Originally written for Kirby's 2017 Secret Santa Fic Exchange contest. Reposting for archiving purposes.
Working from the following prompt:
Length is about 18k words. Estimated reading time 1 hour 10 minutes. Any constructive criticism is always welcome.Master and servants have been known to share dreams. Yet, when this master enters the dream of a psyche utterly shattered, that of the Hundred Faced Hassan, the dream becomes real. Finding themselves in a city where everyone’s face is obscured, where everyone is hassan and no one is, they must find a way to awaken by finding the true Hassan, or be chased and destroyed by [something]. This fic can star either Kirei, or Gudao/ko, or an OC. What is chasing the dreamer is up to the writer, but it can be anything from a dream monster to a Hassan, and the being itself can be a representation of what keeps the mind shattered, or the mind’s way of exterminating unneeded personalities, or a defense mechanism. The “true hassan” is also up to you. It could be anyone, it could be everyone, it could not even be a person in the dream, but an object, or a concept. Get creative!
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Keeping herself hidden as best as she could, the girl peeked around the corner of the building and into the city square.
The city around her was familiar. The dusty, off-white buildings. The cobblestone roads barely visible under the layer of dirt and sand kicked onto them from the dirt sideroads that fed into them. The painfully blue sky overhead, thirsting for even a single cloud to block out the scorching sunlight. A dusty, bustling desert city in the middle of nowhere. It was a place she had known all her life, each street as familiar as her own arms, each building like one of her own fingers.
So...why did it feel like this was the first time she had ever been here?
The square in front of her was rather small, but still quite busy. A small fountain in the center provided a good focal point for the locals to gather around, which several of them had. While the sound of people making themselves busy filled the morning air, there was still a good number of people relaxing by the fountain, sitting in the shade of the buildings on the edge of the square, chatting amicably before they took the yoke of another day's work on their shoulders.
Once again, a familiar, common sight, yet one that was different than always.
For some reason, every townsperson she saw - from the lumbering giants, the lanky ruffians, well-dressed noble women and bent-over old hags - wore a mask. A bone-white sheet, marked with eyes but otherwise completely concealing their faces. Even to a child like her, she couldn't see them as anything but skulls.
Feeling lost within what should have been her own territory, the fact everyone she saw was wearing a skull on their face didn't inspire much confidence in her safety. And so she hid, while she tried to think of what she should do. Where she should go.
Though she recognized all the buildings around her, though she knew where each street led and what she'd see if she followed them, she couldn't remember where her home was. Even before that, she wasn't entirely sure she had a home. Having "woken up" - she didn't really remember that event either - in the narrow alleyway she now hid in, she had no lead as to where "home" might be. Instinctively she felt like she must have had a home, or at the very least a place she commonly used as one, but as if there was a wall of fog in her mind she couldn't recall a single detail.
"Oi."
A gruff voice called out from behind her, causing her to jump. Spooked, she tried to sprint away, but as if each foot were trying to run in a different direction, all she managed to accomplish was tripping over herself and throwing herself to the ground.
"What d'you think you're doing to my wall?" The man continued, his voice slightly annoyed but not coming any closer. Pushing herself up to a seated position, the girl turned to face the source of the voice.
Glowering down at her was a thick, burly man. His clothes were plain and boring, and he wore a thick leather apron. While he was quite bulky, his rolled-back sleeves showed that that bulk came from muscle. And of course, like everyone else, a bone-white mask obscured his face, making his expression completely unreadable.
"...?" As she turned to face him, the man paused, cocking his head to the side. Looking over her, he dropped his head with a sigh before stepping towards her. "Dumb brat," he muttered under his breath as he leaned down, picking her up by the shoulders and forcibly returning her to a standing position.
With the initial spook over, her instinct to flee was rather dampened. While she was a little unnerved by the stranger that was easily twice her size, and while he handled her rather roughly, she felt much less intimidated by the man as he knelt down and started brushing the dirt from her clothes. As he knelt down in front of her, she saw over his shoulder the wall she had been hiding behind, noticing just now that it was covered in a series of deep, seemingly random gashes.
Suddenly realizing why the man was upset, she instinctively jumped back as she stammered. "I-it wasn't...! It wasn't me!"
"I know it wasn't you, stupid," the man's voice carrying enough emotion that she could easily guess the expression under the mask. "What, you think I'm dumb enough to accuse you of doing that with your fingernails?"
Blinking in surprise, the girl looked down at herself. Sure enough, she had nothing on her but the rags she was wearing, barely enough to be called clothes. They covered her well enough, but that was about it. Certainly, if she had been carving things into a stone brick wall, it would've been quite the feat with her lack of tools.
"What's a brat like you doing here anyways? Not shoppin', that's for sure."
Unconsciously taking another step back, she tried to get a read on the man in front of her. His voice was rough, but in stark contrast his actions were anything but hostile. He didn't seem to be particularly dangerous, but...
