Nine Cups

Cold.

Cyberlina felt a bone-deep chill.

And a sharp pain radiating from her internal organs.

But it was completely within her tolerance. She casually tipped the empty cup downward at Dumbledore and smiled. "See? No need to worry—" Cyberlina paused, then immediately lowered her head to look at the cup and muttered, "All right... You've got some tricks."

Before she finished speaking, she turned around and reached for another cup of liquid with a faintly trembling hand, trying to avoid the illusory figure standing beside Dumbledore. But that phantom was not fixed in one place. It moved with her gaze. Turning around did nothing.

Cyberlina lowered her eyes and watched the liquid in the stone basin fill the cup once more. Then, as she raised it to her mouth, she closed her eyes.

But she could still see it.

She could see those familiar, unfocused eyes, glowing with cold indifference as they stared at her—and then that face showed a trace of pain, followed by helplessness—

—"You still did it."

Cyberlina drank the third cup.

It felt as though her body were burning from within. Every part of her hurt, especially her throat. She desperately wanted water to extinguish the fire in it.

So she drank the fourth cup.

Dumbledore watched Cyberlina solemnly, keeping a close eye on her reaction. When she staggered slightly after drinking the fourth cup, he immediately reached out and caught the cup slipping from her hand.

Cyberlina kept her eyes tightly shut. When her legs went weak, she braced herself against the stone basin, both hands gripping its edge. Hunched over with her back bowed and her head nearly buried in her chest, she breathed rapidly. The greenish glow illuminated her face, making her heavy expression look utterly eerie.

Dumbledore stared at her grimly. He gripped the cup tightly, but deliberately softened his voice as he asked with concern:

"Cyber, are you all right?"

—"Cyber... Stop. You shouldn't do this."

—"Shut up."

Supporting herself against the stone basin, Cyberlina leaned forward slightly. Loose strands of hair slipped unhindered through the liquid and hung into the basin. She took several deep breaths, then extended her trembling hand toward Dumbledore.

The scenes and voices in the hallucination repeated again and again, each time drawing closer to what she was unwilling to think about.

—"Cyber, calm down first. Listen to me."

—"I said shut up!"

"Thank you, Albus. Give it to me."

Her voice seemed to squeeze through clenched teeth. It was faint and weak, yet carried a hint of harshness, making it impossible to tell whether she was exhausted or furious.

Dumbledore silently placed the cup in her hand. At the same time, he stepped forward and stood beside Cyberlina, close enough to observe her condition and support her at any moment.

—"Cyber... darling, I don't want to argue with you, but you should know what I mean—"

—"I said shut up! You aren't his soul! What gives you the right to make decisions for him? You're just—fake!"

"Clang!"

In the hallucination, a ring set with a black gemstone fell to the ground.

In reality, the cup was knocked into the stone basin, and green liquid sloshed around its rim.

Cyberlina knew perfectly well that these endlessly repeating hallucinations were probing the thing she could least endure. She also understood that while the green liquid caused pain in her body, it deepened her feelings toward those memories as well, making her suffer until she lost her reason.

But Cyberlina was certain she was still lucid.

She knew where she was and what she was doing. She could even use the physical and psychological pain to distinguish that there was a curse in the liquid—or perhaps the liquid itself was a curse. It was as if Dementors had been torn apart and dissolved into water, then burned together with Crucio in flames.

But that was only an approximation. The liquid also contained many curses bearing intensely personal characteristics.

Cyberlina could only say that this Riddle truly possessed extraordinary talent for curses.

Dumbledore picked up the cup now filled with liquid. While he hesitated, Cyberlina raised her hand and took it from him. She opened her eyes slightly, then smiled and drank the fifth cup beneath Dumbledore's worried gaze.

But no matter how calm she was, she could not simply disregard the things dragged out from the depths of her memories.

The hallucination restarted once more because of her lucidity. This time, it was obvious—the scene began to sharpen.

It was no longer an illusory man and woman arguing.

It acquired a real setting.

A crystal coffin engraved with characters older than Ancient Runes appeared before Cyberlina, and her breathing nearly stopped.

A half-white-haired woman knelt before the coffin, holding a strangely shaped wand as she carved characters into it. A ring set with a black gemstone lay beside her leg. When she stopped and peered into the coffin, the black gemstone in the ring suddenly rose into the air and spun three times—

Cyberlina desperately wanted to close her eyes, but they were already closed. There was no way to avoid the hallucination, and helplessness overwhelmed her.

She felt dazed, as though she were constantly switching between the roles of observer and participant.

A moment earlier, as an observer, she had seen Ominis lying pale and still inside the coffin, without the slightest trace of a soul, along with her former self, whose face was utterly numb. But the next moment, she looked up at Ominis emerging from the Resurrection Stone, likewise without any trace of a soul.

