Free Web NovelChapter 121: I am you
Alaric
The words Nico had said kept resounding in my head. They looped relentlessly, long after we had reached the villa, been shown to our respective rooms, and Nico had been pulled away by his uncle for a quick, hushed chat in the study.
We have met many times before that, Alaric. You just never paid enough attention to notice.
Where the hell had we met? It wasn’t as if I made a habit of remembering every single fan or lower-formula driver I crossed paths with over the years. But the specific, knowing way Nico had said it made it sound personal. Like he desperately wanted me to remember a fractured piece of the past, but no matter how hard I clawed at my brain, I couldn’t figure out the where or the when.
Think, Alaric. Try to remember anyone who had a close interaction with you before the accident. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
I stepped out onto the expansive stone balcony of my room, the crisp night air biting at my skin. I shut my eyes tightly, forcing myself to dig through the messy, disorganized archives of my childhood memories.
Suddenly, a strange, hollow laughter sounded right in my head.
It wasn’t my voice, yet it carried the exact same pitch, the exact same familiar feeling.
My eyes fluttered open immediately. I whipped my head around, my gaze darting across the empty, shadowed balcony to see if I had finally gone completely crazy.
Why else would I be hearing someone laughing when I was the absolute only one standing out here?
"Are you actually thinking about that now, Alaric?"
The familiar, chillingly casual voice echoed, and I spun around yet again, my muscles locking up. I knew he was probably here somewhere, hiding in the blind spots of my vision.
Harold had made another appearance. And his presence tonight just confirmed the terrifying truth I had been trying to accept over the last few weeks: he wasn’t real. He had never been real.
"Where are you?" I demanded, my voice sounding harsh against the wind.
His mocking laughter sounded yet again, vibrating directly behind my eyelids before he materialized out of thin air right in front of me. He was floating seamlessly above the balcony floor, still wearing his usual red suit.
As our eyes met, he gave me a cheerful, mocking wave.
"Hello again, Alaric."
A deep frown formed on my face, my chest tightening as I stared at him.
I hadn’t summoned him. I hadn’t asked for him to show up, nor did I want him anywhere near me right now, yet here he was, staring back at me with a sickening look of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"It’s been a while, I have to say," Harold murmured, tilting his head with a vacant, glossy stare that made him look like a perfectly constructed mannequin.
I scoffed, my lips parting to snap a response at him, but in the blink of an eye, he vanished. The space in front of me was entirely empty, and a millisecond later, he appeared right beside my shoulder, his breath—which carried no warmth—brushing against my ear.
I felt a violent spike of chills run straight down my spine, my heart almost jumping into my throat by how impossibly fast he was able to breach my personal space.
"Are you a spirit?" I asked him, my heart pounding hard against my ribs as I scrambled a step backward to put distance between us.
My hands were trembling, trapped in the terrifying realization that my own mind was fracturing right before my eyes. "Did someone die that night in the accident? Did a part of someone die and become a spirit that attaches itself to me?"
Harold grinned at me, the expression wide and empty, before he let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. "You still don’t understand any of it, do you?" He rubbed his hand over his face, his posture shifting with an eerie fluidness. "Can a mere spirit do this to you?"
Before the question could even fully register in my brain, Harold lunged forward and landed a brutal, crushing punch straight across my jaw.
The blow took me completely off guard. The impact forced my face violently to the side, a sickening, dull ache radiating through my jawbone.
I stumbled back against the stone railing, my breath catching as a sharp, metallic taste flooded my mouth. I touched my trembling fingers to my lips and pulled them away.
I was bleeding.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I demanded, wiping the dark blood stain off my lower lip with the back of my hand, my eyes wide with absolute terror. "When did you become so violent! Why the hell did you just punch me?"
Harold shrugged his shoulders carelessly, chuckling softly as he floated a few inches higher. "Well, technically, Alaric... you just punched yourself."
"You piece of shit! You were the one who struck me!"
"Well, entirely fair, since I am you, and you are me," Harold explained, his voice twisting into a chillingly calm tone.
He looked down at his own knuckles, his head tilting at an unnatural angle. "We are parts of the same whole, Alaric. I am the shield your mind built when the pain became too loud to bear. So really, it makes perfect sense that I should punch you to wake you up. Or would you like me to do it yet again?"
He raised his fists toward me, the movement sharp and threatening. Instinctively, I flinched, quickly lowering my head and bracing my shoulders as if begging for his mercy.
Seeing my state, Harold lowered his hands, a sudden look of pity crossing his face. "Don’t worry. I am not actually going to hurt you anymore tonight."
I heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, keeping my eyes fixed entirely on him, refusing to look away for even a single second. I remembered Osaka, remembered how he could disappear into thin air the moment I lost focus. "So... you really are just my alter ego? A coping mechanism?"
