The Heavy Silence of the Viridians
The sudden, absolute silence was more terrifying than the mechanical roar that preceded it. Elias stood in a state of mental fog, shifting between rooms that felt like a chaotic blend of modern clinical precision and ancient, rotting decay. He realized with a sinking heart that he was no longer just an observer; he was a fly caught in a web woven by the Viridians. He knew their nature, he understood their hierarchy, but he had fought to deny the most terrifying reality: that he was now a part of the glitch itself.
The red light of the tape recorder flickered once and died, leaving only the pale, cold moonlight to filter through the shattered windows of the Manager’s Office. The rain outside hit the roof with a rhythmic thud, sounding like nails being driven into a coffin. The tape had stopped spinning. The silence was a demand—a refusal to speak any further until a price was paid.
The Copper Tablet of Sin
Elias leaned over the desk, his flashlight beam landing on a small copper plate that had emerged from the side of the recorder. The words were not engraved by a machine; they looked as if they had been scratched into the metal by human fingernails, desperate and raw.
"To hear the past and know it, you must not ignore it. Forgetfulness is a sin. Washing does not only clean clothes; it erases sins and hides evidence. Remembrance is the true torment. For silence to speak and reveal what men hide, you must rearrange the tragedy. Begin with the Cause, pass through the
Effect, wash with the Blood, and seal the Secret that never dies."
Beneath the text were four circular dials, marked with cryptic symbols instead of numbers: A Broken Key, A Child’s Robe, A Flowing Liquid, and a Strangled Throat.
The Logic of the Damned
Elias’s mind raced. He had to piece together the nightmare. Was the "Cause" his intrusion? No. The cause was the cry that brought him here. He reached for the first dial, the one marked with the Strangled Throat. It was incredibly heavy, resisting his touch as if the machine itself was terrified of the truth. As he forced it to turn, a faint, sobbing whisper filled his ears, rising and falling with the movement of the gears.
Click. The first seal was broken. The "Strangled Throat" represented the muffled scream of the child—the initial spark that lured him into this purgatory.
Next, he turned the dial of the Child’s Robe. The scent of rusted iron and old blood intensified, filling the room until it was difficult to breathe. This was the "Effect"—the physical proof of the tragedy he
had discovered earlier.
Click. The second seal fell.
Then came the Flowing Liquid. This was the "Blood Wash," the ritual Elias had unknowingly completed with the powder and the crimson water. The building began to tremble again, a low-frequency vibration that made his teeth ache.
Click. The third seal.
Finally, he turned the Broken Key. This represented the final barrier—the Manager’s Office and the lock on the truth that had been snapped in half. As the final dial settled into place, the machine did not start. Instead, a wave of unnatural cold washed over him, a frost that seemed to originate from inside his own bones.
Secret for a Secret
A new line of text appeared on the copper plate, glowing with a sickly light: "A Secret for a Secret." Elias remembered his childhood, the innocent games of swapping secrets with friends. But the Viridians were not playmates. They were collectors of pain. The frost was spreading, numbing his limbs. He realized he had two choices: tell a truth he had sworn to take to his grave, or let the cold consume his soul.
The original text vanished, leaving only: "Forgetfulness is a sin. Remembrance is a torment."
The Confession
Elias felt his energy being siphoned away, a literal electrical sting draining his life force to power the machine. The tears he thought had dried years ago at his friend’s funeral began to flow, hot and bitter. He leaned into the recorder, his voice a broken rasp.
"I am the reason..." he whispered, the words clawing their way out of his throat. "It was me. I was the one who made her a widow... I am the one who shattered her life. I killed my dearest colleague, my childhood friend whom I cherished more than myself. I turned my own sister into a widow with my own hands. I orphaned his daughter."
He spoke the words he had hidden even from the Organization’s official reports. The shame he had buried beneath his professional exterior was now laid bare before the glitch. The sensation of cold vanished instantly, replaced by a violent electrical jolt as the machine absorbed his confession. The reels of the tape began to spin once more, ready to reveal a secret that its owner thought was gone forever.
