Since ancient times, humans have feared many things: death, darkness, pain, loneliness. But in my opinion, the thing humans feared most was forgetting.
To live without meaning to anyone, to live without being remembered, to live a life without identity—this was one of humanity's greatest nightmares.
Thus, since early ages, humans have tried to create an identity that lives among people, to be distinctive so their memory remains after death, so that when they die, they can see that they were not meaningless, but lived a life with purpose.
Humans have always given names to everything around them to distinguish one thing from another, and they chose names for themselves as well, to distinguish their selves from others and create what is called identity.
Identity:
It is a person's past—the life they lived and learned from, with all its mistakes.
It is the present—the state they try to live in and adapt to, no matter its path.
And it is the future—the one they prepare for, striving to avoid its worst or hoping to reap everything it offers.
The concept of identity is extremely vague. Like many concepts in the human world, it is unstable and cannot be agreed upon from a single perspective. That is why humans created names for themselves—to preserve their past, present, and future.
But here, an important question arises:
What does identity truly mean?
What?!
Hahahahaha…
(Hysterical laughter)
Lady Catherine, you are truly amusing. I'm grateful to Mr. Grise for introducing me to you, but stop joking—this is not the time.
Nonexistent?!
That is impossible. She must be joking… this has to be a hallucination, or maybe I'm still dreaming. How could I be nonexistent when I'm sitting right in front of them and can interact with things?
Boy, I truly don't know what it was that I saw, but I saw nothing within you. I saw darkness, as if I were floating in an endless field of cold, terrifying isolation. There was nothing… only a voice.
No—
It was fate…
No—
It was death…
My eyes do not see only the past and the present; they see beyond any horizon that any ability could ever reach. My eyes perceive the soul, not merely the body.
And yet—you were empty.
No past,
no present,
and no future.
Miss, stop mocking me. Do you think I'm insane enough to believe such words? What fool would believe what you're saying? I don't care who you are—you are certainly mistaken.
Boy, there is a rule we humans cannot surpass:
"There is no present for one who has no past."
Mr. Grise, I apologize, but I cannot remain any longer. I will leave now to rest…
(Sound of coughing)
— Very well… very well, Lady Catherine. I'll help you up and escort you to the carriage.
Her face dimmed like a candle that had burned until its light vanished completely. I didn't understand what had happened, but it seems the boy must remain here longer—under my supervision.
— Boy, we'll leave you to rest. Don't think too much and calm down; there must be a solution to your dilemma. Rest, and we'll talk later.
— Grise, keep an eye on this boy. He certainly carries something frightening within him. Be cautious at all times. I'll return here again very soon.
— Don't worry. I'll let him rest a bit and then handle the matter myself. I apologize, Catherine, for all the trouble we caused you.
— Don't worry… I'm leaving just to rest. It seems I might lose consciousness soon, so—
— Lady Catherine?! Damn it… she has completely fainted!
What is the cause of all this? Catherine is strong—how could she collapse because of a small boy? This is no time to think. I must get her to the carriage first.
I ran as fast as I could, hoping you were not in danger. I truly hope it's just a brief unconsciousness.
At last, we arrived. I apologize for this, but Lady Catherine has fainted. Please take care of her and escort her safely back to the order. The High Council will surely summon me—especially since Catherine refused to allow any of her guards to accompany her.
Damn it… this is not the time to think about what comes next.
Back in the room…
Why is all this happening to me?
Since I woke up in this world—or was born into it, or whatever truly happened—I have seen nothing but death, ignorance, pain, and helplessness.
Why am I so despised?
Is it my fault for being born into a world I don't understand?
Or is it the world that failed to understand me?
Hahahaha…
(Laughter)
What world could ever understand someone like me?
Someone who never understood himself to begin with…
I looked at the tattoo, filled with pain. Tears refused to fall from my eyes. That feeling cannot be described in words; there was only an hourglass before me, as if I were waiting for time to pass until I could die and be freed from my suffering.
I finally stood up and tried to move my legs, but they refused. It wasn't fear or weakness—it was despair. Even movement had become meaningless for someone nonexistent.
I walked step by step, as if walking over a nest of bird eggs, with extreme caution so the ground wouldn't shatter beneath me… until I reached a large, luxurious mirror.
But no matter its size, no matter its clarity, it reflected nothing but… emptiness.
I looked to see my appearance, as if meeting myself for the first time.
Eyes of pale violet, as though drowned in a bottomless darkness.
Black hair as dark as night, streaked with strands resembling the violet of my eyes.
A weak, frail body, and pale skin tinged with yellow from exhaustion and lack of rest.
I stared quietly at my reflection, filled with questions, until my thoughts were cut short by another knock at the door. From sheer weakness, I couldn't speak and simply stared toward it.
Mr. Grise entered.
— Boy, you must sit and rest. You've endured far too much lately.
He was speaking to me, but I couldn't hear, I didn't care, and I didn't want to live. The only thought echoing in my mind was:
I don't want to go on.
— What?!
— Please, Mr. Grise. I may look weak, and it may seem that I broke down quickly, but I have seen nothing in this world that makes me try—or even continue. Please, don't force me to live clinging to false hope, for someone nonexistent like me.
He stared at my face—the face of a boy drowning in despair, the light gone from his eyes, like a hollow body without a soul.
— Listen, boy. We humans have created many concepts that made our lives easier and more organized, but not everything humans create is correct.
What do you think identity truly is?
Is it a name parents give their children to distinguish them from others? Wrong.
Is it a past that haunts you like a ghost, neither alive nor dead? Wrong.
Humans are greater than that. We are identity itself—because we are alive. A human creates identity, but identity has never created a human.
Create a past you can be proud of,
a present you accept and live within,
and a future you aspire to reach…
That is your true identity, boy.
I felt as though my heart and mind were rejecting that passionate speech—yet life returned to me after it had been stolen away.
He's right…
I am identity itself. I will not allow anyone to define my fate. I am my own master, the owner of my life and destiny. I will live until I write the identity I choose for myself.
I slapped my cheeks with both hands.
— Mr. Grise…
I spoke with overwhelming excitement and longing:
— I want to live. I want to know myself and the world. I want to see and learn, to cry and to rejoice. I will give everything I have to understand myself, and I will surely rise above this entire world. I will be the master of my destiny.
A smile—
the boy's expression finally changed.
— Very well…
How about this as a beginning?
I want you to become a member of the Storm Guild.