“You ignore me!” False complains like a petulant child. Ren is nervously shifting around, his eyes darting between her and the innocent bystander Joe. “You went past me and you ignored me!”
Ren gasps, upset because she’s upset. “No! I was trying to be sneaky!”
“—And then I came over and you’re talking with Joe! You ignore me,” False bursts out crossly. Ren takes a step closer. False takes a step back.
Poor Joe, stuck between the bickering pair, attempts to appease False by claiming his golden helmet resembles her blonde hair. It doesn’t work. False still is upset by Ren and she’s running away while Ren desperately chases her.
“Wait!” Ren cries out. “Wait!”
False frowns. “No! You’ll have to speak to my secretary,” she says haughtily, copying Ren’s standard excuse.
Ren’s doggy ears flatten. “I was just trying to surprise you, but I missed my enderpearl throw and saw Joe—”
“Yeah. You went to Joe instead of me.” False’s tone is accusing.
Joe can feel his presence diminishing even though he’s somehow the catalyst for this stupid argument. “I guess it’s because of my helmet—”
False sniffs. “And I was gonna ask you something too! But no, you enderpearled to me, then enderpearled past me. Some skills you have.
Ren’s tail wags and he paces nervously. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you!”
“He’s right, Ren would never ignore you,” Joe chimes in helpfully.
As always, Joe is right. And False knows about Ren’s selective attention. Out of everyone, he pays attention to her. She can push him to do things because he listens to her. Well, most of the time.
Ren throws an enderpearl and zips away, leaving behind purple sparkles. False and Joe stare at where Ren left them. “Oh look, he’s gone already,” False drawls.
A noise behind her. False turns to see Ren, grinning like the devil. But before she can react, he’s gone again, and suddenly she senses a shadow on top of her.
So False casually steps aside. And Ren comes crashing down.
Ren beams at False, proud. “Look! I didn’t miss this time.”
“Very nice, Ren,” False says, both mildly exasperated and genuine. Something catches her eye, and she reaches for her sword. “Look out!”
“For what— OWW!”
Ren leaps away from a hissing endermite. Ren, who’s wearing golden armour, cowers behind Joe, who’s wearing iron armour. False easily finishes off the endermite.
“Thanks for saving me, Falsie,” Ren says, his ears drooping again.
False sighs and puts her sword back. “To be honest, when am I not saving you, Ren?”
“Ren?” False calls out.
She knows Ren’s around. And indeed she sees him— red shirt standing out against the green grass— wandering around, building supplies in his arms. And he has headphones on. Which means he can’t hear her.
What a shame. Now he won’t hear her bother him. And bothering him is what she does whenever she gets bored.
“Ren?” she says again, her tone becoming more whiny and pathetic.
Ren continues to walk, blissfully unaware of False’s eagle eyes. She inches closer. She’s basically spying on him.
“Ren? Ren! Ren! REN!”
False is impatiently bouncing on the soles of her feet. How loud does he have his music on? It’ll be easy for False to run over and punch him, but that’s not fun.
False huffs. “Giving me the silent treatment. I see how it is.”
She barely takes three steps away before Ren is chasing after her, apologizing for missing her, and then she laughs and tells him it’s fine (it’s always fine).
“RENRENRENREN!!” False demands as she observes Parkour Tag as a spectator. “Don’t stop running!”
Of course, that means Ren stops running. And of course, that means he gets tagged. False facepalms and sighs heavily. Typical Ren.
(But then again, he’d stopped right as she yelled for him. He’d stopped to try and take in her words. Unfortunately, his reflexes just weren’t quick enough.
But ultimately, he didn’t ignore her. She’d called. And he’d listened.)
“Ren?”
Another tentative call into the lawn between their areas. Only silence greets her. It’s the morning after the Demise showdown, and she hasn’t had the time to talk to him yet.
“Ren? Hello?”
Actually, Ren’s probably tired. She’ll let him rest. But then again, he said he would visit her. False stares outside her window, and just as she thinks about him showing up, he actually pops up, running towards her with the biggest smile on his face. She returns his smile.
Ren may no longer be a red name, but he’s still her reaper.
“Morning, Ren!”
False saw Ren at the communal area of Hermitcraft so she thought she would say hello. But Ren only stares at her blankly, his skin greyish, a dead look in his eyes, neither aggravated nor happy to see her, only indifferent.
And that throws False off guard. The indifference. She knows Ren frequently gets possessed, but he usually gives her some sort of reaction, even if it’s hostility. Ren’s a drama queen. He’s rarely indifferent.
She doesn’t like this. She doesn’t like this new, weird Ren. A Ren who won’t say anything even though she said hi to him. A Ren who ignores her completely. So she scurries away, cheeks irrationally warm with embarrassment.
“So he’s like this to you, too.”
False spins. It’s Doc, standing there with arms crossed and a frown on his face. “Ren’s been really weird ever since he came back from that world with Grian. He’s hostile to Scar. Only seems friendly around Etho. Ignores all of us who stayed here.”
“So he’s like this to you, too.” The way Doc said it makes False wonder if Doc thought she would be an exception.
“Something’s wrong with him,” False blurts out. It’s an obvious statement, but she feels she has to say it. “I’m scared.”
Doc hums thoughtfully. “I don’t like this either, but I don’t think Ren will hurt anyone… unless they’re Scar or Grian. He ignores everyone else. Whatever this version of Ren is, he doesn't hate you. I think you’re fine.”
False opens her mouth, then shuts it. There’s a bitter taste on her tongue. Doc says she’ll be fine. False doesn’t think it’s fine.
Because somehow, it’s worse. Being ignored instead of hated.
Ren’s still grey. If anything, he only grows more monochrome. Etho’s patted his shoulder, and he says Ren is as cold as an ice block. Ren’s voice is different, more gravelly and deep, and he speaks in a dramatic, old fashioned manner.
It seems like he’s always searching for something. Or some one. And none of them, not even Etho, can help him.
It’s nighttime when False catches Ren blindly stumbling around. She cautiously approaches him, a torch in hand.
“Ren?” she says hesitantly even though they all know he doesn’t respond to that name now.
