Chapter 325

Chapter 325

Theres a point when unmitigated self-loathing gets so intense, you dont even feel like killing yourself anymore. You hate yourself so much, you think death would be too easy, so you want to suffer, need to suffer, because you deserve to suffer. Its a feeling Im all-too familiar with, but today, I discovered what comes after self-loathing: cold indifference. Its kinda unsettling how little I care right now. Dead, alive, either or, doesnt matter. Solitude sounds nice though. Id like to be alone please.

Bowing at the waist, the monk Sends, It would do you good to reflect on this. Peace comes from within, Brother SanDukkha. Do not seek it without, but there are people here for you should you need them. Slipping out the door, he closes it gently behind him and I almost call out to ask him to come back in. I dont want to be alone, because life sucks when youre alone, doubly when you just discovered your little brother was just you talking to yourself all along.

It shouldnt be hard to find someone to keep me company. The bears and cats are in Songs yurt along with Lin and Mila, the three ladies gossiping or braiding their hair or doing whatever it is young women do during a sleepover. Meanwhile, the birds, bunnies, and quins are even closer, right outside the door, all cuddled around sweet Ping Ping as she sleeps beneath the starry night sky, her belly full and body tired from her busy day of swimming and hunting. I could walk right out and sit down next to her and let Mama Bun and Blackjack hop into my lap. Or I could lie down beside a pile of bunnies and let them burrow under me, or even head over and ask for Aurie to snuggle with. Hell, if I really wanted company, I have like eighty soldiers standing around on guard duty to talk to.

Theres a lot I could do, but I dont, because when it comes right down to it, I dont believe I deserve to be happy. So instead, I sit on the floor and fixate on the open box sitting next to the giant kettle filled of diarrhea-inducing tea. Its not because my lips are dry and throat is parched from crying and screaming for the last hour or longer, nor is it because Im overwhelmed and staring at whatevers in front of me. In the aftermath of a life-shattering revelation, theres one thing I cant wrap my head around.

Why did I leave the box of dried mandrel stalk sitting open on the dining table?

I mean, I can figure out why I made so much dysentery tea. You can get rid of mandrel stalk tea with Chi the same way you get rid of other ingested fluids, like poisons or alcohol, but the tea still has to move through your system. Its presence alone is enough to get the poop flowing, which is why I used it to dose Joranis old crew back in Sanshu and also why I subconsciously slipped a box into my pantry. I wanted to accidentally poison myself and miss my meeting with the Legate, and if I took the chatty monk down with me, then itd be a nice bonus.

So why didnt I close the box and put it away? Its not like mandrel stalk is rare or expensive, its a common remedy to an ailment which plagues everyone from peasant to Emperor alike. Itd be weird if the monk didnt recognize the stuff, so why put the only evidence of my misdeeds right in front of his face? Was I trying to get caught?

...I am one fucked-up basket case.

Not that its really a surprise. Ive said it countless times before and Ill say it again: Im not cut out for this world. I shouldve died in a giant pile of slave corpses outside the mines, but I survived on nothing but sheer, dumb luck. Not only did I not die, I also ran into the only people within a hundred kilometres who had reason to save me. Maybe someone was looking out for me, or maybe karma decided not to be a bitch for once, but either way, my survival was a god-damned miracle.

After four blissful years spent training in the village, I thought I was tough enough to face the world, but Shen Huo proved me wrong. It wasnt the brigands or carnugators which did me in, nor was it Dugu TianYi and his shitty sons. No, the person who showed me I truly dont belong was Tong Da Hai himself. The Magistrate of Shen Huo and Fungs doting father, his vengeance against Dugu Ren was swift and merciless, sentencing an eighteen-year-old kid to inhuman torture. Ill never forget the crowd gathered around the stage, sitting in the stands and laughing as they watched Ren suffer. On that day, I knew no matter how hard I tried, Id never fit in. Even Akanai, who admitted she found the whole thing distasteful, brought me there to see Rens misery, maybe hoping to cheer me up or maybe checking if I was Defiled.

