Quicksand of Fate

"That's not the point." Vittorio sighed, his face set in a frown, though his tone remained calm. "Don't you realize that taking such a massive amount of medication could kill you, Lorenzo? What were you thinking?"

Lorenzo's gaze drifted to the window, where the dim morning light cast long shadows across the floor. After a moment of silence, as though trying to puzzle out the reason behind his own madness, he finally spoke—his tongue betraying him with the usual answer, one meant to evade the annoying questioning.

"I was tired, that's all."

"So tired that you couldn't call someone—me, your doctor—and yet you had the energy to rage at poor Emilio?"

"I didn't want to talk," Lorenzo replied curtly, his tone colder than before.

Vittorio leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. "That excuse isn't good enough, Lorenzo. Tell me what happened last night."

For a brief moment, Lorenzo considered telling him—about the vivid, unsettling nightmares that had haunted him for as long as he could remember.

The thought of sharing his doubts about his own identity even crossed his mind, but his gaze drifted back into emptiness, his expression calm once more, and he kept it all to himself.

The last time he confided in his psychiatrist about his doubts and nightmares, he had been labeled as insane. The man had even considered sending him to a Psychiatric hospital. Lorenzo had discovered this in his file, stored on his father's computer—a file he'd hacked into to spy on the reports of those responsible for his care.

So he deleted the file, killed the psychiatrist, and hid the body—a body that no one has found to this day, nor has anyone suspected him as the killer. That incident was seven years ago.

He wouldn't repeat the same mistake. Vittorio was a good friend, albeit an infuriating one, but he didn't need to know his thoughts. He wouldn't understand him anyway.

Others didn't see the strange memories swirling in his mind. They couldn't grasp his cognitive contradictions—so much so that he often wondered whether they were simply oblivious or chose to ignore them just to make him feel even crazier. That's why he trusted no one—not his father, not his brothers, not even the servants under his command.

"Nothing," Lorenzo replied, his voice detached, far removed from the turmoil in his head.

Vittorio sighed, leaning back in his chair. He studied Lorenzo for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he decided to ask questions he already knew the answers to—questions meant to force Lorenzo to interact, to talk, and perhaps, to confront his own mistakes.

"How is your routine?"

"Fine."

"Have you had any interactions with your brothers lately?"

"No."

"Did you leave the apartment this week?"

Lorenzo hesitated, his brow twitching ever so slightly before he replied, "No."

"So, you spent the entire week here. Alone. Just you and those cats you don't even look at," Vittorio remarked.

"I like quiet," Lorenzo replied, his voice flat and bored. But the slight tension in his posture betrayed his discomfort under this sudden line of questioning.

Vittorio's tone remained light, almost teasing. "I see. Shall we write it down, then? A shrine at your apartment door: Here lies the second son of the Accardi family. Please, do not disturb."

Lorenzo didn't respond. His eyes drifted back to the window, staring into the distance as if the world outside held all the answers he couldn't give.

The room fell silent for a while.

Vittorio reached into his bag, pulling out an elegantly engraved card. He set it on the table between them and nudged it toward Lorenzo.

"What's this?" Lorenzo asked, his voice carrying an edge of indifference.

"Your registration card for the Sentinel Military Academy," Vittorio said smoothly.

Lorenzo's gaze snapped up to meet his, the faint spark of annoyance breaking through his usual detachment.

"I didn't agree to this."

"No, you didn't," Vittorio replied, leaning back in his chair. His tone was measured but firm. "But your father asked me to bring it to you. He thinks it's time you tried something new. And you already know that conscription is inevitable, even for the son of the Accardi family."

"I'm not interested," Lorenzo said coldly, pushing the card away as if it were something foul.

"That's bad news for you, then, because your father is, the government is, and humanity as a whole is interested, Lorenzo Accardi." Vittorio's voice remained calm, but there was a slight edge to it. "If you don't apply to Sentinel Academy, you'll be forced into one of the other four military academies. They're annoying, uncomfortable, and disgusting, even for the most social people. You'll be crammed into a room with at least ten cadets. But if you make it into the top ten at Sentinel Academy, you get a room to yourself."

Lorenzo's frown deepened as Vittorio continued his explanation, his face contorting in displeasure until it twisted in a way that made Vittorio hesitate. The idea of being thrust into a social experiment clearly unsettled him. However, Vittorio pressed on, this time shifting his tone, attempting to present a more palatable side to the situation in hopes of making it more acceptable to Lorenzo.