Chapter 23: Psychological Collapse
Excerpt from the diaries of Edgar Wilmore:
"The human mind is a garden filled with poisoned flowers, and the one who plants them knows who will die first. Eliza… you are the last flower I watch grow."
On a cold London morning, Eliza woke at her desk, surrounded by papers.
Each sheet contained short messages, riddles, and symbolic drawings.
Every symbol directed a direct psychological question at her: was she merely observing… or part of the game?
She felt that Edgar was watching every step—even the beat of her heart.
The sounds of the city streets were distorted, yet she felt that everything—the rain, the carriage wheels, the cries of birds—was part of a vast canvas Edgar was creating.
Eliza felt the obsession closing in on her from every direction.
Every word she wrote in her notebook carried a double echo: one part recording the truth, another part sending a message to Edgar.
Every movement outside her home felt monitored. London itself had become a stage for him… and for her.
Howard arrived suddenly, his voice tight:
"These symbols… Eliza, you're getting more involved than you realize. You need to choose your position now."
She felt suffocated. Every step, every breath was under the influence of Edgar's dark mind.
While she was writing, an image of Edgar's childhood appeared before her as if he stood there:
A small boy sitting on stone steps, watching life disappear in silence.
The scent of burning and blood still lingered—but it was no longer just fire. It was written words, poisoned thoughts, and killing gazes.
Eliza felt herself entering his mind… but feared she might disappear inside it too.
A person can witness evil—but can they survive it?
At midnight, while examining one of the riddles, she suddenly felt dizzy… then nauseous.
"Everything is collapsing… Is this Edgar? Or am I the one who has corrupted him inside me?"
She realized the game was no longer merely riddles and messages—it was a direct challenge to her psychological stability.
In her mind, she saw Edgar's face smiling:
"Everyone who tries to understand me… becomes part of me. Can you survive?"
The next morning, a small painting was found on her apartment window, depicting Eliza inside the shadows—as if she were part of the artwork.
On the paper was written in precise handwriting:
"The boundaries are fragile… and the psychological boundaries are even weaker."
Eliza felt confusion and fear, yet she began to feel a disturbing admiration for the mental control Edgar possessed.
Howard appeared suddenly at her door, tense:
"Eliza… if we don't act now, you will become a complete victim of this game."
She answered in a steady voice despite the tremor:
"I am no longer just a victim… I am part of this city, and of this game."
Her words were true. Edgar was planting obsession inside her—but she was beginning to learn how to move within the shadows, at least partially.
Eliza sat in her apartment, notebook before her, pen in hand, and wrote:
"Every step I write… every secret I uncover… brings me closer to him, and closer to the abyss. Isn't that what he wants?"
Outside the window, the rain grew heavier, washing London—but not the shadows Edgar had left behind.
The city is silent… but it hears. And the shadow is smiling.