Chapter 42 – Another Dream of Mine

Alex POV

Fog stretches endlessly around me.

Not thick.
Not cold.

Just… there.

The world is dark, yet soothing—like night after crying yourself to sleep. My footsteps make no sound as I walk, the ground soft beneath my feet, as if I’m stepping through memory instead of land.

I try to speak.

Nothing.

My mouth opens, but no voice comes out. Not even a whisper. It’s like the world itself refuses to let me talk.

So I keep walking.

One step.
Another.
Endless.

Until—

I stop.

My heart tightens.

Impossible.

A place I buried years ago rises before me, clear and cruel. A memory I never told anyone. Not Natalie. Not Mom.

Only me.

And—

Frederica.

My body feels strange.

Smaller.

Lighter.

I look down and realize I’m not myself anymore.

I’m a child again.

My hands—small.
My chest—unscarred.
My heart—still intact.

As if… I’m really there.

And then I see her.

Standing just ahead.

She hasn’t changed.

Frederica looks the same as she did when she was seven—black hair falling neatly, eyes gentle and strong. She wears her traditional Lun Bawang attire, fabric moving softly as if touched by a breeze that doesn’t exist here.

She turns.

Our eyes meet.

And she smiles.

“Hey… about time.”

The sound of her voice hits harder than any bullet ever did.

I want to answer.

I need to answer.

But my throat won’t move. My lips won’t form words. Panic flickers in my chest, but she steps closer before it can grow.

“Alex… I know it’s hard for you,” she says softly. “I know. I really do.”

Each word feels like it’s peeling me open.

“When I look at everything you’ve been through… I understand. I always did.”

I shake my head desperately.

I want to tell her it’s okay.
I want to say I survived.
I want to say I’m sorry.

But nothing comes out.

She doesn’t need words.

She reaches up and cups my cheeks gently.

Warm.

So warm.

That warmth—something I haven’t felt in so long—spreads through me, and suddenly I realize my vision is blurring. Tears slide down my face without permission.

She smiles sadly.

“Don’t cry,” Frederica whispers.

Her thumbs brush the tears away, just like she used to.

And for the first time in a long, long while—

I feel safe.

Frederica doesn’t pull her hand away.

Instead, she looks at me—really looks—and her smile wavers, just a little.

“Alex…” she murmurs. “This gift I gave you… I know it’s hard.”

She pauses, searching for words she’s never been good at finding.

“I don’t even know how to say this properly…”

I want to tell her she doesn’t have to.
I want to say I understand.

But my voice is still locked away.

She sighs, then suddenly laughs, scratching her cheek like she always does when she’s nervous.

“…Okay. Here goes.”

She straightens up, trying to sound serious.

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

I blink.

She points at me, grinning. “Yeah. That one. From your comics. Spider-Man.”

Since when did I let her read my comics?
…Seriously. She even sounds like Natalie right now.

She steps closer and gently presses her finger against my chest.

“Please be careful,” Frederica says softly. “That body of yours… even if it was given to you, it’s still mortal.”

She tilts her head.

“You’re not Superman, Alex.”

Then, quieter—

“You’re just… you.”

The warmth in my chest spreads until it hurts.

“Keep this,” she whispers. “I’ll always be here.”

She smiles, bright and sad at the same time.

“Thank you… for the memories. I really mean it.”

I move without thinking.

I want to hug her.

I need to.

But she suddenly plants both hands on my chest and shoves me back.

Hard.

“So—!” she shouts, laughing. “Move it!”

The world shatters into fog.

I’m walking again.

Alone.

The fog thins, revealing a city skyline.

Los Angeles.

But it’s… clean.

Too clean.

Rain taps softly against concrete.

I stop.

“…Wait.”

This place—

Darrel’s crib.

He’s there, leaning against the doorway, hoodie pulled over his head as rain pours behind him.

“About time, homie.”

He grins like nothing ever went wrong.

“Pretty, huh?” Darrel says, spreading his arms. “That’s what soldiers do. We just keep moving.”

I look down.

I’m twelve again.

Too skinny. Too small.

He steps forward and slaps my shoulder, firm but warm.

“Man… you had it rough,” he says. “Taking bullets like it’s your damn hobby. Almost dying and still standing.”

He laughs. “You’re already like Superman, homie.”

I shake my head.

He grips my shoulder harder.

“I know that darkness you’re holding,” Darrel says quietly. “It’s chewing you up from the inside.”

