Eternal Beauty | Chapter 11

“In dreams, we walk with ghosts, unaware of what they carry.”

—Jayden Pierre

Kei opened his eyes to find himself adrift on an endless sea of red.

The sky above was colorless, a vast expanse of muted gray that seemed to stretch on forever. He sat on the floor of a small wooden boat, the surface beneath him creaking with every ripple of the crimson water. The liquid wasn’t transparent; it was thick and heavy, its surface reflecting faint, distorted shapes.

Kei blinked, his breath shallow as he took in his surroundings. His mind felt sluggish, as though trapped in the syrupy stillness of the scene. At the bow of the boat stood a figure cloaked in shadow, its form tall and imposing. The figure moved, its gnarled hands gripping long oars that dipped silently into the water. Each stroke sent soft ripples across the red expanse, but no sound came—only the oppressive silence of the void.

“Where…” Kei began, his voice trembling. He swallowed hard, the taste of copper lingering on his tongue. “Where am I?”

The figure didn’t respond. Its head tilted slightly, the folds of its hood shifting like smoke.

Kei leaned forward cautiously, his fingers brushing the boat’s edge. The wood was damp and cold, the texture rough against his skin. He peered into the water, his reflection staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Then, the surface rippled.

Kei froze as a face began to emerge, pale and luminous against the red depths. Long black hair floated around it like ink, the strands twisting and curling as if alive.

“Marin,” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat.

Her eyes opened, locking onto his with an intensity that made his chest tighten. Her lips parted, but the words she spoke were muffled, carried on a current he couldn’t hear. She raised a hand toward him, her movements slow and deliberate.

“Come with me,” she said, her voice faint and melodic.

Kei felt himself leaning closer, his body moving of its own accord. The water’s surface seemed to draw him in, the ripples forming concentric circles that pulsed faintly.

Then, another ripple.

Beside Marin, another face appeared.

Kei recoiled, his heart pounding as Sugei’s sharp features broke through the surface. His expression was stark, his gaze piercing, but his eyes held none of the warmth Kei remembered.

“You let us drown,” Sugei said, his voice low and unyielding. “No,” Kei whispered, shaking his head. “I didn’t…”

Their faces turned toward him in unison, their movements eerily synchronized.

“You let us die,” they said together, their voices merging into a hollow chorus that seemed to reverberate through the boat.

Kei clutched the edge of the boat, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself.

Kei’s fingers slipped on the wet wood as the boat rocked, his breath catching in his throat. He wanted to shout back at them, to deny it, but the words felt useless. His chest ached, his lungs shallow, and before he could stop himself, the thoughts spilled out.

“I know I’ve failed,” he whispered, the sound barely carrying over the silence. “Marin…I couldn’t hold on to you. When you left, everything broke. The world stopped being what it was supposed to be. Colors drained. Days blurred. I haven’t seen anything the same since. I’ve tried to keep moving, but I’ve been stuck there, always stuck.” His voice shook, but he kept going, unable to hold it in.

He pressed a hand to his face, his skin damp with sweat and tears. “And now Sugei—seeing him like this, seeing him wear you—it tears me apart. I hate it, I hate him for doing it, I hate myself for not being able to look away. Every time he moves like you, every time his voice bends just the way yours did, it feels like you’re here again. My chest beats faster, my head spins, and I don’t know if I want to scream or fall to my knees.”

His throat tightened. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop? Why do I keep letting myself get pulled in, when I know it’s twisted, when I know it’s not you? I don’t want this, I never wanted this. But I keep falling further, and I don’t know how to climb out.”

He bowed his head, his words spilling faster now, ragged with desperation. “Please forgive me. I don’t know how to carry this anymore. I don’t know how to live with myself like this.”

The water began to churn, the ripples growing into waves that rocked the boat violently. Marin and Sugei’s faces twisted and stretched, their features melting into one grotesque form. Black voids replaced their eyes, their mouths splitting into jagged grins that oozed dark liquid.

“You betrayed us,” the voice hissed, deep and guttural. Kei screamed as the boat tipped, his body plunging into the crimson depths.

He woke with a gasp, his chest heaving as he sat upright in his bed. The faint light of early morning filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room.

His body was drenched in sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead in damp strands. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, his heartbeat erratic as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him.

The silence of the dorm felt oppressive, the faint hum of the campus waking up outside doing little to ground him. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, his hands shaking as he slid them on.

