Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO

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The silence between us was deafening, punctuated only by the faint hum of Eve's spiraling hair and the occasional crackle of the chandelier's ethereal light. Her black sclera gleamed like twin abysses, and her grin remained wide and unyielding.

The floating hands around her flexed restlessly, their fingers twitching as though eager to grasp or destroy.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. My voice cut through the oppressive silence, calm and deliberate.

If there was one thing that I'm really good at, it was convincing others using words to do my bidding.

But for the first time, I want to do it to connect myself with others.

"I love humans."

The statement seemed to catch Eve off guard. Her spirals slowed almost imperceptibly, and her grin faltered for the briefest moment before she tilted her head in mock curiosity. "Oh?" she purred, her voice a discordant melody that calmly stabilized into one unified will. "How quaint. And what brought on this sudden declaration, my dear Daffodil? Trying to charm me with sentimentality?"

I ignored her taunt, stepping closer. "Humans are fragile, short-lived, and often irrational. They stumble through life burdened by fear, doubt, and suffering. And yet, they possess something extraordinary—compassion and trust."

Eve's grin returned, wider and more unsettling than before. One of her floating hands cupped an invisible chin, her spirals resuming their maddening dance. "Compassion and trust, you say? How... pedestrian. Tell me, does this little philosophy of yours extend to the ones who betrayed and abandoned you? Or are those, too, forgiven under your oh-so-magnanimous heart?"

I held my ground. "I'm not naive, and you know it. I know humans are flawed. I know they can be cruel, selfish, and destructive. But they can also be kind, selfless, and resilient. And it's those moments of kindness, of trust freely given and shared, that make them remarkable and loveable." I took another step forward, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on me. "You should know, Eve. You can tell when someone is speaking the truth."

Her spirals faltered again, her grin shrinking ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in her expression—only a flicker of something unnameable.

I seized the moment into my grasp. "I'm telling the truth, and you know it. Just as I know another truth about you."

Eve's grin twisted into a sneer, her voice sharpening. "Careful, Daffodil. You're treading on dangerous ground."

I didn't stop. "You're lonely, Eve. Aren't you?"

The sneer vanished, replaced by a startled, almost imperceptible gasp. Her spirals stuttered, the chaotic rhythm breaking like a poorly tuned instrument. The floating hands froze mid-motion, their claws curling inward as if to shield her.

"Don't," she hissed, her voice layered with venom. "Don't you dare."

But I pressed on, my voice steady and unwavering. "You don't even fully understand that loneliness because it's all you've ever known. It's woven into your existence, a part of who and what you are.

"You lash out, you destroy, you cling to chaos because it's the only way you can feel something—anything—through the emptiness."

Eve's spirals unraveled completely, her hair falling in disjointed waves that swayed like pendulums. Her floating hands retreated, hovering closer to her body like wounded animals. For the first time, her grin disappeared entirely, leaving her expression stark and raw.

"And I know this," I continued, my voice softening, showcasing a genuine smile that I had been showing so much ever since I came to Carcosa, "because I'm the same."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Eve stared at me, her wide eyes brimming with something unspoken.

I took another step forward, closing the distance between us. "You can tell if I'm lying, can't you?" I asked quietly. "You know I'm telling the truth.

"I'm not saying this to hurt you or manipulate you, but I have no reason to give you the warmth you need, nor will I do it even if you force me."

Eve blinked, the black ichor streaking from her eyes slowing to a trickle. Her spirals reformed hesitantly, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "You... what?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You can't mean that. You shouldn't mean that. Why is this only happening to me…! How dare you…! Is this what they meant by my pitiful fate…? I want you to be honest, but not this honest… STOP SAYING THE TRUTH—!!"

I didn't let her finish. Closing the remaining distance between us, I reached out and wrapped my arms around her.

The moment my arms encircled her, I felt her entire body stiffen. Her floating hands twitched violently, as though torn between lashing out and retreating entirely. Her spiraling hair stilled, cascading around her like a frozen waterfall.

For a moment, I thought she might retaliate—shatter me with her eldritch power or unravel me from existence. But she didn't.

Instead, she stood there, frozen, as though the concept of a hug was entirely foreign to her.

I tightened my embrace, pressing my forehead against her shoulder. "But I still want to give you what you've been searching for," I uttered. "The warmth you've never known. The connection you've longed for but couldn't understand. Because I too, have been a victim of such fate for a long time, and maybe I will become like that once again in my foreseeable dark future."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Eve's body trembled under my touch, her voice a fractured whisper. "You... you don't know what you're saying. I'm the Holy Witch, a banished existence! I've destroyed worlds. I've torn apart timelines. I've—"

"And yet, you hesitated," I interrupted gently. "You didn't destroy this realm. You didn't destroy me or my people. Because deep down, you've found something you didn't know you were searching for—a kindred spirit."

Every time Eve attempted to communicate, there was always this faint voice that was almost impossible to hear if I didn't look back and listened to every variation of the sentences that she uttered.

Like every single one amongst the hundreds.

And amongst them, was a lonely voice who wants nothing but to have someone she can share her woes and troubles with, and maybe someone who can ease the sinking weight in her heart.

Something that I also longed for a very long time.

Her spirals faltered again, their chaotic dance slowing to a gentle sway. The black ichor streaking from her eyes began to fade, the inky black sclera softening into a pure, unblemished white.

A single floating hand hovered near her chest, trembling as though unsure whether to shield her heart or reach out.

"How...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "How can you... forgive me? How can you stand there and say these things when you know what I am?"

"Because I know what it's like to be lost," I replied. "To feel like there's no place for you in this world. To crave connection but be terrified of it, and unable to fully connect the bridge between two different hearts."

For the first time, Eve's expression softened into something almost human—a faint, trembling frown. Her spiraling twin-tails slowed to a near-stop, their motion gentle and deliberate.

"I... don't know what to say," she murmured, her voice fragile and unsteady, but it was the most stable and unified out of all the sentences that she had uttered.

"You don't have to say anything," I said softly, slightly sighing at how easy I was, now that Eve was also no longer unstable like before. "Just be. In fact, I want to lend these pointy ears of mine if you have anything you want to say, since it is not a chance you'll get very often."

She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. At the same time, there was an air of maturity and clarity, as a bittersweet smile began to form on her human face.

"Would you... like to hear a story?"