inquired about the meaning behind the recitation. Suman, lounging on the couch with arms extended and legs crossed, smirked as he revealed the cryptic nature of his words. "It's for the future. You see, people like to deny and pretend that this is just a big joke, even though they know they're committing a sin." He whispered, "blasphemy."
"I don't like them," declared Ixartxist, a voice echoing resentment. "They were self-centered, living only for money, dreams, and the fleeting warmth of human connection. What about our Father and the redeemer? Some deny him, mock him. I hated them all."
A pause ensued, and into this silence, Suman interjected with a gentle counterpoint. "Oh yes, but you know he didn't," Suman's eyes met Ixartxist's, a silent reassurance in their gaze. "He didn't hate them. He can forgive them, for he is a tender-hearted God, the King of all Kings and the Lord of Lords, the beginning and the end. Our Father, the most compassionate you could ever witness. He will forgive them, for that is his nature." Ixartxist's disdain collided with Suman's unwavering belief in the benevolence of their divine Father.
"They don't believe in Christ, and they even mocked him," Ixartxist continued, a tone of anguish in the words. "One word, and they'll persecute you. They will ban his word and erase all knowledge about him. And some people will just sit there and do nothing."
In the realm where faith intertwined with celestial beings, Suman's unwavering belief stood as a beacon against Ixartxist's despair. "Some will rise against it, fighting for the redeemer and our Father, driven by a profound love. Even in facing death, they are the true ones," Suman proclaimed, drawing parallels to the refining process of gold.
Ixartxist sighed, a mix of acknowledgment and resignation, casting a smile towards Suman. "How fascinating that we demons possess such knowledge," mused Suman, revealing a mysterious depth to their shared past. "Of course, we were once angels, my friend. But I'm not here just because of that," Suman responded, hinting at a more profound purpose.
As the conversation traversed celestial realms and earthly struggles, a subtle transformation occurred. Ixartxist's once vibrant yellow hair darkened mysteriously. Curious, Suman questioned the change, only to be met with confusion. "I don't see any changes, what do you mean darker?" Ixartxist queried.
Suman, with a knowing gaze, explained the shift to Ixartxist – the fading brightness, the gradual descent into darkness. Yet, Ixartxist, perplexed and unable to discern the changes in his own skin and hair, grappled with the enigma enveloping him.
It became evident to Suman that Ixartxist was undergoing a transformation into a true demon, the process unfolding silently and insidiously. As Suman pondered the consequences of this metamorphosis, thoughts of Quart, a potential savior, crossed his mind. However, the realization dawned that Quart's intervention was not imminent. Time, he knew, was the only ally, and a patient wait of two more years would bring Quart into his world.
Seated in contemplation, Suman rested his hand on his knee, fingers intertwined with a ring on his left hand. His gaze, earnest and determined, fixed upon Ixartxist, signaling a weighty conversation.
Ixartxist, noticing the intensity in Suman's stare, arched an eyebrow; that's why Ixartxist posed a simple question – "What do you want?" In response, Suman's request echoed with gravity: "Never visit Aretha again." A subtle laughter escaped Ixartxist as he sought an explanation. Suman, biting his lower lip, and chose silence. In the dimly lit chamber of conflicting emotions, Suman's response hung in the air, a declaration that reverberated through the quiet space. "I can't stop myself, and you can't stop me from visiting her grave. Even if you're her boyfriend, her husband, or what. I just can't abandon Aretha, Suman. She's a very special girl, and she's very important to me," Said Ixartxist. Suman, grappling with the weight of the situation, countered, "But you abandoned Quart. If she finds out that you cared for Aretha more than you care for Quart, she will be furious." Ixartxist, with a calm certainty, asserted, "That's just you, Suman. Quart, I mean Tassa, wouldn't be upset because of it. She's not like you."
