S1034B

Inch by inch, the Warden's hunched back began to straighten...

And the ominous, cold light gradually took on a brilliant golden hue.

... Can't remember the last time I got to stretch my back in the Grand Magasin.

<He's... completely changed...>

*sigh* Meursault, the sinful one... Dante, Executive Manager of Limbus Company... and the rest of the team, I presume.

<.......>

Who... are you?

Ah. I should've introduced myself earlier. I am the Voice of the Obsidian God of Le Noir, the Warden who watches over those condemned to the Sisyphe Penalty... and one of the four Giants of Grand Magasin Sisyphe.

Ah, what am I saying? Let's exchange our business cards and save us the trouble. Here's mine.

The Warden... the man, I mean, gave a casual wave of his hand. A business card fluttered down in front of us.

Printed on the disturbingly ordinary business card was the title "Giant - N Corp. Grand Magasin Sisyphe"... and a name.

... Maurice. The Chaplain.

Just call me "Chaplain." Your mother did, too.

<.......>

You'd not reveal your true form without cause. Have you come to issue an ultimatum?

We're rather past the warning stage, wouldn't you say?

I mean, you people certainly don't look like the sort who'd let death and eternal recurrence get in the way of whatever you're after...

And there's the entire Sisyphe System being on the fritz ever since the White Nights and Dark Days phenomenon - whatever it did to the Grand Magasin, something's letting bothersome headaches like you slip through the rules.

So I've come to lock you up forever in some miserable corner.

Forever...?

That man, Meursault, has been sentenced to the Sisyphe Penalty. Even a lifetime spent observing the rules of this place and repenting his crime would scarcely suffice...

... So... when he insists on circumventing the rules, killing essential customers left and right... "It hath become self-evident that the sincerity of the sinful one is suspect - his penitence, perforce, hath come under the selfsame doubt...!" ... is what I'm getting at.

You're saying you're here because we broke the rules and tried to leave this department store with Meursault.

*chuckle* Truth be told, I couldn't care less about you leaving this place or taking the convict with you, though I couldn't tell you if that's even possible.

But when you start defying fate - that is, the Sisyphe System itself - you create serious problems for both the quality and quantity of the Experience Batter this department store produces.

Doesn't the idea terrify you? The collapse of order and the truths as established by N Corp.?

Where order falls, only barbarism will remain.

N Corp. would revert to its old ways. Scouring every Backstreet and Nest out there, driving nails into people's brains to harvest their experience fresh from the flesh... like savages.

.......

... Therefore, in accordance with the rules of the Sisyphe System, I hereby quarantine Meursault, who is guilty of murdering a Giant, into solitary confinement.

... I'll see you when you're ready to repent.

<W-wait...!>

H-hey...!

Do you mind closing the door, Meursault? Don't let a single ray of sunlight in - I don't want a single gaze to peer in.

Remember... and reflect upon the sin you committed with those hands.

Ghk... Kergh...

.......

I killed Mother.

Now, that's not exactly the kind of crime that can be dressed up as the mistake of youthful foolishness, is it? Even when viewed through the most sympathetic lens, it's a bizarre, nonsensical crime that goes against the very idea of common sense.

What you did left N Corp. facing consequences that could not be undone, to say the least.

Everyone was shocked. To murder your own mother in such a cruel manner... People were outraged at the sheer... inhumanity.

It won't be a prison that confines you... nor the Grand Magasin Sisyphe.

A sinner is imprisoned by his sin. It's that simple. By rights, you should remain confined here to face your sins, learning regret and repentance.

Mother generally returns from work at approximately 19:10. I arrive home somewhat earlier, at 18:00.

The first thing I do is close every window that I've left open to air out the house.

Then I draw the black curtains over them, obscuring the view outside.

Welcome home, Mother.

... The windows and curtains. Have you closed them all?

Yes.

Mother was terrified of the world - the gaze of others.

She never went out without sunglasses. Even when walking down the street, she kept her head lowered, eyes fixed adamantly on the ground.

At 19:30, Mother and I dine together.

Commit those looking eyes to memory. Those people may not mean any harm when they look at me, but...

Once a gaze captures me... the beholder, whether meaning to or not, will nail me in place, fixing me inside their brain.

My very existence, taken away, pinned down, and framed to be remembered however they please.

Aah, how awful is that...? Just the thought of it is more than I can bear.

Mother recounts the things that distressed her throughout the day. Throughout every part of her daily life.

We have no choice... but to stay nailed and fixed... once someone's gaze has hold of us.

