The lunchroom buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the clatter of cutlery against plates. I found an empty seat at the long, crowded table, surrounded by the energetic chatter of my co-workers. The scent of various meals wafted through the air, creating a curious blend of aromas that mingled and danced. I settled into the chair, glancing around at familiar faces engrossed in their lunches.
I unwrapped the foil from my sandwich, the crisp sound almost drowned out by the lively discussions. As I took a bite, the flavors burst in my mouth—savory ham, creamy cheese, and the satisfying crunch of fresh lettuce. It was like heaven in a roll; I'm so glad Seion knows what I like. Imagining her up at four in the morning whipping this lunch together for me makes each bite taste that much better.
I delightfully chewed my food at the rowdy table as my coworkers exchanged stories about different women they slept with during the weekend and plans to do it all over again the next. It was the same thing different day, big-wig wannabes acting the part they've worked for their entire lives.
These guys act like Wall Street executives—or at the very least look the part. Simple but tasteful hairstyles, with hair-controlling gel infused in each strand. Armani, Hugo, Tom Ford—you name it—suits, tailored to perfectly align with their modish waistbands. Loafers that might cost the average person a month's rent, shined and glossed each day before work. The "highlighters" of society, my wife might say.
A group of people all fighting for a promotion with a single seat available, but they lack the ignorance to act outlandishly towards each other for that reason. They are the snazzy, chic opposite of the modest outlook I have on society.
I was uncomfortable with the thick smells of cigar smoke and alcohol on their clothes, but even if I left, they'd simply find another reason to pull me into their group because I looked similar. As a person without the confidence to deny them, I found my silent lunches intermingled with the rowdiness of the table.
"Hey, Ken?"
There it was, the single question that would be aimed towards me regardless if I talked at all. I rolled my eyes as I turned to glance up at their faces all collectively staring at me. It was going to be some dumb middle schooler question like, "would you rather" I bet. Nonetheless, all I could do was answer and not stick out like a sore thumb.
"Me and the guys are going to watch some horse racing later; we might even place a few bets in between. What do ya say?"
Sounds like a dull way to spend your time after work. "Nah, I'll pass," I answered. "Seion would kill me if I went downtown for something so unreasonable. Plus, she's frying squid tonight so I can't miss that." I chuckle as my words rear off towards the end.
A few of them scoff as I refuse them for what would be the two-hundred eighty-third time this year. "Man, why are you always going on and on about Seion?" My neckbeard coworker questions. "We all get she's 'the light of your soul,' but don't you do anything else? A hobby even?"
I find myself almost flustered at the table as everyone's gaze meets my face in search of an answer. It's embarrassing to see their amalgamation of frustration poured into this very moment. I can't help but question myself, "Do I really talk about her that much?"
My long, wavy black hair scoots over my eyes as if they were trying to hide my shame as well. The weight of the room suddenly becomes heavier, and my body slumps in my metal chair to lighten the load. In spite of my efforts not to stand out within this group, I unknowingly did because of my wife. It's so stupid a smile threatens to polish my face at any second.
I sigh as my fingers trace the smooth fabric of my tailored silk suit, eventually finding the hand-length opening of my pockets as I slowly slide them inside. I lift my head just enough so my co-workers can see my eyes and stare at them silently.
A couple of seconds pass by now, and all of them wear judgy, confused looks on their faces. I begin to remember why I initially decided to sit by myself at lunch. These guys are just too vindictive of character, but of course, the hustling employees aiming for the top of the agency couldn't "leave a team member alone" and forced me into their group.
Company, wholly unwanted, put me in the box of unwanted attention.
I have to be honest with them if I want out of this nonsense once again.
"I don't know what to tell you—she's simply the piece of my soul that warms my heart," I say in a monotone. "Just like all of you have the desire to find the next gig that'll land you that CAO promotion, this is mine. Sorry if it isn't about money, clothes, and easy drunk women at clubs." My hand points a finger at each one of them as I list off their topics one by one. "I'm just not that simple."
Huh?
They collectively laugh as my feelings become apparent. It's a group chuckle as they have in the past, but this one seems more genuine than others before. It leaves a tinge of anger in the back of my mind.
"She's really got you wrapped around her pretty little finger, huh?" One of them belches out.
"I hope the pussy is worth it, my friend!" Another yelps.
"I just don't get it though Ken, why does she mean so much to you?" The neckbeard questions once more out of curiosity. "Isn't enjoying your life more important than some woman who might just divorce you and snatch half the money you earned?"
I take a sip of my afternoon coffee as I take a moment to think about it for a second. After the bitter liquid hurdles down my throat, I come up with an answer. "No, it isn't," I simply say. "I value my feelings more than any random woman or nice clothes." I avert my eyes toward the vision-impairing white lights on the ceiling as I start to think about her.
"My lifestyle was aimless once, I can't lie. I never once had the drive and passion to work as much as you guys, but I didn't have a passion for much of anything else either. I worked, played a game, slept and repeated the process for a while."
"We invited you to clubs before you met her, right? I knew you needed a thrill; that nice suit you have is wasting away here."
I chuckle a little at his words. "Thrill, huh?" I wonder if getting drunk and partying would have made a difference back then. "Nah, that isn't the point." I reiterate. "In that state of emotionless loops, I found her, and she reminded me of all the things I lost as an adult. I loved her smile. I loved her thin siren eyes. I loved how intelligent she was at the weirdest times. I loved how she'd close her eyes when she was deep in thought like some actor in a bad movie. I love the joy she brings to my day to day."
"She sounds like a disease!" They exclaim.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
—Why did I decide to remember that now?
As my eyes wander the scene, my brain shutters as a headache ensues quicker than any I've ever experienced.
