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His Soul (Chapter 13)

I Would Rather Be Your Prisoner

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

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You woke up that next morning with your mind still buzzing from everything you learned last night. You’d thought about it endlessly, determining how this would change your relationship with Curioso. You had a few questions you wanted answered, so you let the jester out for the morning and told him you were going to have some breakfast. He was happy to watch you move about your apartment, perching himself on your counter like he always did. He didn’t look to be affected at all with what he revealed to you. But how could he be, if this was the reality he had to live with for so long? 

It probably wasn’t as jarring to him as it was for you. 

“Hey,” You spoke up while pouring some orange juice. “I’ve been wondering a few things. You don’t mind me asking some more questions, do you?” 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” He answered playfully. 

“I mean, you do …I don’t want to overstep anything.” You winced as you replaced the container in the fridge. You hoped that wouldn’t be the case. “Did you ever see your family again? After what happened?”  

You took a seat at the table and started eating, choosing to watch him out of your peripheral vision. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by staring at him. Curioso shook his head.

“No. They saw me as a burden and wanted me gone. They were probably glad I went missing. I bet their lives got better when I wasn’t there.” 

You whipped around defensively. “I’m sure that’s not-” 

“-You saw it yourself, Detective. Everything in that memory is what I had to live with every day. My brother and my mother hated me. My father wasn’t in the picture, but if he was, I’m sure he’d despise me, too.” 

“But what if that wasn’t the case? What if your absence made them change and realize who they were missing?” Your mouth moved faster than you could think. “What if we went out to find them again-” 

“Not a chance in Hell! They’re probably old now, anyway.” 

You chewed on your lip in thought. “..What about Emily? Have you ever seen her again?” When he shook his head ‘no’, you pressed some more. “..What about finding her someday?” 

He hesitated. Something in your chest twisted anxiously in fear of his response. “I don’t feel too kindly about her anymore. She revealed my identity that day and ruined my life. It’s because of her I’m trapped in this curse. I don’t love her anymore.” 

Well…you couldn’t blame him for that. Your lips thinned into a line as you decided to stop your line of questioning. You finished your breakfast in silence while he watched you. You washed your plate in the sink and handed it to Curioso, who placed it on your drying rack. You smirked at the sight. At least he was being helpful. 

“I’ve got that appointment to get the book in a bit…you want to watch something to kill some time?” 

He nodded enthusiastically, following after you as you went to check the day’s programs. 

A few hours later, you were sitting in Audrey’s shop, enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and reading from your newly-obtained folder spread out on the table. You held a small doughnut in your left hand, which you nibbled on while you read. After some time, you had to set it down to digest what you were reading. Your friend came by to check on you and even poured you a second cup of the treat. You thanked her with a kind smile, which dropped the moment Audrey was out of your sight.

The translator did an excellent job and you saw to it that she was tipped appropriately. Your first impression was that it would be something simple - a list of ways to open and close the box, the patterns one would have to enter for it…but it was much more elaborate than that.

It wasn’t just about the box itself - it was about Curioso’s curse.

Admittedly, that part of the book was one you thoroughly read through, learning everything you could about your friend. The curse itself had an odd name you weren’t sure you could pronounce correctly, but it was where a victim’s soul was magically sealed in a box and acted as a servant to its user. It made the victim immortal, but at the cost of their physical being - they instead existed as a space, who could manipulate and possess objects. It ultimately rewarded them with magical powers - at a cost of their autonomy. 

It answered a lot of your suspicions. Now you were skimming the pages about the box itself…until you stumbled on the passage you were on now, which listed all the possible combinations and outcomes one could enter on the box.

One particular line caught your attention, which claimed that there were two types of ‘freedom’ .. Judging by what you read, Curioso was under what was called a ‘limited’ freedom, which meant that he could only be freed from the box at the owner’s control. A ‘temporary’ freedom, the book informed you, was where he could freely return and emerge from the box on his own accord, whereas his current situation was reliant wholly on who controlled it. 

It got the gears in your head turning. You searched some more through the book and found some material that made you…uncomfortable.

‘Victim’ was the best word you could describe Curioso, or anyone under this curse for that matter. You found a page describing a spell that could trap him forever in the box - and a few more pages listing ‘punishments’ that the user could give, should its servant disobey or rebel against them. Your stomach twisted as you read through a list of instructions on how to make the victim feel ‘pain’. At that point, you promptly snapped the book shut. 

