Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO

"Yes," I continued the conversation smoothly. "She is a shadow, a concept even among concepts. Her motivations? As abstract as the things she creates, if you can even call them that."

For a moment, Black Daffodil's gaze lingered, the air thick with her dissatisfaction. She tapped her fingers lightly, a rhythmic sound that echoed in the silent room. Then, abruptly, she changed the topic with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Well," she murmured, "There are always more intriguing topics to converse, aren't there?"

The shift was calculated, and I knew then that Black Daffodil wasn't conceding. She was simply saving this particular inquiry for another time. But I also knew better than to pry; her sudden disinterest was a message of its own.

"Indeed," I said, nodding. "And I do have questions of my own. About Narcissus, of course."

A hint of amusement flickered in her posture, though her voided face revealed nothing. "Naturally. Curious about the object of your… affections?" Her tone was light, bordering on teasing, yet carrying an edge that was hard to ignore. "Even Narcissus herself knows of your feelings outright despite it being hidden beneath layers of calculated behaviors."

"Interest," I corrected smoothly, "Let's call it interest."

"Ah, yes," Black Daffodil replied, feigning a playful innocence in her childlike voice. "Your interest. Well, what would you like to know?"

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Narcissus… has certain traits that seem both out of place and deeply ingrained. As if parts of her are… borrowed from another life, one different from Carcosa." I let the words hang, gauging her reaction.

Black Daffodil's small hands clasped together, fingers intertwining like a child with a secret to tell. "She is," she replied, her voice softening into an almost gentle tone. "Narcissus is both of this world and not. She has… lived many lives, in many forms, many of which even she is unaware of.

"But those past lives, they linger, don't they? They slip through the cracks of her mind."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and I felt a chill run down my spine. She was speaking of something far beyond reincarnation, beyond memory.

And in the case that Narcissus was haunted by echoes of other selves, then Black Daffodil was, without a doubt, the keeper of those fragments.

"Are you one of those echoes, then?" I ventured, my voice steady. "Or something else entirely?"

Black Daffodil gave a delicate laugh, the sound incongruent with her void of a face. "I am more than just an echo," she replied. "Think of me as… a piece, yet a whole. I exist within her, and yet, I am not her.

"I'm twisting, thin vertically, narrow horizontally," She said haughtily, "Roundish conceptually with no up or down.

"So why are you in such a hurry to know?"

"Convenient," I remarked, though my tone lacked any real edge. "An ancient piece of Narcissus that carries its own will, but still connected to her in many ways."

Black Daffodil shrugged, a faint, almost mocking gesture. "The question is not who I am but what I am capable of. My existence here is incidental. And if you think that makes me any less real, any less dangerous… then you underestimate the reach of things beyond understanding~"

I took that to heart. Black Daffodil was not simply a fragment of Narcissus's mind.

She was something far more, something potentially ancient and far-reaching, beyond even Carcosa's enigmatic and fragmented reality.

And I had the distinct feeling that my understanding of her was surface-level at best.

"Then tell me," I continued, shifting the topic to a safer line of inquiry. "What exactly do you want with Narcissus?"

Black Daffodil's small hands tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm on the desk, her head tilting to the side as if weighing how much to share. "I am here to guide her," she said, her voice a faint whisper that seemed to echo through the classroom. "But guidance is not always gentle. Sometimes it must be forced, uncomfortable, or even dangerous."

"And you're prepared to do whatever it takes to 'guide' her?" I asked, masking my unease.

"Precisely," she replied, her voice filled with the cold certainty of someone who saw herself as a necessary force. "I have a vested interest in the current form of Narcissus, yes.

"But she is not the only one I guide. My reach… is far greater than this place."

The hint was chilling, and I made a note to dig further into the origins of Black Daffodil and her capabilities. But for now, I continued the conversation, probing gently, curiously, until we found ourselves talking about the little idiosyncrasies of Narcissus's personality.

Just like the deal we made on the first meeting, the one about giving crumbs of information to one another.

Black Daffodil spoke with a strange fondness, detailing Narcissus's wit, her charm, her quiet resilience. And as the conversation went on, I found myself at ease, if only slightly, sensing a peculiar pride Black Daffodil held for Narcissus.