It’s like Ren hasn’t heard her. “My hand,” he rasps out, taking one shaky footstep after the other. “Come back to me, my hand.”
Confused, False glances at Ren’s hand. It doesn’t seem injured. But here he is, whining and begging and pleading for a mysterious hand. This is something he’s never spoken about before.
False doesn’t know how to bring her Ren back.
“REN!”
There’s a blizzard. No one’s sure where it came from, but it probably has something to do with the entity that’s possessing Ren. The entity that would be more threatening if he isn’t so heartbroken.
False shields her eyes from the flying snow and trudges forward to the silhouette. Ren (or not Ren) is standing there stoically, tattered red cloak billowing in the wind, his backside bigger and more menacing than before.
Not-Ren’s walked off in the middle of nowhere, so the hermits sent out a search party. False is the first to find him, because of course she does. That’s one of her jobs, she thinks wryly to herself. Finding Ren whenever he’s lost.
She yells for him again, and this time he moves. He’s angry and swift, but she’s quicker. Ren’s axe comes crashing down and she steps to the side. He tried again. She merely walks away, and his movements become more agitated.
“Lassie!” he thunders. “Why won’t you fight me?” He attacks. She dodges. “You’re like him! Now slice off me head and end thine misery!”
False’s stopped wondering who’s the mystery person that Ren seemingly reveres. She stares up at this phantom of her friend: exhausted and red eyes, ragged fur, wearing the now bloodstained MCC crown that he won with her.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says simply. It’s the truth from the bottom of her heart.
Her response seems to both move and infuriate him. “So you get the luxury of not hurting people,” he hisses. With a hoarse battle cry, Ren raises his axe and rushes towards False—
She doesn’t even move. She only stands there, her ponytail whipping in the wind.
The warrior purposefully lets her guard down. Out of all people, she can handle Ren with sheer force, but also out of all people, she’s the one who doesn’t want to hurt him. But now Ren is so close, so dangerously close, and he can kill her in a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry they hurt you,” False says softly.
The wind continues to wail. Then with a soft thump, the axe falls.
She spawns in. She blinks. She’s standing. She turns around. Mechanically lifts one foot. Then the other.
She’s on the Hermitcraft server next to her build. It’s rather quiet— she can pick up on the chirping of birds. She stares at her boots, suddenly unsure what to do.
Footsteps. She jerks up her head to see Ren coming over. She opens her mouth. Tries to formulate the words.
“Ren!”
That’s his name, right? Her mouth isn’t used to the shape that it makes, but it sounds familiar. Natural. Yes, she likes this.
Ren looks up, and she instinctively smiles. “Ren!” she says again, this time more certain.
Ren takes a step forward— then walks past her, ignoring her completely. She gasps, offended.
“Ren! Hello?!”
Ren doesn’t turn around or do anything to acknowledge her. She scowls. This would’ve felt like a prank except she can read Ren well, and when he’s being oblivious, he can be really oblivious. But Ren isn’t wearing headphones, so why can't he hear her? Or is it something going on from her end?
“Falsie! Morning!”
She sighs in relief. Finally, this silly dog is paying attention to her. “Morning—“
Only to realise Ren isn’t looking in her direction. She spins around.
“Morning!”
She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Wait. Wait. That didn’t— that didn’t just happen. Why did her voice double? Why did she hear herself when she knew she didn’t speak?
Another False pops out, and she’s the one Ren is talking to. She gasps, affronted. The imposter looks exactly like her, from the long blonde hair to the signature goggles. Even more lively and beautiful than her, if she were to be honest. Maybe that’s why Ren, the dummy Ren, is mistaken.
“Ren!” she calls out, panicked. “Stay away from her! I’m the real deal!”
Once again, Ren ignores her. Genuine fear settles in. What if Ren’s being bewitched by this phantom? Is someone brainwashing him? Is the False clone, bolder and brighter than who she is, controlling him? Ren’s prone to possession— of course something like this happens. She should’ve expected it.
(And of course Ren likes the better and more well rounded version of herself. Of course people will choose the fake one simply because it’s lovelier. It doesn’t matter if she’s the real deal.)
“Ren! Can you even hear me?”
He can’t. He’s casually talking to the evil fake False like nothing is going on. She paces back and forth, nervous, but unsure of what to do. Actually, what can she do? It’s not like she’s been taught how to handle an impersonation. It’s not like she’s been programmed to—
She’s not supposed to do this. Not supposed to move from her spot. Not supposed to think this much. But she does anyway, desperate for answers, filled with a sudden urge for Ren to notice her.
Her feet as heavy as stone, she forces herself to move. It feels like the very fabric of the universe is conspiring against her. She stretches out a shaky hand, hoping to tap Ren on the shoulder—
Only for her entire arm to pass through him like he’s a ghost.
No. Wait.
Like she’s a ghost.
Ren and the other False, the fake False, are still talking. Dizziness consumes her, and she thinks she remembers it now, but she doesn’t want to, oh no oh no, why is she awake this time, and oh the world is collapsing in front of her eyes again (or more like she’s the one collapsing), it glitches and twitches but her body remains static, she continues to hear their voices, and—
“You up for a meeting later on?”
“I’ll be free in an hour, I think. Just adding some decorations to my base.”
“Sweet!”
“And I‘ll finish up my timelapse.”
Oh.
Now she sees.
She looks down to see the camera hanging from her neck.
She was never meant to be sentient, never meant to be aware. The other False isn’t the clone, she is the real clone. She’s the false False, the True Symmetry, the camerawoman, the prop that only exists to serve. A shadow of her owner, a manmade object who picked up watered down traits of the actual False, which now somehow includes her fondness for Ren.
In fact, she thinks she’ll forget this soon enough because she won’t have the capacity to. This is a bug, a glitch, soon they’ll return to normal, soon she’ll be wiped, soon she’ll just be a motionless andriod again, but she doesn’t want that, she wants to live and live and be noticed, do all the fun things her owner does, she’s running out of ti
Her head feels heavy. Everything aches, but only faintly, in the sense that she was injured then healed but the pain continues to linger in her bones. She’s disoriented and her memories are fuzzy, but her body isn’t able to respond to the alarms ringing in her head.