..Is this why he didn’t want you to have the book? Did he think you were going to punish him? Make him feel pain? Just the thought made you feel sick. Why would you ever do that? He was your friend ! Not a… servant…

..But that’s what he was, wasn’t he? His purpose? His curse ? To serve and belong to the owner of whoever held his box? 

You decided to stop reading and paid the bill for your meal, leaving a tip for your friend and receiving the day’s newspaper in exchange. You opened your umbrella once you were outside, using it to shield yourself and your bag that held the book and translated folder. Your trip to the office took only a few minutes. You shook off the excess water as you headed inside. You hung up your coat and took off your gloves, climbing up the stairs quietly into your apartment. 

You’d left Curioso out of the box while you were gone. You trusted him not to do anything bad. But you wanted to get that impression out of your mind - he was your guest and friend now. It wouldn’t be right to keep assuming these things about him. But you couldn’t exactly erase his wrongdoings, either. You weren’t sure how to proceed with things…but you were hoping, with his good track record thus far, that he wouldn’t resort to anything bad again. 

..And besides, now that you learned more about his past and his curse, it was all making sense. That enchantress couldn’t have treated him well, trapping a vulnerable child and forcing him to serve her for decades. It made sense why he’d snap, but he took his anger out on innocent collectors…well, they all had their faults and things to certainly learn from, but he could’ve handled it… better! Agh ! It was too much to think about right now.

You opened your door and took off your shoes. You found the jester sitting on your couch with his hands folded in his lap. The window was open, which made the room a little humid, but you could also hear the sounds of the raindrops and occasional rumbles of thunder. When you stepped forward, his mask turned to you and he bowed his head. 

“Sorry, Detective. I just wanted to listen to the rain.” He confessed. You didn’t bother closing the window, sitting in your chair nearby and gently setting your bag down by your feet. 

“It’s fine. Were you outside?” 

You noticed that his hands were wet. He shook his mask. 

“I…had my hand outside to feel the drops. I apologize if that wasn't allowed.” 

“Well…” You bit your lip. “It might be safe for you to be on the balcony, if my neighbors aren’t home. Is that all you’ve been up to?” 

“Wondering about you , of course.” He turned to face you completely. “Have you finished the book?” 

“...Not exactly. I skimmed and read a bit of it.” You frowned as you leaned down to grab it and set it in your lap. “I need to ask. Have you read it yourself?” 

“Never. I wasn’t allowed to.” 

“..But you know what’s in it? Your reactions-” 

“Here’s the thing about the book , Detective-” He held up a long digit and gestured to it in your hands. “I only ever saw the Enchantress bring that out when it was bad . Awful things happened when she used it. Does that make sense?”

You winced as your eyes fell to the cover. Yes. It did. 

“Look…” Your voice softened. You decided to get up and change seats. You were next to him now. He made a brief flinch and leaned away from you, which you ignored. “Whatever you thought I was going to do with this book, I’m not. I just wanted to learn about you. And now I know about your curse.” 

He sighed. Which was an interesting sound and sight, because he had no lungs to do it, but he made it possible, anyway. “I never read it, but I knew it meant bad things. I didn’t want you to resort to her methods…” 

“I get that. Look…would it make you feel better if I read it to you? I mean, is it possible for you to follow the instructions?” 

“I have no control over the box. Only the owner of my soul does, which is you , now.” 

You leaned forward, intrigued. “Does that mean Willy owned your soul when he got the box? Did Andrew own it when he had it, too?” 

“Neither of them did. You see, Detective, it’s part of the seal to my curse. It’s the only control I have over it. Anyone can own the box, but I am not their servant until they own me. I allowed you full ownership of my soul…and let you trap me.” 

“Wouldn’t you have been trapped, anyway, if they didn’t own your soul? Since no one could take you out?” 

“If being stuck in that box was my alternative to being owned by somebody I didn’t want , then it wasn’t much of a trap to me.” He answered adamantly. “But letting someone own my soul…I wanted that to be my choice , for once.” 

Your mouth fell agape in surprise. “So, you let me own your soul? Why?” 

“I would rather be in your hands than left to be in many others for the rest of my life. On shelves or in garbage somewhere. With you, at least I know I’m safe.” 

Your heart thudded rapidly in your chest, completely mesmerized by this creature sitting beside you. “You trust me that much?”

“You’re the only one that I can ,” He replied softly. 