Undeterred, Suman stood, a plea in his eyes. "Then you're right, Ixartxist. I will ask you one favor, and I truly hope you'll consider it." As the room seemed to hold its breath, Suman continued, "Stop visiting Aretha, Ixartxist."
In the ensuing silence, Suman weighed the knowledge of Tassa's whereabouts, a secret he chose to guard. Aware that Ixartxist remained clueless, he refrained from disclosing the information, fearing the potential repercussions of Ixartxist's emerging demonic nature.
Suman's heart raced with apprehension as he contemplated the potential consequences of Ixartxist's uncontrollable transformation. The fear of Ixartxist causing harm to Tassa consumed him, compelling him to seek an agreement that would prevent such a tragedy. With a mix of hope and anxiety, Suman posed the question to Ixartxist, "Do you agree, Ixartxist?"
Ixartxist, however, remained silent, rising from his seat and retreating to his bed. He lay down, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. "I'm slowly changing, aren't I?" he finally voiced his realization, his voice tinged with a sense of resignation.
Suman, concerned and curious, joined Ixartxist on the bed, taking a seat beside him. "What do you mean?" he asked gently, sensing the weight of Ixartxist's words.
Ixartxist let out a heavy sigh, his voice filled with a mix of despair and self-awareness. "I have created a thousand shadow demons, Suman. I can no longer recognize myself. I'm losing my sight, my identity," he confessed. "But I just wanted to see Tassa one last time before I succumb to this fate. Why does it have to be like this?"
Suman's heart sank as he witnessed the torment Ixartxist was experiencing. The gravity of their intertwined destinies, the impending darkness that threatened to consume Ixartxist, and his desperate longing for a final encounter with Tassa all converged in this poignant moment. Suman couldn't help but feel a profound sadness for his friend, knowing the internal struggle he faced. He longed to offer comfort, but he understood that only Tassa held the key to soothing Ixartxist's pain. Despite standing by his friend, Suman realized the limitations of his support. He pressed his lips together and uttered softly, "Ixartxist..."
Meanwhile, in the old Mansion where Nia'le and Tassa are:
"Now it's time for dinner. What do you want, Nia'le?" Tassa inquired.
"The magic flower, perhaps," replied Nia'le.
"Magic what?" Tassa questioned, her curiosity piqued.
Nia'le approached her, explaining the concept of the magic tulips that she had mentioned. Tassa, hands on her hips, asked why he wanted to know about it.
"Well, who doesn't like magic flowers? I'm just curious about what they can do," Nia'le responded.
Tassa smiled, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "It can't do anything. I just called them magic tulips because they never die, that's all."
Nia'le scoffed, "Lame..." Tassa, undeterred by Nia'le's disinterest, persistently inquired about his dinner preferences. Nia'le, absorbed in his book and seemingly uninterested in the culinary conversation, lay on the couch, engrossed in the middle pages of the captivating story.
Curious, Tassa turned to Ayamani for insight on Nia'le's activity. Ayamani, with a shaky groan in his voice, informed her that Nia'le was engrossed in reading. Unconvinced by Nia'le's literary engagement, Tassa took matters into her own hands. In a sudden act of frustration, she grabbed a bowl and hurled it at Nia'le, successfully hitting him on the head.
Startled, Nia'le stood up, questioning Tassa about the unexpected interruption. Ayamani, standing by Tassa's side, couldn't help but balefully grin at Nia'le's misfortune. The tension escalated as Tassa, determined to get a clear answer, confronted Nia'le with the pressing question about what to do with the two fish they had. Nia'le, perhaps seeking an escape from the culinary dilemma, humorously suggested, "Turn it into chicken!" Tassa, not amused, paused for a moment before taking matters into her own hands. In a swift motion, she threw her sandal at Nia'le, who skillfully dodged it. Undeterred, Tassa grabbed anything within reach and hurled it all at Nia'le, who attempted to explain himself amidst the chaos.