Vague images flit through her mind— the MCC lobby, the ground shaking, people screaming, a weird purple light, a portal? She can’t make sense of it, so she forces her eyes to open, and she’s greeted with what seems to be a camp in a normal survival world, complete with the rudimentary dirt houses and torches. She can feel the softness of a blanket under her.
“False! You’re awake!”
False jerks her head. There stands HBomb, who looks exhausted but still manages a smile, stacks of logs in his arms.
Seeing H steadies False, because it’s now confirmed this has to do with MCC. And once she knows that, she can find the hermits. False has so many questions, but her head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, her mouth is dry, and somehow the first thing that comes out is,
“Where’s Ren?”
Ren, Ren, Ren. Her MCC partner. If she’s here, he’s here. They play MCC together. They sign up as a pair. It’s their thing, except it’s not really a special thing because they just do stuff together, but it’s also their special thing, and False’s inner monologue is already running off.
H pauses like he’s hesitating. False observes her surroundings and squints from the sunlight. “Ren?” she calls out, instinctive more than anything.
“Ren’s not here,” H tells False at last. “Anyways, just to catch you up on, uh, recent events: something went wrong with the MCC server, all forty of us got sucked into a portal, we got dumped into a survival world, and we’re trying to find each other again. Jojo and Aimsey found you washed up on a beach and brought you to camp, but the two of them are out exploring.”
Jojo. Aimsey. These names sound familiar, False is certain she knows them, but she just can’t seem to muster up the memories. But before she can ask more, they hear footsteps.
“Good news! Kara just caught sight of the hermits sailing in from the east,” Pete says. “Morning, False, by the way. Glad to see you up.”
False lights up at the mention of the hermits, her hermits. “Which hermits?”
“Uhh, Impulse and Scar, I think? Also Pearl.”
False wants to correct Pete that Pearl isn’t a hermit, but that’s a meaningless differentiation in this context considering how close Pearl is to the hermit cohort—
But no. That isn’t right. Pearl is a hermit. At the same time, False knows Pearl isn’t a hermit. Why does Pearl feel like one, then?
“So no Ren,” False says, still caught up on that.
H and Pete share glances. “I don’t think Ren is in this world,” H says after a while.
False selfishly begins to panic at the thought of missing Ren, but then rationally remembers he’s better off somewhere else. “Oh, good, maybe he’s safe at the lobby.”
H and Pete are staring at her again like she’s grown a second head, and a shiver runs down her spine. Something is wrong. Something is deeply wrong, and her head is throbbing, and why does she suddenly feel so deeply, terrifically lonely?
“False,” H says as gently as possible, “Ren isn’t in MCC.”
“But we always sign up together—”
“He didn’t come with you. Or the other hermits for that matter. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him in MCC for like two years.”
H’s words are like an electric shock, and False is instantly more alert than ever despite the headache. Two years? What? She swears MCC9 was merely a few months ago. She leans towards H, who now looks apologetic, and screw it she doesn't want his pity, she wants home, she wants the hermits, she wants Ren —
“What year is it, H?” False demands, voice deceptively soft.
There’s a lump in her throat. This body doesn’t belong to her— it belongs to a future version of her. No wonder her mind is so messed up. She’s out of sync. She knows this isn’t herself— only a watered down, temporary mismatch of her various selves.
“What year is it?”
It’s a sleepy spring afternoon. False is idly sketching while sitting cross-legged on the grass. The flowers are starting to bloom, dotting the green landscape with bursts of white and yellow.
Ren comes over to sit with her. It’s a peaceful, impromptu kind of company. He’s twirling the stems of dandelions together. He talks, she draws. Eventually the chatter dwindles down.
False drags her pen over her sketchbook. Hmm, this looks like a solid building, but she thinks it’s missing some flair.
“Ren?”
No reply. False turns. And there he is, fast asleep, an unfinished dandelion crown in his lap. One side of his face is squished against the grass, dislocating his sunglasses.
False reaches over and gently slides his sunglasses off him so they won’t be crushed. She’s thoughtful like that.
“... Ren?”
False recognises his magic before anything else. It washes over her, quivering and desperate, with a few odd jumps here and there. Prince Ren is an arrogant ass, but he is aggravatingly proficient at magic, she’ll give him that, so it’s alarming when his flow isn’t consistent. False is fatigued and weak. Her body dimly aches. This is never a good sign.
She feels a warm weight above her, a chin on her shoulder, his body half-collapsing against her while his healing magic runs through her. Dammit. She’s supposed to be the prince’s guard. She’s used to healing him and saving him, not the other way round. When they’d been kidnapped, she was the one who was responsible for saving them. It’s her duty to look after the heir. The young prince and his warrior prodigy of an aide. So why was she the one unconscious?
When her vision comes to, she sees that they’re in a dark dungeon. It’s eerily quiet. There’s a steady drip, drip, drip going on somewhere. It echoes. Where are the bandits? Have the two of them escaped?
“Ren?” she tries again.
False’s cold fingers twitch as she attempts to muster up her own magic. She brushes past something wet, and the horrid coppery stench in the air suddenly overwhelms her—
False jumps to life. She pushes Ren off her and pats his chest, frantically searching for the wound. His own magic is fading now, but it’d been enough to heal her and wake her. Fear and adrenaline courses through her, and sh*t, why is there so much blood on the floor, slippery and sickening and—
Thankfully Ren only has minor injuries. A cut to his arm, scratches on his face— nothing life threatening. False pulls him close, her arms trembling, thankful that he’s at least warm and breathing. But if Ren isn’t bleeding horribly, then where did the blood come from?
False’s eyes have finally adjusted to the dark. And now she sees the tens of bleeding corpses littering the dungeon, each in their own pool of blood. Ren and her are the only ones alive. False stares at the nearest corpse. She recognises the face of her captor, its eyes now wide in frozen, perpetual terror.
Her breath stutters in her throat. She knows exactly what had happened.
Ren had finally succumbed to his family’s infamous bloodlust. Or considering he’s remarkably capable of suppressing it, he activated said bloodlust and wielded it as a weapon.
“Ren, wake up,” she hisses.