You stared at him for a minute with moistened eyes before swallowing and moving your sight back to the book. You reached over to grab the translations and opened it before you two. “Okay, even if you can’t do anything, I think you at least have the right to know what I can and can’t do.” 

“Are you sure you want to show me all this?” Despite his hesitancy, he was eagerly reading what you opened to him. “You’d have no control over me..I’d know everything you’re doing.”

“As you should!” You replied firmly. “That Enchantress had no right to hide this book from you and hurt you with it. You deserve to know what your owner’s doing, if they won’t tell you.” 

He looked awestruck with you. You cleared your throat as you moved your attention back to the page, pointing to the lines and reading them out to him. The two of you got to discuss the book openly, and Curioso seemed very appreciative of this. You still couldn’t believe he’d never read it and only saw it when he was getting punished…it was all terrible. You were determined to make things better for him and get to him to understand the situation he was in. 

While you two were reading, something occurred to you and you looked at him. “So, wait. How did this book end up here if it belonged to the Enchantress?” 

He clapped his hands together and sat back in the cushions. “It was a very wicked thing. She wanted to see to it that no one but her could ever own my soul - so I would be trapped in that box for the rest of my existence. She even put a spell on the book so no one else could read it, so that I truly belonged to her.”

“My god…” 

“Willy got a little nosy when he bought the box. He looked around her belongings when she left and grabbed anything he thought was valuable. I saw the whole thing happen. It was a good thing, anyway, so I could keep track of it. 

“So if she encrypted the book, and Andrew couldn’t read it, how did you escape?” 

“I guess it was a bit of a loophole..! Since I grew obsessed with collecting things of my own conjuration, my magical aura got powerful and allowed me to escape. I didn’t know I could break free, but I sure as Hell am glad I did.” 

“But if Andrew didn’t own your soul and couldn’t control the box, then why did you destroy it?” 

“To give me my complete freedom..! If the box was out of the way, I would never have to go back in it. I intended to never return to that thing, but…you beat me in that game for my soul, so here we are.” 

“Well…” You dropped your head to look back at the pages. “I’ll make sure it’s not all that bad. In fact, I think I’m going to give you temporary freedom from now on.” 

Little flames flashed in his sockets. “You will?” 

“Yeah, that way, I don’t have to keep looking around for that combination to let you out. You can just…come and go as you please.” You narrowed your eyes. “That is, if you agree not to cause any trouble and stay in this building. We still need to have an agreement before I do anything.” 

“Oh, of course..!” He sounded excited. “I will work on your terms!” 

“And since you are a servant, I think you should start doing some chores around here.” Your smile was smug. 

“Detective, I am more than happy to do all of these things…I just have one thing I want to ask in return.” 

At this, the smile was wiped from your face and you sat up attentively. “What’s that?” 

“You remember when you brought me on that case with you?” You nodded, still a little on edge remembering how that ended. “Can you… will you…bring me with you on another? I so enjoy watching you do your detective work, and I’d like to help! I can even be your partner..!” 

Your eyes widened. “Really? Even after what I did?” 

“All water under the bridge.” He sounded like he genuinely meant it, which relieved you. “I’ll be a very good boy if you make good on this promise. That's all I really want.” 

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to just destroy the box and have you be done with it.” 

He slouched in his seat. “It can never be completely destroyed. You were able to reconstruct it for a reason…I’m afraid, I’ll never have my freedom again.” 

You fidgeted with the end of the page shyly. “You’re free with me .” 

“-Under the condition that I stay only here and out of sight...” 

“Alright, I get it. But can you blame me? You scare people. You nearly made Audrey faint when she saw you..!” 

You meant this lightheartedly, but it affected him more than you intended. He looked down as his posture fell. “I know I do. I’m no longer human and I never can be. I understand why it needs to be this way, but it doesn’t mean I’m still not a prisoner.” 

You hesitated before reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. The same sensation as before reached your hand. “I promise to make things better, at least. For one - you’re not my servant. You’re my friend . And two - I care about you and I promise to never hurt you.” 

His teeth moved over to you. But you didn’t even notice them with the way you were determinedly looking into his mask. “That’s a big promise you’re making.”

“And I intend to keep it.” 

He looked away for a moment before turning back to you. “What do you get out of this, exactly? What is your goal in treating me this way?” 

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected such a serious question. “I believe you can be better. You were just mistreated. I can’t blame you for lashing out at the world which had done you wrong, but…I want to show you that it’s good, too. That not everyone is corrupted by their collections or want something out of you.” 

