Free Web NovelChapter 98: The Ghost of Memory
Olivia opened her eyes slowly. Her breaths were short, as if she had just finished running a long distance.
Her hands were still shaking violently, gripping the edge of the porcelain sink that felt freezing cold.
She looked at her reflection in the steamed-up bathroom mirror. The same face. The same eyes.
Yet, for some excruciating seconds, she felt like the woman in the mirror was a stranger. It was as if she were looking at someone she had once known in a dream, but she could not put a name to the face.
"Why..." she whispered softly, her voice nearly lost in the hum of the fluorescent light above.
"Why do I feel like something is missing?"
She closed her eyes, letting the scattered memories crash into her mind like a massive wave. She began to connect the dots she had ignored all this time.
The dream about the silver-haired man that grew more vivid every day. The strange feeling, as if there was a "switch" in her heart that flipped whenever she heard certain words.
The mysterious billboard that had vanished from reality. The notifications that appeared on their own like whispers from another world.
And Delia. Especially Delia.
Every time that name crossed her mind, a sharp pain stung the base of her skull. If all this were merely Delia’s psychological games at the office, then that logic made no sense.
Delia couldn’t possibly know about the man in the dream unless Delia knew that man more closely than anyone else.
Or worse... Delia knew something about Olivia herself that she had erased.
Olivia jolted.
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That word felt like a gunshot that made her heart stop for a moment. She recalled every conversation with Delia. Didn’t that woman always repeat the same things in a secretive tone?
Olivia gripped the mirror in front of her even tighter, her knuckles turning white. Delia never said,
"You don’t know." Delia never said,
"You aren’t aware."
Delia always used the word "forgot."
As if those memories had truly existed. As if that history had once been written on her very own skin, yet someone cruelly had erased every letter of it.
Olivia now realized, she wasn’t a victim of circumstance who was just confused. She was a human searching for the "ghost" within herself.
Something had happened. Something so big, so tragic, that her own mind had been forced to create this boring "Office World" as a form of protection.
She was looking at the face of a woman who had been lying to herself for years. The Olivia standing before the mirror now was no longer the Olivia who wanted to organize project files. She was the Olivia who was tearing down her own mask of reality.
Olivia did not return to her desk... she could not bear to go back. Something in her mind craved fresh air.
Olivia pushed the glass balcony door open with trembling hands. The afternoon breeze, which had felt pleasant before, now turned into a sharp coldness, like a knife grazing her skin.
She stood at the edge of the balcony, looking at the city view below cars moving like ants, humans busy with their ordinary lives.
How she envied them. How she wished to be one of them, who knew nothing at all.
"You forgot that event..."
"You will see me differently..."
"He is searching for the way home to your side..."
Those voices were no longer just memories. They echoed all around her, dancing with the sound of the rustling wind. Olivia’s head throbbed violently.
She gripped the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles turning white. She tried to persuade her heart, freeweɓnovel.cøm
his is just work pressure. This is just stress.
However, as she tried to take a deep breath for the umpteenth time, a terrifying sensation emerged on her left wrist.
It wasn’t just pain. It was a painful warmth, as if a hot iron were being pressed beneath her skin. Olivia gasped, forced to let go of the railing. She grabbed her wrist, her eyes widening in unspoken horror.
Her smooth skin now looked bright red. She pulled back her shirt sleeve harshly.
There, it appeared.
A thin, fine red line, yet it glowed with an unnatural color. It wasn’t just a scratch. The line... it was moving. It slowly connected the dots that had been broken all this time, forming a pattern so complex it hurt to look at.
"No..." she whispered, her voice lost in the rustling wind.
"Impossible. I erased this thing. I threw it far away!"
The memory that had been locked behind the thick walls of her mind began to crack.
She remembered the same pain that night. The night she felt her chest pierced by something sharp.
The night the rotting scent of roses first caught her life. That red line wasn’t just a mark; it was a bond. It was a contract that could not be revoked.
She tried to rub the line with her thumb, hoping it was just paint or ink, but her skin felt hot and vibrated beneath her touch. The line became clearer, its color changing from a faded red to a deep, dark crimson.
Every time the line formed perfectly, Olivia could feel a very strong presence behind her. Not just a feeling. It was a pressure in the air that made the hairs on her neck stand up.
She didn’t dare to turn around. She knew who was standing there.
"Javien?" her voice was barely audible, stuck in her dry throat.
There was no answer. Only a cold breath on the back of her neck, and the scent of roses now filling the entire balcony until she almost vomited.