In an unexpected twist, the fish became the unintended projectile. Nia'le, in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, aimed to catch the fish. Unfortunately, it ended up hitting his face and slipping onto the floor. "I'm dead," Nia'le mumbled in defeat.
Tassa, realizing the unintended consequences of her actions, rushed towards Nia'le. However, the floor became a slippery battleground due to the scattered objects. In a comical turn of events, both Tassa and Nia'le ended up slipping and falling. Sensing the need for intervention, Ayamani stepped in and carried the duo to the safety of the big sofa in the living room. In the aftermath of the chaotic culinary clash, Ayamani, rather than immediately healing the duo, allowed them to rest and contemplate the mess they had created. Tassa and Nia'le, nursing bumps on their heads, lay side by side in opposite directions, engaging in a playful blame game.
"It's your fault," Tassa asserted, prompting Nia'le to retaliate by throwing a small button at her. "No, it's yours," he retorted. The exchange escalated as throw pillows joined the airborne arsenal, turning their playful banter into a full-fledged pillow fight.
Ayamani, observing their immature antics, decided it was time for intervention. With a touch to both their necks, he induced a simultaneous loss of consciousness, putting an end to their pillow warfare.
As Tassa and Nia'le drifted into a shared slumber, Ayamani seized the opportunity to restore order. He meticulously cleaned the entire living space and took charge of the kitchen. The two fish, once instruments of chaos, were transformed into a delectable sweet and sour dish, elegantly presented on the dining table. Ayamani set the stage for a peaceful supper, arranging two plates, two glasses of water, and a pair of forks and spoons.
With the stage set, Ayamani gently woke the sleeping duo and informed them that it was time for supper. As Tassa and Nia'le groggily emerged from their slumber, they were greeted by the aroma of the delicious meal Ayamani had prepared.
The scent of the sweet and sour dish filled the air, momentarily dispelling the remnants of chaos that had engulfed the living room. As Nia'le and Tassa exchanged glances, a shared realization dawned upon them — the aroma spoke of a culinary triumph.
"Sweet and sour," they both exclaimed in unison, their taste buds anticipating the flavorful delight. Ayamani, standing silently beside Tassa, didn't utter a word. Instead, he played the role of the culinary maestro, orchestrating a dining experience that surpassed their expectations.
Nia'le, enchanted by the exquisite presentation, took Tassa's hand and gallantly assisted her to the table. Moving her chair with a touch of chivalry, he marveled at the scene before them. The beautifully plated dishes seemed to transport them to a high-end hotel.
"This is amazing, Tassa. It looks like we're in a hotel," Nia'le remarked with genuine awe.
"Well, we do live in a mansion, Nia'le," Tassa replied, savoring the moment.
Nia'le, captivated by the culinary artistry, couldn't help but tease, "Did your ghost friend make it? And could you ask him where he learned to arrange food like this? The plating is spectacular, believe me."
Tassa, unable to see the visual beauty herself, simply smiled at Nia'le's enthusiastic description. His appreciation was enough for her, confirming that Ayamani's culinary skills were truly remarkable.
With a shared sense of anticipation, Nia'le and Tassa indulged in the first bites of Ayamani's creation. The applause and compliments echoed in the dining room as Nia'le and Tassa praised Ayamani's culinary masterpiece. Nia'le, the self-appointed judge, broke down his evaluation with precision.
"This is incredible, the plating is 15%, the aroma is 5%, and the taste is 80%. If you sum it all up, you'll get 100% from me. Congratulations, chef!" Nia'le exclaimed, and both he and Tassa erupted in applause.
However, Ayamani, standing stoically amidst the applause, didn't share their enthusiasm. A cloud of unease settled over him as he grappled with an unexpected feeling – the realization that he was playing the role of a caretaker rather than the fearsome Grim Reaper he was supposed to be.
