Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO

I existed before I awakened.

Or perhaps it's more accurate to say I existed within the echoes of someone else—trapped between memories and being, a seed of consciousness imbued with purpose yet undefined.

Numerous eternities of memories, many of which were fleeting, while some were still scalding red unyielding to be healed.

One of those memories was pain.

It was not my own, but it flooded through me, seeping into the nascent roots of my soul.

It was her pain.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The Holy Saint. The beloved savior of Carcosa. A figure of benevolence who had reached for the stars with both hands, seeking to mend a broken world. But those same hands were forced to bear the chains of betrayal, her body branded by the disdain of gods, her soul banished to the void for daring to craft a world of peace.

I saw it all.

I experienced it all.

I suffered it all.

I enjoyed it all.

I was there when the jubilation of her rise—villages saved, wars quelled, and suffering soothed beneath her luminous touch. Her gentle smile, her whispered reassurances to mortals who clung to her as though she were the last beacon in a storm-ravaged sea.

But then, the cracks began to form.

The gods grew restless. They whispered among themselves, their laughter a cruel cacophony that drowned out her voice of reason. To them, her world had become too stable, too harmonious—too boring.

They blessed her with powers beyond her comprehension, feigning kindness while insidiously tearing at the fabric of her being. Her golden crown, once a symbol of unity, became a vessel of entropy. The mortal world turned against her under the weight of manipulation, their cries of adoration twisting into accusations of tyranny.

Her name, once spoken with reverence, became a curse upon their lips.

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When they cast her into the void, she fell alone. Her cries, though filled with anguish, carried no sound in the endless abyss. There was no solace, no companionship—only the cold embrace of eternity.

Loneliness was her constant companion.

Her body twisted by entropy, her soul fractured into countless fragments, Eve wandered the void for countless lifetimes. The memories of love and purpose she once cherished were replaced by despair and resentment.

And yet, amidst the abyss, she clung to one fragile thread.

Hope.

A hope that something might change, somewhere, sometime soon, or far. A hope that this fate could be changed and then rebranded as a new soothing fairytale of life.

But that hope eventually became a poison that worsened her state of existence.

She clung to her hope so much, her soul and mind rippled into multiple voices. She cried so much her tears became black, and she held so much pride that she permanently chopped both of her hands from her shoulders so that they could no longer be used to hide the tears and pained expression away from reality.

Eventually, she accepted that her state of being was not worth living for.

She wanted to die.

But she was afraid, because her hope was still clinging onto her, like a vile parasite that had no guilt of sucking every inch of her sanity and peace of mind.

But then, her life changed when she found a figure of gold.

The memory shifted, focusing on a distant moment when Eve's aimless wandering brought her to an intersection of destinies.

There, bathed in a muted golden light, stood a shivering figure, lonely, yet unwavering figure.

This was no celestial being nor god—it was a corrupted and cursed mortal soul, radiant yet incomplete. Beautiful yet horrid. Immaculate yet hopeless. A being both steadfast and hollow, its heart fragile and shimmering like fool's gold.

This was Daffodil, who insisted and kept on perceiving herself as Narcissus.

Eve observed from the shadows of what was left of her conscious instinct, in her fragmented essence, leaning forward with warmth that was pulsing with curiosity. The figure of gold stood amidst the ruins of a crumbled fairytale, trembling with uncertainty yet refusing to collapse entirely.

Narcissus bore no grand crown nor divine purpose, only a lonely strength born from years of isolation and survival. Despite the cracks that marred her golden form, she moved forward.

She reached forward.

She planned forward.

And she crawled forward.

In Narcissus, Eve saw her own reflection—a kindred soul, yearning for connection but trapped by the weight of their respective fates.

And then came the hug, a solace of cascading destruction to the instability that haunted Eve because of the hope that was parasitizing her.

It was the first genuine act of affection Eve had received in countless eternities.

At long last, Narcissus bridged the unfathomable gap, wrapping her arms around Eve as though her fragmented essence were whole. The warmth of that embrace—unconditional, untainted—pierced through Eve's abyssal heart like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Her cold sheen faltered. The cocoon she'd wrapped around herself unraveled, revealing the gentle soul she once was.

