Beyond the Veil (Volume 2)

"Ah." 

"It seems it has finally begun."

"Though, I must admit, it arrived a bit earlier than I anticipated."

"."

"!"

A familiar voice cut through Kaito's despair, sharp and clear, pulling his attention away from the chaos unfolding around him. Slowly, as though grasping for salvation, he turned toward the source of the voice.

Amidst the crimson-drenched ruins and the rain of destruction, stood a figure bathed in an unearthly glow. With matted grey hair cascading into a matching beard and draped in flowing white robes, the man seemed almost saint-like. It was none other than Dr. Nilesh Radheshyama, the enigmatic speaker who was dismissed by students as a madman.

Kaito’s heart leapt at the sight. For the first time amidst the carnage, a faint glimmer of hope flickered within him. Tear-streaked and trembling, he cried out, "Help me! Please, help me!" His arms clutched Natasha's lifeless body as if his will alone could bring her back.

"Please... Save her."

His words, raw with desperation, echoed in the air. Dr. Radheshyama turned his gaze to the figure in Kaito's arms, Natasha, now lifeless and broken.

"..."

But the words that followed were not what Kaito had hoped for. Dr. Radheshyama, wearing a serene smile that seemed hauntingly out of place, softly said, "Save who, my boy?"

"..."

Kaito’s grief twisted into rage. His voice cracked as he screamed, "Natasha! The one in my arms! Can’t you see? She’s right here! Do something!"

Dr. Radheshyama’s voice remained steady. "You’re right, dear boy. I see a body. A vessel. Lifeless and destined to return to the earth, as all things must. But again, I ask you... Who is this Natasha?"

"..."

Kaito trembled, his fury mounting as he hurled insult after insult at the wise speaker. But Dr. Radheshyama, unshaken, knelt beside the grief-stricken young man and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. His voice was soft, soothing yet firm.

"My dear boy, I understand your pain. The agony of losing someone you hold dear. But tell me, why do you torment yourself, clinging to this illusion?"

"Wha... What are you talking about?" Kaito’s voice cracked, his desperation bleeding into confusion.

"Close your eyes," the wise speaker instructed. "Take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and trust me. I’ll help you."

At first, Kaito resisted, ridiculing the seemingly nonsensical request. But his anguish drove him to comply. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and held his breath as instructed.

"..."

"Now breathe out slowly and open your eyes. Look again, and tell me, what do you see?"

Kaito exhaled shakily, a strange calm momentarily settling over him. He opened his eyes and looked down at his arms.

"!"

What he held was no longer Natasha but an unrecognizable mass of flesh and shattered bones. His heart sank as the crushing truth engulfed him. 

Natasha, his partner, his other half, his only comfort, was gone forever. Kaito’s throat tightened as he lifted his chin to the sky. As the first tears began to fall, the heavens seemed to mirror his sorrow, unleashing a torrential downpour. With raw anguish, Kaito cried out, “Natashaaaaaaa!”

"Why!"

"Just why...?"

"..."

His voice cracked as he turned to the wise speaker, his pleading eyes searching for answers.

“You... You must know! You’re one of those mystical, spiritual people, aren’t you?”

“Tell me!” he demanded, stepping closer, his pain spilling out with each word.

“Tell me why!”

“Please...”

“Please tell me, why is it always her?”

His fists clenched, trembling with sorrow. His voice, though lower now, carried the weight of his despair.

“She’s never done anything wrong. Never.”

“Yes, she was born into a noble family, but she never abused her status, never drowned herself in wealth.”

“From a young age, she endured tragedy after tragedy, without a moment of reprieve. And just when she finally found her smile again...”

“... It was all taken from her.”

His knees buckled slightly, but he forced himself to stand tall, his tear-streaked face turned toward the wise speaker.

“What was her fault?”

“Please, tell me.”

Tears poured freely down his face as his voice cracked again.

“Please... tell me, sir...”

"..."

The wise speaker watched the broken young man, his heart heavy with compassion. Finally, he sighed deeply, placing a hand on Kaito’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I see your grief, your torment. But you must understand that every action has a consequence, a reaction. This is the principle of karma.”

“Now,” he continued gently, “what I’m about to say may not be easy to accept. But I urge you, please, listen with an open mind.”

"..."

Kaito looked at him, eyes red and swollen, desperate for answers.

“... The one you loved, the one you mourn, is simply paying for the actions of her past.”

"There is no other answer."

"!"

Kaito’s heart stopped for a moment, his mind rejecting the words.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That can’t be right. She hasn’t done anything wrong, nothing that could justify something so... So cruel!”

He looked up, anguish twisting his face.

“How is it,” he demanded, “that criminals who commit unspeakable acts live carefree, while someone like Natasha, kind, innocent Natasha, suffers this fate?" 

"How is that fair? How is that just?”

Kaito refuted the wise speaker's response. His mind raced, desperate to grasp a deeper truth, something, anything, that could explain the glaring imbalance in the world.

"..."

The wise speaker remained composed, his steady gaze unwavering. The young man’s agitation was precisely what he had anticipated. With a calm demeanour, he replied, “Yes, you are correct, my dear boy. Every action inevitably results in an equivalent reaction.”