Tassa, oblivious to Ayamani's internal struggle, directed her attention to him with genuine curiosity. "Did you cook it, Ayamani? This is great, the best I've ever tasted. So, where did you learn to cook like this? You never told me about this hidden talent inside your not-so-obscure heart." She playfully pointed at Ayamani's chest.
"It's not a talent, and my heart is not obscure," Ayamani replied, his tone firm but distant.
Nia'le, always ready for banter, chimed in, "So, Tassa, why don't you tell your friend to quit his job and open a restaurant?"
Tassa, with a mischievous grin, responded, "Well, if that happens, do we get a free discount?"
"If you two don't shut up," Ayamani warned, growing weary of their banter, "I'll give you a free ticket to heaven instead." The threat silenced them both, and an awkward quiet settled over the room.
As the remnants of their delectable meal lingered on their taste buds, Tassa's curiosity about Nia'le's perception of Ayamani grew. She couldn't fathom how Nia'le, who couldn't see Ayamani, managed to sense his presence and occasionally hear him. Intrigued, she leaned in closer, her eyes filled with anticipation.
"How did you hear him, Nia'le?" Tassa inquired, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.
Nia'le, leaning back in his chair, pondered for a moment before responding. "I can feel him, Tassa. It's like an invisible presence, a subtle energy that surrounds us. And sometimes, I can hear his voice, as if it's whispered in my ear." Nia'le's fascination grew, and he couldn't help but wonder about Ayamani's appearance. As a Grim Reaper, he expected him to be a horrifying monster, draped in darkness and exuding an aura of fear. Resting his head on his hand, he leaned closer to Tassa, his eyes fixed on Ayamani.
"What does Ayamani look like?" He asked, his voice filled with anticipation.
Tassa, sensing Nia'le's eagerness, leaned in closer and encouraged her to elaborate. "Come on, Tassa, be more articulate. Describe him to me."
Tassa's gaze shifted towards Ayamani, her eyes studying his form. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, wanting to provide Nia'le with an accurate depiction of the enigmatic Grim Reaper.
"Terrifying," she finally replied, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and trepidation.
Nia'le, unsatisfied with her brief response, urged her to delve deeper. He wanted a vivid portrayal, as if he were reading a captivating passage from a book.
"Elaborate, Tassa. Describe him in detail. Paint a picture with your words," Nia'le implored, his curiosity piqued.
Tassa's gaze shifted from Nia'le to Ayamani, who stood silently beside her. She took a moment to observe him, her eyes carefully studying his features. With a sense of determination, she began to describe Ayamani's appearance in vivid detail, painting a haunting picture of the Grim Reaper.
"His face is truly grim," Tassa began, her voice filled with a mix of awe and unease. "Instead of eyes, there are hollow sockets, like dark voids that seem to swallow all light. Within those hollows, a dim red light flickers, casting an eerie glow upon his emaciated face."
Tassa continued, her words bringing Ayamani's presence to life. "He wears a robe, but it resembles more of a tattered, black bear's fur. It clings to his form, accentuating his gaunt and skeletal frame. His hands and feet, too, are emaciated, almost skeletal in appearance. His skin, though it appears decayed and putrefying, defies the natural order. It is as if he exists in a state between life and death, trapped in perpetual decay." Tassa's voice trembled as she paused, her words carrying the weight of a painful past. Nia'le could sense the anguish in her voice, and his heart went out to her. He, too, had experienced his fair share of bitter and dreadful moments, but he couldn't bear to see Tassa succumb to the same despair.
Listening attentively, Nia'le felt a surge of empathy as Tassa continued to share her story. Her words painted a bleak picture of a life shrouded in darkness, where the light of day had become an elusive memory. Blindness had robbed her of the vibrant world that others took for granted, leaving her only with the haunting presence of the deceased.
"I can't even imagine what it must be like," Nia'le whispered softly, his voice filled with compassion. "To be trapped in an eternal night, unable to see the beauty of the world or the faces of the living. It's a curse that no one should have to bear."