Seeing she wasn't going to reply, the man sighed again before standing up and returning to the scars on the wall.
"Geez, this'll be a pain to fix. D'you see who did this?" The man shook his head in disgust as he looked over the damage done to the wall of what she presumed was his home, or maybe his shop.
"N-no, I...?" Halfway through her answer she paused, attention caught by the deep grooves on the wall. She had thought they were just random but they seemed to actually spell something. But as she blinked again, they were once again random and meaningless.
"'Find me?'" she muttered under her breath, confused. That's what the words had said...she thought. Which was bizarre, since she didn't know how to read in the first place, but somehow she had understood regardless. Now, however, they were very clearly just random gouges, without any noticeable pattern.
The man once again stepped in front of her, kneeling down and tapping a finger roughly on her forehead as if to check if it was hollow.
"Hello? You mute and stupid in there?"
"...leave her alone, Blacksmith." As she stepped away from the man in front of her she was startled by a new voice, dry and raspy, coming from the shadows of the building beside her.
Completely unaware, she finally realized she had backed away so far she was now well into the square. While the majority of passers-by ignored her, there were a handful of curious eyes watching the exchange between her and the aproned man.
The new voice came from a huddled mass of dark cloth, sitting in the doorway of the building on the opposite side of the alley from the Blacksmith's shop. At first she wasn't sure it was even a person, but closer inspection revealed a stark white mask hidden deep beneath the folds of what she then recognized as a hood. Even though he was just casually sitting in front of the building, she likely wouldn't have noticed him if he hadn't spoken up.
"I hardly need advice from someone like you," the blacksmith sneered at the hidden man, though he almost certainly couldn't see him from where he was standing still partly in the alleyway.
The cloaked man snorted. "Fine. Your head."
Shaking his head, the blacksmith growled under his breath before turning back to the girl.
"Let's try one more time. What're you doing here?"
Shifting her eyes between the blacksmith and the cloaked man, she crossed her arms in front of her stomach as if embarassed to answer.
"I...don't know."
"You...don't know..." The blacksmith repeated her words slowly as the cloaked man snorted a laugh.
"Told you, she's trouble." The cloaked man spoke, mirth obvious in his voice.
"Shut your mouth," the blacksmith snapped back at him. Turning his attention back to the girl, he spoke in a flat tone. "Well if you've got no business here, then get. I don't need brats like you hangin' around my shop."
Stepping back again with a muttered apology, she made to leave before turning back towards him. Sure, his words were rude and hostile, but his actions seemed to belie a soft spot somewhere underneath the tough exterior. She wasn't sure if she could rely on him for help, but she felt that she could at least rely on him not to hurt her.
"Ummm...before I go, can I ask a question?"
The blacksmith crossed his arms in front of him and stared at her, but otherwise made no reply. Seeing he wasn't at least shooing her off, she continued.
"What's your name?" Maybe he wouldn't want her relying on him in the future, but at least having some sort of anchor point if she got desperate might prove useful as she tried to figure out where she was and what she was doing here. Or so she thought.
Though the blacksmith showed no reaction to her words from behind his mask, the dry, cackling laughter of the cloaked man filled the silence for him.
"You've got to be kidding me..." the blacksmith finally replied after an exaggerated sigh. "Why don't you tell me your name first?" Though she felt like it was a perfectly legitimate question, his tone showed he was clearly asking rhetorically.
But as she opened her mouth to answer, only dumb silence came out.
"I...I don't remember..." Just like she couldn't remember where her home was, just like she felt like she had never been to this city before despite clearly remembering every building in sight, she couldn't remember her own name either.
At that, even the cloaked man's laughter stopped.
"I see." The blacksmith replied flatly, his voice bearing a slight tint of confusion. "Well. Not that it'll do you any good, but the name's Hassan. Now get." With that, the blacksmith walked past her and into his shop, not sparing her even another glance as he went.
Hassan, she repeated quietly to herself, nodding. If nothing else, she at least knew where Hassan's blacksmith shop was. It wasn't much, but it was a name she could put to a place. Not too useful by itself, but hopefully it would come in handy later.
As she turned to look across the square, trying to decide where to go now that she wasn't welcome here, the cloaked man called out to her.
"Girl. Come here." Though his laughing had cut off abruptly when she revealed her lack of knowledge about her self, his rasping voice once more had an air of levity to it.
Stepping over towards him, she stopped a few strides away. While he hadn't so much as moved an inch since he first spoke up, she had no idea how far she could trust this stranger. While she could get the intuitive sense that the blacksmith was a decent person beneath his rough exterior, this cloaked individual was still an enigma.
