The sky was never truly dark. But it never knew light either.
Ash-colored clouds loomed over the city, unmoving—as if too tired to float. The sky no longer wept, but traces of its sorrow lingered on the streets—small puddles reflecting a world that barely moved.
I sat on an old bench in the middle of a park.
A park that never bloomed.
The swing beside me swayed gently, without wind. Its chains creaked with each motion, like the cry of metal abandoned for too long. This park was surrounded by hollow buildings. Mold clung to their walls, their windows cracked, and the sounds of the world… never reached them.
This is where I am now—a body still capable of movement, yet feeling not alive.
I was once happy in this park.
At least… that's what my memory tells me.
"You used to play there often, Knnight,"
a faint voice—my mother's—once whispered through a memory.
"You laughed the first time you rode the swing."
I don't know if it's true. But the memory exists.
And that memory is the only source of feeling I have left.
I don't really feel. But I can choose to summon the feeling—
like opening an old dusty drawer and pulling out photographs with faces I can barely make out.
I'm… not a monster.
But I'm not human anymore either.
Not after all this.
---
"How many times have you sat here?" a strange voice suddenly asked.
I turned slowly.
No one was there.
Or maybe there was… and I simply couldn't tell the difference between reality and flashes of memory.
I'm used to voices.
Some speak like old friends. Others… like judges inside my head.
But today, all the voices were silent. No chatter, no whispers.
Just this park, this bench, and the gray sky that seemed to be watching.
---
I once believed in law. I lived with integrity, upholding justice. I even refused bribes when working as a legal administrator in the eastern district of the city.
And what did I get?
A curse.
Déjà vu.
Fragments of time repeating like shards of glass stabbing my eyes over and over.
I remember a child once ran to me, crying, because he'd lost his mother. I wanted to help. But I hesitated.
They'd accuse me of kidnapping.
They'd look at me like a criminal.
And the worst part wasn't the accusation.
It was that I'd seen it all before.
Their hateful eyes. The same words repeated. The echoing shouts. Even the scent of the air when it all happened… never changed.
I was trapped in a recording of my own life. And when I tried to escape, the world simply… rewound.
---
Law of Remnant.
That's the name of my power. I didn't name it—don't know where the words came from. But when the power awakened, I knew it wasn't magic. It wasn't a gift.
It was a second form of curse.
I can't create. I can only destroy.
This power doesn't come from my body.
But from the emotional vault within my memory.
Every pain, shame, disappointment, fear—even unreturned love—becomes fuel.
I can choose an emotion, ignite it in my mind. And instantly… the world cracks.
But why would I do that?
"Because feeling something is the only thing that makes you feel alive," the voice in my head replies.
---
I looked down at my hands.
Cold.
Not from temperature, but because my soul was no longer inside this body. I could feel the pulse—but it felt like watching someone else breathe for me.
I summoned a memory.
My little sister's smile, when I bought her a cheap doll at the night market.
It felt warm.
But too brief.
Then I switched.
The laughter of people as they accused me of stealing public funds.
When all I did was refuse to join their corruption.
Hot. My eyes trembled. My hands shook.
Remnanctum: Type Despair.
The ground around the bench began to crack. Grass withered. Air thickened.
I quickly shut it down.
Not yet. Not now.
I can still hold it back.
---
I stood up.
My steps led me out of the park. But the park didn't disappear. It stayed in my mind, looping forever. Like every place I've ever been.
This place will never bloom.
Because I carry destruction wherever I go.
And somewhere along the way…
I stopped caring whether this world deserves saving.
---
There was an old building at the end of the street. No signs, no paint left on the walls. Only dust and the scent of rust embedded in every crack.
It felt like a shell.
A void too large for one person… yet perfect for someone who wanted to vanish.
I opened the door. The hinges screeched. Sunlight never entered here. I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't need them. In fact, I wasn't even sure light still meant anything to me.
My footsteps echoed alone.
This used to be a small legal office. I worked here. Filing, sorting documents, handling reports. All done carefully. All with good intentions.
Now… only piles of empty folders remain. Some scratched in red ink, marked "CANCELLED," "INVALID," or "TRAITOR."
I don't regret upholding the law.
I'm just… disappointed.
---
The desk at the far end was still intact.
I sat there, opened a drawer, and pulled out a worn-out book. Not a diary. Not legal codes. Not strategy notes.
Just… a collection of memories.
I call it that because it's full of scribbles—some kind of emotional log.
The first page read:
"If I can no longer feel, then let me remember."
Each page after held a single emotion.
"Fear – when they looked at me like I was a beast."
"Joy – when she gave me cake and said I deserved sweetness."
"Anger – when they accused me of hiding evidence, even though I was the only one trying to be honest."
"Love – when she said I was weird, but stayed with me that night."
I don't know who she is.
Maybe just a memory I built from despair.
---
Law of Remnant works like a reflection.
The stronger the emotion I pull from memory, the greater its manifestation.
But there's a cost.
Every time I draw on that emotion, I lose a piece of my sanity. I feel… alien. Not just from the world, but from myself.
One night, I cried. But I didn't know why.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize the face staring back.
I started to realize…
the person I am now is not who I used to be.
And what hurts more…
I'm starting to get used to it.
---
"Why don't you talk to people?"
That question comes up often. From inside my head. From the few I still meet.
The answer is simple.
I'm afraid.
Not of rejection.
But because I know they'll destroy me without meaning to.
Someone once smiled at me.
I remembered it. And kept it.
But when they returned… they avoided me. Laughed with others. Said things that cut deep, whether on purpose or not.
And as always… I stored that too.
My memory bank doesn't distinguish between pain and love.
It stores everything.
Everything becomes energy.
And when it overflows…
The world becomes a mirror of my broken mind.
---
Today, I heard footsteps outside the building.
Soft steps. Hesitant. But approaching.
I waited.
One… two… three knocks on the door.
I didn't respond.
Then the door creaked open. Someone stood there.
A girl. Young. Long hair tied carelessly. Sharp eyes, but confused. Maybe she was lost.
Or…
Maybe she was sent.
"Sorry, I..." she hesitated.
"I'm looking for shelter… may I?"
I stared at her without answering.
One second. Two seconds. Memories began to flow in.
Her eyes reminded me of someone.
The way she stood… like someone I once protected.
"You…"
my voice came out slowly.
"Aren't you afraid… this place is cursed?"
She paused. Then gave a faint smile.
"Sometimes… the scariest places are more honest than people."
That smile… triggered a memory.
I pulled it.
Warmth spread from my chest. But at the same time, the sky outside began to tremble.
Remnanctum responded.
I quickly looked away, restraining the emotional tremor trying to explode.
"You should leave," I said.
"Before something appears."
"Too late," she whispered.
---
The sky rumbled.
The building shook.
The emotions in my body overflowed—a mixture of joy, fear, and unnamed loss.
I needed control.
You are not a monster, Knnight.
Don't destroy her.
But the world never understands warnings.
And Law of Remnant knows no mercy.
My power only affects nature. So when I desire destruction…
it's nature that bites back.
It slices, it tears, it punishes anyone who reflects the emotion inside me.
---