FLASHBACK
— Previous Life

His mother and father were too alike. Or perhaps they weren't. At times it seemed their souls were made of the same fabric that made their being, but at times, it seemed they were two different people entirely. Y/n hated how his mother seemed to adore his father while his father insisted on keeping a long line of mistresses whom he retired to in the night. His mother's bed was never warm from her husband's presence, but the coat of red lipstick stayed, and so did the perm in her brilliant, red hair.

It was like fire, and so was her personality. Long lines of curses would flow from her lips when she was angry, and she would rest her bony hands on her bony hips as her gaze would shoot daggers at Y/n's father. He was an indifferent man, and their love was very much twisted: they cuddled, sang love-stricken words to each other, and clinked together their bottles of wine. Their love for their alcoholic beverages were at least, very much the same—their passion for drugs were also the same.

Yet at other times, glasses would drop with loud sounds, and sobs and screams would erupt from the kitchen. Y/n had been too young to place a word to describe what it was, but he did remember clutching his sister tightly to himself, trying to quietly read a book to her.

"Oh, you are just like me," His mother would say angrily.

"Isn't that good? You know my sorrows, my pains. You should understand me."

"Understand you?" Her voice would take a hysterical turn, "Raymond. I will never understand why you bring a woman half your age to your bed. Should I bring men half my age to my bed too?"

"You wouldn't," His father would say. "You adore me too much."

And that was the part Y/n didn't get. His mother cherished his father too much. She couldn't bear the idea of him leaving. Her blind devotion for someone so utterly cruel...it had become normalized to him, to the point that in the future, he would overlook the cult-like affection everyone had for Anton,

If people were too similar, then they would clash. Your loved one was supposed to have all the things you didn't have—and have all the things you needed.

Y/n's father didn't have what his mother needed.

But Father Anton was what the people of the church needed: someone to blindly believe. Someone to assure them.

And what Anton needed was someone he could believe in.

Someone from the oracle.

PRESENT

[ Congratulations! You have advanced to Level Four!
You are entitled to a spin at the wheel... ]

Y/n clicked on the option spin, and watched as the hologram-like cards shuffled around, and finally landed on one. His past spins had only resulted in flashes of silverlight, but to his utter amazement, it shone a brilliant gold.

[ You have obtained a S-Class item. Congratulations!
Do you wish to use < Memory Lane > now?
This item allows you to revisit your pre-world memories to enable you to gain more information, and possibly help you. Good luck, player! ]

That sounded too good to be true.

A trip down the memory lane? A chance to revisit his past to dig up more information about the game? No wonder it was a S-Class item. Y/n had never managed to earn this item when he was actually playing the game, so this was a rare opportunity that he had to grab. And was it a good time?

Y/n looked around. Lucas was sleeping after he had gotten back from the church, the door was bolted shut, the windows were closed...it was the best time to do it. He doubted any quests would pop up at such an ungodly hour.

[ Y E S has been selected.
Generating data... ]

Y/n wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he clicked the option. Memories flooding his brain, perhaps? Him being left in an unconscious state? Well, he certainly didn't expect the room to spin around him until all that's left was black. Utter darkness; with shadows that creeped around the corners, and the only light source was a computer screen illuminating the room.

Haunting. Utterly haunting. This was a setting that easily could have made it into a horror film, but Y/n supposed that this was a horror game, so it was fitting. There were no further instructions that popped up on his screen, so he went ahead in front of the computer, the blue light radiating off it piercing his eyes. He had to get used to the feel of the keyboard and mouse beneath his fingers—it had been much too long since he had felt any semblance of modernity.

Y/n's eyes fell on the screen. There was no option to remove himself from the website he was on—the Spiraling into the Abyss forum. It was a familiar sight to him, admittedly. He had spent hours scrolling through it mindlessly, searching for the different ways to complete a quest. But it seemed it was stuck on a particular post.

Knew it wouldn't be so easy, Y/n scoffed internally, if I could simply search up whatever I wanted, wouldn't I be unstoppable? They clearly wanted to maintain a certain level of difficulty—they wanted to make it hard for him to return to his old world.

Going from this world to his previous world would be like jumping between the several rings from hell; from the most inner circle of Hell to just barely skimming the last. With his useless but try hard father, with his alcohol and drug addicted mother, to the little sister he desperately loved that was now left alone, Y/n didn't even know if returning home would give him any triumph.

A guide to Spiraling into the Abyss. I've been playing for a ridiculously long amount of time, and...

Y/n's eyes fell onto the small display name. Unlike all the names that the forum tended to have—like stormyempress49, grimreaper4ever, this was an actual name. Perhaps not the writer's real name, but...