Seeing her stop a few feet away from him, the cloaked man laughed again. "Good girl. Smart. Don't trust anyone." Though he didn't get up from his seat, she could see him shuffling beneath his cloak. Without any further warning, he tossed a small object from his cloak out at her, which she scrambled to catch. Looking down, she found she was now holding a small knife, blade about the length of her hand, in a snugly-fit black leather sheath.
"Dangerous world out there. Especially for you. Especially with no mask. Be safe." Even as he warned her, he couldn't keep the laughter from his voice. It made it difficult for her to trust his intentions, but either way a knife was a knife. She wasn't going to turn down the gift.
"Thank you," she said a little more forcefully than she had intended. The cloaked man's only response was a wordless chuckle.
With no belt or anything similar - and obviously no pockets, considering her clothes were little more than a sheet of fabric with holes roughly torn for her head and arms to fit through - she had no choice but to keep the knife in hand. Pulling her arms under her single piece of clothing to wear it like a poncho, she kept both her hands hidden, one hand on the hilt of the knife and the other on the sheath for easy removal.
Nodding to herself, satisfied it wasn't obvious she was armed, she stepped out into the square.
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Though she was more than comfortable navigating around the city, she still didn't really have a goal. And without a goal, the question of "where to go next" became considerably more difficult.
At first she thought about searching for clues as to who she was - knowing that would hopefully solve a lot of the other problems she was facing all on its own. But she had no reason to believe anyone here knew who she was when she had no idea who they were. That could have been an effect of the same amnesia that obscured her name, but her intuition told her that wasn't the case. While she couldn't really bring to mind anyone she knew, something told her that if she did see someone she knew, she would recognize them - much in the same way she recognized the city despite feeling like she'd never been here.
She could work toward a more practical end, like finding a place she could stay for the night or something to eat. But even in the hours since she had "woken up," she didn't feel the least bit hungry. And as far as a place to sleep, that would depend more on where she could find empty space at night - something that might not be readily apparent during the day.
Lastly, she could just try to figure out where exactly she was. While knowing that might not have had any immediate practical benefit, it would at least be a piece of information she could make use of later. But it wasn't exactly obvious how she would go about doing that. She could always just ask the people of the city around her, but...
Looking out over the bustling square before her, she gave an anxious sigh. She had figured that anything she tried to accomplish would require interaction with people, so she had followed the side streets to the busiest part of town within a reasonable distance. But every person she saw along the way, as well as every person walking through the market square before her, all had that same skull mask on their face. While she had made it through her first encounter with the masked residents of the town without too much trouble, she was far from trusting them.
That put her in a bit of a bind, though. She wasn't going to learn much of anything about anything if she didn't interact with the people around her, but she didn't know that she could really trust them either. Having to rely on someone who could very possibly be dangerous to her was something that made her a little apprehensive, to say the least. But even so, staring at the crowds of people doing their business wouldn't help, so apprehensive as she was, she began looking for a place she could quietly slip in.
The various hawkers and shop keepers ignored her, as she obviously had no money to afford anything they had to offer. The other tradesmen making their way through the city were also rather focused on their individual tasks, and thus paid her little mind as they walked by. What she needed was someone who wasn't working, and didn't want money from her. Scanning the crowd, she found a few groups of men and women lounging here and there, chatting somewhat amicably. But approaching them would put her in a situation where she was outnumbered from the beginning, which wasn't ideal either.
As she weighed her options, a loud voice cut through the tumult of the crowds. After a few moments she was able to locate the voice's owner, a man standing in roughly the center of the square, shouting seemingly randomly at the passers-by. Dressed in what looked like simple yet fine long robes, and of course wearing the same mask as everyone else, he stood atop a wooden crate in the middle of the square and shouted at everyone around him.
Tightening her grip on her knife, she double checked that it draw smoothly before stepping into the main square. This was as good a start as any. She couldn't quite tell what he was shouting about from here, but she could get closer and listen without having to engage the man directly. If she was lucky, she could pick up some useful information without having to actually endanger herself with any of the strangers here.
As she approached closer, walking with the crowds and averting her gaze so as to hide her destination, she quickly realized that had been hoping for too much. The man's ramblings, while coherent and sane, were little more than religious exhortations and chastisements. Shaming the strangers that walked around him for sins he "knew" they had committed, appealing for them to beg for the forgiveness of God and turn from their evil ways, it quickly became apparent why the crowds were ignoring him.
Disappointed that he wasn't going to say anything useful, she stepped into another stream of people taking her away from the center of the square and out towards the shops lining it. As she did so, however, she noticed the man abruptly stop shouting. Curious, she turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye.
Immediately, she realized her mistake. As she turned to look, she saw the man staring directly at her. Though his face was covered, his previous monologue made it fairly easy to guess that whatever he thought of her was not going to be pleasant. And of course he would notice her, she was the only one in the entire city that was walking around without a mask. She thought she could get around without being noticed, but she probably stood out just as much as he did.