Her heart is thumping with all the implications. Prince Ren is both condescending and a pacifist— he looks down on commoners, but wishes to protect them. He’s always loathed that he has to carry the legacy of the bloody Red King. Arrogant yet soft-hearted, he’s never been able to kill someone although that is exactly what has been expected of him.
Ren is talented at magic. Everyone knows he’ll be a fantastic wielder of his family’s blood magic if he tried, but he stubbornly sticks to his ideals. And when Ren is loyal (to a mission, to a dream, to a person), he’s loyal to the grave. He doesn’t want power from violence. False thinks the palace is only lenient to him because he’s not of age yet, but he soon will be.
Ren, the most “cowardly” and “weak” Red King to ever exist. Ren, who preaches peace and diplomacy even when it doesn’t work. And False thinks he’s always found her annoying because he loves arguing with her and countering her points, while repeatedly aiming to beat her in combat even though it’s hopeless. False grew up with him— she’s used to his immature brashness and ridiculous behaviour. And she also knows he thinks of her as bothersome because she’s bossy (as she should) and keeps him from indulging in his stupidity (as she should).
And False remembers being caught by the bandits, their jeers and threats and demands, the tightness of their ropes, the glint of their sharp knives, and the mind-melting agony that erupted from their dark magic—
Ren never kills. Not because he isn’t capable, but because those are his principles. And now he’s massacred all of the bandits. Because they were torturing her.
False lets her own healing magic seep into Ren, her body moving automatically on its own while her mind struggles to catch up.
Ren has always been adamant about not being like his predecessors, and she supports him— for now. It’s unrealistic to stave off the bloodlust forever, but hopefully Ren will be a less violent ruler than all those that came before him. He displays a great deal of self control over the classic bloodlust that has wrecked families and starts wars. Ren feels ashamed that the same blood runs in him and has said he’ll only summon it when he’s at his most desperate.
And now False is wracked with guilt. She’s upset. She genuinely didn’t think Ren cared for her to this extent. Ren’s soft, too soft, he melts like butter in the glaring sun. How will he handle the emotional repercussions of killing twenty people in one go? This is the first kill of his life, the first massacre of his life. He won’t be the same. This she knows.
But for now, they have to leave. Get back home. As his faithful guard, she’ll save them. She’ll repay the debt. And once her strength returns, she’ll carry him and they’ll run.
Thankfully Ren isn’t deeply injured, just completely drained. He used his magic to heal her, and she’s using her magic to heal him. Ahh, how foolish of them. They’re just passing the magic back and forth between them, letting the friction between their bloodstained fingers warm them up.
With a shudder, Ren wakes. In his eyes, she sees the characteristic red that comes with bloodlust fade, and they’re back to the clear blue he’s always known. Despite everything, he’s relieved to see her.
False wishes she was more useful. She wishes she fought back so Ren wouldn’t have to. Ren picks his battles carefully— and he went all in this time. With irreversible consequences.
False prides herself on being collected, but when she sees Ren in a pool of blood that doesn’t belong to him, knowing he’s fundamentally changed from a decision he made, her heart breaks.
“Ren,” she whispers, voice quivering like his magic from before, “ why?”
Ren smiles weakly. And False can’t help but think he’s still the same old Ren from before. Still the same eager, wide-eyed boy who picked flowers for her before he learned what being a prince meant.
His hand, sticky and cold with blood, reaches for her. His fingers circle her wrist, thumb brushing against her pulse point as if to comfort himself with the fact that her heart is beating.
He parts his lips.
False sees the lovey dovey look in Ren’s eyes and sighs. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before— it just feels especially intense this time round. And that worries her. He can’t afford his judgement to be clouded by feelings.
Ren’s fallen head over heels for a handsome prince he met at the ball. Typical. And as his guard, she has to make sure her prince doesn’t trust the wrong sort of people. Unfortunately, Ren is the type to rush head first into affairs of the heart.
“Ren,” she says sternly (she doesn’t use formalities even though he’s royalty, her superior, and older than her).
Ren is too busy daydreaming to pay False any attention. There’s a stupid, infatuated smile on his face.
False tries to tell herself it’s another passing crush of his, but it feels different this time. Ren and his new love interest talked for the entirety of the ball, and both of them seemed extremely reluctant to part. Maybe this means something this time. Maybe.
“Ren,” she says again, cautioning him. “Don’t be rash.”
Ren shakes his head helplessly. “I know, but he’s— he’s different. He’s the one. He just gets me, y’know?”
Later, False realises her sense of foreboding perhaps has a rather selfish origin. Because she’s been Ren’s undisputed favourite person for two decades. This is the first time her position is threatened.
But then again, Ren is a romantic, unlike her. She’s his guard, his confidant, his friend. He’s important to her, but not in that way.
They say she’s always meant to lose him to a lover. She refuses to believe that.
“I thought you were friends with Prince Ren?”
False bristles at Gem’s accusatory tone. “Maybe he’s just distracted by everyone else. You know how it is.”
They’re at Prince Ren’s birthday ball, False in her best dress and hair in a graceful updo. They know people are impressed by her because False keeps on getting admiring looks, but Ren, the star of the show, has barely spared her a glance.
Gem eyes Ren critically. “Didn’t you say something about how both of you think of the other as the most bearable heir out of everyone else in the entire continent? Why is he talking to everyone but you, then?”
To be honest, False herself is also bewildered and a little hurt. Their friendship started when they were kids, and they planned to continue their alliance in the future. They always chatted for hours and hours whenever they met up. It felt like yesterday when they were crouching under tables, giggling and munching on the cakes they stole. They exchanged favourite foods, then book recommendations, then weird bugs that caught their interest. Everybody knew they were friends. Sometimes it felt like it was just the two of them against the rest of the snobby heirs.
But today, when False gifted Ren a handcrafted wooden lyre from her kingdom, Ren only smiled and politely thanked her, then moved on. False had chalked it up to his nerves because he had many important people to greet (and his parents were watching him like a hawk), but that was from before, and he still hasn’t approached her. False had tried walking to him, but he always turned away or loudly engaged in conversation with someone else. He’s intentionally avoiding her, and it’s irking her.
“I’m offended on your behalf,” Gem says. “Maybe you accidentally did something to anger him?”