Nora.

Nora.

The writer of the forum was called Nora.

"My name is Nora—Helen." Sister Helen had tripped over her words then. Y/n didn't have time to truly ponder over the meaning of her words then, but...

The date the post was uploaded was also there—roughly a year before the current date. Or was it a few months? Y/n had long lost the perception of time ever since he had transmigrated into the game. Every second seemed to bleed agonizingly slowly into minutes. It seemed to take great delight and pride to carve its place into the world, making a mockery of Y/n's impatience: time doesn't wait for one, but it shall certainly wait for you.

Y/n made a mental note of the name. If the time arose, he would somehow coax Helen into a discussion. But now, the most important thing on the agenda was the content.

....You have to beware of Father Anton. My character has been killed over and over again, and only now I notice a pattern. Many people have yet to advance far into the game, but apparently, Father Anton is the one who catalyzes the player's downfall every, single, time.

Comments:

— yeah, bullshit. He's the one who is helping. Now, Sister Helen is the weird one...

— never had an issue with him. Maybe because he's hot asf lol

...Catalyze the player's downfall? Now, that made sense in some way, yet at the same time, it didn't. Father Anton would be his guide towards his survival, and while it was true he had organized some horrible events and that the main church hierarchy was based off him—but Anton had never really hurt him before. He had never hurt the main character before.

Y/n's hand tightened around the mouse, his eyes squinting as he tried to read further. But the rest of the information had been omitted, and he noticed the darkness starting to melt away into a myriad of dazzling colors—

Before he was back in his room. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

What? That was mere minutes. How could I have...

See what Y/n meant? Time was lost here. He didn't have any perception of time here. Steeling his nerves, he headed towards Lucas's room and knocked gently. Lucas was already up and awake, engrossed in a book that Y/n had lent him. It was a difficult read for someone of that age for him, yet he seemed to understand and take great delight in it.

A rush or pride coursed through Y/n's veins. It gave him relief from what had just happened.

"What do you want for breakfast, Lucas?" Y/n prodded. "Are you hungry? Either way, you'll have to eat at least something."

"Cereal?" Lucas asked. "I mean, that's just what we eat everyday..."

Those moldy cereal boxes that were mushy and bland? Yeah, right.

"Something else."

He perked up.

"Can I choose something else?"

"Of course. I stocked up recently." It has cost the coins that he had earned from his recent level ups, but there was no mincing pennies when it came to raising a literal child. Y/n may have been evil, but he wasn't that evil.

"French toast," Lucas asked sheepishly. "I just read about it in a book."

Eggs and bread. Some seasoning. That was relatively easy to make, and Y/n quite liked it's flavor too.

"Sure. Go get dressed. We have to go to church later."

Church. Another round of blatant insults from people like Helen and Freda...Y/n closed his eyes. Ugh.

"Oh, Father Anton told me to pass a message to you," Lucas piped up.

"What—What? Since when did you even..."

"When you were sleeping, he visited. He knocked on the door and chatted with me."

Sleep? Since when...oh. Unless they were referring to the mere minutes that he had been scrolling through the forum that somehow translated to a few hours of sleep. Y/n kept his expression carefully blank as he popped the bread in the toaster.

"Was he nice?"

"Yes," Lucas said fervently, "not as nice as you, Father Y/n. But he was so sweet. So gentle. He also inquired about you."

Y/n's blood ran cold. The hotness in his veins disappeared and morphed into icy daggers stinging his skin.

"...He did?"

"He told me he would be here soon," Lucas looked at Y/n expectantly, "are you two like...um. What's that word?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Married?"

What? Well, yeah, Y/n was technically trying to seduce him but—

"We aren't," Y/n closed his eyes, "what gave you the impression?" Had he been spending a lot of time with Father Anton? Actually, yes. He was. It seemed every second and minute was spent with him. Which was good for his plan, but for his sanity? Disastrous.

And soon? What did Lucas mean by soon? Surely he wasn't insinuating that...

"He said he would come pick you up."

Y/n nearly upset the plate of toast in his hands.

"He's what! Lucas, are you joking? Because this isn't funny. I mean, it's good that you have a sense of humor but—" The ladies. The ladies would fucking kill him and slaughter him from head to toe if they saw the two of them waltzing in together like nobody's business.

It was too late. The doorbell rang, Lucas jumped eagerly to open the door, and it revealed a smiling Anton. A smile masking his horrible intentions, Y/n was convinced. It never quite reached his eyes.

"Come in." Y/n fixed on a bright smile, remembering his plan. "How about you have breakfast with us?"

Food was a way to one's heart.