The Madman's Guide to Miracles

The Broodmother gently patted my shoulder before looking at Lil’ Sis.

"Take Bloom to the room I prepared for him."

Lil’ Sis skipped a few steps ahead before turning around with a smile.

"You never asked for my name." She pouted.

"How careless of me. Go on then, what’s your name, lil’ sis?"

"I’m Petal!"

She puffed out her chest proudly.

"Mother says flowers bloom happier when they know each other’s names."

She started counting on her fingers.

"Big Sis is Thorn. Big Brother is Bramble. The sleepy one is Moss."

Then she pointed at me.

"And you’re Bloom."

"I see. Mother has quite the imagination."

Next kid’s probably getting named Cactus.

I stifled a laugh.

Lil’ Sis blinked at me curiously before her face lit up with a grin.

"Mhm!" She nodded. "She picked every one herself."

She really committed to the whole plant thing.

Petal grabbed my sleeve.

"Come on! Your room’s this way."

We continued walking further, and the halls gradually grew quieter with each turn, until only our footsteps persisted.

Lil’ Sis stopped in front of a worn wooden door wrapped in thin vines. She pushed it open with both hands and looked back at me with a proud smile.

"This is your room, Big Brother." She stepped aside to let me in. "Mother spent a long time getting it ready for you."

I stepped inside.

The room was surprisingly normal.

A bed. A desk. A wardrobe. Sunlight streamed through the window, giving the room an almost cozy feeling. If not for the vines crawling across the walls and the flower pots tucked into every corner, it could’ve belonged to anyone.

Makes sense.

If they were ordinary people before becoming... whatever they are now, they’d still cling to habits like this.

Eliza did.

So did the others.

Becoming a Horror doesn’t erase everything. It just twists what’s already there.

Petal lingered by the doorway, her hand resting on the frame.

"...Do I have to go?"

"Mother said I should let you rest..." She looked down at her feet. "But I wanted to stay a little longer."

I smiled faintly.

"We’ll see each other tomorrow."

She looked up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course."

I reached over and lightly ruffled her hair.

"Now go before Mother comes looking for you."

Petal giggled.

"Okay! Goodnight, Big Brother!"

She gave me one last cheerful wave before quietly closing the door behind her.

’Disgusting. Revolting. Annoying.’

I stood there, staring at the closed door.

’...What the fuck?’

I ran a hand through my hair and started pacing.

’Was it the sludge?’

No.

That wasn’t right.

These thoughts had started before that.

Millhaven.

After the first night.

I stopped.

’Why didn’t I notice...?’

They hadn’t appeared all at once. At first they were easy to ignore. A stray thought. A brief impulse. Nothing more. Then, somewhere along the way, they stopped feeling out of place.

A sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes.

I grabbed the desk.

The room tilted.

Something flashed across the window.

Antlers.

I looked again.

Nothing.

’...Am I losing it?’

The silence didn’t last.

Whispers echoed in my mind. Quiet at first, then growing louder. There were too many voices to make sense of.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

When I opened them

Someone was standing across the room.

My breath caught.

He resembled me completely. Same face, same hair, same clothes, and both palms pierced with nails.

Only the antlers didn’t belong.

He smiled.

"Disgusting."

My own voice.

Coming from someone else.

"Who are you?"

The words came out weaker than I intended.

His smile only grew.

"You really don’t recognize yourself?"

"You really are, and always will be, a hypocritical narcissistic bastard. And a dumbass."

The voice of the being that resembled me echoed through the space, its words dripping with a hatred and irritation I couldn’t even begin to understand.

The being continued, "You’re so desperate to be right that you’d rather destroy yourself than admit you’re wrong."

"What are you?"

I forced the words out, refusing to let my voice shake.

I swung my hand through him. My fingers passed through like touching water. He watched me do it, that same smile stuck on his face.

"You still don’t understand."

"Enlighten me, then."

"You’ve been lying to yourself for so long you can’t even recognize it anymore."

Pressure built behind my eyes. The same feeling I’d been ignoring since Millhaven.

He smiled.

"What..?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He remained silent.

Instead, he looked around the room as though he were seeing it for the first time before letting out a quiet hum.

"Different from the outside." He ran his fingers along the vines. "Just like you."

"...Answer me."

His eyes returned to mine.

"Wrong question."

A dull ache spread through my skull.

"What?"

"You should be asking why you can see me."

I frowned.

"I don’t have time for riddles."

"I know."

He smiled

"Thinking has never been your problem."

Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.

He spoke like someone who had watched me for years.

"No..."

’Is he a Horror?’ My mind raced, searching for an explanation for this phenomenon.

I took a cautious step back.

"Have we met before?"

A soft laugh escaped him.

"You’ve met me every day of your life."

The room suddenly became quieter. Not silent, but noticeably less noisy.