“Can’t think of anything, to be honest. He took me stargazing last time I visited and we parted on good terms? And besides,” False turns to Gem with a flourish, “they served cranberry jam at the banquet today. Cranberry jam! Ren hates it and it’s not in season, but he knows I like it, so he kept it in.”
Gem looks thoroughly unimpressed with False’s “evidence”. “Are you relying on a single foodstuff as proof that he still likes you?”
“Yes!” False splutters out. “Of course! We love talking about food. It’s our main way of communicating.”
Gem sighs. “You know him best. And now I understand why everyone calls you two peculiar.”
Upset but unwilling to make a scene, False stands there, cool and poised like an icicle, her seafoam gown flowing to the ground. On her pale neck is a sapphire necklace she got for her own birthday— a display of her kingdom’s wealth. But despite her outward elegance, False moves like a soldier. The decorative chestplate on her dress spells it out— she isn’t just a princess, she’s also a warrior, and she’s well liked because she wields both roles well.
Ren is surrounded by giggling women and billowing dresses, his loyal Hand by his side. On the other side of the ballroom, False stares and frowns. Ren is always chatty but he’s never paid much attention to the other heiresses, so it’s offensive that he’s laughing and getting along with them while he ignores False at every opportunity. What is she doing wrong? Did he hear a rumour about her? Won’t he even ask her about it?
False lifts her chin stoically. On opposite ends of the ballroom, their eyes meet. She knows Ren’s seen her, but he doesn’t smile, doesn’t even nod, just looks at her. His expression is strangely unreadable (doesn’t she pride herself on being able to see through his lies?) but she doesn’t sense hostility. Or awkwardness. Despite everything, False instinctively smiles (as one would do when seeing a close friend and trustable ally in a sea of insufferable hypocrites). She sees his lip quirk up before quickly shifting to a neutral expression again. Then he quickly averts his stare like he’s nervous.
Huh.
“He hates you,” Gem passionately declares.
“No, he doesn’t!”
“At least, he’s trying to make you believe he hates you,” Gem amends.
“Why on Earth would he do that?”
False feels a shiver down her spine. In her peripheral vision, she sees Ren’s parents, the current monarchs, carefully watching her. She pauses, pretends she didn’t see, and gracefully turns away.
What’s up with that family tonight? Why is everyone looking at her? False thought they liked her fairly well. Or maybe they indeed heard some strange rumour and decided to treat her like an outcast.
“I’m talking to Ren,” False decides. “If I can.”
“Hopefully you can drag him away from all the other guests because this ball is in his honour, after all.”
When False wants something, she makes her move, and she gets it. Even if it takes some brute forcing. And Ren, for whatever reason, is compliant when it comes to “helping False get what she wants”, whether he knows it or not.
So False ends up stumbling into Ren in the corridor. He’s dressed in finery, and he looks harried and stressed. False’s about to question him, but her concern for him instinctively wins over. She reaches over and grabs his arm.
“Ren? You feeling alright?”
Ren’s eyes dart up to her, so big and blue, and inexplicably a rush of relief washes over False— she can tell from the way he looks at her that this is still her Ren and he doesn’t hate her. He gulps.
“I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” he mumbles, voice low enough only for her to hear, then brushes past her and hurries away.
False gapes and stares at Ren’s retreating figure. Why won’t he—
The answer comes a month later in the form of an invitation. Gem sprints to the courtyard where False is practicing and thrusts the envelope in her hands. False opens it and her wild eyes scan the elegant words—
“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Prince Ren of Dogwarts and Princess—“
“Ren’s getting married?!” False bursts out.
“To a WOMAN?” Gem screeches in disbelief.
There’s another piece of paper inside the envelope with what seems like a standard celebratory drawing of the union. The drawing of them flabbergasts False. It feels completely alien to her; she didn’t know he was going to get married! And to someone she knows he’s barely spoken to!
But then she smells the whiff of lemon. And she knows what to do.
(Silly childhood tricks, passing notes back and forth, hours and hours of nonsensical discussion about food—)
False carefully places the paper above a fire and the invisible message begins to show.
“My dear friend Falsie,
Apologies for ignoring you at my birthday ball. My parents were searching for a suitable wife for me and I know you would loathe that, so I pretended I didn’t care about you. They were quite set on you, so I had to do a good bit of convincing.
Don’t worry about me, I’ve got my side sorted out. Martyn told me to tell you he apologises for something that happened when you two last spoke. Unsure what he means, but I hope you get it.
I hope you still like cranberry jam. And I hope you’ll come to the wedding, there’ll be lots of good food.
Your friend forever and always,
Ren.”
When False knocks a shield over and winces at the resounding clang, she knows it’s over.
No amount of hiding will ever conceal the fact that there had been a noise from the storage room. False is frozen in fear, before her skittish thief instincts come back and she scurries behind a statue (making sure not to knock it over this time).
sh*t. She’s done. They’ll catch her red-handed with the ice amulet and take her back. They’ll throw her in a dungeon and have her publicly executed. False begins to sweat. No amount of cooling from the amulet calms her down.
She hears footsteps. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. She can’t move. Not because she’s physically unable, but because she literally has no escape routes.
Someone enters the room and False flinches. A servant judging by the plain robes— wait. A swishing tail. Clipped wolf ears. A meek demeanour. Ohhhh . A hybrid forced to serve his master. She sees how this is.
He shuffles around the room, his movements nervous. False’s heartbeat is so loud that she thinks maybe the wolf can pick it up. She’s cornered. She’s the prey waiting to be discovered.
“Mutt!” a voice sharply rings from outside. “What caused that noise?”
“A shield fell over, sir,” he answers honestly. But then he turns and—
Right. Yeah. False is totally caught. She’s totally done for.
She can’t do magic. Can’t hide herself with fancy illusions like her guild mates. She’s very still, eyes wide with fear, staring at the wolf who seems as shocked as her. He gives her a once over, eyes darting down to stare at her bag. False is a petty thief— she can’t escape when she’s being stared at, for Void’s sake!
Ignore me, False begs futilely. She knows the wolf will have to report her even if he doesn’t want to. He’ll face repercussions once they find out the amulet is gone. But still, she begs with her eyes. Ignore me.