I always thought I was the monster.

Maybe… this is what he meant.

“But listen,” he continues. “Hold onto this for me, yeah? I believe it’ll help you on this road.”

He shoves me toward the door.

“Get outta here. Skinny ass.”

He smiles—proud.

“Be strong, homie. I didn’t train you just so you could quit.”

His expression hardens.

“You always say you do this to survive.”

Then survive.

“But don’t become that guy.”

He shudders. “That dude gives me the creeps.”

The door slams shut.

Fog swallows everything.

The world shifts.

Firelight.

Screams.

France.

I see myself—but not as myself.

I’m a girl.

Red hair whipping in the wind.

“Little sis!” someone shouts. “Move—it’s not safe!”

Names surface.

Madeline.
Lilith.

Orphans.

Sisters by choice.

Running from the Vatican’s gaze.

I see it all now.

Madeline escapes.

Lilith is captured.

Years pass in seconds.

Madeline grows—armor-clad, sword in hand.

She returns for Lilith—

Only to find her unchanged.

Unbroken.

Fire roars.

Lilith vanishes into the flames.

Something awakens.

Madeline screams and charges.

Vatican knights fall—one after another.

Blood.

Steel.

Rage.

She leaps into the river and disappears.

The fog returns.

Someone stands before me.

Me.

Same face. Same eyes.

Hollow smile.

“You know,” my other self says calmly, “it’s better if we’re alone.”

I can speak now.

“Look at yourself,” I say.

“I’m a monster,” he replies. “Don’t deny it.”

“I don’t,” I answer. “But I can’t bear killing people.”

He laughs.

“Survival is survival.”

I hesitate.

“Shut up,” he snaps. “Look at you. You’re a shell.”

He steps closer.

“Your friends make you weak.”

Images flash—LA, blood, fire.

“That’s what made us strong. Ruthless.”

“Strong with blood?” I ask.

He grins.

“You’re smiling.”

“That’s not me!”

He grabs my collar.

“Then get a grip, asshole!”

“We survived alone before. We can do it again.”

The fog tightens.

My chest burns.

And somewhere far away—

A heartbeat calls me back.

“Asshole!” my other self snarls. “Stop being indecisive!”

“I can’t!” I shout back. My voice cracks. “I just—”

“Then you’re not worthy of standing with them!”

He steps closer, eyes burning.

“Mika.
Priscilla.
Sylvia.
Shannay.”

Each name hits like a knife.

“You don’t deserve them,” he spits. “You’re a loser pretending to be human.”

“Shut up!”

I swing.

My fist connects.

The impact ripples like smoke—but he doesn’t fall.

He smiles.

“See?” he laughs softly. “I told you. Rage. Wrath. That’s what fuels us.”

He spreads his arms like a preacher.

“That’s our superpower.”

I stumble back, heart pounding.

“Come on,” he continues. “We don’t need women. We don’t need friends. You’re not a baby anymore.”

He taps my chest.

“They’ve been slowing you down. You know it.”

“Shut up!” I kick him.

My leg slices through empty air—he dissolves, reforming behind me.

“Don’t forget this,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re not worthy of that privilege.”

His voice hardens.

“We’re not like them.”

I clench my fists.

“Walk away. You can’t protect anyone. You never could.”

The fog crushes in.

My breath comes out ragged.

“F–fuck…!”

My scream tears through the dream—

And the darkness answers back.

I keep walking.

The fog doesn’t thin.
It doesn’t clear.

It just stretches on forever, like it’s waiting for me to give up.

Another path opens ahead.

I stop.

“What the hell is going on…?”

My voice echoes strangely, swallowed by the mist.

Why am I like this?

Why does it feel like something inside me is tearing itself apart?

Then—

The fog splits.

Not gently.

Violently.

A memory surfaces.

Not something I remember.

Something buried.

Something my mind refused to let me see.

And now—

I see it.

Clear.

Real.

My body.

On a cold metal table.

Small. Broken.

Dead.

My breath locks in my chest.

No—
No, no, no—

Another body lies beside mine.

Frederica.

Lifeless.

Her skin pale. Her eyes closed.

I try to scream.

Nothing comes out.

I watch in horror as the impossible happens.

Organs.
Blood.
Sutures.

Her heart.

Her lungs.

Parts of her brain—

No.

I shake my head violently.

This isn’t real.

This can’t be real.

“How could you… Mom…?”