He took you aback by taking your hand and clutching it close to himself. You jumped at the tight grip, but it wasn’t hurting you. You looked up at him in alarm and he simply grinned, moving closer towards your face. 

“You are the only person who has been so kind to me, Detective,” He stopped only when you were inches away. “I will make sure the favor is repaid.” 

You didn’t know what he meant, but you had a feeling it was going to be a good thing.

Do you know treasure seekers - visions of gold? My sister and I used to play this together on the family computer in the late 2000s, it was our first hopa and we were amazed! I talked to her recently about it and the part we remember best is that you catch fish and cook them at some point or something?

I don’t know how well the game holds up though. Just from looking at screenshots the graphics aren’t appealing to me nowadays…

I haven't played that game, what an interesting find..!

I'm always curious to look at the early 2000's HOPA games, since they were early pioneers of the genre. The downside to it is that old computer/game mechanics are frustrating and some games don't even load on modern systems. I'm very forgiving of early aged CGI models + animations, and the game doesn't look too bad considering that..!

I have no clue if the mechanics still work reasonably or not. I don't know if I'd nab this game myself, but maybe someone who has can tell me!

I wish the Big Fish Games site offered these old games for cheap like they do on Amazon. It's listed for $2 there and their usual $10 charge on their site. :/ So if you're interested to replay it for cheap-

you are so gorgeous and beautiful and gorgeous and beautiful and gorgeous and beautiful

What would you guys say are the BEST and WORST Hidden Object games you've played, and why? 🤔

The Art of a Moment

Summary: This wasn't art.

A look into one of the most intense moments of the game, in Sam's perspective.

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Sam clutched his handbag close when he faced the cold weather outside, shivering involuntarily at the gust of wind that hit him and wiping his nose using the end of his sleeve for the seventh time. The weather was the last thing on his mind right now; he was focused on saving the love of his life and solving the puzzles of this masked maniac. It was hard enough to constantly keep track of what items he had and where he needed to go. His mind was always working and thinking - he doubted he would have a moment of rest until Anna was back in his arms. 

He entered the generator and the intercom above flashed a green light. He was met with the familiar voice of Oscar: 

“I heard once that true art lives in a sparkling moment… that it’s a flash, leaving a bright trace, and is remembered for a lifetime… it never becomes routine…. Do you understand what I mean, Sam?”

He was going on about art and immortality again. Sam really couldn’t care about Oscar’s monologuing. He was constantly putting himself and his ‘art’ on a pedestal. It was enough to have to see the embalmed vessels of dead bodies, but he also had to put up with this man’s justifications for them. He didn’t care how it was done - murder was murder , and he was going to put an end to this bloodshed of young people. 

Sam was grateful for the green scarf wrapped around his person, as he had to return indoors and re-enter the freezer so he could smash some ice to obtain what was underneath. As he reeled back into position, wielding the icepick in both hands, he could hear a voice enabling him from around the room: 

“Go on, Sam, smash that anger out of you, but things are going to change… soon.” 

 And maybe he did. Maybe those grunts weren’t out of exhaustion, but of anger , of realizing what predicament he was in, of thinking of all those innocent people immortalized in green chambers. From musing how a murderer like Oscar could convince himself that thieving these people of their lives to entertain his sick view of mortality was nothing but a favor done to the victims he claimed. 

Sam scowled as he dropped the icepick. Anna was what was important. He could deal with all of this later. 

He pressed a button and a keycard emerged from the frozen device. He knew what it was for. He traversed the house and returned to a locked room he previously could not access. He slid the keycard in and was prompted to enter a code. He grabbed his journal and flipped through the pages until he found the combination he’d written down. A smart move - he had a hard time memorizing what he came across with all that was going on. 

127530.

The moment he entered the code, the door unlocked itself and he threw it open impatiently. He was once again taunted by the cool voice from the intercom above: 

“Ready or not..!” 

This was nothing more than a sick game to him..!

Sam grit his teeth angrily as he moved forward. Anger was a very powerful thing, something he normally did not feel to such a degree, and he felt it pooling more and more inside of himself. He’d reported on stories that sickened him and exposed unjustful doings of people and companies…but nothing stirred him like this . 

He wasn’t surprised to find himself in a rubber room. Someone like Oscar probably needed it. The door across from him was open and feeding light into the dim room. He could see a sliver of elaborate wallpaper beyond it and determined that it led somewhere new. As he moved to cross the threshold, the door suddenly slammed shut - trapping Sam in the padded cell. The light above him flickered off, closing him in complete darkness. 