He paused, his tone shifting—sharp and deliberate, commanding attention.

“But what about the actions from the life before this one, and the many lives before that?”

Kaito’s brow furrowed as confusion flickered across his face.

"Have you ever considered that?"

"..."

Kaito, struggling to comprehend, arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “What... What do you mean? Lives? How is that possible? And how can you be so sure we live more than one life?”

"..."

“I understand,” the speaker said, his tone patient yet firm. “The concept of multiple lives is not easy to grasp.”

“But think about it, my dear boy. Do you truly believe suffering happens randomly? That there’s some being up in the heavens, lounging in clouds of paradise, who tests us for amusement, to decide if we are ‘worthy’ of entering their kingdom?”

"Does that sit well with you, my dear boy?"

He leaned forward slightly, his voice deepening. “Think about it. You see people perform virtuous deeds, acts of charity and kindness, and yet they suffer. Meanwhile, others, as you said, commit heinous crimes and live like kings, untouched by consequences. Does that feel right to you?”

Kaito shook his head silently, the speaker’s words cutting through his grief-stricken haze.

“Exactly,” the speaker continued. “That’s where the concept of multiple lives, or what we now call reincarnation, comes into play.”

“Now listen closely, my dear boy. Not all consequences, let me repeat, not all consequences, come to fruition in the same life."

"Yes. Some carry over to the next, or even the one after that."

“There’s simply no knowing when.”

“This applies to both negative and positive outcomes. And this,” he gestured subtly, as if pointing to the world itself, “this is why you see what you see. The chaos and disparity coursing through existence."

"After all, we are beings with free will, aren’t we?”

"..."

Kaito felt a spark of wonder at the wisdom being shared, as though a sliver of clarity cut through his anguish. Yet doubt lingered, stubborn and unyielding.

“You speak of multiple lives,” he said, voice trembling, “but how can that be true if we hold no memory of them?”

"..."

The wise speaker smiled gently. “That is a very good question, my dear boy. Let me explain.”

"Let me answer that for you."

"..."

“It is said that the pain of death is so excruciating, akin to the sting of forty thousand scorpions, that our memories are erased, leaving only fragments until around the age of five. This is why, my dear boy, young children sometimes cry without reason, as though haunted by echoes of a past they cannot fully grasp.”

“But ask yourself,” he continued, “why would you even want to remember? If we carried the weight of countless lives, every joy, every loss, every tragedy, it would destroy us."

"Sometimes, forgetting is often the only way to move forward.”

“And,” he added, his voice deepening with gravitas, “we haven’t lived just a few lives. We’ve lived millions, billions, perhaps even an infinite number.”

“How?” Kaito asked, breathless.

“How? Well, it is said that we journey through 8.4 million species of life before being granted the rare opportunity of a human form. This opportunity, of course, is never guaranteed. If we squander it, we may regress into lower forms of life.”

“Think carefully, my dear boy. Eight-point-four million. That isn’t just a handful of lives, is it?”

"..."

“I guess not...” Kaito muttered, reluctantly nodding. But his mind raced with another, far heavier question, one he was almost too afraid to ask.

He swallowed hard and finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then... what becomes of Natasha?”

"..."

“What is there to become of Natasha?” The wise speaker replied, his voice soft yet resolute. “There is no death. Nor can there ever be.”

“What do you mean, sir?" Kaito blinked, stunned by the sudden contrast in the wise speaker's wisdom. "Didn’t you just say we’ve lived many lives? And now you’re saying there’s no death?”

"..."

The speaker chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear boy. That’s correct. And there’s no contradiction in what I’ve said.”

Kaito frowned, confusion etched deeply into his face.

“I see the doubt in your eyes,” the speaker continued. “Listen closely now. What I am about to tell you is something to ponder, to carry with you always.”

Kaito leaned in, anticipation and unease gripping him.

"..."

“How can there ever be death,” the speaker said, his voice steady and profound, “when you are the immortal soul?”

Kaito’s breath caught. The words resonated deeply, as if striking a hidden chord within him.

“Yes,” the speaker affirmed. “We are not these bodies. We are the immortal soul. Life and death are illusions born from our identification with the body. It is this misidentification that binds us to the duality of existence.”

He paused briefly, allowing the words to sink in. “Think of our bodies as garments, mere clothes we wear during our existence. When a garment grows old and tattered, we discard it and don a new one. So I ask you again, my dear boy, how can there ever be death?”

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper now, laced with ancient wisdom. 

“Who, then, is truly dead?”

"..."

The speaker’s profound words began to soothe the storm within Kaito’s heart. His overwhelming grief was gently dispelled, replaced by a fragile glimmer of peace. He thought of Natasha, her radiant smile, her laughter that lit up his world. Deep down, he knew she would never want him to drown in despair.

With a deep breath, Kaito resolved to honour her memory by moving forward. He stood tall, ready to let go of his sorrow and ascend into the light of understanding.

But just as the weight began to lift, the speaker’s next words shattered it all.

“Of course,” the speaker said, his voice heavy with an unsettling truth, “that would have been the case... if this were the real world.”

“...”

“Wait,” Kaito stammered, his heart sinking. 

“What do you mean?”