I wasnt. Not yet at least. A shame. If I was, Akanai couldve cut my throat and saved everyone a lot of trouble.

I wish I could blame this on something else, like all the bullshit with the Societys Contest. Not to say the Societys murderous shenanigans played no part in my eventual fall from grace, but I cant exactly pin the whole thing on them either. I cant even blame the Defiled for their heinous behaviour because I know what its like to have the Spectres whispering in your ear. Theres no rational thought or careful introspection because they fill you with so much rage, adrenaline, and endorphins, its downright impossible to keep a clear mind. Especially when its so much easier to be angry instead of scared.

Fear disheartens.

Anger emboldens.

Thats the lesson I learned when I walked into the ruins of a quiet village and saw a tiny piece of paradise filled with the ravaged remains of its inhabitants. All I wanted to do was curl up and cry, but I couldnt. I had to be strong. Yan, Huu, and Mila were all right there with me and they saw what I saw, but none of them broke, so instead of getting sad, I got angry. I accepted the Spectres lies and took the strength and courage they offered, and thus, almost doomed the people I love.

I only have myself to blame for cracking under pressure, because like I said, I am not meant for this world and the horrors it contains.

Looking back on it now, it amazes me how I never put two and two together and figured out I was Defiled, or close to it. Whats even more surprising is no one else did either, but I suppose thats the problem with looking through rose-coloured glasses. You never want to think the worst of those you love. The signs were all there if Id ever bothered to look, like the unexplained bursts of strength, the uncontrolled anger, the sudden Insight into the Forms. Id been having trouble meditating and Honing, plus some of my injuries were healing on their own, like when Man Giao shattered my eardrums. Then there were all the violent, unsavoury thoughts about violating and abusing every woman in sight which I conveniently forgot about following Demon Viveks mind-fuckery.

Vivek turned into exactly the Demon I needed. More dumb luck, I guess. I still dont know why, but I instantly knew the Demons illusion wasnt real, but I didnt care. Wilful suspension of disbelief is something I excel in, with decades of practice under my belt. The Demon showed me everything I wanted, melding all my memories in a masturbatory amalgamation meant to stroke my ego and lull me into blissful complacency. Oddly enough, this was ultimately its downfall. As fun as hedonistic power fantasies are, I prefer a good underdog story, with a conflict to solve and steep odds to overcome. Even though I was mostly content to watch countless, harmonious iterations of my life flash by, the pessimist in me couldnt accept such a pleasant, carefree existence, while the survivor in me knew it was do or die.

And thus came the split. On one side, we had the dreamer, the idealist, the moral defender, and on the other, we had the warrior, the realist, the survivor. Brother and Baledagh, two sides of the same coin, kept separate through sheer, stubborn, ignorance.

I needed to be strong so I created the strongest version of myself I could imagine, the version that would survive in this unforgiving world. Its even in his name, Baledagh. Warrior. Bold, confident, and fearless, hes the person I wanted to be, the person I needed to become. His dreams were my dreams, wishing Id been found before my time in the mines, growing up happy, loved, and accepted by the Bekhai instead of a self-exiled recluse turned social-outcast, burdened by secret memories and crippling neuroses. Unlike me, he belonged here, would thrive in a way I never could.

Obscure, mystical knowledge pulled out of thin air? Good thing Baledagh is a believer.

Duels to the death? Finally, Baledagh relishes the chance for glory.

I close my eyes and enter my Natal Palace.

The empty replica of the village is a familiar sight, so still and lifeless it hurts. Its not real and it never will be. No matter how much I want to, I cant return to those early years in the village and change my plans. Reflecting on memories of better times, they spring into life around me, creations of the mind tempting me to stay behind and forget my problems. Soothing the twins while their teeth grow in, hearing them speak their first words, or laughing as they chase the pups across the courtyard, the best of friends at first sight. Studying with Taduk or reading with Lin, cooking dinner for everyone to give Charok and Alsantset a break, all memories I hold near and dear to my heart.