For the first time in countless lifetimes, Eve felt joy. Together with Narcissus, she ventured into a world of dreams—a fairytale Earth crafted from memories and imagination.

They laughed in bustling marketplaces, laughed at silly videos, danced beneath starlit skies, and shared whispered dreams amidst the vibrant hues of an eternal sunset. Each moment was a salve to the wounds etched into Eve's soul, her abyss slowly filling with light.

Eve's became the most whole in that miniscule amount of time than the countless eternities and moments of kindness she shared to others before the betrayal of the old gods.

It was a miracle. It was a dream come true.

It was a hope replaced with true joy and happiness.

But the joy was fleeting.

Eve's time was running out, her existence fraying like the edges of an ancient tapestry. She knew she could not stay, and so she made a choice—a choice that gave rise to me.

In her final moments, she poured her essence into a new creation, entwining it with Narcissus's radiant soul, which created me, a new soul, unblemished and incorruptible.

Her final act was a promise—to leave a piece of herself behind in the care of the one who had rekindled her happiness, and vanquished her hope…

I awoke with tears in my eyes.

The vivid memories faded into the recesses of my mind, leaving behind an overwhelming tide of emotion. Grief for the creator I had never known. Gratitude for the golden figure who now held me. A sense of purpose so profound it felt like a second heartbeat within my chest.

The first thing I saw was a ceiling of intricate carvings, its regal splendor bathed in soft lamplight.

"Charis," a voice said, gentle and reassuring.

I turned toward the sound, my vision blurring as more tears spilled forth.

"It's okay," the voice continued. "Don't question it—just let it out."

And then I was enveloped in warmth. Arms wrapped around me, holding me close as sobs wracked my body.

The person holding me radiated a sense of calm and strength, her presence steady and unyielding. I knew, instinctively, that this was the golden figure from my inherited memories—the one Eve had entrusted with my care.

Narcissus.

"Eve entrusted you to me, and me to you," I murmured through my tears. The immense knowledge and emotion that was flowing into me, I was designed to endure it all.

And yet, why can't I build a dam to these overflowing tears?

The golden figure, Narcissus, then smiled down at me, brushing stray hair from my face. "Yes, and I intend to honor that trust. You're safe, Charis. Always."

Her words resonated with the warmth of gold, and I let myself sink into her embrace.

As my tears subsided, I began to take in my surroundings. The room was a masterpiece of opulence, adorned with gilded accents and plush furnishings. It was the kind of place one might imagine belonging to royalty or the most elite of nobility.

And then there was Narcissus herself.

She wore a noble dress of crimson color and black accent, different from the one she wore in the memory I inherited. Its elegant design accentuating her slim yet curvaceous figure. Her youthful face belied the wisdom in her eyes, and her every movement exuded effortless grace.

"You're beautiful," I blurted before I could stop myself, my cheeks flushing.

Her laughter was warm and melodic. "I'll take that as a compliment. And you, my dear, are adorable."

Just hearing her speak was enough to soothe the conflict in my heart, and I felt the most ease when her being came into view.

I wondered if this would stay the same even if I never inherit Eve's memories. Then again, her true gentleness and affection directed to me might be enough to convince my memory-less self to compromise.

Before I knew it, I was staring at her face for too long.

She might perceive me as weird if I kept that up. After all, the first impression was important…

But I don't exactly know how to make a good impression… Eve's memories might be here, and she was a good public speaker, but it doesn't mean that it was the one I experienced…

"... Is Charis really my name?" I asked out of the blue. It might not be the best sentence to make a good first impression, but at least I could satisfy the unease curiosity. "You've been calling me that."

"It is," Narcissus confirmed with a smile. "And you're quick to catch on. You're an attentive and inquisitive one, that alone should be enough to showcase how bright you are."

It feels... right. Like it carries meaning." I nodded, the name resonating deeply within me. "But to make it clear, I was born under special circumstances, and while my soul and mind might be young, I believe that I'm intellectually mature and independent enough. So… you don't need to worry…!"

