tears of mercury | beastars

chapter 16. BURNING RETRIBUTION

𖤣𖥧.𖤣𖥧𓆏𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
━━━━━━━━━━━

The stage was eerily silent save for the heavy breathing of Legoshi and Bill, who now stood frozen in the aftermath. (Name)'s sudden entrance had arrested the chaos, her figure cloaked in Adler's regal garb but with a wide-brimmed hat obscuring her eyes.

Her voice, calm but firm, rang through the theater like a bell.

"Enough!" she declared, stepping into the light. "This isn't the way."

The audience leaned forward, entranced by the unexpected twist. The improvised character she embodied radiated a strange familiarity, like a distorted reflection of Adler himself.

Louis emerged from the shadows, his commanding presence swallowing the stage. His antlers gleamed in the spotlight as he strode toward (Name), his eyes narrowing as if he were staring into a cracked mirror, the tip of his sword turned pointedly at her.

"Who are you to speak as if you understand my pain?" Adler's voice carried the weight of Louis' own tightly controlled emotions.

She turned slowly, her face still partially hidden beneath the brim of her hat. "I am no one," she replied, her voice low and steady. "A shadow cast by your brilliance. A reflection of a dream that was never mine."

The audience gasped, unsure whether her words were scripted or if the play had taken on a life of its own.

Louis sneered, stepping closer, his voice cutting like a knife, the sword at his side. "A shadow? No, you are worse. A puppet, tangled in strings you don't even see. You mimic the movements of others, hoping they'll give you purpose."

(Name) subtly flinched, but her chin tilted upward defiantly. "And yet, without me, your light would have no contrast. Even shadows have purpose."

Louis paused, his expression hardening. "Purpose? You cling to illusions. You're not a shadow; you're an echo. A weak, fading imitation of something real, something alive. You're nothing without the one pulling the strings."

The words struck her like a blow. The audience, captivated, could see the tension in (Name)'s posture as her hands clenched beneath the cloak.

She whispered, "Is it so wrong to seek freedom? To want to exist outside the strings?"

Louis leaned in, his gaze cold and unrelenting. "Freedom? You wouldn't even know what to do with it. You're so lost in your self-pity that you'd destroy yourself before you'd ever truly live."

(Name)'s breath hitched at that, her composure shattering for a split second. She turned away, the brim of her hat casting an even darker shadow over her face.

"You're right," she said quietly, her voice heavy with resignation. "I don't know who I am. . . but perhaps I'll find out if I step away from you."

With that, she strode off the stage, her cloak billowing behind her like a final curtain. The audience erupted with excitement at how the play progresses, unaware of the storm raging within her.

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The audience roared at the appearance of both her and Louis on stage, but (Name) won't be waiting until the roll call as she storm out the theater.

"(Name)! Wait!" Sanou called as he chased after her down the hallway, but she didn't stop. Her hat was gone, her face a paint of conflicting emotions.

The sound of her boots echoed in the empty corridor as she pushed open the exit door and disappeared into the cold night of the school grounds.

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(Name) went to her dorm room, slamming the door behind her. The cheers from the theater still echoed in her ears, but it felt distant, hollow. She stood in the center of the room, her breathing shallow and erratic.

It wasn't the play itself that rattled her. The audience's reaction, the applause—they meant nothing. What lingered, like a poison seeping into her veins, were Louis' words.

"You're so lost in your self-pity that you'd destroy yourself before you'd ever truly live."

The line looped in her mind, each repetition digging deeper into her insecurities.

Her fists trembled as she ripped off her cloak and threw it across the room. "He doesn't know me," she muttered, her voice laced with venom. "He doesn't know anything."

But as the words left her lips, they rang hollow.

The truth, the painful truth, was that Louis' words had hit too close to home. She wasn't angry at him—she was angry at herself. Angry for being so easily shaken, for being weak, for allowing herself to feel exposed so easily on the stage.

She kicked over a stool, her frustration bubbling over. "Damn it!" she yelled, her voice cracking.

The tears she refused to shed burned behind her eyes as she stared at the mess she had made. She hated herself for not being in control. She hated herself for chasing a dream that wasn't hers to begin with.

Her grandfather's voice echoed in her memory, cold and unyielding: You're a part of this family. You'll uphold our name. Anything less is failure.

(Name)'s gaze drifted to the wall where a family photo hung. Her brother's smiling face was a cruel reminder of the warmth and guidance she had lost. He had been the one person who made her feel like she wasn't just a product of expectations.

Her legs buckled, and she sank to the floor, her arms wrapping around her bent knees.

"What am I even doing here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She stared at the photo once again, her brother's kind eyes seeming to look right through her. For the first time that night, the tears she had been holding back spilled over, silent but relentless.

(Name) hugged her knees tighter, the room around her feeling impossibly empty.

"Forgive me, Lucas," she murmured, her voice cracking. "I don't know who I am anymore."

The only answer was the stillness of the room, and her brother's smile frozen in time.

✅ EDITED