One of his ears twitches. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. The black collar and the clipped ear serves as a physical reminder of what his duties are. Then stiffly, he averts his eyes and starts walking away.
“Oh my Void, I think I saw a rat!” the wolf exclaims loudly. She watches him rattle a table and push a purple curtain to reveal a small window— barely open, but still open. He lets it linger for longer than he should before he lets the curtain fall again.
What the— is he helping her? Ignoring her was already completely unprompted mercy, and now he’s showing her an escape route? Or is this just a con?
He walks past her again, and she sees him hike up one of his sleeves with a finger— enough to see a familiar tattoo on the back of his hand. Then the sleeve falls. He steps out, closes the door, and the footsteps fade.
False’s mind is in a whirl. She thinks of the wolf who spared her, the wolf who helped her, the wolf who is bound to this place not by will— and someone who is possibly, probably, one of those lost associates that the guild is looking for.
She can’t wait to tell Wels. But first, she needs to jump out of that window.
“Ren! Listen to me!”
Ren’s staring at the tornado of dark magic in the distance. His family’s golden medallion hangs from his neck, shining with his energy. False runs up to him.
“Ren, you can’t be serious. You can’t fight this.”
“I’m the only one in the guild who can.” His voice is steely.
“Wait till Cleo comes back, at least.” False doesn’t want to seem like she’s begging when she’s just pointing out rational facts. “You guys have more power together. You’ll burn yourself out, Ren.”
“I have to stop it before it spreads. It’s my duty,” Ren insists.
“It’s the guild’s duty to—“
“Ten years. I was captured for ten years.” The rage quivers in his voice. She remembers the black collar, the clipped ear. “I won’t let them hurt anyone further. I can’t step away. Not when I have the means to stop it. I just can’t, Falsie.”
His affectionate nickname sends a pang throughout her heart. She’s quiet.
“Are you sure?”
He stares at her, blue eyes on fire, shadows from the dark magic flickering on his face. His expression is uncharacteristically solemn.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Ren’s conviction softens her even though he’s ignoring literally all rational thought. He’s always been like that. Stupid self sacrificial Ren and his stupid noble ideals. She knows he got punished because she stole the ice amulet, and she knows he’s hiding the scars from her. It’s been years. He knows she knows. They just don’t talk about it.
“… Okay. Give me one last hug before you go?” False’s voice sounds tiny.
Ren spreads his arms. False runs into his embrace and tightly hugs him. Her chin rests against his shoulder, his tail wags, and they stay like that for what feels like forever and an instant.
False finally steps away. “Well, are you going now?”
Ren takes a deep breath. “Yep. I just need to—“
His eyes trail down. He pats his chest, and then his neck.
“Looking for something?”
Ren’s medallion is now in False’s hands. Her playful tone is just sugarcoating the fact that she’s stolen his family heirloom. False can’t do magic, so she fights against magic users in her own way. She smiles wryly.
“Told you I’m a petty thief to the end.”
Ren looks betrayed and upset. His eyes are wide and— oh. Oh wait. No . False knows him. She knows him in the way he knows her. And she knows him too well.
Illusionist. Actor. Liar .
Ren smirks, but there’s a layer of sadness to it. “I knew you would do that,” he says. “You never would’ve hugged me otherwise.”
Ren snaps his fingers. The medallion in False’s hand vanishes into smoke while he takes out the real one from his pocket. Of course. One step ahead. The thief cons the illusionist, and he cons her back.
And now he’s just hurting her for the sake of hurting her. Classic Ren, trying to cut people off by being mean to them so they would care less. She’s certainly annoyed by him, but it won’t work on her.
“You’re being mean. I still would’ve hugged you. Even though you are ignoring all of my perfectly good advice and planning on being a martyr. Again.” Her disappointment is evident in her cool tone.
Ren smiles faintly. “You can hate me all you want when I come back, because I’ll be back. I promise.”
“You better be.” That somehow comes out sounding spiteful. Once Ren makes up his mind (and evades False’s thievery), there’s no stopping him.
“Sorry for saying you wouldn’t have hugged me. I was just kinda upset that you proved me right.” Ren nervously fidgets with the medallion. She knows how much it means to him (and he knows how much he means to her considering she’s going to steal it).
“What, so you can’t trust me now? You don’t trust me now?”
She’s nervous, worried, and resentful that he’s not listening to her. In front of her is a guy who is a massive idiot that takes up too much space in her heart (and she lets him take up space anyway).
“Oh no. I always trust you. That’s why I’m still here talking to you.” He turns towards the tornado which is growing bigger by the second.
“… Thanks for looking out for me,” Ren says finally. “From the beginning till now.”
False huffs. “You’re going to break me from all the stress you put me through every day.”
“I hope you’ll forgive me, then.”
In a whirl of purple, he’s gone. But she feels his illusionary magic wash over her, warm and familiar— the illusion of one last hug, just like the one they did, except he’s intangible and there’s nothing from him she can steal.
Curse him and his self sacrifice and his wide-eyed optimism and his softness. Curse him for bringing her flimsy comfort while he decides to go against everything she said and fight on his own anyway.
Curse him. Curse everything about him.
Why is no one listening to her?!
False feels the unfamiliar magic bristling at her fingertips. Its rage is something she’s never handled before, but she increases her rage so it matches with that of the magic.
There’s a strange burn on her chest from the glowing necklace, so hot that it feels cold. Her head feels dizzy. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness. False rises above her party members, a roar tearing from her lips.
“This is the only way!” she yells, multitudes of echoey voices joining her. She feels like a shattered mirror, each shard reflecting a different, dark part of herself. “This is the only way we can save her!”
Iskall struggles to hold up his staff as he generates a green shield for him and Ren. “False is far gone!” he yells, and incurable rage fills her, like lava through the cracks of a rock, powering her, melting her—
Iskall, the leader of the party. Always practical and brash to the point of being obnoxious. Of course he’s the first to oppose her.
So False turns to Ren. He’s always got her back. They’ve been partying together before she met Iskall and Stress. He knows her the best. If anyone will support her, it’s him.
“Ren, join me,” she offers, her voices splintering painfully. “You said you would always have my back, right?”
