There Is No Lie In This World

Chapter 37: The Room of the Forgotten Truth

The door was heavy, but it opened soundlessly.

For a moment, I thought I was stepping into water. The light in the room shimmered like the bottom of a pool, slow and fluid, bending the world in gentle waves. But it was only the mirrors - every surface coated in them, curved and warped, casting an impossible number of versions of me back at myself.

I stepped in.

Then I saw her.

She was sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, barefoot, her back to me. Hair like tangled silk, so dark it almost looked blue in the flickering light. Her dress - plain, loose - looked like something stitched from moonlight and dust.

She didn’t turn around. Not right away.

I took a hesitant step closer. The mirrored floor beneath my feet felt almost soft, like walking on sea of memory.

And then, she spoke.

"You’re late."

Her voice was calm, young, but not childish. It had a weight to it. Like she’d been waiting longer than time could measure.

I froze. "Do I... know you?"

She turned then, slowly, and looked up at me.

She looked familiar. Very familiar.

But I could not quite recall where I saw this face.

"You’re the fake one," she said.

The words hung in the air, then it flew and stung me right in the heart.

I tried to speak, but my throat tightened. I had to force the words out.

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head. "Eh? You should know what I mean. Or - have you started to believe in your own lies?"

"No," I said, though my voice trembled. "I didn’t mean to. Why am I here?"

"You brought yourself," she said. "You wanted to know why you were at the top of this tower, so you came seeking for answers at the bottom."

I swallowed. "Who are you?"

"I don’t remember," she said, almost cheerfully. "I think I used to be someone."

My pulse thundered in my ears.

"Or - I think I was supposed to be someone."

"Where are your parents?"

"Parents?" She glanced at one of the mirrors. "They were supposed to come get me. Eventually. It seems they had forgotten."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don’t know. A long time, I believe."

As eerie this girl and the room was, I pitied the girl

"One thing I can tell though. You are not from the family."

It was then that I realized.

Her eyes, her nose, her lips. The cheeks, the chin, the jawline.

She was a Roen - a true Roen.

The mirrors around us pulsed once, my reflections on them liquefied.

"Let’s get out."

Then the girl blinked. A few times. And tilted her head. A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

"You are very kind."

I took another step forward. "I will get you out of here. This room is no place to be for a young girl."

She chuckled. "And quite silly."

I sat down across from her.

"I know someone that could get you out of here."

Then the girl sighed, "You still don’t get it, do you?"

"Trust me."

She looked at me with sudden intensity, and reached out to pressed her finger to the center of my forehead.

The room went still.

Everything froze - my breath, my thoughts, even the air in my lungs. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

In the mirror behind her, my reflection blinked.

But I hadn’t.

"You can ask one question. I will tell you the answer. Ask it," she said as she kept her finger on me.

I gasped, breath returning like a flood. "Why am I here?"

She smiled faintly. "I will tell you now. You won’t remember it. But at least you’d have heard the truth for once."

With that, she leaned close, and whispered into my ear.

My eyes widened, blood flow reversed in my body - my heart ached. Broken.

Utterly broken.

———

I was standing outside the door, which was tightly shut now.

I didn’t remember leaving the room.

The Archivist stood before me. A smile on her face.

"Did you learn anything interesting?"

I had a faint memory of the girl. I knew she was a Roen. I knew she was abandoned in that room for a long time. And I remembered she was going to tell me the truth.

Everything after that was blur.

But the feeling I had - the heartbreak, felt so real.

"I want to go back in. There’s this girl I need to get out."

"Is that so?" the Archivist’s eyes glistened.

"Yes, please open the door again."

"As you wish, Miss Roen."

The old lady walked past me, keyed in the numbers on the door lock again, and it opened.

I hurried into the room - only to find that the room was completely empty. There were no mirrors, no infinite reflections. Just old wooden floor and plain white wall papers that had gone beige with age.

The room was rather small, perhaps only four meters by four.

In the middle of the room was a desk and a chair. I instantly recognized it as a school desk - the ones you find in a classroom.

I approached it and looked at it. It seemed familiar.

I felt the surface of the desk with my hand. The touch started to bring me memories.

My hands trembled. I think I knew what I was going to find. I put my hands into the desk drawer and took out what felt like a notebook.

It was my high school diary with my name written on the cover.

"I... I don’t understand," I murmured involuntarily.

"You may not take anything out from the archive, I’m afraid - not even a Roen is exempt from the rules of the archive," the lady behind me announced, her voice still gentle yet firm.

"Ma’am-" I turned to face her with my diary still in my hand, "I believe someone has been taking things out of the archive."

"Impossible, Miss Roen. Impossible."

The Archivist shook her head.