The reflection in the mirror across the room caught his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw something behind him—long black hair, dark eyes staring back at him. He turned quickly, his breath catching, but the room was empty.

He exhaled shakily, dragging his hands through his hair. “Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath.

The library was silent, the kind of stillness that seemed to stretch into eternity. The faint hum of the overhead lamps filled the gaps, a low, almost imperceptible drone that made every sound feel louder.

Kei pushed the heavy wooden door open, the creak of its hinges breaking the quiet. The scent of aged paper and dust greeted him, familiar and oddly comforting.

Marin was already inside. She stood near one of the tall shelves, her fingers trailing lightly along the spines of the books as she browsed. She didn’t notice him at first, her focus entirely on the row before her, but her presence filled the space, drawing his attention like a magnet.

“Late again,” she said softly without turning around.

Her voice caught him off guard, and he hesitated in the doorway, his hand still on the frame. Marin turned to face him, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“I thought you’d forgotten,” she teased, holding up a thin book with a faded cover. “You said you’d help me with the festival plans.”

Kei stepped inside, his chest tightening as the door closed behind him. The weight of her gaze pinned him in place, but he forced himself to smile. “I didn’t forget,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

Marin tilted her head, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. The faint glow from the lamp above cast soft shadows across her face, accentuating the delicate curve of her jaw and the deep crimson of her lips.

“Good,” she said simply, turning back to the shelf. Kei joined her, keeping a careful distance as he scanned the titles. The proximity was unnerving; he could feel the faint warmth of her presence, the subtle lavender scent that clung to her like a second skin.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Marin said after a moment, her tone casual. Kei tensed. “Have I?”

Marin glanced at him, her gaze sharp yet unreadable. “Yes. I wonder why that is.”

He swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly.

Marin hummed softly, a sound that was neither agreement nor dismissal. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “I still think about the creek sometimes.”

Kei froze, his breath catching in his throat. Marin continued, her eyes fixed on the row of books in front of her. “The way the water felt, how cold it was…The sound of the trees in the wind. It was peaceful, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Kei admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Marin turned to face him fully now, the book in her hands forgotten. Her gaze was steady, piercing, and Kei felt as though she were looking straight through him.

“Do you ever wish if things could’ve been different?” she asked, her tone heavy with something he couldn’t name.

Kei hesitated, his chest tightening. “I try not to think about it.” 

Marin smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it.

Later that afternoon, Kei found himself wandering the campus grounds. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the stone paths. The faint murmur of students filled the air, mingling with the rustle of cherry blossoms in the breeze.

He passed a small group of students seated on a bench, their laughter light and unrestrained. One of them, a girl with short, choppy hair and round glasses, looked up as he approached. She smiled shyly, ducking her head when he met her gaze.

Kei nodded in acknowledgment, his steps slowing as he overheard snippets of their conversation.

“Have you seen the Vice President?” one of them asked, her voice hushed.

“The one who’s practically a model?” another chimed in, her tone laced with awe.

Kei’s stomach twisted, his thoughts immediately drawn to Marin. He quickened his pace, their voices fading into the background as he walked away.

The student lounge was quieter than usual, the soft hum of conversation subdued. Kei sat in the corner, his notebook open in front of him, but his pen lay untouched on the table. Marin entered the room moments later, her presence commanding without effort. She glanced around briefly before spotting Kei, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, already pulling out a chair.

Kei shook his head, his heart pounding as she sat across from him. Marin leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her gaze fixed on him. “You’re avoiding me,” she said bluntly, her tone devoid of accusation.

Kei’s eyes widened. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are, you dont talk to me.” she interrupted, her smile softening. “And that’s okay. I imagine this…arrangement is strange for you.” Kei didn’t respond, his hands gripping the edges of the notebook. Marin reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through him, his skin prickling with an unfamiliar heat.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Kei,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not afraid,” he said quickly, but his voice wavered.

Marin tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Good,” she said after a moment. “Because I don’t want you to be.”

That night, Kei sat alone in his dorm, the faint hum of the campus nightlife filtering through the window. The photo of Sugei, Marin, and himself lay on the desk in front of him. He stared at it, his chest aching with a mix of emotions he couldn’t untangle.

Marin’s words echoed in his mind, her touch still lingering on his skin. “What are you doing to me?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

He buried his face in his hands, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him like a physical force.