Lacrima: Twenty Five

Can She Hear Me?

Konrad twisted the knob of the faucet. He didn’t wash his hands, nor did he splash his face with the cool water. He merely let the water freely flow down into the drain. The rushing stream of water before it broke against the inner basin calmed him. Analyzing his face, he saw his features remained still.

Konrad gulped before exhaling through gritted teeth. He just saw pure, unfiltered evidence that when people die in the mansion, they become a Servant. Just as he suspected when he first picked up Esau’s photo and saw the resemblance in the screenshot of the camera feed. When he watched the cameras with…

With…

The grinding sensation awakened in his brain. His eyes fluttered, as he pressed his thumbs into his temples. Konrad knew the headache occurred whenever he even thought about going against Lucille’s script. Anything Lucille disapproved of couldn’t be entertained, even if outwardly you still played your “character.” Yet, Konrad lingered on the thought. He let the tendrils drill into his brain. He needed to fill the space of a person he was forced to forget about.

Who was that? If Lucille doesn’t want me thinking about this person, then they have to be important. It can’t be Argus, since I can easily think about him.

Who looked at the footage with me? It wasn’t Job - he was lying on his bed. Lucille pulled me away from the computer.

My partner.

Tapping. An inorganic rhythm played in his mind. The flash of a fingernail tapping against a chair reshuffled to the front of his memories. Mentally, he stretched through the barbed tunnels, letting himself get pricked over and over again. His face in the reflection became taut, stretched as he tried to shield against the tempest within. As he descended, he felt a plunging sensation. He remembered floorboards opening up and swallowing Bae Yuri, headed towards this person. Konrad grunted, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the cry before it escaped. All he could scavenge was that esoteric beat associated with this scratched-out figure and that they were beneath the mansion.

His hand fell from his mouth and he panted over the sink. Konrad dunked his head into the water, using his hands to lather water over him. The water, at this point, had cooled to a near-freezing temperature. It numbed the skin. He realized, with this mental barrier implanted, he couldn’t just push through. Frustration roiled inside him.

He thought it would be so easy, playing this role. But the costume chaffed as he moved.

I need to get off this island, he thought. There’s nothing else here for me. The cheap thrills are done. I’ve had my fill. Me-ma’s prodigal son can return now. But, now I’m stuck in this - what? - romantasy roleplay?

The raw clenching headache ebbed away, but a general pricking jabbing at him. There seemed to be levels to the prohibitions Lucille placed in their minds. Konrad trudged his sore brain to a potential aid. Some way of escaping without alerting Lucille until the very moment he leaves.

We leave, he promised. At minimum, I’m taking Bae with me. She wants to get out as much as me - if not more.

Job… if he’s not drowned in Lucille by then.

Of course, I want to retrieve the person locked below.

But how are we going to leave?

Konrad hadn’t yet thought about the ever-present storm outside. That would come later. The pressing issue was the mansion itself. If he could learn how the mansion worked better than Lucille, or at least find a flaw in the system, that could be the key to getting out.

Job and I were getting pretty close in taking another step in understanding this mansion, but…

Even that was obscured in brain-fog. He struggled to conjure the conversation with Job and Bae before the Servants came and subdued them. However, he could piece together a jagged recollection.

Esau wanted to engineer an afterlife. Lacrima and this mansion was his attempt to do just that. The Servants are just people who have died within the mansion - like Argus.

Konrad let that revelation stick with him. It didn’t sit right with him. He wanted ghosts to be real. More honestly, he didn’t want death to be the end. But for this to be the truth…

It may not be the whole truth, he thought. Regardless, Esau’s afterlife project has borne some kind of fruit. The mechanism behind such a continuation of consciousness will have to be a guess.

Esau’s sketches of brains enclosed in circuitous borders came through the thick folds of his mind. He remembered Bae’s experience of hearing her own thoughts the deeper she delved. How this other person could hear her and project words through their mind as well.

Lucille’s admin privileges…

The forcing of thoughts into a person’s head. The manual rewinding of their traumas and past wounds to push to them what you want them to be. Adding grievous mental blocks, making an ill-fitted iron maiden of someone’s own cognition.

Konrad tried to connect Lucille’s powers and the mysteries of Esau’s design together. He wanted to create a holistic understanding of Lacrima’s mansion. Only then, he reasoned, could he find a loophole, an escape hatch, a way to get the hell out of here!

A chain of knocks ripped him from his jumbled reflection.

“Konrad.” Lucille’s voice cut an icy gale, stifling his breath. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

“One second,” he heaved out. He gulped before opening the door to Lucille. She stood in the middle of his personal room, as it was assigned to her.

This is her house, he grimly thought.

Konrad chuckled and leaned in the doorway. In degrees, the so-called “real” him slipped into his skin. “Excuse me, Lucille, I just… y’know, get overwhelmed easily.”

Is that good enough?