The words choke inside me.

Horror isn’t strong enough.

This isn’t fear.

This is betrayal.

So this is it.

I was supposed to die.

I did die.

Then why—

Why am I here?

Why do I exist like this?

The fog trembles, reacting to my panic.

My hands clutch at my chest like I can tear the truth out of me.

“What am I supposed to do now?!”

My scream finally breaks free.

“If this is my life—then what the hell am I training for?!”

Images flash.

Soro.
Blood.
Gunfire.
Orders whispered in the dark.

Why train me?

Why sharpen a corpse?

The fog closes in again, heavy and suffocating.

And somewhere deep inside—

Something answers.

That vision—

I’ve seen it before.

The last time we raided the Kudat research facility.

The photos.
The reports.
The sealed files I wasn’t supposed to read.

They weren’t lies.

They were records.

So it’s true then.

I close my eyes slowly, letting the weight of it sink into my bones.

Footsteps echo in the fog.

My other self appears again, arms crossed, wearing that same crooked grin.

“See?” he says. “Told ya.”

“…Yeah,” I reply quietly. “That’s why I decided to find out myself.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Huh? What about letting it go?”

I glare at him.

“Shut up. You’re just a fragment of my imagination.”
I take a breath. “But thanks to you… I know what I have to do next.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Whatever. Don’t come back crying again, asshole.”

“Right back at ya.”

The fog tears apart.

My eyes open.

White ceiling.

Beeping machines.

The smell of antiseptic.

Hospital.

My chest rises—slow, steady. Pain lingers, but it’s distant now.

Someone is holding my hand.

“Alex…”

Mom.

Her eyes are red, tears finally spilling over. She presses her forehead against my knuckles like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

“About time you woke up,” she whispers.

“What happened…?” My voice is hoarse.

“You’ve been asleep since last night,” she says softly.

“Sorry to worry you.” I swallow. “What about Hana… Dad… Sam?”

“They’re fine,” she answers quickly. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“…Good,” I mutter. “Then let me rest a bit more.”

I close my eyes again.

She taps my forehead lightly.

“Well then,” she says, trying to smile, “have a good rest.”

She turns to leave.

Then pauses.

“…She’s been worried sick about you,” Mom adds quietly. “Go easy on her.”

“Huh?”

Footsteps.

I open my eyes.

Sylvia stands there.

Her face is pale, eyes sharp—like she’s staring at a ghost that shouldn’t exist.

“…Um,” I say weakly, forcing a grin. “Looks like the leash got a bit loose. Haha.”

She doesn’t laugh.

“Well then,” she replies calmly, “we’ll just have to tighten it.”

I chuckle—nervous.

But her gaze doesn’t soften.

“Alex,” she says, voice low, steady. “Why do you always feel like you have to prove something?”

“What do you mean…?”

She steps closer.

“Every time,” she says. “LA. And now this.”

Her fists clench.

“I thought it ended there.”

I look away.

Silence stretches between us.

Then she speaks again—clear, unwavering.

“Let me make this clear.”

She places her hand over mine.

“I’m not a damsel in distress.”

Her grip tightens.

“Even if part of me wishes I could be.”

She leans closer, eyes burning with resolve.

“I’m strong. I promised that.”

Her voice softens—but doesn’t weaken.

“We walk forward together.”

“Side by side.”

No fog.
No darkness.
Just her.

And for the first time since I woke up—

I breathe.

But at the same time…

There’s something I still need to know.

A thought slips out before I can stop it.

“There’s… another place in Long Pasia,” I say quietly. “Maybe this weekend.”

Sylvia tilts her head. “Huh…?”

I glance at her. “Wanna go?”

For half a second, she just stares at me.

Then she smiles.

Not her polite smile.

The dangerous one.

She loops her arm around mine and leans in close.

“As you wish… my dear,” she whispers, eyes gleaming.

That devilish grin of hers breaks me.

I laugh.

She laughs too.

The tension fades—just a little.

But inside, my thoughts drift back to that dream.

The fog.
The voices.
The truth I wasn’t ready to face.

Something inside me is still moving.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

And maybe…

It’s time I stop running from it.

Not today.

Not now.

For now, I ground myself.

I’m just a fifteen-year-old boy.

Not a soldier.
Not a weapon.
Not a monster.

Just a kid who wants to laugh with the girl beside him.

Tomorrow can worry about itself.

For now—

I breathe.

— End of Chapter