"Here, Kiyomi, drink up," Olympia says, trying to shove a flask into my mouth. I mean the liquid in the flask, obviously—but you get me, right?
"Can you quit trying to feed me like I'm a baby? I'm not thirsty right now."
"But don't you know what this is? This is Olympia's Secret Juice. People go through hell just to taste a droplet of this concoction. Hell, some even sacrifice their families for a sip."
"Jesus Christ, that's dark. I'm not so sure I want to try it…" At this point, I'm not even joking. I'm genuinely worried for my well-being.
"What if I said you could use this as an excuse to kiss me indirectly—Huh!? Where's my flask?"
In a flash, I snatch the flask out of her hand and chug whatever liquid harbors Olympia's backwash. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted that last part...
The liquid, which I assumed was just water, has a bitter aftertaste that makes me feel mildly nauseous.
"If it tastes bitter, that's normal," Olympia says, flashing a wink. "It's tea. But I won't tell you the type. You'll have to figure that out yourself."
I'm glad she doesn't mention how quickly I caved once she framed it like a kiss.
"So, Kiyomi," she says, voice shifting slightly, "before we move on with the plot—you took quite the break between this chapter and the last one. What gives? Some tragic event that pulled you away from the keyboard?"
I laugh weakly. "I wish. I've just been unbelievably lazy. The kind of lazy where you watch yourself live life from a distance—but the person you're watching doesn't even feel like you."
"Talking like that doesn't make you sound cool," Olympia replies. "It sounds like you're hiding something. You know, you could lie about it. No one would know. But at this point, you're lying for no one…which means you're lying for nothing. Isn't that kind of pathetic?"
She tilts her head, studying me. "You really like your metaphors," she adds, but this time there's no tease in her tone. Just...something else. Something sharp beneath the quiet.
Still, I push on.
"I'd agree that lying for no one, for no reason, is foolish. But is it even possible? Whatever words we speak are always heard by at least one person—ourselves. So when I lie to no one, I'm still lying to someone. Myself.
"Whether that's idiotic or smart... I'll let someone else decide. But if I lie to myself, and I believe it—then it becomes truth. At least, to me. And if no one else knows it's a lie, how could that truth ever be disproven?"
I glance at her, unsure if she's following. "Olympia...do you think what humans value most is the truth? I don't. I think we value what we believe to be true. The actual truth doesn't matter. If it hurts, we ignore it. We make up something softer. Happier. Even if it's a lie, if it brings comfort...we live by it. Some people spend their entire lives inside those kinds of lies.
"But is that really living?"
She doesn't answer.
"You know," I say, quieter now, "I used to think people lied to protect something. Something fragile. Something shameful."
Still, no joke from her. Just silence.
"But maybe it's not about protection. Maybe people lie because they want to believe it. A prettier version. A better version. One they can live with."
I laugh—short and breathless. "That probably sounds dumb."
Olympia still doesn't smile.
"No, really...maybe lies can be true. Not because they happened. But because they were needed. Because someone needed them to be true. Even if that someone...was just me."
After walking in silence for some time, we reach a building I don't recognize. It's too dark to make out its features, but it feels familiar somehow. Déjà vu. We probably should've brought a flashlight.
"I brought my torch, if that's worthy of your grace, Kiyomi."
"Of course, that isn't fine! And why'd you have to say it like that...? You're making me sound like some divine being."
"Isn't Kiyomi French for 'he who stands facing God'?"
"You know damn well that's not what it means."
"My bad, Mr. Beautiful Nothing," Olympia says, smirking in that way that always gets under my skin. She's lucky I don't strike her down right here.
"So…why are we here, Olympia? This doesn't look abandoned. If we're hunting a witch, shouldn't we be somewhere more isolated? Why would a witch live in a place people wander around in during the day?"
"That's the thing, Kiyomi—during the day. In the night, a place without light makes for the perfect hiding spot."
"Oh. Huh. That...actually makes sense."
"It should," she says. "This building holds the most victims. If you don't recognize it, maybe I shouldn't have brought you. But you're here now, so...I'll use you."
Use me?
Her tone sharpens—something cold threading through her words. Until now, I half-believed this witch hunt was just an excuse to spend time together. But that wasn't the truth, was it? Maybe I was just being too hopeful.
"Kiyomi," she says suddenly, "sorry to spring this on you, but I need to powder my nose. You don't mind waiting, do you? Of course you don't. After all the oh-so-kind things I've done for you, there's no way you'd be annoyed by something so natural.
"Well, ciao ciao, Kiyomi. Wait—saying that makes it sound like I won't come back. Pray I don't fall asleep!"
And just like that, she bolts off—fast. Much faster than I expected.
I forgot she used to do track. She still runs in her free time, she once told me. Busy girl. She didn't even let me respond. Not that I'd have minded—of course I wouldn't. We did just eat, after all. It's only natural.
But still...why so hasty?
She must've really needed to go, huh?
Come back quickly, I whisper to no one.
Something answers.
But it isn't an echo.
It's something else.
Something I still don't quite understand.