Even my own breathing sounded distant.

"I don’t remember you."

"You wouldn’t."

He looked almost amused.

"You’ve spent years making sure of that."

Fragments surfaced—a face, blood on my hands, someone calling my name—then it was gone.

"W-Who are you?"

He stared at me for several long seconds.

Then...

"Tell me."

His voice lost every trace of amusement.

"When you looked at that little girl..."

"Why was your first thought disgust?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

"I..."

"I know."

He nodded.

"You immediately blamed the sludge."

Another step.

"Then you blamed the time spent in the village."

Another.

"You’ve been searching everywhere except the one place you refuse to look."

I clenched my jaw.

"You’re saying those thoughts were mine?"

"I’m saying..."

He stopped directly in front of me.

"You recognized them."

The words stayed in my mind. Something within me twisted because I couldn’t deny it. I had dismissed those thoughts, but I never questioned where they came from.

He smiled faintly.

"That’s why you can see me."

"I don’t exist because of the mutation."

"I exist because, for the first time..."

"You noticed me."

"Next time... don’t pretend you don’t recognize me."

The Being’s voice echoed in my mind, causing discomfort. Standing before it, I felt vulnerable despite trying to hide my thoughts, I sensed my mind was an open book.

The pressure behind my eyes cracked, and the room came back — vines on the walls, sunlight through the window, the bed I hadn’t touched.

I stood there for a second, breathing like I’d run somewhere.

"The fuck was that."

"Haa..."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to calm myself down. The sweat on my forehead was annoying, but it also proved something I didn’t want to admit.

I was nervous.

And considering what just happened, that was reasonable.

"Not like this was the first time something like this happened, right..."

I muttered to myself.

’I and... me are always having conversations like this, aren’t we?’

It was strange when I thought about it.

The door opened.

The Broodmother walked in, a small pouch resting in her hand.

"I came to return your belongings."

She held it out. I took it and gave a small nod.

"Thanks."

I glanced down.

"...Hm."

It wasn’t mine.

The leather was newer, softer. Green thread ran along the edges, and a small flower had been stitched onto the flap. Even the drawstrings had little leaves woven into them.

So she replaced it.

I rolled the pouch over in my hand before slipping it into my pocket.

’...Guess she doesn’t want me keeping anything that ties me to my old life.’

That was going to be troublesome.

"Thank you, Mother. I appreciate it. This must be it."

I accepted the pouch without another word. If everyone here believed I was part of their family, there was no point breaking the illusion.

The Broodmother’s lone eye lingered on me for a moment, narrowing ever so slightly.

Then she smiled.

"Yes... of course, my child." Her voice was gentle. "Anything for you."

She smiled, then turned away. Her massive body brushed against the floor with each slow step as she made her way toward the door.

"Take care...~~"

Click-

’I’ll have to get my pouch back somehow...’

A rough idea had already started forming in the back of my mind.

Maybe I can try using Petal.

I looked at the bed before finally lying down. The mattress gave beneath me, and I couldn’t help but let out a quiet breath.

It had only been a few days.

A few days of sleeping with nails through my palms, chained against a wall while metal poison slowly ate away at my body.

Compared to that...

This almost didn’t feel real.

I closed my eyes.

"Tomorrow..." I muttered. "I’ll work on the plan. I need to move fast."

Darkness overtook me before I could think any further. Exhaustion won without much of a fight.

’...I’d almost forgotten what a normal night’s sleep felt like.’

I guess it’s not entirely normal, especially with all these vines around me that seem alive.

....

And so the days slowly passed one after the other till it was two days I’d been doing a lot those past few.

Watching.

That was all I did.

Nobody paid much attention to a kid who smiled, listened, and did what he was told.

Thorn often changed shifts outside Mother’s room more frequently than others. I had only mentioned once that standing guard daily was tiring. She sighed and said someone had to do it since Moss could sleep through almost anything.

Bramble was different.

Every night, he checked the same doors before settling near the one room I’d never been allowed inside. I never asked about it.

Questions attracted attention

Petal was easier.

Whenever Mother allowed it, she’d trail after me, talking about whatever came to mind.

When the opportunity finally came, I took it.

"Do you know where Mother keeps the things she takes from people?"

She immediately looked uneasy, fingers fidgeting with her sleeve.

"I... I don’t think I’m supposed to say."

"That’s fine." I shrugged. "I’ll ask Thorn instead. She probably knows."

"She doesn’t!"

The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

"I know this house better than anyone."

I waited.

She puffed out her cheeks.

"...It’s the green room. Past Bramble’s door."

"So that’s what he’s guarding..."

I nodded and changed the subject before she had time to regret answering.

The pieces were starting to fall into place.

Getting the pouch back was only the first step.

The real problem sat at the dinner table every evening.

One of the Four Regents.

And I was still too weak to do anything about it.

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