Just as she thought the man might ignore her after all, he lept down from his crate and started marching directly towards her, pushing the other people of the crowd out of his way. Immediately, she turned and tried to sprint off into the crowd - and immediately, she ran face first into someone, knocking her off her feet and onto her backside.
Wincing in pain, she looked up at the person she had run into. It didn't take long before she began to wonder if running into him had been a bigger mistake than attracting the attention of the preacher. Turning slowly to look at her was a monster of a man. Easily twice the size of any of the other adults in the crowd, nevermind a child like her, she was almost as astounded at his height alone as she was at how she had managed to miss someone of his stature walking through the crowd. As the enormous man turned to stare down at her, face unreadable behind his bone-white mask, she tried to scramble to her feet - a difficult task, seeing as she wasn't willing to let go of the knife in both of her hands to do so.
"Behold! This is the emblem of your sin!" Startled by the sudden shout behind her, she stumbled again, but this time rough hands grabbed her and yanked her to her feet. "Your weakness, your lack of faith has given birth to this wretch!"
Pulling away from the man's grasp, she drew her knife from its sheath as she spun to face him. Held at the ready, she kept the blade concealed within her clothes, watching warily as the man resumed his sermon. Though he was obviously keeping pace with her as she backed away, he was making no moves to grab her again, and his message was obviously intended for the crowds around them, not her.
"A child! Destitute, hungry, hopeless! This is a reflection of the brokenness of your hearts! Your twisted, vile minds have given birth to this filth!"
At that, she froze. 'Given birth to?'
"Another innocent soul...nay, not even a soul! Another innocent shadow forced to eke out a wretched, pitiful existence! Forced to suffer through a day of terror and loathing before being extinguished without mercy by the night!"
A chill ran down her spine. 'Extinguished?'
"Do you...do you know, who I am?" Still on edge, ready to lash out with her knife the instant he made a wrong move, she tentatively called out to the preacher.
Somehow, despite the mask, he was still able to look down on her with an air of contempt. "'Do I know who you are?'" he repeated, his tone mocking. "Of course! Even the wild dogs know you! Even the rats, crawling through the gutters of this forsaken city, know you for the abominable ghost that you are!"
Taken aback by his sudden aggression, his anger at the crowd suddenly and totally shifting to her, she unconsciously stepped backwards away from him. But even scared as she was, she did her best to swallow her fear and press him for information.
"...I don't understand. What do you mean?" He definitely spoke as if he knew something about her, and while it might all be nonsense, she wasn't going to pass up the chance at finding out something just because he might be crazy.
The preacher, however, just snorted at her. "Of course you don't. A lowly orphan, wandering aimlessly in the streets. I'm surprised your smart enough to speak. This world has no mercy, no quarter to give to the likes of you. But don't worry, I'm sure your death will be quick and painless."
"My death? Am I going to die?" She spoke hesitantly. Though the rough manner in which he spoke to her reminded her of Hassan, she could feel no warmth, no underlying humanity to this preacher. It was almost like he didn't even see her as a person.
"Why, of course! It's written on your face!" He leaned close to her, tapping the mask he wore with a finger. "You are an outcast. A failure. Worthless, useless, meaningless! Death is what you deserve!" As he spoke, he stepped closer and closer, and as he approached she began to feel more and more tense. Without being able to see his face, she couldn't read his intentions at all, but from what he was saying she couldn't imagine them being very good. And try as she might to maintain the distance between them, he continued to pursue her.
"In fact, why wait for nightfall? You might as well die right now! Spare yourself the trouble of suffering through an entire day!"
She froze. Nightfall? Was something going to happen at night?
But as she opened her mouth to ask, the man closed the last of the distance between them. Without hesitation or haste, he reached a hand towards her, as if to grab her by the neck.
For a split second, gripped by panic, she hesitated. Knife in hand, she was amply equipped to defend herself. And it would be easy to simply break and run. But if she attacked him or ran, she would lose her chance to get more information from him, and if what he was saying was true, she desperately needed that information. As the fear of losing her only lead to finding out anything about herself met against the fear of the threat to her life the man posed, she could do nothing more but stand wide-eyed as the man reached for her.
Just before the man's fingers closed around her neck, an enormous fist soared over her head, crashing into the masked preacher's face and sending him sprawling backwards. Looking up, just as wide-eyed in surprise as she had been in fear earlier, she saw the enormous figure of the man she had run into earlier. Though his face was still covered, the soft growling he was making while he watched the preacher pick himself up out of the dirt was enough to gauge his feelings.
"Some holy man you are," a woman's voice called out behind her, followed quickly by said woman walking up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "To not only threaten, but attack an innocent child in broad daylight. Have you no shame?"