Tassa's clenched fist revealed the frustration and longing that had consumed her. The desire to escape her current reality, to find solace in the peace that death might bring, weighed heavily on her heart. Nia'le understood the depths of her despair, but he couldn't bear to see her lose hope.
"I understand the pain you carry, Tassa," Nia'le said gently, his voice filled with empathy. "But there is still so much to live for, even in the darkest of times. We may have endured our own hardships, but we can find strength in each other. Together, we can navigate the shadows and seek a glimmer of light."
Nia'le's words carried a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there is always a chance for redemption and a brighter future.
As Nia'le led Tassa to his room, her curiosity mingled with a sense of apprehension. She had no idea what he had in store for her, but she trusted him enough to follow along. Ayamani, sensing the unusual turn of events, trailed behind them, his confusion evident despite his inability to hear their conversation.
Once inside the room, Nia'le gently guided Tassa to his bed, their hands intertwined. His words took her by surprise, as he spoke of summoning Ayamani, the Grim Reaper, to take his own soul. Tassa's eyes widened in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend Nia'le's intentions.
Confusion and concern filled her voice as she questioned Nia'le's motives. "What are you doing, Nia'le? Why would you want Ayamani to take your soul? This doesn't make sense."
Nia'le's grip on her hand tightened, his smile unwavering. "I've been carrying my own burdens, Tassa, just as you have. I've felt the weight of despair and the allure of death. But being with you, seeing your pain, has made me realize that there is still hope, even in the darkest of times."
He paused, his eyes filled with determination. "I want to show you that there is joy to be found in life, even amidst the shadows. By facing the Grim Reaper together, we can challenge the notion that peace can only be found in death. We can find a way to embrace life and create our own happiness."
Tassa's resolve remained firm as she gently withdrew her hand from Nia'le's grasp. She understood that his offer was driven by a desire to alleviate her pain, but she couldn't accept it as a solution for everyone. Death, she believed, was a deeply personal choice, and she couldn't bear the weight of taking someone else's life.
"I appreciate your intentions, Nia'le," Tassa replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "But this option is for me alone. I cannot make that decision for someone else. I need to find my own way, even if it means facing the infinite night on my own."
Nia'le's touch on her cheek caught her off guard, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and understanding. He pleaded with her, wanting to share in her experience, to be a companion in her journey through the darkness.
"Please, Tassa," Nia'le implored, his voice filled with sincerity. "I just want to be there for you, to walk alongside you in the infinite nightmare you speak of. Let's face it together, and perhaps, in that shared experience, you won't feel so alone. We can have late-night talks, explore the depths of the night, and find moments of joy amidst the darkness. Just the two of us, where you can see me and truly look into my eyes."
Tassa hesitated, torn between her desire to shield herself from further pain and the possibility of finding solace in Nia'le's presence. She spoke with a hint of uncertainty, her voice wavering slightly.
"No, Nia'le. I think it's better if I don't see your face," Tassa replied, her words laced with a mix of self-preservation and concern for his well-being.
Nia'le's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and disappointment crossing his features. He interrupted her, his voice filled with conviction.
"But what if I have faith in you, Tassa? What if I believe that you have the power to bring my soul back? If you can't, then it means I am truly insignificant."
Tassa's eyes widened, realizing the weight of Nia'le's words. His belief in her abilities, his unwavering trust, touched her deeply. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there could be someone who saw her worth and believed in her.
As the room fell into a contemplative silence, Tassa grappled with her decision. Would she take a chance on Nia'le's offer, embracing the night with him and discovering the possibility of connection and joy? Or would she continue to shield herself from the pain, fearing the consequences of failure?
The choice lay before her, and only she could determine the path she would take.
Tassa's gaze bore into Nia'le, a mixture of determination and understanding in her eyes. She acknowledged his feelings and intentions but asserted her own boundaries. With a soft smile, she reassured him that the decision he offered was hers alone to make.
