The House of Spiders: The Index Nursefather Yi Sang's Story

... Biosignal identified. Begin recording.

…….

Mm. You came to.

Wha... where am...

Dense overgrowth by the general jaw area. Haggard man. ... This one will do.

Be not perplexed by the unfamiliarity of your surroundings; muted response is much more favored over a thrashing scream. Will you well embrace my entreaties?

...!!!

... Oh.

Hnnnngh!!!

Excuse me. It seemed that a thrashing scream was more appropriate.

You got a few... screws loose upstairs or something?

What's up with the sudden violence...? Kicking down the chair... stomping on me... What's the point of...

You have known such fickleness, as this demonstration must have reminded you.

It is simply what it is... these Prescripts.

Concepts that are hardly the sort that answers demands for understanding... if its truth even lies in the realm of fathomability.

Oh...

Right, I see what's going on here...

So, that wasn't how I was supposed to resolve the "Weave the gliding thread" Prescript.

I always knew this day would come, but...

Indeed, you remain remarkably composed in spite of the circumstances.

Seen enough fellas around me who croaked while under The Index's protection, y'know. I'd say I had a good run, comparatively speaking.

Speaking of which... Aren't you Proselytes and Proxies supposed to wear a white cloak? Were there exceptions to that dress code or something?

As I am neither, "exception" is no apt explanation for my attire.

Now, let us proceed.

So this is it for me, huh. Go on, do your job. I'm not gonna make this hard for you.

…….

Others tried to make theirs last just a little longer, but... they all met the same end anyway. It doesn't matter.

Though the peace with which you face the imminent inevitability is indeed intriguing, and as much as I wish to engage in further dialogue... we are approaching the hour.

…?

... Hah. So be it. It seems that I am not alone in finding your attitude intriguing.

You have bought 15 more minutes. *beep* No, 23. Hermes has gauged that the worth of your existence is increasingly meaningful.

"Meaningful?" How, to whom?

Well... What else could it possibly be, but the City itself?

For every Prescript is written by the Will of the City.

Hah, okay. So it's given me some extra time, just enough to read another pulp magazine. I still don't see how that changes anything when I'm tied to a chair inside this dank basement dungeon.

The City's flow works in mysterious ways, its intent and will conveyed yet veiled from us.

So, why not, instead of squandering this precious evanescence on such trivial contemplations...

... take a trip down memory lane with me?

Is that what the Prescript told you to do?

In the absence of justification for secrecy, I shall reply "indeed."

My Prescripts are swift in both the intervals by which they are relayed... and by which they vacillate; such dithering makes their execution a rather serpentine affair.

That is why... I maintain a collection of sundry people in this basement, that I might need to select one of them with particular attributes that the Prescript demands I find.

Indeed, even such preparedness seems to have been ordained by the Will of the City - for the collection somehow consists only of those who have defied the Prescripts of the City.

What's your point? That you're keeping this... this butchershop of people down here because the City asked you to? That it?

That is what I believe to be true, yes. Lest I be cast as naught but an insane murder-kidnapper.

…….

Some of them are... There are children in here.

It cannot be helped, for the Prescript is indiscriminate in its demands.

... How did little kids like them even end up snaring themselves in The Index's web?

I hope my little girl'll get to live a life where she won't ever have to associate with the likes of you.

You have a daughter?

... Yeah. Celebrated her fifth birthday just a few days ago.

... Ha ha. I understand now.

Sounds like you've got one yourself.

I did.

... She passed away, I assume.

You assume correctly. She was torn limb from limb before my eyes.

That's... horrible. Just how...

In truth - Oh. In the moment of witnessing her demise, no anger, no sadness swept me.

…?

Those tides await, until every affair has been taken care of, until the eyes catch the glimpse of the empty bed and the untouched gift box whose ribbons are still tied like a butterfly.

The tides await until the body lays itself upon the couch, the eyes blankly yet ceaselessly glued to an empty spot on the ceiling... Then it comes.

Just who could've possibly - Well, I suppose that's the City for you.

I suppose I'll die a happy man... knowing that, by my death, at least my family will be safe.

Failing to protect those you were supposed to keep safe... That kind of loss rips out everything inside and leaves nothing behind.

... No. The husk. The empty husk yet remains.

It must have been a rainy season, a constant drizzle suffocating the air.

Musty air. Gray room.

... A bit large for one person.

... Are you reading that from somewhere?

Ah, pay it no mind. Now then - where had I left off my account?

You don't remember...? You were speaking of the emotions... that followed your daughter's death.

Ah.

If you can lock people up like this and carry out the Prescripts without any hindrance... you've got to be one of the stronger fighters in the City.