The preacher stood up unsteadily, holding a hand to his face. Though his mask was undamaged, blood dribbled down from its edges where it dug into his face. "Ha!" the man spat, not even looking at the woman who had spoken. "She is no more a child than you are a mother! And innocent? Her existence here is sin enough to warrant judgement!"
The woman's grip tightened on the girl's shoulder as she replied, the only evidence the preacher's jab at her had hit the mark. "Since when was the crime of being punishable by torture and murder?" As she spoke, the girl looked up at the woman. Besides the skull mask, she looked like an ordinary mother. Her clothes were plain and utilitarian, but well kept. It was hard to tell through the mask, but she seemed old enough to have had a handful of children already.
"Torture?" the preacher chuckled as he looked up at the woman. "I am torturing her? Look at you! Ignoring her, content to leave her to her fate! Only stepping in because you are squeamish at the thought of seeing another little girl die!"
The woman's grip tightened again, this time to the point of being painful. This time, however, her anger seemed to rob her of her voice.
"But let me tell you. Keep lying to her, keep lying to yourself! Waste your breath 'protecting' her, and then watch her die with your own two eyes!" As the preacher spoke, he stepped closer, but this time his movements were mirrored by the enormous man who had punched him earlier. With a growl, the giant stepped between her and the preacher, the reminder of his presence threat enough to make the preacher back down.
All around them, the crowd had slowed to watch. A small audience of men and women were now circling them, watching the proceedings from behind their masks.
...no, that wasn't quite right. They weren't watching what was happening. They were watching the preacher specifically. And it was clear as he glanced around him that he knew this as well, as he slowly backed away from the girl and her self-appointed guardians.
"See? You see?! All of you are complicit in her torment! Even if she survives, what have you given her? A lifetime of destitution and misery! Death would be...death will be a mercy to her!" With a cackle, sounding slightly deranged thanks to the nerves now showing in his voice, he wiped the blood from the edges of his mask with his hands. Though he seemed poised to run, he turned back to the girl one last time before making his escape.
"...I don't want to die." Barely more than a whisper, the girl spoke, causing the preacher's words to catch in his throat.
She didn't want to die. She didn't know who she was, where she was, or why she was here. But if she knew one thing...
"...please..."
Her hands began to tremble, still clutching tightly to the knife concealed under her clothes. The only thing she knew about herself was that she was apparently destined to die, and that this man wanted it to happen.
"Just...tell me what I have to do..." If this man knew that she would die, he should know how she could avoid it. And though she had no reason to expect help from him, she had no one else she could ask.
"Don't worry sweet heart, you don't need to listen to what-" The woman at her shoulder spoke soothingly to her, but before she could finish what she was saying the preacher interrupted.
"Heed my words, ghost. There is no life for you in this city, nor in this world." His tone was serious, and though his words were still as vicious as always, they no longer dripped with hate as they had previously. "Your only salvation is in death. Have mercy on yourself, and end it before the sun sets and ends it for you." With that, the man turned away and strode off.
As the preacher disappeared, the rest of the impromptu audience slowly began to disperse as well, murmuring amongst themselves their general discontent with the man that had caused such a ruckus. Though it seemed they were more bothered by the commotion than by the man himself. As they all went their seperate ways, the woman at the girl's side knelt down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder.
"Now don't worry about a thing he said, honey. He's just an evil-hearted man, trying to hurt your feelings to make himself feel better. But you have nothing to worry about from him anymore."
"...so...I'm not going to die?" she asked, still watching the spot where the preacher had disappeared into the crowd.
The woman stiffened at the question, her voice faltering for a moment. "N-no...not if...not if we can...do something about it..." Even for a child like her, she could easily see through the lie in the woman's words.
Much more comforting, however, was the wordless encouragement of the gigantic man who had protected her earlier. With a soft grunt, he put an enormous hand on her head, nodding to her as she looked up at him.
At that, the woman chuckled briefly before sighing. "Well, if this gigantic oaf is going to take your side, I can't protest much can I?" Standing up and brushing the dirt off her skirt, the woman spoke with a bit more cheer. "Anyways, you must be starving. Would you like something to eat?"
Honestly, she still wasn't that hungry. But she figured these two had already stood up to protect her, so they were probably more trustworthy than any other random person, and judging by the woman's hesitation to tell her she was safe, she might know something about why her life was in danger.
Quietly sliding her still-bared knife back into its sheath, she nodded. As she opened her mouth to thank the woman, however, she instead ended up giving a shout of surprise as the giant grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up, setting her firmly on his shoulder. Though his shoulders were broad enough she could easily sit on them, she had to hurriedly grab his bald head with her free hand to keep from tumbling off. With another nod and a satisfied grunt, he turned to the woman, who chuckled again.
"Alright, looks like we're all set. I know a great place, so just follow me!"
