Chapter four: The Unwanted Wake-Up Call
Ding-dong.
Caelum groaned at the sound of the doorbell.
Ding-dong, Ding-dong, Ding-dong.
He gripped the blanket tightly, as if to silence the assault on his doorbell with willpower alone.
Ding-dong, Ding-dong.
"Who the hell is trying to summon me like a demon?" Caelum's voice muffled against his pillow. His brain felt fogged with sleep, his limbs felt sluggish, but the relentless ringing was impossible to ignore.
Whoever was at the door had the patience of a god, or the persistence of a debt collector.
At last, with a suffering sigh, Caelum rolled over and forced his body up. He snatched his toothbrush from the holder, shoved it into his mouth, and shuffled toward the door in sleep.
The cold floor against his feet reminded him that he was still in his sleepwear. It wasn't exactly a presentable look, but whoever had decided to disrupt his sleep deserved whatever sight greeted them.
Yawning, he scratched his stomach lazily and pulled the door open.
Immediately after, his eyes burned with sunlight. The morning light hit him like a divine punishment. He squinted hard, momentarily disoriented, before a silhouette took shape.
'A girl?'
She looked young, maybe around twenty, and a bit too much plump for her age, standing with a polite expression that made it painfully obvious she had been awake for hours.
Her neatly styled black hair were streaked with a faint green line, and she wore a black-and-white dress that gave her an oddly formal look, formal enough for someone ringing random doorbells.
Caelum stared at her with dead eyes, with athe toothbrush in his mouth.
She smiled at him. "Good morning~"
He made no effort to return the greeting. Instead, he lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes before asking, "Who are you, and who are you looking for?"
He sounded oddly funny with the toothbrush, but the girl seemed unbothered.
"My name is Iris," she said pleasantly. "I live in the only house near the park."
Caelum mentally pictured the area. A two-story house stood near the park's entrance, it was the one he often passed by but never really paid attention to.
'So that's where she crawled out from.'
Iris clasped her hands together. "I'm here on behalf of a community effort. We're raising donations for a young boy in our neighborhood, who was recently diagnosed with a rare illness. We've started a fund to support his treatment, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in contributing."
Caelum looked at her intently, then chewed on the handle of his toothbrush.
His first instinct was to say, I don't even know this kid. His second was to laugh it off because, out of all the doors she could have knocked on, she had somehow picked his, the guy who was already on a first-name basis with death.
The irony was very impressive. He sighed, taking a step back to close the door. "Yeah, not interested."
But before he could shut it fully, a small hand caught the edge of the door. Iris held firm at the edge, with an unwavering face.
"Even a single dollar would help," she said, her eyes filled with the determined light of someone who didn't take 'no' for an answer.
"It's to save the life of an innocent child."
Caelum stared at her sharply. Then, "Fine,wait here."
Iris smiled brightly at those words. "Thank you!"
He turned back inside, shaking his head. Thinking he was making a huge mistake. If he gave her money now, she will probably come back again later, ringing his doorbell at ungodly hours like some kind of charity ghost. Still, it was just a dollar, it was a small price to pay for getting her to leave.
He grabbed his wallet, pulled out a single bill, and returned to the door, holding it out. Iris accepted it with both hands, bowing in gratitude. "Thank you so much!"
As she did, Caelum caught himself looking away. Because he was caught off guard. From this angle, her plump, a bit pinkish upper chest was visible.
Caelum couldn't help but take glances , 'She's huge! Way to huge.' He cleared his throat and took a step back. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't make this a habit."
Iris giggled. "I'll try my best."
She tucked the bill into a small envelope before looking up at him again. "Oh! Before I go, I wanted to invite you to a small gathering, we're holding it this evening."
Caelum asked . "What gathering?"
"A discussion about how we can continue supporting the child's treatment," Iris explained. "We're planning ways to raise more funds and provide assistance. If you're interested, you're more than welcome to join us!"
Caelum's couldn't bother less "Sure," so he lied.
He internally thought. 'Yeah, not a chance in hell.'
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Caelum shut the door with a click. His ears were still ringing from the relentless doorbell assault, and his brain, previously clouded by sleep, was now uncomfortably awake.
he crawled toward the bathroom, his toothbrush was hanging from the corner of his mouth like a cigarette. As he leaned over the sink and resumed brushing, his mind replayed the last few minutes.
The Iris girl and her donation request. And the moment she had bowed.....
He shook his head vigorously. 'Nope. Not going there.' caelum thought as he looked down, his 'thing' a bit erect.
'That was too much stimulation for this early in the morning for me.' Scrubbing the last remnants of sleep from his face, he rinsed his mouth, wiped himself down with a towel, and stepped back out of the bathroom.
His stomach growled. "Ah Right, Food."
He wandered into the kitchen and pulled open the cupboard, scanning the shelves. His hand landed on a bag of bread, and after a bit of consideration, he grabbed a can of beans from the lower shelf.
"Guess I'll make an omelet," he set the ingredients on the counter. "Eggs, beans, bread... Should be enough right? It's less depressing than eating instant noodles again."
As he cracked the eggs into a bowl, his mind returned to the quill. Even when he wasn't actively using it, it's existence sat in the back of his head like an itch he couldn't ignore.
He had spent the last few weeks pushing its boundaries, testing how far it could go. But no matter what he created; be it objects or living creatures, the process remained the same. It was all based on definition.
He understood that the quill didn't just conjure things from thin air. It built them according to how he understood them.
