Chapter 11: Umegi's True Name

"Ahhhh!"
Fate is like a brute force; if you can't resist, you have to learn to accept it.

Meimu was in a miserable state, tossed into the air by the Ancient One, subjected to an endless loop of free fall. Even if he tried to imitate a parachutist, spreading his limbs wide to maximize wind resistance, his terminal velocity was still a staggering forty meters per second.

Such intense, perpetual falling would surely overwhelm even professional athletes.
"I'm done for! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" At first, Meimu could still scream, but the wind was so fierce that opening his mouth turned it into a gaping hole, stretching his face out of shape.

He felt as if he were becoming the Peashooter from Plants vs. Zombies.

Worse yet was the strain on his heart from the relentless descent. He didn't know how long he'd been falling—suddenly, everything went black.

If it were simply death or unconsciousness, perhaps it would be a relief, even a kind of blessing.
The problem was that after everything went dark, dizziness and blurred vision set in, yet terror still coursed through his body.

Was he about to burst a blood vessel?
Or would nausea make him cough up his own lungs?
Meimu felt increasingly terrible and chaotic; he only knew that he was close to death.

Just then, his falling speed abruptly slowed, and after twenty seconds, he found himself lying face-down on a cold floor.

Heaven!
Never had he realized that landing face-first in a gutter could actually feel like happiness.

Meimu was grabbed by the collar and lifted up. In the darkness before his eyes, he heard Baron Mordo's voice: "Hey! Stephen M. Meimu! Tell us everything you know. Hiding anything will not end well for you! Next time, you really will die from the fall. Here, hundreds die every day in unnatural ways. One more corpse in a filthy alley is hardly worth noticing."

Lying?
How could I dare to lie now?
What kind of international joke is this!

But... should I tell the Ancient One that I’ve replaced the man destined to be her disciple, Doctor Strange, and now seek her tutelage?

As Meimu’s mind swirled in confusion, he sensed something probing his spirit, like a feather gently brushing across the back of his hand.

Hmm?
Suddenly, Meimu recalled a certain ability of the Ancient One.

Still, he decided to make one last attempt.

He raised his hands, scarred and trembling from the car accident: "I told you, I came here to heal my hands..."

"Nonsense! There's no despair in your eyes!" Baron Mordo spat in Meimu’s face. "You're just like those disabled beggars, already resigned to your fate, scheming to profit from others' sympathy! You're a scoundrel willing to wallow in your own misery!"

Damn! That actually makes sense!

Meimu, still unseasoned by the world, wasn’t a good actor. He lacked true skill.

Because he knew Doctor Strange would learn magic and discover his soul could heal itself, Meimu never truly despaired over his hands, so he really didn't have that hopeless look.

But as Baron Mordo raged at him, Meimu did start to feel a little desperate.

In this Marvel world, the Ancient One was his last straw. Without her, he truly didn’t know who could heal his hands. And in two years, Thanos—the ultimate bald villain—would arrive, and half the galaxy would be wiped out, including Doctor Strange.

Gritting his teeth, Meimu said, "Do you... believe in fate? Do you believe there’s another self in this world?"

"Eh?" Not only Mordo, but even the Ancient One paused.

"I... am rather unique. I have two sets of memories. One as a neurosurgeon. The other is utterly absurd, from a ridiculous world."

Meimu was cautious, probing.

He didn't know if revealing the plot of Marvel and the Ancient One from his original world would invite some kind of punishment from the scales of fate.

He waited three long seconds, but no ominous warnings like "You’ve revealed a heavenly secret; catastrophe is imminent" appeared.

Growing bolder, Meimu continued, "My other self told me that if I wanted to change my destiny, I had to come here and become your disciple, Master Ancient One."

"Oh?" The Ancient One’s expression became intriguing. "Then, may I ask, what is the name of your other self?"

"Meimu!" he blurted.

Unexpectedly, the Ancient One's face turned icy cold. "You lied! Once again!"

When the master speaks, disciples obey.

Baron Mordo and the other disciples, already unfriendly, now seemed to receive a death sentence, and immediately struck with magical whips, stretching Meimu out, threatening to tear him limb from limb.

Meimu froze, then shouted, "I'm not lying! I'm truly not lying!"

Sensing something, the Ancient One, face still cold, seemed intent on breaking Meimu’s spirit. "Every person's name represents a unique soul, the one and only under heaven and earth. A name is both a symbol and the sole channel linking the world to the heavens. What you said is not the name your parents gave you at birth!"

Meimu instantly stalled, miserable. "I admit I changed my name myself, but I really can't use the name my unreliable mother gave me, especially in New York!"

"Speak!"

"My mother originally named me—Meimumu..."

As soon as he said it, both the Ancient One and Baron Mordo paused.

Nepal, bordering China, naturally absorbed much of its culture. And as someone who had lived for at least a thousand years and mastered nearly every language and culture on earth, the Ancient One immediately understood the significance of the name.

Not only her—Mordo grasped it as well.

"Wait, are you saying your original Chinese name is Merlin? In English, that's the Merlin of Britain, the great wizard?" Mordo, normally dark-skinned, now turned as red as a pig’s liver. "Pfft—hahahaha! His name is Merlin—the one who guided King Arthur! Hahahaha!"

Meimu—now Meimumu—felt utterly desperate.

All because of such a mother.

The Ancient One suppressed her laughter. "Why did your mother give you such a Chinese name?"

Meimumu answered, face ashen, "Back then, there was a beautiful plum grove next to her house..."

"Was it to commemorate this grove, so she named you after it?"

"No, she and my father fell in love at first sight, and... they did it in the plum grove. And so I was conceived..." At this, Meimumu’s face was filled with despair. "After I was born, the fortune-teller said my fate lacked wood, and my mother thought I was too obedient, like a block of wood, so she named me Meimumu."

"Pfft! Hahahahahaha!"