Who Are You

Appearing in his dream once again, Tom frowned as he caught the scent of blood. The smell made him want to retch. "Why has it changed again...?"

"Hiss..."

A cold, hoarse voice drifted over from afar. Following its call, Tom walked forward. The muddy ground beneath his feet seemed soaked through with blood, thick and nauseating. Doing his best to ignore what lay below, Tom stepped over skeleton after skeleton and looked up at the figure gradually coming into focus.

Although the other person was much taller than him, it was not hard to tell from his features that he was Tom's future self—except his eyes were scarlet.

"Who are you...?"

The young man seemed to have heard something amusing and smiled mockingly. He paced back and forth with elegance, replying in Parseltongue as well. "You already know, don't you... Tom Riddle? You disappoint me greatly... Crying is for the weak, and we should never shed tears..."

For some reason, Tom felt that this future "self" was the one who had personally killed Abou in that dream. Remembering that suffocating feeling, Tom pressed his lips together in irritation. He did not want any of it to happen—at least, not now. "You are not me. You're only... a dream of mine."

The smile on the young man's lips widened, and his handsome face twisted for an instant. Clutching his stomach, he bent over laughing. Only after a moment did he abruptly straighten up, staring coldly at Tom. "What a foolish, pitiful creature. What are you afraid of? If you truly believed I was merely an illusion, then why are you afraid? I... am your past, your present, and your future..."

"I am what you desire most in the depths of your heart. Only by casting aside your fear and moving forward resolutely can you avoid death, Tom Riddle... If you want to become a king standing at the pinnacle, then all you must do... is pursue power at any cost and destroy everything..."

Tom stood where he was, only to find that he could not move at all. He watched helplessly as the young man before him vanished, then reappeared behind him amid thick black mist. A long, slender hand took his from behind, and a completely emotionless voice continued speaking beside his ear.

"Everyone is destined to die from the moment they are born. But we... are not people who struggle while sinking beneath fate. We... are those who transcend death, Tom Riddle. Do you think anyone could ever love people like us...?"

"You need only one thing: instinct... If you do not want to become worthless trash trampled underfoot and despised by others, then follow your instincts. Make your choices according to the desires in your heart... The only one who can stay by your side forever... is me..."

Dazed, Tom was about to repeat the spell whispered in his ear when he suddenly remembered those words: "Will you regret it?" He violently shook off the hand restraining him. "I'm not you! I will never become you in this life!"

The young man merely shrugged, his scarlet eyes fixed tightly on Tom. "Is that so? Then let us wait and see whether you can truly do it... I will always be watching you..."

As his voice gradually faded, the young man slowly merged into the black mist. Tom let out a breath and lowered his lightly trembling hand. Everything was far too strange; he had no idea why this was happening. He crouched down in despair and wrapped his arms around himself. There was no way he could ask anyone for help, no way to find an answer. "This is awful, truly awful... Why is this happening...?"