So, did you manage to avenge your daughter?

... No.

... I see. Well, I suppose it only makes sense that your enemies must've been equally formidable if they felt safe enough to go after your family.

That is not the case. I simply abstained from delivering vengeance.

What?

So you held back on avenging your family... out of some noble rationalization? "The futility of revenge," huh? That's impressive, in its own way. But still...

There is no labyrinthine profundity in my words. I simply said I abstained from taking revenge.

I was occupied by sundry labors to which Hermes guided me. In truth, revenge had no crevice in which to take root, as the Prescripts came to me as would a multitude of raindrops after the passing of my family.

My becoming a Star of the City was not my intention. It was, perhaps, a result of leaving the Southern Zwei half-crippled - perhaps that drew too much attention...

...? Ah. In truth, revenge only begets more revenge, which is why...

You know... there's something wrong with the way you're telling your story. You... sound awkward, as though you are reading from a script.

... Are you just repeating whatever your Prescript tells you to?

... Hmm.

Well... I am afraid I do not see the necessity for an answer.

You said earlier there was no need to hide anything, and now you're changing your tune just like that? Just the way your Prescripts so often do, huh?

Haha.

Anyone who knows the joy of having a daughter - no, no parent could possibly speak or act as you do. Not after a loss like that.

You lost your child, the apple of your eye... and you're laughing?

That I once had a beloved wife and daughter is true.

And though I lost a child... It is also true that I have forgotten a child.

Or perhaps I ought to phrase it in reverse. Haha...

Sick bastard...

... Hah.

It is... still far from sufficient.

I must recount the tale of my daughter further.

Just kill me and be done with it! Listening to this sick story of yours is driving me crazy with fear for my own daughter...

Is your daughter possessed of abundant talent? Any father, naturally, might flatter himself that his child is gifted in all things. Yet I assure you: mine is unique. Tell me, you have heard of the Time Vault, have you not?

Enough...

In any age, the education of the child has been both burden and concern to the father. Thus we fathers have decided not to spare the whip for the good of our darling daughter. We drove a spiral stake into the body of her beloved puppy and promised it would be spared should she complete her "homework" with flying colors. The puppy, of course, was placed safely within the Time Vault, where temporality is indefinitely deferred. The so-called "shock therapy," as many term that specific direction of pedagogy.

Are you sure you're in your right mind...? The hell do you mean "fathers"...? Are you saying you're not the only one?

My darling daughter, being the clever, bright child she is, returned after swiftly completing her "homework" with nothing short of excellence. I am compelled to say the killing was faster, cleaner than any of us had expected. Haha... I am indeed proud of her.

And so we opened the vault and returned the puppy, still impaled by the spiral that turned not once since the animal was placed in the safe. And from that, my daughter discerned a revelation: that the time of one's life, too, may be deferred within the confines of the Vault. She realized it could serve as a sanctuary she could use to hide from us whenever she so wished.

The new "daughter" I have acquired recently is also rather talented... yet she has not the wondrous aptitude to perceive time, nor will she ever attain it. *sigh* I cannot help but find myself wondering when my darling daughter will come home to me...

…….

Pray, have you naught to say? I am allotted 7 minutes of paternal pride to extol my darling daughter.

An ideal dialogue requires parity. 5:5 is the ratio of the trading of words that is most desirable. Thus, you should speak -

*spit*

I hope you rot alive before you die, you psycho. The City's always been a vile place, but even that pales in comparison to scum like you!

Just you wait. One day, some piece of trash just as sick and twisted as you's gonna come for you and leave you a stinking corpse in a gutter somewhere!

Gah...! Kergh...

…….

Then is then, and now is now.

There ought to have been some 3 minutes remaining... It seems Hermes has obtained the desired reaction sooner than expected.

To produce such a length of a weapon, stabbing and killing the target before I could so much as swing it...

Hm. I would have liked to hear more about your 5-year-old daughter... It did stir a tender sting in my heart with the recollection of my "past daughter."

... Hah!

Has laughter... escaped betwixt my lips?

... All my life, I have lived believing myself to be someone who moves only as the waves carry him.

And yet, perhaps I desired to provoke you thus, to compel you into a raging fury and have you meet your demise within its roars.

Yes, for all one knows, that could have been a yearning of my own...

... as the Prescript would have been executed even without resorting to a means such as this.

…….

Time to welcome back Miss Don Quixote now, is it?

Ahem... Then I must employ a gentler manner of speech.

Let's see... My first words to her should be...

"Has aught gone awry? You look as though you are sunken beneath a heavy gloom."

…….

Elimination of biosignal confirmed. Ending recording.

!($!CHV(@!#^$&%H2!!

... Upload complete.