𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

Spirits Can Cry Too

“No healer, spirit, or mortal could mend whatever was broken inside her,” he says, his voice heavy with something that feels older than grief. His eyes lock onto mine, piercing through the air between us, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder: could I—or rather, Ferrari’s original healer powers—have fixed her? Is that why he hasn’t banished me from his precious plant sanctuary yet?

“It was as if someone had cursed her,” he continues, his tone unraveling a thread of guilt, “and sometimes, I’d catch myself wondering if… if she gave me all of her life force. If I’m the reason she’s fading away.”

Self-blame. How deliciously convenient. My mind ticks like clockwork, calculating how I can twist this guilt into a tool for my mission. A faint voice inside me whispers, You’re so apathetic. So cruel.

Sure. I guess I am. But I never signed up to be tossed from one world to the next, scraping to survive each time. If being cruel gets me closer to my freedom—closer to my empire—then so be it. Survival has never been a soft game.

“I suppose at some point, my father cracked. Maybe it was love. Or maybe obsession—something so twisted it eclipsed all reason,” Layza begins, pacing the room with the fragile little plant still cradled in his arms. His voice is the only sound, aside from the soft pat of his shoes against the floor. Everything else feels unnaturally still, as if even the universe itself has paused to bear witness to his tale of tragedy. Classic protagonist moment.

“He started killing every healer who failed to save the love of his life. One after another, he cut them down, blind to the monster he was becoming.” Layza’s voice wavers, but not from emotion—there’s an eerie calm to his words, like he’s narrating someone else’s downfall.

What else can you expect from a lunatic? Of course he didn’t know he was unraveling. That’s the thing about madness—it’s invisible to the one wearing it. I shrug internally, amused at the irony.

But then Layza’s eyes snap to me, sharp and calculating, as if he’s caught my silent judgment. His lips curl into a dangerous smile that sends a shiver skittering down my spine.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he says, his tone laced with something unsettling. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “He wasn’t just losing his mind. He was losing himself—his powers, his form, his very existence. My father was disappearing.”

He was dying. Oh.

I blink, trying to process that bombshell. None of this makes sense. Why would killing others cause a spirit to vanish? If that were true, wouldn’t no spirit ever dare kill? Ulso, the infamous villain from the original story, slaughtered countless mortals and spirits without so much as a scratch to his power.

But then again, this is a fantasy world. Trying to apply logic here would be like trying to solve quantum physics with crayons. I give up. The protagonist’s life is just harder—period. I’ll accept it and move on.

“Do you know why you’re so special, Ferrari?” Layza asks suddenly, his gaze locking on me as he stalks closer.

It takes me a second to realize that Ferrari—the ridiculous car-name—refers to me. Who even names these characters? Whoever it is, they need therapy.

“Obviously, it’s because of my amazing powers,” I reply with a grin, radiating an air of confidence so bold it practically demands a metaphor to describe.

Layza leans in, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of something earthy, like cedarwood. His smirk twists into something bitter, laced with mockery. “No, dear Ferrari. It’s not because of your amazing powers.” He air-quotes the words, dripping with sarcasm, like he’s mocking a child’s naive boast.