The Miserable End Of Fiction

"Mom! I got a perfect score on my exam!" I called out as I stepped into the house, excitement bubbling in my voice.

The scent of home wrapped around me, warm and familiar.

"Wow! Very good!" Mom's voice was filled with joy as she hurried over. "We have to celebrate this—my son got another perfect score!"

"Hehe~"

She pulled me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me like a cocoon. She smiled—a warm, gentle smile. A smile I couldn't quite recognize.

It felt unfamiliar.

But I liked it.

I don't know how many days have passed. I'm still a child, still needing my mother's care, so I stay with her.

I don't know where my father is.

And I don't want to know.

Since coming here, only good things have happened. It feels like a dream.

Is it a dream?

I don't care.

I just want to enjoy it.

Yet, everything feels off. Too perfect. Too soft, like a memory that's been smoothed out over time.

Like it never happened.

Or… did I forget these moments?

"Lucas, wash your hands. It's dinner time."

Mom's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

Lucas. That's my name. Or… was that my name?

Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something important?

"Okay, Mom," I replied, pushing aside the uneasy feeling.

After washing my hands, I sat at the dining table, waiting.

"Now, dinner is ready. Let's pray and eat."

Mom always prays before meals.

Is she praying for my well-being?

I hope so.

I close my eyes, clasp my hands together, and pray.

Then I take a bite.

The taste floods my senses.

It's delicious.

I… I missed this.

"Do you like it?" Mom asked, her eyes filled with expectation. "It's your favorite—hamburger and omurice."

She remembers.

She always made my favorite dishes when I achieved something or When my elementary school teacher praised me.

"Yes, it's very tasty."

She smiled, but then…

"But… why are you crying?"

I froze.

I reached up, touching my cheek.

Wet.

Tears?

The thought of her working so hard for me, cooking my favorite food, welcoming me with open arms…

It was too much.

Too unfamiliar.

"You've been acting strange lately," she said softly.

"Have I?" I forced a chuckle, wiping my tears. "It's just… tears of happiness. Hehe. I just missed you."

And that was the truth.

I missed my mom.

But—you're fake.

She reached out, cupping my cheek, wiping my tears with her thumb.

"I'm always here for you. Why would you miss me? You just need to stay with me, okay, Lucas? My son."

Fake.

"Yes, Mom. I'll always stay with you."

Fake. Fake. Fake.

---

The Piano

"Why do you play the piano?" someone once asked me.

My answer was simple—because it's cool.

In manga, the main characters who play the piano always look so elegant. So composed.

I wanted to be like them.

I wanted to be the protagonist of my own story.

But the real reason?

Because Mom loved it.

I thought she would praise me if I learned.

But—she never did.

Still, with every note I played, I poured my emotions into the music.

Joy.

Sadness.

Longing.

The piano whispered my feelings in melodies only I could understand.

And then, as the final note lingered in the air, fading into silence—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"You're very good at this," Mom said, her voice trembling.

Tears lined her eyes, but she was smiling.

"It was a brilliant performance."

I turned to her.

"Did you like it, Mom?" My voice wavered.

"Yes, I really enjoyed it."

Fake. Fake.

"I know you're learning for me. That makes me very happy."

I clenched my fists.

Mom never told me this.

Even as she spoke, as her words wrapped around me, a part of me refused to accept them.

No.

No.

You're fake, you have to be fake, I can't accept this.

"This is not reality," I whispered to myself.

And yet…

---

The Illusion

Even after realizing the truth, I did nothing to escape.

I just wanted more time.

More time to feel her warmth.

More time to hear her voice.

More time to be her son.

But… isn't this trial too easy?

How did they create such a perfect illusion?

Was it this easy for me because I had memories of another life?

What about others?

How hard is it for them to wake up?

"Mom, where are you? It's dinner time."

I walked through the dark hallway, reaching her room.

Silence.

That was strange.

I opened the door.

Darkness.

I flicked on the light.

Bang!

"Happy Birthday, Lucas!"

My heart jumped.

She scared me—how did I not sense her presence?

But—

"What? My birthday? But… how did you know?"

She forgot before.

"What are you talking about? I'm your mother. It's only natural for me to remember your birthday."

I… guess that makes sense.

But why does it feel wrong?

I don't remember celebrating my birthday before.

Or… did I forget?

"I don't know…" I whispered.

I don't remember.

I need to leave.

I need my memories back.

"Thank you, Mom," I said. "For celebrating my birthday."

Even if this world was fake—

I was happy.

"You can thank me later," she smiled. "First, try the cake. I made it myself."

Mom can cook anything—except cakes.

I cut the cake and took a bite. As expected, it was too sweet.

"Yes, it's tasty and very unique."

Sweet.

Too sweet.

"Is it too sweet again?" she asked. That's the problem—Mom always adds too much sugar.

I swallowed.

"But I liked it, Mom."

I stared at her, my slowly turning silver-gray.

"I will never forget these days. They were happy memories. But—"

I picked up the knife.

Approached her.

Embraced her one last time.

"—this world isn't real. And I already died before. I have to go."

I wondered…

If I told her this was fake, what would she do?

Would she deny it?

Would she try to stop me?

"Oh… is it time already?"

Her voice was calm.

Tears ran down her face, but she wasn't stopping me.

"It was happy for me too, son. I know you have to go. It's just a shame… I never got to see you married. Or meet my grandchildren."

"What?! Are you seriously talking about marriage to a kid?"

She chuckled.

"But you act so mature. I thought you'd stay for another 20 years. I even started planning your wedding."

Was she teasing me?

Or was she serious?

"But… are you happy there?" she asked.

I hesitated.

"I don't know."

She smiled.

"Don't think too much. Follow your heart. Even if the world is against you, I will always love you."

"Haha… such a cliché line, Mom."

But I loved hearing it.

"Bye, Mom."

This was my final farewell to Mom. And to this fake world.

But I would always remember these moments.

They were now a part of me.

"Bye, Mom. Take care. I always loved you."

"I'm glad you never hated me."

She smiled.

"Go now. Do the work you left behind. And don't forget—you are special, my son."

"Yes, Mom."

With that, I stabbed the knife that I been holding into my eye. With that darkness surrounded me.

The same Darkness.

But this time—

I could see beyond it.

A woman stood there, her silver-gray eyes glowing.

"Oh? You passed, descendant. After such a long time, someone finally escaped that trap. Welcome… to the Grave of Zoldyck."

I narrowed my eyes.

"So you're the one playing tricks on me, you perverted b*tch."