Olivia looked back at her wrist. The line had now formed an intricate symbol, and at the tip of that symbol, a drop of red liquid began to emerge not blood, but a liquid that glowed like a ruby.
She was no longer Olivia the office worker. She was the Olivia who was "awakening." And as she finally gathered the courage to look at the glass door’s reflection, she no longer saw her own face.
She saw the face of a woman wearing a maid’s outfit drenched in blood.
The reality of the office... the building... her boss... everything began to blur, like a watercolor painting splashed with water. Everything was "melting."
"This isn’t a dream, is it?" she whispered to herself, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks.
"This is the moment the truth comes to claim its due."
And behind that glass door, she heard Delia’s footsteps approaching, with a rhythm that was calm and full of triumph
"Olivia... do you want to know why I hate you so much?"
The voice was soft, yet it carried enough weight to rip through the peace of the darkening afternoon. Olivia turned slowly; every movement felt heavy.
Her head throbbed, as if nails were hammering into her brain’s nerves. The red line on her wrist burned, feeling as hot as if it were being seared by hellfire from inside her own skin.
However, she forced herself to stand tall, staring at the woman she had once considered a friend the woman who now looked like a stranger.
"What do you actually want from me?!" Olivia snapped. Her voice was raspy, trying to mask the fear spreading to every fingertip.
Delia smiled. But that smile... it was hollow. It no longer resembled a human smile that understood joy. It was the smile of someone who had finally arrived at the finish line, someone who had long harbored a hunger to see the destruction of her prey.
"Because I want to feel what you feel," Delia whispered. She let out a small laugh, a laugh that was melodic yet painful to the ears.
"Isn’t that sweet? We share everything now."
Olivia bit her lip, clenching her fist until her nails dug into her palm.
"What are you babbling about, Delia? We’re friends!! Why are you willing to say that?"
Delia’s eyes slowly turned cold, hollow like a shattered glass.
"Friends?" Delia repeated the word as if it were a curse. She stepped forward, breaking the distance between them.
"You were raised with love, in a wealthy family, living in a world that always favored you. And me? I was just the child of a duck-egg seller at the market who had to fight for every mouthful of rice."
Olivia fell silent, her tongue tied. She had never known this side.
"You came home with expensive birthday presents," Delia continued, her voice now trembling with suppressed anger.
"Me? I came home counting encrusted coins just to buy dinner. You stood magnificently on stage receiving awards, greeted by thunderous applause... while me? I went home with bruises all over my body for mistakes I never made.
Every word that slipped from Delia’s lips felt like drops of poison that had long accumulated in a pool of vengeance. Olivia opened her mouth, trying to find words of apology, but before she could speak, Delia cut her off with a scream that broke the silence of the balcony.
"Of course you don’t know! People like you who live in a golden cocoon will never see the ugly reality of people like me!"
The afternoon breeze suddenly blew hard, as if nature itself sympathized with that anger. Delia’s hair whipped wildly, covering half her face, yet the hatred in her eyes remained sharp, piercing straight into Olivia’s soul.
It was no longer just anger; this was hatred that had been nurtured for years, becoming roots spreading within Delia’s heart.
"I hate seeing you smile every morning at the office," Delia vented, her breath now gasping and irregular.
"I hate seeing how everyone automatically loves you, as if you’re the light they’ve been waiting for. I hate seeing you get everything without having to beg, without having to moan!"
She took a deep breath, staring at Olivia with a gaze that made Olivia’s skin crawl.
"But what I hate the most..." Delia stopped, a sinister, terrifying smile returning to her face.
"...is the fact that even after everything happened, even after I tried to erase you... he still chooses you."
Olivia froze.
"He? Who is he? Who are you talking about?!"
The throbbing in Olivia’s head grew stronger, as if her brain and memories were fighting each other. Delia just tilted her head, looking at Olivia with a maddeningly pitiful gaze.
"Oh," Delia laughed softly, a laugh that made Olivia’s whole body shiver.
"I mean... you really don’t remember, do you?"
The pain in Olivia’s head became unbearable. The light around her began to blur. Amidst that pain, a shadow flashed quickly a tall figure with silver hair, a pair of eyes as deep as a black sea, and a voice calling her name with immense sadness.
"...Olivia..."
"Aghh!" Olivia held her head, her knees nearly hitting the balcony floor.
Seeing Olivia moaning, Delia stepped closer. Too close. A look of satisfied victory was now clearly etched on her face, as if she were looking at a masterpiece about to be completed.
"It’s okay," Delia whispered, her voice now sounding like a devil’s whisper.
"Soon... when I rip your memories apart once more, everything will be over."