Think about it... All those people you passed by today, eating their evening Canned Experiences just as we do... And when you - your existence, taxidermied in someone's memory - happens to surface... you have no choice but to exist. To exist in a way you never even wanted...

I'm afraid, Meursault... But I wish at least you could be free of this fear. Ah... If that's even possible...

As always, the conclusion of mother's despair is a conversation with herself.

I listen attentively to every utterance, but I answer none of it.

I merely prepare the meal, as family should, as a son should... and eat Canned Experiences with her.

There is neither despair nor fear in the can.

Mother and I get to spend a peaceful and pleasant evening together. As a happy, loving family.

Mother has a long, heavy chain hanging in the most conspicuous part of the living room.

For us, it was... a symbol, an indicator - something that could alleviate not just her fears but mine as well.

This chain in our home is a reminder, Meursault. I always look at it to tell myself that I need to be careful.

You can feel them out there, can't you? The people who exist. People who are watching us without even realizing that they are watching us.

Your maman... I've... always been tethered to that feeling, and it has wrung every part of me... dry.

People make me afraid.

They remember me however they like, then they expect whatever they like. And then, I fail to fit...

All of it drags me deeper like ponderous weights. Makes me afraid.

Each pair of eyes is a chain that is forced upon my limbs, pulling in all directions until I'm ripped apart into unrecognizable pieces...

Mother was in pain. Her limbs were intact, yet she felt the pain of having her arms and legs torn from her.

.......

How do you... endure the pain of being torn apart, Mother?

Perhaps it was something from the question. Relief crossed Mother's face as she directed her gaze toward the ceiling, like a supplicant graced by a holy relic, our salvation...

... the chains hanging in our home.

You chain yourself before the chains of others bind you.

The chains will hold you down... but at least you needn't be hurt.

They'll take the wounds meant for your skin, as armor to deflect the pain...

People say only nails and hammers can fix something in place. But for me, chains can bind, too. Chains can affix. So I have faith in the chain.

It almost sounded as though she were saying, "I must have faith in the chain." Because that is how desperate she looked.

Continue to look upon it. Face the fear of the sinful one.

The door...

Do you mind closing the door, Meursault? Don't let a single ray of sunlight in - I don't want a single gaze to peer in. Keep them all out; don't let me bear their gazes.

Mother would always set some time aside for herself. She would go into her room, alone, and shut the door.

I didn't know what she did inside. But watching that closed door, knowing that she was inside that room all by herself, terrified me.

These periods only grew longer after Father left. Mother said that she needed that time - the time spent alone in that room - to endure living.

No one was to enter. There were no exceptions.

.......

... Continue to look upon it. Behold the truth that terrifies the sinful one.

What was she doing in there? What keeps her going through the pain?

Those were not questions born of curiosity.

They were concern.

They were fear.

What I needed was certainty - the reassurance that nothing bad was happening to Mother inside that room.

And so...

Why?! WHY?!!

I'm afraid... So afraid...!!

After that day, I decided to never look at my mother again.

I had to continue protecting what little peace she found in solitude.

Otherwise, I would become the nail, the hammer, and the chains that constrict her and keep her fixed.

Regardless of my intent.

Close... the door, Meursault...

Mother and I were bound together.

As a being conceptually perceived as "mother," Mother gave birth to me, conferring a shared genetic identity between us.

And this obliged us to believe and act as though we were connected with an unbreakable, sublime bond - an ethical, moral insistence that this was simply how a parent and son ought to be. We had long since been bound to each other by that insistence.

We were born into a world that required us to feel that way.

Or perhaps it was simply a matter of human nature, designed to feel that way.

*retch*

There would be days when I found myself asking why things had to be this way...

Days when fear and vertigo would wash over me as well, leaving me stranded with no way back.

.......

I followed Mother's instructions. To protect myself, to save myself, I looked at the chain hanging in our home and reminded myself.

And I tried my utmost not to nail "Mother" or "her" or "a being" in place,

because I understood the terror of being nailed down.

.......

O Sinful One, you are afraid.

You are in pain. You are suffering.

There is but one way to make it stop. Repent your sins and submit to the law of the Grand Magasin. It is not too late.

Then, contribute to the humanity N Corp. seeks to uphold, as all convicts here do.

Yes, I am suffering.

I want nothing more than to coil the chains around my body, just as my dead mother told me to.

Let your sins define you within the Grand Magasin.

Here in this place, sinners need only submit to the punishment imposed upon them.

If you feel even the slightest pang of conscience and remorse for killing your mother...

Then surrender, for that is what you are duty-bound to feel as her son! That is the burden of sin you must bear as a resident of N Corp.!