"Don't worry, Tassa. I won't harbor resentment. Instead, I'll be proud of you, you know why?" Tassa grinned to his words laced with warmth.
"Because you love me?" She asked.
Nia'le's expression wavered, caught off guard by Tassa's unexpected response. Before she could react, he continued, revealing a depth to his words that echoed beyond the surface.
"Ah, no. Because at least you've proven something to me," Tassa asserted, her smile unwavering. "You've proven how significant you are, even in the face of such a drastic choice."
She released his hand, playfully pinching his thigh, leaving a small red mark on his pants. Nia'le, humbled by her words, chose not to engage in an argument. Instead, he apologized and held onto her soft hands, their connection strengthening as they lay together on the bed.
As they intertwined their fingers, the room embraced a serene atmosphere, a fragile peace settling between them. However, Ayamani, the Grim Reaper, stood firm in his opposition to Nia'le's plan. He voiced his concerns, emphasizing the gravity of what Nia'le proposed—resurrecting the dead, a forbidden act.
"This is ridiculous and selfish, Nia'le," Ayamani admonished, his spectral presence exuding a sense of stern disapproval. "Bringing someone back from the dead isn't a mere jest. It's forbidden, a practice known as resurrection."
Tassa, ever calm and composed, addressed Ayamani with a thoughtful response. "He won't be dead, Ayamani, just sleeping. Bring us back after 10 minutes."
Tassa's plea to Ayamani carried a sense of urgency and trust. She implored him to believe in their journey, assuring him that everything would be alright. Ayamani, though hesitant, bowed his head in acquiescence, recognizing the unwavering determination in Tassa's eyes.
"I beg you, Ayamani," Tassa pleaded softly, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and conviction.
Ayamani, the guardian of the afterlife, understood the weight of Tassa's request. He silently acknowledged her command, agreeing to accompany them on their extraordinary journey. With a gentle touch, he extracted Nia'le's soul from his physical body, seamlessly transporting him to a dimension beyond death.
In this ethereal realm, Tassa stood before Nia'le, her presence radiant in a gray dress, her golden hair elegantly braided. Ayamani, ever watchful, tended to their physical bodies, ensuring their safe return when the time was right.
"Welcome back, Nia'le," Tassa greeted him warmly, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and joy.
Nia'le, now separated from his mortal form, approached Tassa cautiously, his curiosity evident. He asked if she could truly see him now, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation. Tassa's smile widened, and she responded with a touch of playful honesty.
"Well, unfortunately, yes," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Nia'le, seizing the opportunity to indulge in a moment of lightheartedness, gave her a sidelong glance, attempting to channel the charm of James Dean with a hand resting on his chin.
"Well, can you describe how handsome I am now that you can see me, Tassa?" he inquired, a playful glimmer in his eyes.
Tassa's response held a touch of mystery, her words carefully chosen.
"Unfortunately, I can't," she replied, her tone teasing. "From certain angles, I find it difficult to determine how to describe you."
Tassa's laughter resonated in the ethereal space, a lightness that contrasted with Nia'le's cold gaze. The playful exchange halted abruptly as a memory stirred within Tassa, reminiscent of someone named Ixartxist.
"Are you done?" Nia'le interrupted, his expression unyielding.
Tassa, caught off guard by the sudden shift, gathered herself before responding, "Oh, um... yeah. Anyway, where are we?"
"We are in the exact moment where you're supposed to say how handsome I am," Nia'le retorted with a hint of playful arrogance.
Tassa, attempting to regain her composure, chuckled. "Oh, yeah... about that. I can see a tall, fair guy with big curly brown hair. He has blue ocean eyes, kind of like my... ex."
Nia'le's curiosity piqued, he questioned, "Who?"