If I could go back in time, would I change things? Would I give up on my Martial Training and throw everything I have into herbalism? Where would I be now? Sitting at home in the village, worrying about my family who are off fighting the Defiled, probably still resisting Lins efforts to marry me. I wouldnt have made friends with Fung, Huu, BoShui, Dastan, and (sigh...) Zian, Song wouldnt have come to live with us, Mila and Yan wouldve never been interested in me, and I wouldnt have met Qing-Qing. No wildcats, bears, birds, or Ping-Ping either, not if I stayed home for all those excursions. I mightve still gotten some bunnies, but definitely not Mama Bun, the timing wouldnt have been right. Plus, without Martial Training, Im fairly certain Mama Bun wouldve murdered me in a heartbeat, a bad end if Id ever seen one.

Ignoring everything else, would I be happier as an herbalist?

Maybe. Maybe not, but that path is forever lost. Ive chosen my path, my Dao, and now I must see it through to the end. Conjuring up a copy of myself, I study him at great length, staring into his cold, dead eyes and hoping against all hopes that my little brother will look back and say, Psych!, but he wont. This copy is just like all the other soulless automatons I made to populate my fake village, he only does what I make him do. Thats why the others always made me uncomfortable, they showed me what I was trying to ignore, that the other me I was talking to was just a fake, a conjured up facsimile of myself. I role-played myself while puppeteering another version of myself so I could converse with... myself.

Fucked up right?

...Who am I talking to?

Resolving to be mindful of talking to myself, I reach out and pat my facsimiles shoulder. Thank you little brother. You werent real, but I wouldnt have made it this far without you, which makes you real enough.

Goodbye.

The other me fades from existence as does the rest of the village, leaving only the little white room Baledagh... I, always loved to stay in. Fake though it may be, leaving a copy in the Natal Palace makes it easier to sustain and helps me multitask, but Id rather not have to look at myself for the next little while. Its not a big deal, this room easy to sustain and more than enough for my needs. Climbing into the bed, I stare at the intricately carved ceiling filled with scenes of courage and glory. I copied them off the pagoda in the village and each one tells a story, something to inspire and encourage future generations, but today, all they do is bring tears to my eyes.

I chose these carvings for Baledagh for that very reason, because they gave him... us... gave me something to aspire to. Baledagh isnt real and he never was. I made him up, a shield to hide behind, a crutch to stand on, a figment of my neurotic psyche.

So how come it hurts so much knowing hes gone?

A knock on the door interrupts my mourning and Rustrams voice sounds out. Boss? Sorry to wake you, but Jorani came back and hes got something for you.

Ill be right out. Opening my eyes, I stare at the hilt of my still-shaking sword, the blade buried in the floor a hairsbreadth from my cheek. Whether my sigh is one of relief or disappointment, Im not entirely sure, but it doesnt really matter, not right now. There will be no Peace today, no Tranquility to be found. I dont have time to work through my mental issues or make sense of my twisted life, I have a retinue to lead and duties to attend to. Joranis late, which cant be good, and I need to prep for my public meeting with the Legate. Before that, I should give Mila a proper welcome, bind my new weapon, and get Blobby back, which means theres no time like the present to get started. Im still not entirely sure where I stand on the Brother-Baledagh personality scale, but Ill need the best of both if I want to survive. I faked confidence for years now while pretending to be Baledagh, so I dont see why I should stop now.

Fake it til you make it, right?

With sword and shield in hand, I step out to face my first day as Warrant Officer Falling Rain, Warrior of...

The Bekhai? Nah, I doubt theyd want me representing them.

The North? Cant say I really care for the province as a whole.

The Empire? Eh... Politically correct yes, accurate, not so much.

...

Whatever, Ill figure out the specifics later.

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