If he defined a chair as wood, nails, and a solid surface, that's what the quill produced. If he defined bread as butter, well… he got an abomination that looked like bread but collapsed into greasy disappointment the moment he touched it.
So the real question was..."Can I make something that doesn't exist with my current willpower?"
He stopped whisking the eggs, staring at the mixture, could the quill seriously invent new things?
So far, everything he had created had a reference, an original blueprint that already existed in the real world. Even the temporary creatures he had drawn were just replicas of living things.
Nevertheless, he knew what would happen if he tried. The same thing that always happened when he pushed too far: he will black out.
"Still…" The idea was very tempting.
'If I could create something entirely new, that would mean...' The omelet hissed softly as he poured it into the pan, the scent of sizzling eggs filled the kitchen. He watched it cook, flipping the edges with practiced ease.
No point in thinking too hard on an empty stomach.
First, he will eat, Then take a shower. And then, He will experiment with the quill for the entier day.
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After devouring his breakfast, Caelum set his fork down with a clink, leaning back in his chair.
The meal had been simple, but it did the job of providing energy. He didn't have the best eating habits, but he thought as long as he wasn't keeling over from malnutrition, he was doing alright.
He stood, stretching his arms over his head before taking his way back to his room, stepping inside and and shutting the door behind him.
His space was small but comfortable; dim lighting, a desk cluttered with papers, ink stains marking the wood in scars of past experiments.
Caelum dropped into his chair, rubbing the back of his neck before reaching for the quill.
The smooth wood could easily fit into his grip. He grabbed a blank book from the corner of his desk, opening up a new page.
The emptiness of the paper felt vast, Like an open door for him to put anything into.
"Alright, something big this time."
His willpower has grown quite a bit over the course of multiple experiments, and this time he wanted to push everything to his limits, to make something way complex than ever before.
As his thoughts and mind wandered out for inspiration, an old memory surfaced.
A memory of his school life. He hadn't thought about it in years, Back then, he had been alone. Well Not entirely, there was always one person with him.
His only companion of childhood.
She wasn't particularly remarkable, nor was she the center of attention. Like him, she existed on the outskirts, unnoticed by most, acknowledged by few.
They had gravitated toward each other naturally, two lonely people finding companionship in the absence of everyone else. She had been his only friend. And, as far as he knew, he had been hers.
They had spent their days in company; eating lunch together, walking home together, sharing books and idle conversations.
And then school ended and Life moved forward. She faded into the past, just like everything else. He barely remembered her face now.
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Graduation was a turning point for caelum's life. Not in a new-beginning kind of way though....
His family had never been particularly affectionate, but after school, the changes were noticeable. At first, it was just missed dinners and shorter conversations. But slowly, disinterest in what he was doing with his life grew.
Then, it became nothing at all. They stopped asking questions, even stopped acknowledging his existence beyond the bare minimum. It wasn't outright cruelty, It was just absence of family warmth.
when he was diagnosed, their reaction had been…He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.
"That's unfortunate."
That was all they had said and That was all they needed to say. He took the hint, leaving his home and his family behind.
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Caelum thoughts pressed into his chest like a heavy stone, he slapped his cheeks slightly. "Damn it, Got distracted."
This wasn't what he sat down for, He wasn't here to wallow in old memories. He was here to create.
Refocusing his mind, he tightened his grip on the quill. This time, he wouldn't draw any random objects. He would try to draw a whole place.
It would be something tied to those memories, but not completely swallowed by them. He would try drawing his middle school classroom.
He could still remember all it; the arrangement of the desks, the way the afternoon sunlight hit the windows, the scratches on the chalkboard.
He pressed the nib of the quill to the page, and he began to draw.
"Haa~" caelum focused on remembering everything about the classroom; how the old wooden desks were arranged in neat rows, some carved with the stray marks of bored students. The chalkboard at the front, always covered in remnants of past lessons. The tall windows that stretched along one wall, filtering the golden glow of the setting sun.
It was his favorite time of day. When the sun dipped low, painting the classroom in warm, amber light, making everything feel softer.
The lines soon took shape. Outlines of desks, the long stretch of the board, the old, worn-out books stacked haphazardly on the teacher's desk. Each stroke felt natural, like his hands already knew what to do.
As the image came to life, something else stirred within him, it was the Familiar sensation of being pulled.
"As Expected."
It was draining at his willpower, sinking into the ink, binding itself to the lines he created.
This feeling had grown more distinct over time. The more complex his drawings was, the more he was poured into them. This was different from sketching an object or a small creature.
It was a classroom, a place, a whole environment, filled with history and presence. And it demanded more of his willpower. His breath came a little shorter, His vision felt a bit dimmer at the edges. Still, he kept going.
His hand moved on its own, detailing the wooden textures, the light streaming through the window, the floor reflecting the soft orange hues of the dying sun.
"The room was almost complete... But just before the final stroke, he hesitated. His eyes flickered toward the empty seats.
He had no trouble drawing the desks, the light, the little details that made the classroom feel complete, but he couldn't bring himself to draw her.
His childhood friend, Aruey.
The only person who sat beside him in that room, the only one who made the classroom feel less empty."
His face twitched, the quill remained poised and waiting for him to make a move. But he didn't move.
He sat there for a while, staring at the unfinished page, feeling the drain of his willpower even as his hand refused to continue.
Then, he pulled back. The quill lifted from the paper with the connection severed. His heart pounded in his ears and the drawing remained incomplete.
"Lets keep it at that." He just wanted to draw the classroom anyways. "And I'm almost out of willpower."