His heart raced as his eyes widened, overcome with a sense of fear. Yes, Oscar must have control over the doors and lights. It made sense, if he had gone through the trouble of wiring up his intercom system and placing these puzzles everywhere. But he hadn’t done anything like this before - and it took Sam completely aback. 

He had no time to react any further. Oscar’s voice became the only sound in the room. The giddiness in his tone made Sam’s stomach twist unpleasantly. 

“Well, I’ve decided, Sam. I decided to try a new kind of art. The art of a moment will fill the house today. Get ready..!” 

There was a pause, although he was not done recording. Sam took this opportunity to attempt to find a handle on the door, but there was none. He tried banging on it but it did not budge. It was clear that the only way it would move was when Oscar decided to control it again. 

He listened intently to the sound of the killer’s own footsteps. He was clearly walking down a hallway, as Sam recognized the sound of heels hitting hard tile. Why was he still recording if he wasn’t speaking? Whatever was coming next didn’t bode well, and the journalist found himself holding his breath and tensing every muscle in his body so as to prepare for it. 

Oscar started speaking again, but it clearly wasn’t to Sam. There was the sound of glasses moving, of murmured voices and conversation carried far in the background. Were there…other people here? Besides him ? 

“Distinguished guests, as you all know, today I prepared a private presentation of my new variety of Goldvale Whiskey. Its wonderful taste and aroma will astound you. So let us drink.” 

He listened - horrified - to the audible sound of clinking glasses. There were groans, he even heard a voice asking ‘what was that? ’, before the recording was overcome with coughing and exclamations of agony. There was the sound of tables being knocked over, glasses shattering on the floor, woman audibly fainting and exclaiming…Sam processed all this with his jaw agape and desperately tried at the door again. No matter how much he pounded and attempted to rip at the padded walls with his fingernails…nothing happened. 

He didn’t even know when he started screaming. He was exclaiming at the top of his lungs to warn those people to get out of there - don’t drink the whiskey! - this was a murdering madman and they were at his mercy!!! 

The column he’d written in the Wellshire Telegraph briefly flashed before his eyes. His warning to the public, of the man who moved in the same rich, highly educated circles who was firm in conviction. That he could be anyone - even naming a random situation like a business partner inviting someone to a charity dinner in his mansion. He compared him to a chameleon - changing to fit his surroundings, suspecting him to reside in a country mansion. 

Has Oscar gained inspiration from his column? His random example of masking himself and inviting others to dinner? Except now it was a whiskey presentation? 

Sam wanted to pull his hair. He wanted to scream his lungs out. The murderer’s voice rang over the intercom, sounding disgusted and disappointed with what just happened. 

“And they call this The Art? Mass murderers are not worthy to stand with me! Oh, now I ruined so many beautiful showpieces and I will never forgive myself for that!” 

The light flickered back on and the door opened again. Sam hesitated before moving out and into the room that he had been sealed from. A horrifying sight greeted him - five bodies laying limply on the couches and chairs, facing a table with a bottle of poisoned whiskey and four full shot glasses. He could see the shattered remains of one by one of the bodies, who had dropped his share in the fit of the moment. 

He was in a room full of dead bodies. Not one embalmed and dressed person - but several people, who had been breathing and talking mere minutes ago. The aura of death reeked heavily here and he could almost taste it on his tongue. He feared touching them because he knew they would still be warm. They were fresh and effective kills - not a sight of a massacre, but several murders, nonetheless. 

As his eyes studied the scene, widened and full of discernment, Oscar’s voice surfaced in the room. 

“Are you condemning me? Well…I must admit you’re right. That was…sloppy.” 

Sloppy . 

That was how he was going to describe it? Because they weren’t preserved pieces of ‘art’? Oscar single handedly poisoned five people by hosting a fake presentation, while also monitoring and steering Sam in this gigantic circle of a puzzle. How and when did this happen? Had he planned for this to happen, and have him witness the sounds of people dying? 

He felt sick. He felt numb. He had no idea how to grasp this situation as his eyes hovered over the slumped bodies. He started imagining Anna as one of them, eyes shut and no longer moving. Just the thought caused him to retch a little in his mouth, and he adamantly turned away from the sight. 

His hand shook as he went to record this in his journal. 

This wasn’t art.