I remembered sitting among the setting of the Sun's soft orange glow as it fell behind the horizon of the city. The clouds barely covered any part of the sky, and their light white shapes formed into wispy feathers coating the cityscape. The smell of the city's garbage was gone, and the drifty scent of autumn filled my nose; for the first time in forever I felt the semblance of peace, and she was sitting right next to me through it all.
A dream of a past that seemed useless, overwhelming emotions flooding my mind, and a woman with silky white hair and pale skin in the middle of it all. She faded long ago from my mind as a simple image of a person who once meant something to me, but she was back, fresh as ever within my brain. She was… Seion.
Her presence felt like a spectral whisper, a haunting echo of forgotten moments that stirred the depths of my soul. Her eyes, as deep and mysterious as the ocean at twilight. The landscape of her influence unfolded like a tapestry, each thread woven with shared laughter, stolen glances, and the profound connection that had once defined our existence.
Of course, she was always there. I hid her in the back of my innate thoughts; a person from a past too painful to comprehend.
Our day-to-day was the adventure that saved me, and I forgot about it so easily. Memories frozen in time just like the ones from my childhood, who knew more of them existed?
A tear leapt from my eye as my vision became clearer, a smile embroidered on my face like a goofy little kid.
"Mr. Ken…"
A voice cuts through my thoughts as my static vision becomes clearer. As the world slowly emerged from a hazy blur, clarity washed over my vision like a gentle tide reclaiming the shore. Details, once obscured and indistinct, sharpened into focus, revealing the form of a woman that had once been lost to the fog.
Was this Seion..? She changed her hairstyle, but she looked the same nonetheless. That smooth voice and that calm demeanor despite her husband's unconsciousness, It almost felt like I never even left my dream.
I wanted to call out to her and say something like, "I'm here, you never left my heart Sion!" As pathetic as it was, I wanted our lives to feel like they'd never changed. Just like that day before work, I wanted to feel the warmth of her presence once more—even if this was all just an illusion. She exuded a warmth that begged for an embrace, yet my limbs hesitated, tangled in a web of apprehension—but something stopped me. A memory still out of my grasp—something that slipped away from my attention.
A memory that, once I knew, would step over everything else. Even if I had the premonition, even if deep inside I was just convincing myself I didn't know, I wanted to do it anyway.
In the quiet cadence of my vulnerability, I took a deep breath and allowed the impulse to guide my outstretched arms toward her. The air crackled with the electricity of a suspended heartbeat as I closed the gap, my hands tentatively finding their place around her. The moment of connection unfolded in the gentle pressure of the embrace, a silent acknowledgment that words could not encapsulate. As my body melded into hers, a subtle warmth permeated the space between us, transcending the physical contact into an intimate language of comfort. It was a simple act, a hug, yet within its embrace, I forged a bridge of understanding and solace—and at the same time, I found sadness.
This wasn't her.
"Unfortunately, I'm not Mrs. Seion."
The tears flooded down Mei Mei's uniform. It wasn't a good look, it wasn't how I wanted to portray myself to her, but I couldn't stop them. This entire time I was staring into the face of a person near Identical to Seion, but I never remembered. Her face, her hazel eyes, the lunch she made me every day before work—I deserted them all once I saw that News story.
"M-Mr. Ken, would you mind moving? Your cursed energy is so dense with hatred a sorcerer of my caliber may be crushed by its proportions.
"A-ah sorry. —Wait, cursed energy?"
"Yes, Indeed. And by the looks of it, you've been busy."
—That's odd. She looks extremely flustered.
Her cheeks, usually composed and neutral, now blazed with a rosy hue that betrayed the internal tumult. Fingers fumbled nervously, attempting to conceal the unspoken turbulence coursing through them. I couldn't decide whether to intervene and alleviate her distress or discreetly appreciate the human vulnerability unfolding before me, like a rare, unscripted moment in the theater of Mei Mei's emotions.
"Your clothes…"
My what?
Staring down at myself, I couldn't escape the gruesome reality that I was now a man covered in blood—blue blood. The gooey stains clung to my clothes, transforming the fabric into a morbid canvas that told a story of chaos and unforeseen events. My hands, once unblemished just hours ago at my job, now bore the disgusting evidence of an encounter with the unthinkable.
Was I crazy—even if I was, what creature bore blue blood when severed? Especially one just roaming the city limits of Japan untouched—until I killed it.
"Ah, you're so beautiful, Jinmeiyo." Mei Mei laughed.
The air thickened with a strange tension, a palpable shift in the atmosphere as Mei Mei's intense gaze bore into my blood-stained attire. Her eyes, now fixated on the aftermath of my violent encounter, seemed to harbor a newfound fascination, like an artist captivated by the chaos on a canvas. It was an unsettling transformation, as if the mundane reality of our work relationship had unraveled, revealing the enigmatic core beneath. In the span of that singular blink, she closed the professional gap, transcending the boundaries of our roles.
The creak of the bed's springs beneath her added an eerie cadence to the surreal scene, underscoring the gravity of the moment. Mei Mei's proximity defied the norms of professional decorum, her thighs brushing against mine through the fabric of our respective garments. The warmth emanating from her touch clashed with the cold reality of the blue blood staining my clothes. As our eyes locked in mutual bewilderment, an uncertainty hung deep within my mind.
Were we simply both insane?
Then, with a deliberate yet gentle motion, her hands cupped my face, anchoring me in an intimacy that transcended any prior interactions. Her breath, warm against my ear, carried the weight of her whispered words: "Welcome to the market, my magnificent creation." The cryptic phrase lingered, leaving a trail of unanswered questions in its wake.