Lucille nodded her head. “I understand. Is Elysium too much?”

Good, but my next move… ?

Konrad couldn’t tell if Lucille was being genuine or nudging him to tow the line and get back into the roleplay. He searched her face - a paradox of expressiveness. The folds and corners of her face moved so much to hide what laid mere inches beneath.

Lucille plays her role the best. The game is rigged.

The corners of her mouth dipped.

Wait. It took every fiber of his being to hold down this new possibility that struck his sore head. Can she hear me? Does she have the telepathic powers like the ones Bae glimpsed below? It was Lucille’s voice I heard in my dream-looping. Oh God, is she in my mind now.

Before anything he could make another move towards escape, this needed to be found out. Konrad shifted back to the conversation.

“A little,” he answered her question which seemed to be uttered an eternity ago. “After what you told us, it really turns upside down all the assumptions I had about this mansion.”

“That was the case for me as well,” she said, closing her eyes. “When I first became the steward of this place, I had to really sit down and think about what needed to be done. Esau’s mission needed to continue. But without the man himself, it became harder. More complicated.”

“I can imagine.” He paused. “Say, what happened to Esau?”

Lucille’s eyelids fluttered. For a microsecond, he thought he misstep, but the lack of a headache assured him he still followed the script. Or at least he didn’t trip any wires.

“He’s with the King.” She looked at her feet, tapping her shoes on the ground. “Below us. Not dead, but waiting.”

“So, when Bae…” Konrad considered his phrasing. “... made that mistake and dove below, could she have gotten to meet Esau?”

“In a way.” Her eyes glided off to the side. It was then that a warning jab pricked his mind. The pain wasn’t the full storm, but the clap of thunder before lightning. Konrad knew he danced in the margins of the forced script, but he had no choice. He needed Lucille to think he was playing this game until his full escape. However, that would be infinitely harder if Lucille had root access to his internal monologue. How could he tell if Lucille could hear his thoughts?

Think of something she would have to react to.

Konrad looked at Lucille. She had this silvery eyeshadow that subtly outlined her upper and lower eyelids. He imagined a smear. A simple smear just below the left eye. With the best of mental conjuration, he saw with this imagined vision. Lucille, everything in order, except for her makeup had a meager blemish.

“What do you have planned next on the docket?” Konrad asked, still burning the false make up smear over Lucille’s real face.

Lucille’s wandering expression clicked back into the present moment. “I hope you packed your swimsuit because Bae and Job are already in the pool!”

“I’d love to go down, though,” he said, pinching his chin, “I don’t remember if I packed any trunks.”

“Service can find something for you.” Her hand flapped. “Once we’re done with the pool, I think a more relaxed evening is in order. We’ll have a tea party. Listen to some music.”

“Will the Servants play for us?”

“You know, I didn’t think of that.” The possibilities swam beneath her face. She snapped her fingers. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Thank you,” he laughed. “Now that Elysium is in full swing. The possibilities are limitless.”

Breathing in, Lucille tensed up before relaxing. Tears fell down her cheeks. She peeled off her gloves and wiped her cheeks.

“What’s the matter?”

“I-I’m sorry.” Lucille walked over to the vanity. “I’m happy. I’m so happy.”

“About what?”

“You!” She ran into Konrad, nearly knocking him down. He stared down as Lucille buried her crying face into his stomach. “I’m glad that you see things my way.”

After you imprisoned and brainwashed us, he let slip. Lucille is delusional.

Hold on.

He patted Lucille on the back. Her crying did not stop. The sobs and laughs pushed into his body. They filled the hollow parts of him. Her arms vice gripped around him.

This isn’t an act. He knew this because he felt it. Felt her. This is genuine.

If she heard my thoughts just then, she would have stopped. She would’ve realized that I’m not genuine. She would know what I really think about her.

I didn’t need the makeup smear.

I needed this.

Konrad sighed in relief. Now, he thought his thoughts of escape become articulated.

This other person is still down below. Could it be possible that they are “with the King” like Esau? They’re outside of Lucille’s control. Could there be a way to break through to them? For us to help each other?

This raw desire to reach and help this unknown person permeated him. Konrad knew Lucille scrubbed them - redacted this person from their minds. That means whoever this is poses a risk to her and her control.

Not even Bae could reach the lowest depths. I’ll have to find another way to connect with them. Communicate with them.

Several thoughts bashed all at once, ricochetting. They collided against the boundaries, much like the balls in the billiard game he lost decisively in an hour ago. Finally, he had his next step. It was a long shot, but one that could be played at this moment in time.

Lucille slumped off Konrad. Now, her eyeshadow really did streak down her cheeks. She looked up and smiled. Konrad felt bad for deceiving her. Then he remembered what she did to them.

He felt much less bad.

Konrad grinned. “I have another of what we could do.”

“I love your ideas.” She opened her hands to him. “What is it?”

“Have you heard of a ouija board?”