Tassa blushed, her hands covering her cheeks, and she turned away. "Did I say ex? Well, he's not yet, but he's supposed to be. However, I'm not planning to divorce him no matter what happens. Wait, divorce is for marriage, and we aren't yet—"
Before she could finish, Tassa squeaked and screamed, startling the serene atmosphere. Nia'le quickly silenced her with a stern command.
"Shut it!" he insisted.
Undeterred, Tassa continued with her whimsical banter, "I'll be inviting you to our wedding, Na-eyal."
"It's Nia'le, and whatever," he replied, a mixture of annoyance and amusement in his tone.
As their conversation unfolded, a red dim light pierced through the darkness—the eyes of a Grim Reaper. Nia'le's eyes widened at the sight of ghosts and unimaginable creatures. It was his first encounter with such entities, sparking a mix of awe and trepidation.
"This isn't really bad, don't you think?" Nia'le remarked, trying to find a positive perspective.
Tassa, however, responded with a bored expression, questioning his outlook. "Really?" she asked.
Undeterred, Nia'le enthusiastically pointed at the spectral beings around them. "Look, you see those ghosts lingering around?"
Tassa, unimpressed, replied, "Who doesn't?"
Nia'le, with a unique perspective, shared his view. "Well, for me, they all look like lanterns in real life. Especially the way they float up, and not to mention they kinda look like white paper floating in the air. And you see these creepy red dim lights because of those Grim Reaper's eyes? Well, for me, they all look like shining fireflies, making the pavement glow for us." Tassa couldn't help but marvel at the imaginative way Nia'le perceived the surreal surroundings.
As Tasss attempted to walk away, Nia'le held her hand and began singing, "You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies." Tassa couldn't help but laugh at his less-than-impressive singing voice.
"Talk about no talent. Well, that's the hidden talent that you really need to hide, deep inside ya," she teased. Nia'le simply smiled and held both of her hands, encouraging her to embrace the surreal moment.
"Come on, Tassa. Don't look back," he urged.
Tassa, skeptical of the whimsical scene
unfolding, retorted, "But what you're doing is ridiculous. I'm not a kid, Nia'le. You're turning this infinite night into your imaginary place."
Nia'le, undeterred, responded with a touch of romanticism, "An imaginary place of us. Well, am I supposed to be afraid in this place? It's better to stay here and skip time than to go to jail, you know?"
Tassa abruptly stopped and confronted him with a serious question, inquiring if it was true that he had killed about 50 people. She also pressed for the reason behind such actions. Nia'le, maintaining a mysterious demeanor, responded, "Well, it's 43. And it's hard to explain. Stop meddling, will you?"
Tassa, filled with concern, glared at Nia'le and tightly held his hand, urging him to share his burdens. "It's okay to say it to me," she reassured him. However, Nia'le let go of her hand, turning his back and walking away.
"I'm sorry. I just don't want to remember it anymore. You see, just like you, I am also living in an infinite nightmare because of my horrible past. And if only I can forget it," he confessed.
Tassa approached him, apologizing for bringing up the painful topic. Surprisingly, Nia'le didn't harbor resentment. Instead, he immediately accepted her apology.
"It's not your fault. It's me who's being implicit," he acknowledged.
As Tassa looked up at him, a sense of connection resonated with the past, reminiscent of Ixartxist. Nia'le suggested they walk and talk, steering away from the topic of his felony.
"Let's enjoy this moment, shall we?" he proposed, extending his hand to Tassa, waiting for her to take it. Tassa gulped, a wave of memories washed over her. She watched as Nia'le bowed before her, a gesture that reminded her of Ixartxist, who had once done the same. Slowly, she reached out and held his hand, a slight smile forming on her lips.
"You remind me of someone," she confessed.
Nia'le and Tassa continued walking together, their arms intertwined, engaged in joyful conversation. Nia'le, curious, asked, "Yeah, who could it be?"
Tassa's voice softened as she replied, "My dear Xart." The mention of Ixartxist brought a mix of nostalgia and warmth, intertwining their present journey with the echoes of a cherished past.