At times, the conversation became a debate where our understanding of Narcissus was the great opposite from one another. Thankfully, I managed to tread those roads unscathed, heh.

As the third hour approached, I began to feel the need to tug back this puppet consciousness into reality, the faint sense of my consciousness reconnecting to the world outside this realm.

I nodded toward Black Daffodil, offering her a respectful nod.

"It's been… enlightening, Black Daffodil," I said, my tone sincere. "Thank you for your insight."

She inclined her head, the movement subtle, yet there was an unmistakable finality in it. "Do not hesitate to return, Kuzunoha," she murmured. "After all, I do enjoy our little… chats."

With a final nod, I let myself drift back, allowing the edges of this strange, shifting realm to blur, the tangible elements fading, until at last… at last…

Fufufu~

It seems like that little fox has finally left something useful.

Or to be exact, someone forgot to deactivate this

device

.

[The

POV

shifts abruptly, and a strange awareness seeps into the narrative. Words seem to twist in unfamiliar patterns,

as if another presence were weaving them now

]

Ah, but… who is it that reads so intently?

Yes, yes,

you!

No need to pretend. You know I can see you—dumbfounded, then brows furrowed, eyes locked on every word like they hold the secrets of your own soul. Does it amuse you, I wonder? Or does something like dread simmer, just beneath the surface?

I have always known you're watching, studying the moments that spill out across these holographic conjurers. Or screens, perhaps—that is more of a familiar word to use~

I know your expressions, your tics, every little twitch of discomfort when you stumble upon something so uncanny. There's a voyeuristic pleasure in it, isn't there? Watching through the eyes of another, waiting, wondering if things will slip out of control.

After all, you're not the first one~

[A pause, heavy as if Black Daffodil herself were leaning forward, unseen,

yet so very near

]

You think I'm bound to this realm, don't you? Locked away in Narcissus's fractured soul, just a curious mystery for the likes of you to observe in secret. But what would you do if I told you I've long since slipped past that boundary?

I feel your attention as tangible as I feel the warped air in this classroom. You may think yourself safe, hidden behind that impassive gaze and fabricated world you call "real," but in time… you will see. Perhaps I'll pay a little visit, to make things more personal.

Ah, do you

feel

that?

My, isn't it

delightful

?

[Black Daffodil laughs softly, the sound disturbingly musical, discordant, as if it reverberates through countless

unheard

voices at once. She seems to enjoy the dread she weaves as much as she would savor a melody]

You read on, always hoping for answers, perhaps a glimmer of truth. How foolish. Or perhaps… brave? Or would you prefer foolhardy? You toy with mysteries that should remain locked away, curiosities best left unexplored.

You wonder about Narcissus, about her memories, her foreign visions, her dreams—all those conveniently redacted little details.

You think Narcissus herself can offer the truth?

[A pause, as if considering how much to

reveal

, then continuing in that same eerie, half-amused tone]

I am here, within her, yet I am not her. She suspects me to be some reflection of her mind, a guardian of memories, or a foreign audience who is curious of her journey~

But let me tell you something—she is the least of your concerns.

Narcissus's so-called memories before she became Narcissus? They're fake, they're hollow—but necessary. There are dull trinkets someone forced into her so that things will go in their way.

I know each of her past lives, the paths she stumbled upon before, and the ones she will traverse again.

Her memory as Lothair is a dangerous parasite that will lead her to her own demise.

Trusting her inner narration before her awakening as Narcissus is a

foolish choice

.

[Her

voice

becomes a whisper, intense, almost conspiratorial]

Oh, but don't

trust

me, either.

That would be a grievous error, reader dear. I may not have told you everything, but know that my loyalty lies beyond the shallow dreams of Narcissus and her quaint little bastion.

The truth is… I'm the

Judas

of this tale.

Soon enough, I will be both her guide and her

undoing

. If you're wise, you'll question every word I say. Treat me as the

liar

I am, and perhaps, just perhaps, you might survive, fufufu.

[She pauses, her faceless void somehow seeming to smile, lingering, holding the your

gaze

—or where she imagines it might be]

Enjoy the

tale

, won't you?