Chapter 27 #2
My gaze falls on the little tree spirit from Princess Mononoke sitting on one of the bookshelves.
It’s an easter egg in our game, which Kamal, being his usual meticulous self, has added here as well.
I cautiously pick up the tiny figurine, weighing it in my trembling hands.
Mononoke is an umbrella term for monsters, spirits, and demons—creatures you’re supposed to be afraid of, but San, the film’s main character, is the exact opposite.
My free hand strays to my tattoo, which today is covered by wide-legged trousers for a change. See with eyes unclouded by hate.
The words, like the film itself, are a reminder not to be blinded by hate, to look behind the veneer, not to give in to the allure of black-and-white thinking.
It’s something I’ve experienced firsthand, and despite my tattoo’s reminder, I’ve slipped into that exact kind of thinking myself over time.
It’s why I can’t accept compliments from Luca, and it’s why I always immediately assume the worst.
Novel Haven is meant to carry lessons like this out into the world, showing people a better path than the one I’m on.
Showing them that looking behind the veneer is worth it.
Standing here now, in these four walls that I’ve created, in a sense—it’s an incredible feeling, one that brings tears to my eyes.
I close my eyes because the sight is suddenly too much to bear.
It’s too beautiful, too intense. I’ve spent two years of my life creating this place.
It’s not much relative to all the years since I lost myself and my true home.
But little by little, the last two years have returned something to me that I thought I’d lost long ago.
A warm tear slides down my cheek, but I’m gripping the tree spirit tightly in both of my hands, so I can’t wipe it away.
After a moment, the tear drips from my chin onto my shirt.
I’m home. Aria and Nataly make me feel this way, and so do Sophia and the team, and even Luca, with his calm manner and his acceptance.
But this? This, for the first time ever, shows me that I can create a feeling for myself of coming home, of arriving.
All of this shows me that my life is in my hands, that it isn’t just up to random chance.
Our game, my game—it’s becoming a reality.
“Hey.” My eyes snap open again. That voice feels like home to me almost as much as my surroundings. Luca stands by the edge of the booth, and I hastily wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I say with a sniffle, unsure what I’m apologizing for.
“For crying?” Luca asks as he cautiously, almost reverently, comes inside. “I had tears in my eyes too, over at our booth. Surreal to see it come to life, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, weirdly intimate, right?” I hold up the little figurine. “This one was a gift from my dad. Well, not this exact one here,” I correct myself. “The real one got destroyed back when our house burnt down. I didn’t think I’d ever hold it in my hands again.”
Luca’s eyes grow wide, and it’s only now I realize that I never did tell him what happened.
Despite the fact that he’s opened up to me several times already.
He never asked me, never pushed. But now, surrounded by all these memories, the words come spilling out with unusual ease.
I place the tree spirit back on its shelf and point at the desk.
“I got that pencil sharpener for my first day of school.” I smile at the warm, fuzzy memory, at the thought of my dad, my mum, and me proudly posing on my first school day, and my gran taking our picture.
I wish the photo albums had survived. “I’m only just realizing how much of myself I’ve put into this game.
Most of it was on purpose, but definitely not everything. ”
“I think that just sort of happens automatically.” Luca smiles, running his hand over the spine of one of the books we got cheap from our local antique store. “Your parents must be really proud of you for keeping the memories alive like this.”
“I’ve never told my parents. They know about the game, of course, but no details,” I reply. “I think it’s better that way, them not seeing how attached I still am. To everything from before, I mean.”
“Are your parents worried about you too, then?” Luca asks, lowering himself onto the bed with its heaps of decorative pillows.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Remember that family dinner you told me about? Could’ve been me. My mum once sent me a card after I sent her a screenshot from Novel Haven: Every moment spent living in the past is a moment wasted in the present.”
“Oof,” Luca says, and his expression makes me laugh.
“Yep. I know they just want the best for me, but still . . .” I shrug and leave the sentence unfinished, hanging in the air between us. But Luca doesn’t seem to need any more words to get my meaning—as usual.
“I dread the day when my parents find out more about my game. I’m sure they’ll show up on my doorstep every week to make sure I’m all right. They’re not thrilled as it is.” He sighs.
“Once you’re done with everything and your parents can see what you’ve created, I’m sure they’ll understand.
” I smile and take a seat on the bed next to Luca.
The mattress is so soft that it sags under my weight, and I automatically slide closer to him.
Not that I’m complaining. His knee touches mine, and that alone is enough to send heat pulsing through my entire body.
I swallow and meet his eyes. I want nothing more than to draw him in, to kiss him.
To finally feel his lips again, breathe in his scent.
But before I can act on that thought, Luca gently places his hand under my chin.
“And if they don’t understand, that’s fine too. These days, I’m finding more and more moments where I prefer the present to the past.” His voice is gentle, and before I can quite grasp the meaning behind his words, his lips finally find mine again.