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Sitting atop the shoulders of her new giant friend, the girl carefully watched the crowd as they cut through the busy streets. She had gotten used to seeing the faces of everyone else in town covered by those skull masks, but now she was beginning to feel self-conscious at the fact she lacked one. Evidently, there was something critical that mask symbolized, and the fact she was lacking it attracted more than a few looks from the people they walked by. But there was nothing she could do about that now, so she tried her best to push that into the back of her mind.
Before long, they had come to a stop in front of a small building. It appeared to be some sort of shop, or maybe an inn. There was a sign hanging above the door, but of course she couldn't read it so it didn't help much. The only memorable feature was among the scattered words, a picture of two knives crossed. One of the knives was plain, if a bit large, and looked like it was designed for cooking more than anything else. The other knife, however, looked very similar to the dagger she had received from the cloaked man earlier that day - definitely a weapon.
"Wait here a minute, okay?" The woman who had guided them there raised a hand to stop them from going inside before opening the door and heading in herself.
With no more than a grunt in warning, the giant lifted the girl off of his shoulders and placed her back on the ground.
"Thank you, mister...umm..." Now that she thought about it, she had no idea what his name was. She considered asking, but he didn't seem like he could talk, so that didn't seem like a particularly effective course of action. As she awkwardly tried to think of a way to find out his name, or at the very least what to call him for now, he simply grunted and patted her gently on the head.
She couldn't help but feel uneasy in the town full of skull-faced strangers, but like the blacksmith from earlier, she had a vague feeling this giant could be trusted. Of course, he had protected her from the raving preacher earlier, but even beyond that his mannerisms seemed to lend himself an air of reliability despite his concealed face.
Before long, the door opened again, and the woman popped her head out to beckon them inside. "Come on in, lots of space for us today!"
After exchanging a look with the giant, she followed the woman inside.
Much darker than the outside streets, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. Set up across the room were a series of tables, each with three or four chairs around. Along the back wall was a counter, behind which was a door that led to a room deeper in the building. There were a handful of windows on the walls to give a little bit of light to the room, but the various old lamps scattered around the tables were unlit, making the room quite dark, a welcome respite from the scorching sun she had spent most of the day in.
Aside from the three of them just entering, there were a man and a woman seated at one table further in, as well as another man standing arms crossed behind the counter. All of them turned to watch them enter, though as expected, their expressions were hidden behind the same bone-white masks as everyone else.
At the woman's guidance, she sat at the closest table to the door, followed shortly by the other two doing the same. While the giant exchanged tense stares with the two customers seated on the opposite side of the room, the woman gestured to the shopkeeper.
"I'm still not sure about this." Though his face was hidden, the suspicion in his voice more than made up for his invisible expression.
The woman sighed in response. "Listen, I already said I would pay, alright? What does it matter to you?"
"You know full well that's not the issue," he said, openly staring at the girl, prompting her to nervously tighten her grip on the knife still concealed under her clothes.
"It's fine isn't it?" The woman seated across the room spoke up, a faintly amused lilt in her voice. Without turning her gaze away from her partner, she gently swirled her drink around in its small wooden cup. "After all, the longer she wastes in here, the better for us, right?"
Though she didn't really understand what the woman meant, her amused tone mixed with the angry growl it elicited from her giant companion was enough to clue her in that it wasn't something pleasant.
Even looking at the woman across the room made the girl feel a little embarrassed, with how few clothes she was wearing. While the important bits were technically covered, the mask on her face probably required about the same amount of material as the rest of her outfit combined. She guessed she must have been some sort of exotic dancer, though she wasn't sure why she was in 'uniform' at a place like this, let alone in the middle of the day.
"Ah, leave th' poor gal 'lone," the dancer's companion grumbled at her, likewise not lifting his gaze from his drink. "Not like she'd do anythin t' ya." While the man was certainly well built, he was no where near the enormous size of the giant sitting beside her. His muscle had a leanness to it, speaking more of speed than it did of strength.
"Oh don't be so sure," the dancer replied, her teasing tone continuing. "Give her a bath, and I'm sure a girl like her could steal any number of my customers."
Her companion snorted. "Y' a sick gal, know?"
Unable to follow their conversation, the girl turned her attention back to the shopkeeper, who also seemed to be shaking his head at them. "Alright, whatever." With that, he turned around and headed into the back room.
The woman sitting across from her gave another sigh mixed with exasperation as much as it was relief. "Sorry about that," the mumbled as if not to let the other couple hear her. "I don't think we'd get any better service elsewhere though." While she didn't mind overly - she didn't know why the shopkeeper disliked her already, but at least he was nicer than that preacher from earlier - the giant gave an unsatisfied snort. Though if she had to guess, she would say his problem was more with the other customers rather than the shop itself.
"Umm...sorry..." As the conversation fell into a lull as they waited for food to come out, the girl hesitantly spoke. "I never said thank you for earlier..."
"Don't mention it," the woman replied with a small laugh. "Honestly, it was worth it just to see that stuck-up piece of work get slugged."
