Journey to Become the Zenith

The Vanishing Fisherman

Clara grabbed her own head.

”How is that possible?”

”I saw him...”

”I spoke to him...”

”I’ve seen him almost every day...”

”So why...”

”...can’t I remember his face clearly?”

Cold sweat rolled down her neck.

The answer slowly formed inside her heart.

Someone...

Had interfered with her memories.

The realization chilled her to the core.

Victor quietly observed her.

He didn’t look surprised.

Instead...

He simply waited for her to continue.

Clara’s breathing gradually steadied.

”I always remembered him as...”

”...a kind old man.”

”But now...”

”The more I think about him...”

”...the less natural those memories feel.”

”It feels like...”

”...someone forced me to think that way.”

She looked at Victor with fear in her purple eyes.

”My memories...”

”They’ve been manipulated...”

Victor slowly nodded.

”That explains a great deal.”

Clara swallowed.

”But...”

”When did it happen?”

”Was it that day?”

”Or...”

”Has someone been manipulating my mind for years?”

She couldn’t answer her own question.

The uncertainty frightened her more than anything else.

Victor finally spoke.

”The important thing...”

”...is that you’re beginning to remember.”

”Who was he?”

Clara slowly closed her eyes one last time.

The blurry face finally became slightly clearer.

She shivered.

”...Yes.”

”I know who he is.”

Victor waited.

Clara opened her eyes.

”The old man who sells fish...”

... At the corner of this street.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

”I say hello to him pretty much everyday. ...”

She unconsciously hugged her body.

”But...”

”...I still can’t quite bring his face to memory properly.”

”Even when I try so hard ...”

”... It’s as if my head refuses to let me see his face perfectly.”

Silence descended once more. Victor’s golden eyes glinted narrowly. He felt it.

The very first clue.

They had finally unearthed a real, actual thread that would lead them to the mastermind. Victor’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, before he paused to analyze her. She was not lying. The tremoring of her fingers.

The bewilderment etched within her purple eyes.

The tiny halt every time she attempted to picture the man’s face - all affirmed him of this conviction. Someone had meddled with her mind. Not to forget, or to delete memories, but by plastering false ones over them, thus shrouding her to perceive them as familiar and normal.

Such an artifice it was. Far more complex than mere psychic manipulation. He waited a few more seconds, before announcing, ”Lets go meet that old man.”

His cool voice immediately startled her, bringing her out of the musings.

”Show me his home. And i’ll see whether he really is the cause of placing a curse on your sisters.” His voice was filled with no iota of hesitation. Victor had no reason to ponder much any longer, to his mind, going straight to the source would be the simplest solution.

He quickly turned towards the breach in the wall and started to walk out.

The hollow echo of his black leather boots reverberated across the wooden planks of the house floor.

Reaching the opening of the broken walls, Victor paused midway - abruptly. And as quickly as that, Victor turned and looked back over his shoulder.

”...”

His golden eyes settled on Clara.

She hadn’t moved.

She remained standing exactly where she had been, her body stiff as stone.

Victor blinked once.

”Why aren’t you moving?”

”I told you to show me where that old man is.”

His voice carried genuine confusion.

From his perspective, there was no reason to delay.

Every passing minute increased the possibility that the culprit would disappear.

Yet Clara remained rooted to the spot.

Only now did Victor notice something unusual.

Her shoulders were shaking.

Not violently...

But enough to be unmistakable.

Her breathing had become shallow.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.

Victor quietly observed her for another second.

Then a possibility crossed his mind.

”...Are you scared?”

It was the only explanation that made sense to him.

Clara had faced monsters.

She had fought countless battles as an A-Rank adventurer.

Yet fear did not always come from strength.

Sometimes...

The greatest fear came from confronting buried memories.

The moment those words left Victor’s mouth—

”I’m not scared!”

Clara suddenly shouted.

Her head snapped upward as she glared directly at him.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks, mixing awkwardness with irritation.

”I said I’m not scared!”

Victor simply looked at her.

”...”

He wasn’t entirely convinced.

Her trembling hadn’t stopped.

If anything...

It had become even more obvious.

Realizing she couldn’t remain standing there forever, Clara let out an annoyed huff.

”...Hmph.”

She forcefully stomped one foot against the floor.

”I’m going.”

She brushed past Victor with quick, determined steps.

Although she tried to appear confident...

Her body still trembled ever so slightly.

Victor watched her walk ahead.

Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth lifted.

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

”So stubborn...”

He shook his head once before following behind her.

...

The streets outside were unusually peaceful.

The late afternoon sun bathed Fantom City in a warm golden glow.

Merchants called out to passing customers.

Children laughed while chasing one another between the stone roads.

The aroma of grilled meat drifted from nearby food stalls.

It looked like an ordinary day.

Yet beneath that ordinary scenery...

Victor sensed something else.

The city felt...

Too calm.

Almost unnaturally so.

Clara walked ahead without saying a word.

Victor didn’t rush her.

He simply followed several steps behind.

Every now and then, curious townspeople greeted Clara.

She responded absentmindedly.

Her attention remained fixed on the road ahead.

The closer they drew to the corner of the street...

The slower her footsteps became.

Her breathing gradually grew heavier.

Finally...

She stopped.

Victor came to a halt beside her.

Without looking at him, Clara stared silently toward the corner ahead.

Her trembling had returned.

This time...

It was impossible to hide.

Victor followed her line of sight.

A modest wooden stall stood quietly at the edge of the street.

It looked completely ordinary.

Several empty baskets rested beside it.

A faded cloth canopy fluttered gently in the breeze.

No one was there.

Victor looked back toward Clara.

Her lips were pressed tightly together.

Moisture shimmered faintly in her eyes.

She was trying with everything she had not to cry.