The Ominis who emerged from the Resurrection Stone looked much younger than he had when he departed. His eyes still resembled gemstones—empty, yet clear, bright, and shining.

Both Cyberlina and the woman in the hallucination were immersed in it.

But Cyberlina quickly regained consciousness, because she knew that this was not Ominis at all. It was merely a projection of his soul, the Ominis in her memories, a projection produced by the Resurrection Stone according to her wishes to comfort her. But—

—"You shouldn't do this."

How wonderful. A projection produced according to her wishes was actually trying to stop her.

—"Shut up!"

The woman in the hallucination lowered her head and continued carving.

Cyberlina knew she was deceiving herself, because she knew the projection was right. The real Ominis would never agree to what she was doing. But she could not accept it—could not accept that Ominis simply did not want to bind his soul to hers.

Whether it was Cyberlina of the past or Cyberlina of the present, both understood that Ominis's intention was not that he did not want to be with her. But she simply could not accept it.

She could not accept his rejection.

She was already immersed in the pain of losing him, only to be struck down once again.

Fierce anger and amplified pain surged from the depths of her heart to her throat in an instant. The taste of blood spread across her tongue. A violent burning sensation accompanied the pain, leaving her unable to breathe, speak, or think. Only the numbness in her fingertips caused by the violent emotional upheaval reminded her that she still had feeling, and that much of the pain was false—otherwise, the numbness would not have been so pronounced.

But it also made her realize that she truly was still alive, living alone.

—"Calm down... darling. You know what I think. Why do you still have to—"

—"Shut up."

"Shut up..."

The hallucination and reality overlapped. The voice, full of anger, entered reality yet sounded incredibly weak.

To the hallucination, the pain was real yet false.

To reality, the pain truly existed, but it was far less severe than that untouchable pain.

—"Cyber... darling, calm down."

"...Shut up... You aren't him..."

Cyberlina muttered with her head lowered. Once again, Dumbledore caught the cup just as it was about to fall from her hand.

Seeing that Cyberlina was clearly struggling to stand, Dumbledore silently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. After hesitating for several seconds with the cup in hand, he still lowered it into the stone basin, filled it again, and placed it against Cyberlina's lips.

Cyberlina resisted, but eagerly drank the sixth cup of green liquid.

—"Listen to me, Cyber."

The projection from the Resurrection Stone seemed to come alive. It crouched down, turning its face sideways as both hands searched for a way to hold the woman's face, yet could not touch her. He spoke with slight disappointment, his voice gentle, but his meaning utterly resolute.

—"You and I both know that I'm not coming back. No matter how much effort you make, it won't help."

—"I—no!"

The woman's eyes were bloodshot from several sleepless nights as she stared fixedly at the man's phantom.

—"You know what I'm capable of. You know I can do it."

—"Precisely because I know, I'm telling you not to waste your abilities on something like this."

The woman was enraged by those words. She abruptly rose, her shoulders and body passing through the man's phantom hands.

—"Shut up! Don't say things like that anymore! If—if I can't even bring you back—"

—"Cyberlina!" The man's attitude seemed to turn stern as well. "Have you forgotten what I told you before I died?"

Cyberlina held her breath and bit down hard on her lower lip as she watched Ominis's phantom rise before her. Anger colored his face, and a trace of disappointment stained his unfocused eyes.

—"You promised me. You would follow my final wishes..."

"I don't want to, Omi... I don't want to..." Cyberlina's voice trembled.

—"I'm willing to honor your wishes, but that only applies while you're still alive!" the woman cried desperately. "You can still stay by my side! You can still—"

—"Then why didn't you tell me while I was alive?"

—"And then what? You wouldn't say another word to me!"

—"How can you be sure I wouldn't speak to you?"

—"Because that's what you're like! You always bury things in your heart. You only speak when you're pushed to the brink!"

—"Then push me! Make me say it!"

The hallucination fell silent.

Cyberlina lowered her head, forcing back the heat in her eyes.

"I'm scared... Omi... I'm scared..."

—"If you really... stop caring about me, what am I supposed to do?"

—"Why would I stop caring about you?"

—"Every time we argued before, you stopped speaking to me for a while. This concerns your final wish! If I didn't agree, you definitely wouldn't speak to me until the very end!"

—"I... you—"

The man instinctively lowered his head slightly, turned half a circle anxiously, then looked toward the woman again.

—"We were together for more than twenty years, not twenty-some days! Why do you always become so foolish at times like this? Aren't you the one who knows best what other people are thinking?"

—"But I don't know what you're thinking! I overthink things when it comes to you! My brain just doesn't work around you. So what?"

—"Cyber..."

—"Shut up! I mean it. Shut up, you fake! You're only a fake! You can't possibly understand what it feels like when your lover gives you his final words! Ha! Can you imagine it? That man Ominis actually gave me his last words while he was still breathing!"

"I'm scared... Omi..."

