Insert Song | Hellevator | Stray Kids

Each person who knows you has a different perception of who you are. Adolf knows this for all the years he has dangled his pendant in front of people and Pokémon alike. He sees their persona, delves deeper to grope their soul, and makes them breathe their every truth like condensation on mirrors.

It isn't too far-fetched for him to wonder how he too is perceived. But he must first know himself by reclaiming his identity that has been stolen together with his memory. Or at least, he couldn't recognise who he currently is, because he evades constantly who he was, the foundation of his present self. The opportunity for a short little sky trip is thus a no-brainer, when the Drifblim mentions the possibility of uncovering his roots.

Adolf clutches his pendant as the Drifblim takes him through the clouds rushing like water's foam, and he closes his eyes, his hand, smiling as the moist air scratches and grabs his hair and skin. Something about the swiftness speaks to him, leaving him convinced that in no time, he will reclaim himself and truly awaken. Yet, with how he is now out in the open, Adolf wishes more than ever that he is seen by the world, maybe by other Pokémon, or perhaps even passengers in a passing plane. Not that there are any, or rather, he realises in the next moment, there can't be any of them here. The condensed version is that he has his breath taken away along with an ambivalence that feels awkward to him. The longer version of it decides that the man be thrust into a harrowing realm where eerily familiar architecture loiter before his eyes, so similar to the one he found himself in, yet so different in its hues and saturations.

The Drifblim glances at him and her cheeks puff up. "Think of them like apartments for rent."

"Hospitals, more like. You Drifblim are like doctors observing us and unwilling to let us discharge," Adolf says as he cranes his neck in an attempt to peer into a dark green sky castle, but to no avail.

"Privacy, please." Drifblim rolls her eyes and speeds up. "Apartments are more fitting. They have no morgues."

Adolf hisses and averts his gaze to the clouds. "Very funny."

"Be glad you have some sunshine. Some of them can only see snow and rain."

"What's with the special treatment?"

Drifblim halts out of the blue, in the middle of the castles where others of her ilk hover about. This suffices to threaten our dear hypnotist who now wishes to pull his question back into his mouth, even when it dissipates as smoke in wind. The stifling silence, apart from the almost muted cries springing out of windows, puts him in his place.

"We're pretty much isolated unlike them, huh?" Adolf tries again.

Drifblim's answer is merely a brief "yes".

Adolf shrugs. "What's the deal anyway? Do you Drifblim enjoy playing prison guards? I sure as hell detest being imprisoned against my will."

Drifblim swallows and spits up. "Very funny. It's a part-time job, if you will. But I forgot, you lack will."

Adolf narrows his eyes, snorts and glances over to another castle: bricks like blood, bereft of a roof, sporting a glistening pocket watch at its edge. The design piques his interest due to the stellar contrast between this one and the others.

"What's with this one?"

For some peculiar reason, she inches toward it, letting the hypnotist brush against the tender hooks sprouting out of the exterior walls' spiderweb cracks. Dismissing his yelps with a steadily increasing velocity, she goes on to ensure that his clothes are pierced more than thrice, a playful punishment aboard the merry-go-round that she has become.

"It's simple, really. It's all about time."

Ironically, Adolf can only ever feel the timeless placidity in the atmosphere. Each time the hooks dig into his skin after consuming thin fabric he hurls expletives into the clouds. He feels pain. That which is immeasurable and fondly destructive of every piece of his self; that which delights in his dizziness and mad hollering; that which prowls about and sizzles inside him; he gulps down the warm sensation and wishes for a fever to end himself.

"We all have regrets clinging onto us. We can wear as much protection as we want, but they eat us from the inside, a visceral hotpot, and we enslave our minds to them without realising. What comes after is pain. That's what you feel. That's what you seek. You create an echo chamber for yourself, and drown in that ale-like reverberation. You choose to sink."

Each syllable weighs down on Adolf's skull, and Drifblim's painstaking drawl rubs salt into his wound, magnifying his agony with utmost pleasure.

"S-Stop..." Adolf hisses and bites his tongue. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do." Drifblim slams her body against the wall, frightening the man who fears she will puncture and he will fall to his death. "You inserted yourself in a snare called failure, one of your own making, your undoing. You, Adolf, should know better. Your emotions complicated things, you know?"

Adolf blinks. Now he can uncover the truth of the mysterious building, making out two people. One comforts and supports the other with sugarcoated truths and honeyed lies.

"They are beyond saving," Drifblim mumbles. "But you and Yan can still be salvaged. You have a clock each, ticking at their own pace. The pocket watch is for the most dire of them all, when time runs short, and nothing can be done till the duo are corpses and rot."

"Are we supposed to comfort each other?" Adolf scratches his head. "Support each other?"

"That's the thing. You are summoned to help Yan, yet you have gotten into a hot mess. Not that you'd remember." Drifblim snorts and glides away from the castle. "After all, you are partly to blame for these developments."

"I'm just a hypnotist! I'm Adolf!"

"And your Hypno? Where is he now?"

"Hypno?" Adolf frowns. As he glances up, the Drifblim has led them both near his sky castle. Black and red walls, two large clocks, wisps enshrouding the roof. "I don't know..."

"The usual case involves two occupants in one castle. One needs to heal, one helps. They could be humans. They could be Pokémon."

Adolf steps onto the floor and turns to the Drifblim. "What's with this divide? Don't humans coexist with Pokémon? Also, did my Hypno die? I don't understand."

Drifblim shakes her head. "You are still trapped in your snare, Adolf. Unless you choose to move on and see the light."

Adolf takes a step to the window and bathes in the pouring light that burns his skin. Hands on the pane, he stares into the horizon.

But I've moved on. Haven't I?

Of course, Adolf knows that he has struggled in the ropes all this while, as much as he has learnt them, and watched as they twisted and turned into a bloody noose—a lasso stringing him along.

He sighs.

"Hypno is still alive."

Adolf's eyes sparkle. "Can I see him?"

"Only if you want to."

Adolf nods and squeezes his eyes tight. On opening them, his desire manifests itself. There the Psychic-type is, standing in front of him with a perplexed smile. Adolf sticks a hand out and touches glass. Taken aback, he falls back. Hypno, ditto.

"Hope this answers your questions." Drifblim twirls and flies away, leaving the dumbfounded hypnotist sitting with trembling knees on the floor, the woman he is to support in her healing process twitching a little in his peripheral vision, and the Hypno staring back with intense curiosity.

The thought strikes like lightning on his mind: To support a human, a Pokémon must first assume a human identity.

In the gentle dusk, Adolf falls apart. For the first time, for the time being, he unsheathes his claws and slashes his snare.