Ren takes a step back, and she hates the steely but pained look in his eyes. “Not like this. Come back to us, False. I know you’re here.”
This both infuriates and upsets her. She starts lashing out, dark magic seeping from her eyes, and she’s screaming, she’s screaming, her inner self is screaming, rattling against her ribcage, fighting against herself, fighting against—
Where is she? What is she doing? What does she want? Her vision is fading. Her limbs are melting into nothingness. She can barely hear her beating heart. Someone’s yelling. Is she yelling? She latches onto the voices of her party members, desperately seeking out comfort in the cold void—
“Ren, we’ve got to kill her! We have no choice!”
“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking—“
“Killing her is better than letting the demon steal her! She’s not like you, she’s not built for magic; she’ll succumb to the possession quickly! That’s why we need you to land the final blow because you have enough magic to—“
“…”
“Ren.”
“…”
“Dude, you can’t be serious.”
“… I can save her. Save us both.”
“…”
“…”
“I can’t stop you, can I?”
Then she feels the warm burst of Ren’s magic stretching towards her like rays of sunshine on a chilly winter morning. She shrieks and tries to evade, but he’s always been the best magic user of the group, and his magic overpowers her.
Don’t! she tries to shriek, hands shielding the necklace on her chest. She needs the necklace, needs the power it lends her, she needs it like oxygen in her lungs, and she can’t let Ren take it, can’t let Ren remove the source of her newfound power—
Wait— what’s Ren’s going to do with the necklace? Destroy it? That’s what she tried, right? It didn’t work. It won’t work. So why is Ren reaching out for the necklace, and why does Iskall hate the plan, and why is Ren looking at her like that—
Oh.
(Ren volunteering to sleep on the ground, Ren giving her extra rations, Ren jumping in front of a dragon’s jaws, Ren offering her the last health potion, Ren letting curses ricochet onto him, Ren being Ren.)
(Damn advanced magic users. Always so noble and annoying.)
She protectively covers the necklace, but who is she protecting? Her, or him?
Ren’s hand is stretching to her neck.
“Don’t—“
It’s been so long that False’s wondering if she’s forgotten how normal people walk on the streets.
She’s a trained fighter now, the best of the best. Once she teaches her body to be tense and prepare for the worst, there’s no going back. Once she trains her eyes to notice every detail, she can’t stop overthinking. Do people normally swing their arms when they walk? Because she knows her hand always has to be ready to draw out a weapon.
With Cub’s directions in her earpiece, she walks to her hopefully unsuspecting target on the streets. They’re coming in from opposite directions. They had studied Ren’s morning commute. There is no way they’re going to get this wrong.
“Okay, closing up…” Cub says. “In three, two, one…”
False bumps against Ren. She raises a hand in apology. He turns and their eyes meet. She knows he’s seen her face, but there is no flicker of recognition. None at all. She’s disappointed. She’s relieved. She loathes herself for feeling disappointed, then loathes herself more for being assimilated into Cub’s agenda.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a courteous, friendly laugh. Friendly in the way he is to strangers.
“No, I’m sorry,” she says, because she bumped into him first, and the long chain of events that happened before that.
They move on. False walks briskly like she wants to put it all behind her. He doesn’t f*cking remember. All those years gone. Just like that.
“Are you happy now, Cub?” she hisses, quietly seething, but already resigned compared to her earlier behaviour.
“I’m sorry, Sym,”
False laughs. It’s a harsh sound.
“No, you’re not.”
They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, then, False has certainly been insane for a good while. Her hair is falling out from stress. Her red freckles are now dim. She operates her own battered body like a puppet, like a phantom, like a blunt blade that doesn’t cut off what it should.
She is tired of running. And chasing. And running again. She’s tired of being the villain and tired of all the manipulation when all she wants is to keep her loved ones safe. Why is that so hard? And why is Ren making it so hard?
Ren doesn’t listen. He’s caught up in his own paranoia. But he can’t be completely dumb. He’s just suppressing it. Escaping from it. Avoiding it. Avoiding her.
And False simply feels awful. Her patience and kindness is running out, and she knows she never truly healed from what happened, the stitches that used to keep her stuffing in are now falling out, and she’s falling apart like how you can’t glue pieces of a shattered glass back together.
False doesn’t have Ren anymore. Her inner voice wails that he’s given up on her. But—
(False is there, her hand trembling, blood trickling out of her mouth, cacophony in her earpiece, but she continues to stand, and stand, and stare, and she stays.)
— “You still have me.”
Maybe it’s just a psychological thing, but it’s always easier for False to activate her powers when she’s physically holding onto her friends. Especially with Ren now gone on a solo mission.
False is sandwiched between Iskall and Stress, holding hands, their shoulders pressed against each other. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she activates her clairvoyance. She tracks Ren easily— she recognises his presence in her plane of mind, gravitates to it even. There are blobs of fuzziness in her perception— that has to be Ren’s wormholes.
False knows H and Fruit will be upset that Ren’s outside (it goes against H’s core motivation as a mentor), but in Ren’s defence, his wormholes are like bottomless rubbish bins that suck up matter and destroy it. Ren is so awful at transporting items through wormholes that he decides to repurpose them to evaporate things. He can neutralise the damage from the monsters. Or at least he’s confident he can.
False follows Ren in her mind as he moves through the city. As wielders of superpowers (even though they rank at the bottom of their year group), they perceive reality in different ways. False’s sensory power allows her to see the world in a three-dimensional way that changes along in the present. It’s like a miniature in her head, with moving cars and moving people and trees that sway in the wind. Ren’s power of wormhole creation makes him see the world like an open book in which he is free to add pages so long he sticks them to the spine. Ren can touch the fabric of this universe, rip holes in it, and create pockets of space as he pleases. Her world is grounded, his is haphazard. False’s power is only limited to her universe, this universe, so Ren’s wormholes are her only weak spot. She senses him the best, but senses his powers the worst.
But there’s logic to Ren’s madness, as he’s identified places where the fabric is weaker and easier to manipulate— places he feels connected to, places he has fond memories of, places of sentimental value. False knows those places; he marks them down on shiny pink pins on his map in their room. A cosy bookstore, a record shop, the restaurant Scar worked in during the summer, the balcony outside her room, their table in the cafeteria. His wormholes gravitate towards those places, he says.
