Pitbabe S2, Chapter 21 pg 2

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 21 pg 2

   If we were in an anime, I’d probably be wilting away right now, then getting blown off like a leaf in autumn. With my little brother throwing shade, calling me by my full name every sentence, and my only potential ally coldly switching sides, I’d forgotten that making up with Jeff is just as tough as with Babe. If fighting with Babe is a civil war, fighting with Jeff is a cold war. And in either war, I almost never win.

   I didn’t think it was a big deal, but I also didn’t see Jeff’s anger as trivial. We’ve talked about this plenty of times. Jeff was straight with me—he doesn’t want me taking on anyone else’s senses anymore. We both know that every time I do, I don’t just gain useful abilities; I inherit a curse too. I take on every limitation and pain the original owner endured their whole life, no exceptions, because I’m stealing their power.

   Babe’s heightened perception sense overworks the nervous system, making him overly sensitive to stimuli, easily fatigued, prone to sleeplessness, quick to lose focus, and emotionally unstable. Creating illusions or hallucinations exhausts the brain, doubling mental energy consumption, often leading to nightmares and confusion between reality and dreams. The sense of intuition and lie detection causes anxiety far beyond normal levels. Meanwhile, the sense for solving numerical, geometric, and logical patterns is the least harmful to me, as it aligns with my brain’s natural function and baseline IQ. At most, it just stresses me out for a day or two.

   Furthermore, my original senses have developed significantly compared to a few years ago. The transfer of senses happens quickly and adapts to energy much more efficiently. In the latest instance, it was clear that just holding the hand of the previous owner could draw out all the energy. It only took a few minutes to learn and adapt, even though, generally speaking, using a sense to its full potential shouldn’t happen on the first try. But when I used that young man’s sense a few days ago, I felt that I had completely mastered it, without even practicing once.

   This might seem like a good thing, but the problem is that I still don’t know what kind of tremendous cost comes with such a useful power.

   “You seem smart, but sometimes you’re shockingly foolish, Charlie,” Jeff said, his brows furrowed in frustration. Every time this topic comes up, he seems so irritated that he can barely control himself. And as he’s grown older, Jeff’s nagging skills seem to have evolved as well. I’m starting to understand why he’s so cautious. “You’ve been studying this stuff all along. You should be the one who knows best and handles it best, not just doing whatever you feel like!”

   “Alright, I messed up. I’ll be more careful next time…”

   “There better not be a next time. This is the last one. If it happens again, I won’t talk to you anymore.”

   “Jeff… come on,” I whined softly, unable to stop myself from glancing at the third person sitting there, calmly listening to our argument. If it were a normal person, they’d probably be so uncomfortable they’d have left by now. “Stop scolding me, it’s embarrassing.”

   “Embarrassing? What you did deserves to be scolded!”

   Besides Babe, it’s probably only Jeff who can make me feel this defeated.

   “And how many times have I told you that the senses you should avoid the most are those related to time?” Jeff’s voice softened as he reached this point, as if he was completely exasperated and too tired to waste all his energy nagging his thick-headed Phii. The only thing he could do now, it seemed, was plead. “We don’t even know what conditions come with that kid’s power, but what’s certain is that it’s not worth it. Senses that mess with time are the worst kind.”

   The reason Jeff is so angry isn’t just because I recklessly took on someone else’s sense. A big part of it—probably the main part—is because the sense I acquired is related to controlling time, which is the same type as Jeff’s sense. To put it clearly, Jeff’s sense allows him to peek into the future, while my sense, as Jinny’s brother, is to make time stop. Although these types of senses might seem incredibly powerful, they also come with some of the highest costs compared to other sense types.

   In Jeff’s case, his sense makes socializing and forming close relationships with others difficult, and it causes a concerning level of anxiety. There’s also a tendency for it to lead to temporal confusion in the future. (It’s been recorded that people with the same sense as Jeff, as they age, become unable to distinguish between the past, present, and future because they’ve meddled too much with the flow of time. That’s why Jeff now tries to avoid using his sense as much as possible.)

   Based on current scientific understanding, time is a continuous unit that always flows in one direction. In other words, time shouldn’t stop or move back and forth. Any external interference or disruption that isn’t natural will disturb events across different periods, creating a chain reaction. Ordinary people might not notice the differences caused by such interference, but those who meddle with time will feel and be affected by it the most.

   And if I don’t console myself too much, I know the impact on Jinny’s brother must have been significant. Otherwise, Jinny wouldn’t care about dissolving senses, and her brother wouldn’t have looked like he was reborn after I shook his hand. In that moment, only I and that high school boy knew our lives would never be the same again.

   “You’re getting yourself into trouble.”

   “I know,” I nodded, accepting my younger brother’s scolding without any argument, fully aware that Jeff was entirely right. “This will be the last time.”

   “Grow up, Charlie.”

   I once said the same thing to Babe.

   And today, I’m sitting here hearing the same words from my own Phii.

   “You’re human, stop acting like a spittoon.”

   A spittoon, huh?

   I never saw myself that way before, but because of my foolish actions, in Jeff’s eyes, I’m probably no different from a vessel for others’ waste.

   “Don’t think too much about others. When you die, how many will even thank you?” My brother’s voice echoed in my head, repeating as if hypnotizing me to agree. But I don’t know how effective it’ll be, because all this time, I never expected thanks from anyone. I just did what I wanted, thinking only of myself day by day, that’s all. “Live for others’ gratitude sometimes. It’s not that bad.”

   I glanced at Dr. Chris again. He was looking at me too. Our eyes met silently before he mouthed soundlessly, “One day, you’ll die.”

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