While it hadn't been that funny at the time, she had to stifle a grin at the way the woman talked about it. Turning to the giant beside her, craning her neck up to meet his gaze, she spoke again. "...yes. Thank you. Thank you for helping me." Turning away, he scratched his head, as if embarrassed by the thanks, but as usual hd said nothing. Looking back to the woman, she continued. "...actually, I forgot to ask. I still don't know your names."
At that, the already quiet room froze. Even the couple across the room stopped their conversation and turned to stare at her. Once again, she felt at a disadvantage, unable to see the expressions behind the masks to gauge their reaction.
"She doesn't know anything, does she?" the dancer muttered from across the room, this time her voice humourless.
"Know y' own name, gal?" the dancer's companion spoke up a little louder, concern obvious in his voice.
"...no..." she replied in almost a whisper, dropping her gaze.
At that, both the couple across the room and the woman sitting beside her let out a hum of recognition. "'xplains that, don' it?"
"Thinking about it now," the dancer replied, turning her attention back to her cup, "it's more surprising we haven't seen someone like her yet, isn't it?"
"Aye," her companion said, likewise returning his attention to his own table.
While it seemed they had figured something out, she was still completely in the dark. But before she could ask what they were talking about, she felt an enormous hand tap her on the shoulder. Turning to look at the giant, she saw him pull his hand back and tap himself on the chest before flicking his fingers into a few signs she didn't know the meaning of.
"He says his name is Hassan," the woman beside her interpreted, her voice still carrying a hint of hesitation.
"Eh? Your name is Hassan?" What were the chances that of the two people she had asked, both were named Hassan? Before she could voice her disbelief, the giant pointed across the table at the woman sitting with them, snapping off a handful of signs again.
"Ah...yes, my name...my name is Hassan as well." Raising a hand to stop the giant from continuing, she spoke again. "And those two over there as well. Hassan and Hassan."
The girl blinked in confusion. They were named Hassan too? Even the women? Was everyone here named-
"Oh."
Something clicked in her head. As the shopkeeper came out from the back room with a plate of food, she pointed at him. "Is his name Hassan too, then?"
"This girl stupid or something?" the shopkeeper said as he placed the food on the table between them.
"Looks like amnesia," the woman replied as she pushed the plate of food towards the girl, earning a curious grunt from the shopkeeper before he returned to his spot behind the counter. "Yes. He's Hassan too."
Though she still wasn't really all that hungry, she felt it rude not to eat after the shopkeeper had gone through the effort of preparing the food for them. The plate had a rather plain looking arrangement of bread and cheese, centered around a small selection of fruit. Hesitantly taking a piece of bread, she spoke again before taking a bite.
"Then...am I also Hassan?"
The woman exchanged a glance with the giant before replying in a faltering voice.
"W-well...maybe. Though maybe it would be more correct to say...not yet?"
"...I don't understand."
"Y-yeah..." the woman scratched her head, unsure of how to continue. As she had expected, the woman seemed to know something. She was hesitant to talk about it, but if she could get that out of her...
"Oh, why don't you just tell her?" the dancer called out from across the room, her voice regaining its mischievous slant. "You're not Hassan, girl. You're not even real."
"Would you leave us alone?!" her companion shouted angrily across the room. The dancer just laughed, waving a half-hearted apology before turning back to her table.
"I'm...not real?" The girl, meanwhile, was simply confused. Of course she was real, she was right here. She could think, she could feel the knife in her hand and taste the bread she had just eaten. How could she not be?
"W-well...to put it simply..." the woman stammered a little as she turned back, as if she didn't know how to word what she was saying. Eventually she dropped her head with a sigh, lifting her head a moment later to meet the girl's gaze. "I know this is going to be hard to hear, but this is the truth, okay? Try not to panic, okay?"
At that, the girl immediately perked up. Finally she felt like she was getting somewhere. With a vigorous nod, she prompted the woman Hassan to continue.
Folding her hands in front of herself, the woman sighed again. After another moment, she finally spoke up quietly. "You can tell, right? This city...this place is not normal. Everyone has these strange masks, everyone has the same name...I guess you maybe haven't seen them, but if you stick around long enough you'll find other odd things too. Like the words on signs changing, walls appearing and disappearing, streets suddenly filled with different shops..."
The woman hesitated again. Was she talking about things like she had seen with the scratches on the blacksmith shop?
"This city...this world is a place for Hassan-i Sabbah, the Old Man of the Mountain. Everything here was made for him...and no one but him can exist here."
The girl quietly chewed on a piece of cheese while she listened to the explanation. That certainly explained why everyone was named Hassan, but if that was the case, shouldn't there only be one of them? And if she wasn't Hassan, then how did she get here?