False’s heart jumps in her throat. She senses the monsters. They attack, and Ren opens up his wormhole. She feels the chaotic buzz, her head aches, Stress murmurs something, and then—
Ren’s gone.
Completely gone.
There’s no hint of him, no thread he left behind. He’s wiped from her perception. She can’t even feel the static anymore. And that can only mean one thing.
Ren lost control and he got sucked into his own wormhole.
He’s gone from this universe. Unmarked, untracked, unmapped. Just gone.
False bolts up in a panic. Knowing her reaction, everyone already knows what happened. In spite of her growing headache, False desperately hunts her mind, but she can’t sense the static, can’t sense the gaps of her perception, only the glaring loss of Ren.
Ren, Ren, Ren! she yells in her mind, screams into the void, but of course there’s no reply. He can’t reply. She’s lost him.
But wait. No. She knows where to find him. She knows.
The pink pushup pins on the map. The places that he mapped out with her. The map that marks where the fabric is weak, where Ren’s rogue wormhole will inevitably drift to. Ren gravitates towards his favourite places. His powers gravitate towards his favourite places. False knows Ren is wrestling for control now, and he’ll get it easier when he’s at a place he’s comfortable with.
And False knows this is a job only she can do. It’s not because of her extrasensory perception, not because of her spatial awareness, but because despite everything, she’s Ren’s best friend. She knows him, knows his favourite places, she can trace the bumps and valleys of the geography that makes up his version of the world.
Where is the closest pink pin? Where will he be? Can she coax him back to their plane of existence?
False isn’t born with elemental powers, flight, superspeed, whatever. She’s a black sheep of an heir to a famous warrior clan. She’s basically a human GPS at best. And she’s not even that good at it because she’s now ranked last in her year, with Ren finally surpassing her last exam.
But who cares? Ren’s lost. False will find him. She always does. No matter what.
And with that in her mind and in her heart, she runs.
This time they’re back on Hermitcraft. False is flapping her eagle wings and soaring through the sky. Calling someone in the middle of flight is probably a bad idea, but False knows she will forget what she wanted to say once she touches down, and it won’t be a long call anyway.
So she takes out her communicator and dials. Ren picks up almost immediately.
“Hi, Ren. Just want to ask if you have spruce wood stocked?”
She hears nothing for a while. “Sorry, I think my connection’s bad because I’m flying.”
The wind whooshes past her ears. She waits. “Did you say something?”
A few more seconds. Not even a crackle of static. Ah. She sees. False is so used to this that she’s not annoyed, just amused.
She laughs. “I think you’re muted, Ren.”
False is standing alone in a crowded room. It’s a MCC afterparty and everyone’s enthusiastically chatting. False has been talking with a whole bunch of people, but she’s a bit tired now. She slips away to the refreshments table and lights up when she sees the biscuits and the cheese. Her stomach rumbles, but thankfully no one else is around to hear it.
False happily indulges in the food, and eating reminds her of Ren, because they somehow always keep on talking about food. Where is Ren, actually? He’s usually by her side and she’s able to keep track of him, but now it’s like he’s vanished.
Finally, she catches sight of Ren. He’s engrossed in a discussion with a whole bunch of people, and the others look like they’re intently listening. Ren always has that effect on people (even when he’s discussing less appropriate topics). It’s why he’s good at leading panel discussions. His relaxed demeanour encourages people to speak, plus he easily bounces back and forth between people.
… Right. He’s always been good at interacting with strangers. Unlike her.
False’s elbow accidentally knocks into a tray of mini pies. It doesn’t fall, but it creates quite the rattling sound. Several people sharply look up and turn to her. False smiles sheepishly. They look away.
Ren hasn’t heard the noise. He’s still talking to whoever he’s talking to. False idly pops one of those mini pies in her mouth. Her teeth crunches down more viciously than usual.
“You’re going the wrong way, Ren.”
False just died in Sands of Time, and as the sandkeeper, it’s Ren’s duty to revive her. Unfortunately, he just can’t seem to find where the tombs are. Even with False’s guidance.
Ren’s footsteps come closer, then fade away. He just missed her. Of course he does. She sighs.
“Ren!” False shrieks. “You literally just walked past me, you dummy!”
It’s late at night and False sits alone at the diner. It’s that awkward time after a MCC when she’s too hungry to take the long train back and all the other hermits are chatting with other players. False doesn’t feel like talking, her stomach is rumbling, so she swings by that cheap diner that she used to always go with Ren.
False thinks of ordering her regular, but she remembers Ren would always order vegetable lasagna (he would always let her have a bite and vice versa), a vague impulse possesses her, and then there’s a steaming hot vegetable lasagne in front of her.
False eagerly digs in. Her hunger distracts her from the fact that she’s alone. Her phone pings with photos that the other hermits took of their teams. The diner plays that comforting, now nostalgic tune that she associates with post MCC meals. (And a tune that she ends up associating with Ren.)
Ren hasn’t been here in a while. Hasn’t been in MCC for a while. People talking about missing him. He talks about missing MCC. She doesn’t talk about how much she misses him.
Her phone pings with yet another photo. False looks at the frozen smiles of her friends, she wipes her fingers on those filmsey paper napkins, and starts texting.
Ren’s probably still awake. Maybe just lounging around. Maybe he’s stuck in the bathtub again. Or maybe he’s scrolling through his phone.
False puts her phone down. She waits for it to ping.
Ren is AFK.
He is standing still. Doesn’t move when she circles him with blocks. Doesn’t move when she inches towards him. And now she’s close enough that she can yank his ugly tie off him if she wishes.
Carefully, slowly, she lifts the brim of his top hat. His fancy hat of administration (even though he doesn’t do anything). It seems to get stuck on his ears, so she wriggles it and—
Ren comes back and stumbles away so quickly that he falls down. “Geez! You scared the life outta me!” he grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
False hasn’t managed to steal Ren’s hat, but at least Ren himself is here again. They’re back to normal. Back to their daily business.
False laughs and stretches out a helping hand. “Welcome home, Ren.”
