The Phantom

"Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night." Warning: one-sided twincest. Takes place after the series. Johan/Nina central, Tenma/Nina on the side.

~Johan~

I lost all emotion to save my sister's heart. I am content to be a monster, inward or outward. I lost all sense of morality. I am content. I forgot what "right" and "wrong" means. Yet I am content. I cannot love anyone but Anna.

Anna. Nina.

My beautiful, sweet, adoring little sister. My other half. My reason for living. And for dying.

I turn the page.

"Oh, tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead."

I pause. I glance up at the door across the street from me. Dr. Reichwein's house. "Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead," I mouthed. Is it me who said those words? Or is it Anna? I give my attention back to the book.

"Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night."

I mark my place in the book and close it, staring at the house. I see her figure in the window and assure myself I'm hiding behind the tree. No one in that house can see me if they were too look out.

Anna opens the curtains and peers down into the street, as though she sensed me. She's looking. For me? No. Dr. Tenma passes by and enters the gate. Anna leaves the window and greets him at the door.

He enters the house, I see her smile as the door closes.

In the back of my mind, I imagine what happens behind that front door. I don't know why I imagine Dr. Tenma stealing a small kiss from Anna. I don't know why this small imagined scenario makes my chest hurt.

Do I want to be greeted like that after a long time being away? To be greeted by a kiss?

My vision blurs. I can cry on whim though I feel nothing. But this isn't a predetermined action of mine. I dry my eyes with a handkerchief and open the book to a random page, just to see what awaits me.

"You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself."

I want to see her. Anna, my other half. That is all I ever wished for. To be reunited with my other half. I opened the book again.

Another passage, near the end read:

"I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears... and she did not run away!...and she did not die!... She remained alive, weeping over me, weeping with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer."

Happiness? What happiness is there in this world? I have been robbed of happiness long ago. From the moment we were born, the idea of happiness had been a nonexistent reality. Happiness is something out of story books. Happiness is something I've never had.

But I believe I was able to give Anna happiness for a while at least. And again, I'll let her have her happiness.

Oh, Anna, I am not really wicked. I am not heartless. There is something still within me that feels. Love me, and you will see.

I hear a scream from the house. A jubilant sound. What is going on in there?

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" It's Anna's voice.

Yes to what?

What?

What?

Yes to WHAT?

Anna, what are you saying "yes" to? Will you again break my heart? Will I again be left alone to wander this world with only death as my aim?

I distract myself by turning to another page in the book.

"Know that it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!...Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!...Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me!"

It is funny! Funny! I am the phantom. I resist all urge to shout at the house, at Anna: "You must know that I am made of death, from head to foot, and it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!"

I am a ghost. But a ghost that bleeds. A ghost who can die. Who has died. But has been resurrected more than once. Twice! I am a man of heaven and earth! I am flesh and blood. Am I not worthy of love? Do I not deserve pity or compassion?

I walk away, the book under my arm, thinking: But still, everyone dies. I only choose the time and place for a few.