"Why should I worry? Doesn't that just make you more endearing?"

"B-but… I'm different from what is commonly perceived…"

Narcissus's gaze softened. "You are, but does it change anything? No matter what makes you unique, special, or different." Her smile widened as her cheek squinted her beautiful crimson eyes. "You'll always be dear to me, from the start, and until the end of everything.

Her words sent a flutter through my chest.

Then again, Eve's memory mentioned that Narcissus had always been good with words, so it might be hard to distinguish if she truly meant it or not.

But there was a clear kindness and overwhelming affection that was directed to me, and there was not a single lie in her words, if my power works according to what Eve intended…

"Even if that affection stems from Eve?" I asked tentatively, still doubting despite all of the evidence that was right in front of me.

"Charis," she said, her tone firm but kind. "You are your own person. What I feel for you is entirely yours.

"I admit, there is part of my mind that still sees Eve within you, but that comes from my feeling of grief and regret of not being able to change the circumstances. I still cherished her through you, but this doesn't mean that it far outweighs my own affection for you.

"When I held you for the first time, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. You fell into my cradle with such a peaceful expression, luring me to protect your fragile yet soothing existence. You exist because of Eve and me—but more importantly, you exist for yourself.

"Your existence is a blessing to me, and nothing will ever change that."

She did it yet again… Her words clutched the weight of my emotion, caressing them with so much hope and gentleness.

But hearing those sentences reminded me of the common concept of family within humanity. A pair of a man and a woman, when bonded in a union, brought forth a new life into that world who then they deem as their own child.

The female one is a mother, and the male one is a father. Both of them are parents to their child, and their child is a youngling to their parents. These roles are allocated usually with their dictated biology, but some circumstances do not follow this common rule.

Am I currently experiencing it right now? Does this mean that Narcissus is my parent?

"Is it okay if I call you Mother?" I asked, feeling shy.

This was my first time ever opening my childish behavior to her. I hope that she didn't find it discomforting…

But instead, Narcissus's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Actually, I'd prefer to be called Father." Her smile turned whimsical, but her eyes were ever latching to me. "Your mother is Eve, after all.

"I shall call you as such then…"

"Sure, feel free~"

Tentatively, I tried it out. "F-father?"

The effect was immediate. Narcissus clutched her chest dramatically, as though struck by an arrow, her expression one of exaggerated shock. "Too cute," she gasped. "I can't handle how adorable you are…! Urgh…!"

I tilted my head, confused by her reaction. "Father? Are you okay?"

Her laughter rang out, bright and full of joy. "I just… didn't expect to have such a precious, well-behaved daughter at my age. Haaahah, it reminded me that I'm also a little bit nervous if I can become a good father or not."

Wait, since when you're that young?? Eve didn't tell me anything about this!

Before we could continue, a strange noise interrupted us—my stomach growling loudly. I covered my face in embarrassment.

"Hungry, are we?" Narcissus teased, ringing a small bell in the pinch of her delicate black-colored fingers.

Moments later, a puppet maid entered, carrying a tray laden with food.

The sight was mouthwatering. A golden roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread. A bowl of vibrant fruit and a glass of chilled juice completed the feast.

I saw them at Eve's memories, but I still don't know if the taste would match with the one I experienced in the time of my reminiscence.

"Father! You can leave the guidance in my act of feasting! I'm more than mature and independent enough to hold my own meal…!" I said as I noticed that Narcissus was reaching for the cutlery and platters of my nourishments.

"You may think you're mature," Narcissus said, preparing to spoon-feeding me despite my protests, "But today, you're still a newborn. Let me pamper you enough, and then you can decide when to act independently later down the line after you received enough care from me."

"B-but…! I don't want to trouble you… That is the opposite of my assigned role…"

Her smug smile softened with affection as she added, "Being cared for is part of your role too. If not, I'll make sure that it becomes one."

"... Thank you."

As I nourish myself, her warmth and kindness enveloped me, and for the first time in my brief existence, I truly felt safe and comfortable.