—"I really didn't want to agree. I didn't want to. But I was afraid that if I refused, he wouldn't even leave me his final moments..."

Cyberlina breathed heavily. She saw her own clenched hands—the same ugly, bloodstained hands from decades ago. Her vision began to blur. She covered her face with both hands. She always lost control in front of Ominis. She always let him see her most wretched side. She always—ruined things in front of Ominis, ruined everything.

It should have been a warm farewell with the help of the Resurrection Stone, but she had still ruined it. Ruined everything.

In front of Omi.

Again, and again.

Countless times.

"No... Don't make me watch..." Cyberlina whimpered.

Dumbledore was utterly shocked. He had never seen Cyberlina lose control so completely. Even at Mr. Ominis's funeral, she had merely stood there quietly and straight-backed beneath a black veil. He helped the unsteady Cyberlina crouch down, stared at the glowing green cup in his hand for several seconds, then gritted his teeth and placed it against her lips again.

The eighth cup.

The burning in her throat eased, but the pain intensified. Somehow, it became a balm for the grief, stopping her collapse and leaving her to let sorrow spread through her heart.

She knew what her Omi would say next.

She had lived through all of this.

She knew.

She began to hate herself for still retaining that shred of reason.

—"Cyber, why didn't you argue with me before?"

Ominis reached toward her, but his hand passed through her arm, through her hand, and through her hair, which had already turned white.

—"Darling... why... didn't you say these things while I was still alive?"

Ominis's voice was choked with emotion. Cyberlina could no longer hold back. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, and she had bitten through her lower lip. The taste of blood thickened in her mouth once more. She leaned slightly forward, but could touch only emptiness. She could not even feel his body passing through hers.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Cyberlina felt as if her entire soul were trembling from the pain.

That was right. Why... why hadn't she expressed her feelings to Ominis at the very end? Why had she only realized it at the very end, when she sought comfort through the Resurrection Stone?

Could it be that Omi had also been waiting for her to explode, waiting for her to vent?

She thought Omi always kept his feelings buried inside and only let them out when pushed too far. Wasn't she the same in his eyes?

Always, always, always—it had been him accommodating her and guiding her.

Had she made him leave in disappointment?

Why... why had she only understood this after he had been gone for so long?

Why hadn't she personally told him, "I'm sorry I disappointed you," then frantically confessed how she could not live without him, before tearing those damned final words to shreds and throwing them in his face, telling him that she truly did not want to listen, remember, or obey them—

But it was too late.

Cyberlina hated it. She hated herself.

She hated that she had understood too late.

She wanted to restore Ominis's soul, which had been broken for almost his entire life.

She wanted to see Ominis's dazzling soul one more time.

She wanted to tell him of her love and regrets.

But she had failed.

Cyberlina opened her aching eyes and let the tears slide from their corners. Her expression calm, she took the cup from Dumbledore's hand and drank the ninth cup of liquid beneath his astonished gaze.

Merlin's trial was too cruel. The vortex of time was always tempting people to enter, yet never allowed them to leave.

After her soul encountered rejection at every turn, Cyberlina had reached toward time magic, which was purer than the soul yet more profound in its magic.

She watched Ominis's crystal coffin in the hallucination. Through the traces of magic clinging to it, she looked at his pale face.

She had no way not to look at him.

Nor did she have any way to keep looking at him.

She had failed in her farewell to Ominis, failed in the soul magic she knew so well, and finally failed even in the Ancient Magic she had used all her life. Those traces of magic capable of touching the laws of time went against her wishes, treating her fierce obsession as a joke and carrying her unwillingness farther and farther away from Ominis.

The chill swept through her body once again. The bone-deep cold slowly restored Cyberlina's reason. She tilted her head back, a faint smile at the corners of her lips, and calmly watched the hallucination shatter.

"Tom truly is a gifted child." Leaning against Dumbledore's shoulder, Cyberlina looked at the cup in her hand. Her pale face was filled with amusement. "He's quite interesting."

Dumbledore pressed his lips together without speaking.

He knew Cyberlina far too well. She had clearly approached this with the attitude of watching a child play, only to take things too far. He was furious! He had already told her not to underestimate Tom! Why couldn't she listen to him for once?

Sensing Dumbledore's anger, Cyberlina turned to look at him and said helplessly, "I'm already like this, and you're still angry?"

Dumbledore stared at her expressionlessly. His mind was filled with the sight of her fragile cries for Mr. Ominis just now. In the end, he could not bring himself to lose his temper with her. He merely let out a heavy sigh, then raised his arms and embraced her.

"You still have us, Professor."

Dumbledore's aged voice reached her ears, and Cyberlina felt the emotions she had failed to fully collect earlier break through their dam once more.

She hugged Dumbledore back, rested her head on his shoulder, buried her face in his pale hair, and closed her eyes.

"Mm."