"Occasionally, people like you show up here. All of us were like you once, actually. Not the memory loss, just the showing up here one day without warning...without a mask, with only fake memories and fake names."
"Fake names? Did you have a different name before you became Hassan?"
"...no," the woman kept her gaze locked on the tabletop as she continued speaking. "No, we all came here with the name Hassan. Thinking we were the real one, thinking we were originally our own person. But that's not the case. Yes, all of us are Hassan, but not individually. All of us together are Hassan, each of us simply a fragment of the whole."
The girl stared blankly at the woman. She felt like she had just received a lot of important information, but it didn't make any sense. Everyone in town is one person? Everyone is named Hassan, but no one is actually Hassan? And she still didn't understand how she was here if she wasn't Hassan, or what the woman meant when she said 'not Hassan yet.'
"Say it li' that, she'll unde'stand no' of it." The dancer's companion grumbled, as if he couldn't help saying something even though he didn't want to help.
"It's not easy to explain!" the woman replied with a huff. "I'm doing the best I can!"
"If only Hassan can come here, then how did I get here?" Picking one of her points of confusion at random, pressed the woman for more information. After all, if that preacher was right that she was going to die, maybe it had something to do with the fact she wasn't allowed to be here...
"...right. As I said, this is a world only for Hassan-i Sabbah. You...you aren't Hassan, not yet anyway. You were born from his mind, like all of us were...but until he accepts you as part of himself, you are just an intruder." The woman tried to speak gently, but that didn't stop the girl from feeling anxious about it.
"So...is that why I'm going to die? Because I don't belong here?"
"Die...well, less like you'll die...more like you'll have never existed."
Once again, she was back to not understanding at all. She was alive already, wasn't she? She was sitting here eating, talking...what else could there be?
Seeing her confused expression, the dancer turned and spoke to them from across the room. "I said it earlier, didn't I? You're not real, girl. None of us are. Not right now."
"I am Hassan-i Sabbah...but I'm not real." This time it was the shopkeeper, who despite sounding like he was regretting speaking at all, continued to explain. "But when he needs us, when he needs the skills we possess, then we become real. We become the actual Hassan-i Sabbah. That is the only time we are really alive."
"Every person here has the same wish," the dancer spoke again. "To be real. To get out of this prison of a city, even if only for a moment. But only one of us can make it out at a time..."
"...and you've seen how many of us there are," the woman across from her spoke in a whisper.
As if the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, she suddenly understood. Why everyone but these two were so reluctant to help her. Why so many people seemed so openly hostile to her, despite the fact she had done nothing wrong. She didn't really understand the details, but the general message was loud and clear. They all wanted something that only one of them could have. And she was new competition.
...or rather, she might be new competition. And them helping her meant they were pushing their own wish farther away from their own grasp.
But still, here they were.
"...why?"
The room quietly watched her as she stared down at her lap, where her knife was still concealed. Even that cloaked man had given her this dagger to help her, to his own detriment. He would have been better off if he had stuck the dagger in her. So why?
"...then why are you all helping me? That just makes it harder for you, doesn't it?"
For a while, silence filled the room. With that one realization, she suddenly realized that to these people, she wasn't just a stranger. She was an enemy. Her death was in their best interests. So why were they helping her?
...or were they helping her?
A sinking feeling struck her as the dancer's words from when they had first arrived here rose back up in her mind.
After all, the longer she wastes in here, the better for us, right?
"...or are you just trying to keep me here until my time runs out?"
Standing up from her chair, the girl slowly began backing away towards the door, gripping her knife tightly with both hands. The room of masked faces made no reaction, except for the sad groan coming from the giant.
Good girl. Smart. Don't trust anyone.
It was just like the cloaked man had said. These people were all trying to trick her, weren't they? Like the preacher had said, she would die when the sun sets. So if they distracted her long enough, she wouldn't have enough time to do what she needed to survive, whatever that was.
"That's not...that's not what I was trying to do. I just..." Unable to even meet her gaze, the woman spoke in a weak voice, as if hurt by the accusation. Similarly, the giant had risen from his seat, trying to offer her a comforting hand. But she wasn't having any of it. She knew better now.
"Thank you for helping me," she spoke softly, voice quivering only slightly. "But I understand. I'll figure it out on my own."
"No, you don't understand! That's not-" Before the woman could finish her sentence, the girl turned and strode through the door.
Momentarily stunned by the sudden brightness outside, she rose a hand to cover her eyes.
That was dangerous. She had almost been tricked, but luckily she had managed to get out with the information she needed. She knew what was at stake, she knew her time limit. She didn't know exactly what she would have to do to survive, but she knew where to start. Looking up at the sign hanging outside the shop, for a brief moment, the words she couldn't read spoke to her.
FIND ME
Ignoring the sound of footsteps coming towards her from inside the shop, ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes, she clenched her fingers tightly around her knife and ran off into the crowded street.
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