Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Chapter 14

(Art by cherubunny on DeviantArt)

Twist 'n turn it right around

The details never safe or sound

-----*-----

You open your wallet and shake out a coin from its depths. Putting your briefcase and umbrella on the floor, which you had snagged just before leaving your house, you insert the coin to where it should be and hold the payphone's receiver between your shoulder and the side of your head. It rings for a few moments, of which you wait patiently inside the glass compartment. Rain hits the panes rhythmically, but the dial tone drowns out your focus for the tapping white noise.

"Hello, who is this?" Stia says once she picks up her phone.

"[Y/N]. Sorry for calling again, Stia," you laugh hollowly.

"Ah, it's no bother. How can I help you?"

"Things didn't go so well with [S/N]..." you slowly say, a small frown on your melancholy face. "I think she's going to prevent me from seeing you."

"...I understand. What do you want to do about it?"

"I'm still going to see you. I agreed to help with Bella. Since I don't know what my sister can do to stop me, I'm not going home today so we can see each other tomorrow."

"Wait, where are you staying?"

"My office. My boss will let me."

"Oh no, you're not. Come to my place for tonight. It will be better that way anyway."

"Are you sure...?"

"Certain. Well, my address is..."

-----*-----

"Geez, you're annoyed today," Kennith remarks. "What happened?"

"Nothing you need to know about," you retort. "Please just give me what I asked for."

"Fine, fine..." He pushes himself away from his desk and leaves the room, going further into the building.

The bustling of people passing by the windows does not go unheard for you. It's one of those days in which it seems like everyone's out and about, especially on Usaha Street, where work gets done. It looks like it's a profitable day for all, despite the rain. You're sure they all have umbrellas, but you don't look behind yourself, even though you usually would. You kept your gaze set on where Kennith had disappeared to, until he came out with a stack of papers.

Once he does, the stack is way smaller than you had envisioned. You made a mental checklist of what you'd asked for: information about the carnival and articles about Izabella. Bella's articles would be the ones taking up most of the volume. What happened to them? "Why are there so few papers?" you inquire.

"Well, you see," he starts tiredly, setting the papers on his desk and leaning on it himself. "There was almost nothing about that Izabella Pierre you mentioned. Only about her ties to the carnival and the article you wrote."

"What?" You furrow your brows. "Nothing? Not anything about her being a suspect, or..."

"Nothing," he confirms.

You rationalize this. Maybe she did it so well she wasn't even mentioned in the papers as a suspect at all. Yes, that's possible. Which crime articles even mention potential suspects if it's not known? It was kind of dumb to expect anything other than nothing. "That's okay. Thank you for your work, Kennith."

"No problem," he huffs. As a hesitant formality, he adds "If there's anything else you need, you know... I'm here."

"Of course. Have a good day!" you say before you join the traffic of people outside. He waves a goodbye, saving his breath.

-----*-----

You hoist the open umbrella above you as you settle on a park bench of which you've brushed off the water. The rain drops stream off the points of your shelter from the weather, but they're far enough away from you to keep you and, most importantly, the papers, dry.

The top-most paper was a cut-out newspaper article about the Casta Carnival. It was from the Mara Press itself, announcing the arrival of the carnival's arrival a few cities away. It was from a few years ago. As you went through the rest of the articles, you saw that most of them were others of the same announcement, from different years, talking about the new attractions of each year. Scanning them casually, you spot the additions of a trapeze act, the expansion of the freakshow... Not much that really piqued your interest.

As you flip through the stack, something falls out of the protection of your umbrella and into a puddle. You quickly pick it back up, even though it's wet already. Carefully flipping it over, you try to see the return address. It only has one line of writing, like the letters you hand directly to someone. The writing is smudged and unreadable. The top of the envelope is soaked, so you easily manipulate the paper to tear. You pull out the actual letter, which is only slightly better compared to its shell.

Once again, you expected a lot of something and received just a little. This text wasn't smudged, thankfully, and it read

Go to the carnival and enter the mirror.

Under this, there's a signature, but it is unreadable because of the puddle it bathed in. The paper disintegrates in your hands, sticking to your skin, and eventually it tears apart. It unexpectedly disappears, starting at the edges and going inwards, as if it were smoldering in light of a fire.

Your fingers, which had been holding that strange letter, are trembling. You can feel in your gut that the mirror spoken about will hold evil of some kind.

And yet, your cursed curiosity keeps nagging at you, wishing to obey and find out more... It makes your hands shake more and more, knowing you don't know what there is to know. Under your umbrella, sheltered from the rain, sitting on this miserable park bench, you are anxious for tomorrow, so you can ignore your self-preservation and finally find out.