Chapter 200 The Agreement

—Do you remember now?

Remember now...

The reason I'm here, the reason I'm trapped in this endless cycle, unable to escape—

It was resentment and unwillingness to accept defeat.

It is the obsession that the original self could not let go of before death. It is the "why" that countless selves have kept asking in reincarnation.

He thought that liars would have to swallow a thousand needles and then suffer the torment of tongue-pulling hell after death.

Unfortunately, that person never lied to him, whether out of disdain or genuine utmost honesty.

But what does that have to do with me?

Just because of a moment of infatuation, does he deserve to end up in this situation?

Even if he deserved it, was that person some kind of pure and flawless saint?

so……

So he made that wish, praying to the newly born gods of this world, and to himself, that he would find that person no matter what method he had to use.

—Let them suffer the pain you feel.

To empathize with the injustices inflicted upon oneself.

However, over the long course of time, they lost themselves and became confused about the boundary between life and death...

Immersed in immense delusion, they repeatedly repeat the same mistakes.

Falling from reality again and again, making wishes amidst the shattering fragments. Dying in darkness, and being reborn in darkness.

—What could be the reason?

Because of his heart.

Because he... is his heart.

In the instant the child remembered everything, tiny sparks of light appeared in the darkness.

He slowly stood up and walked towards the firelight, where he saw people struggling in pain. Their faces, contorted with agony, looked both familiar and strange.

It was familiar because it was someone he had seen in the memory closest to his last 'death,' someone who had watched his mother and him die.

It feels strange because what I thought would be unforgettable turns out to be nothing special.

Seeing the people struggling in the sea of ​​fire—even though it was a moment of revenge, he felt no elation or satisfaction.

I just watched quietly, watching it all happen and watch it all end, without feeling the slightest ripple in my heart.

Perhaps it wasn't like this at the beginning.

However, when he realized that this was not the first time he had witnessed such a moment, and perhaps not the last, he felt a great irony of fate.

—Does he despise what those people did?

—Naturally, it is abhorrent.

Just as he often hated himself.

Because he saw himself in those people, and he also saw those people in himself.

They naively struggle to survive within the predetermined gifts of fate, believing they have grasped something—wealth, power, fame, stability…

In the blink of an eye, everything—fortune or misfortune—vanished into nothingness.

As the saying goes, things in this world are impermanent, but this impermanence is ordained by Heaven.

Should we continue?

The child heard the voice.

The words that always lingered vaguely in his mind.

Sometimes he wonders whether it is his own hallucination or a concrete manifestation of what he is thinking.

—Continue with what?

Should we continue to be caught in this endless cycle of reincarnation, this ceaseless sea of ​​human suffering?

He didn't know. Instead, he asked the voice in his mind what would happen if he refused to continue.

[It will fall into a deep sleep.]

"And then never wake up?"

—If that's the case, it doesn't seem so bad.

After all, he was really tired, and his tone even revealed his great anticipation for this guess.

The voice, perhaps sensing his tone, paused for a moment before continuing: "It's only temporary, like fallen leaves returning to their roots; the fallen leaves will eventually grow back from the same tree."

"Aren't those two leaves completely different?"

How can we tell?

"It's that..." The child was a little stumped by the question, and he answered only on instinct.

After searching his mind, he finally caught some scattered memories that seemed to belong to a different era: "Isn't it said that the world is so big that no two leaves are the same?"

Upon hearing this, the voice laughed for the first time, just like a polite and courteous adult would do when watching a child use what they had learned in school.

If so, it only demonstrates the limitations of the observer themselves.

"limitation?"

[How can one judge things one has never seen? To make such arbitrary conjectures is itself a form of foolish arrogance.]

The child thought, "What you're saying doesn't sound very humble, but it doesn't seem entirely unreasonable either."

But... I'm a person, after all. I can't just grow back like a leaf.

So, is the difference between people and leaves really that big?

You can tell just by looking at them... The child muttered to himself, but didn't say it aloud.

He suddenly thought of the loquat tree in the yard.

Thinking of the way my mother looked at the loquat tree, perhaps in her eyes, the tree was more like one of her own kind.

I too came here by chance, and like everyone else, I was powerless to control my own destiny. To say that a tree is powerless to control its own destiny seems a bit absurd.

It is said that humans are not plants or trees, how can they be without feelings?

But since we are neither plants nor trees, how can we know that the feelings of plants and trees are not greater than those of humans?

Thinking about it this way, it seems to confirm the foolish arrogance that the voice had just mentioned.

"Is that the truth about reincarnation?" the child wondered.

He pictured that wondrous scene in his mind.

In his imagination, what fell to the ground and was buried in the soil were no longer leaves, but pale shells.

An incredibly thick tree rose from the soil that buried the body.

From where lush foliage should have hung down pale arms and legs, perhaps heads and hair, in short, a sea of ​​white.

When the wind blows, you can see the torsos taken from different parts of the body, swaying back and forth in mid-air like oars.

Occasionally, it makes a soft sound like it bumps into an arm or slaps its thigh.

Pat-pat-pat—pat-pat, like a giant wind chime, the child thought, the scene must be spectacular.

[...]

Then he belatedly realized that the voice had been silent for a while.

Just as I was about to ask further, I suddenly realized that since the other person could hear my thoughts, they might also be able to see the scenes that were flashing through my mind.

So what does this silence mean...? Is it tacit agreement? Or is it that they have nothing to say about it?

Of course, now is not the time to dwell on such things. What I need to consider is which path I should choose.

—Actually, there is another possible option.

They remained there in this state of mind, but the child didn't even bother to ask the possibility of this situation.

But he didn't have that kind of courage; the time he had spent alone in the dark before was already unbearable enough.

He felt that if this voice hadn't suddenly appeared, he probably would have gone crazy.

—However, who can prove that the voice itself isn't evidence that he's starting to go mad?

Yes... and no.

Upon hearing this, the child was stunned for a moment. He didn't react immediately, thinking that the other person was affirming that although he was no longer normal, he was still some distance away from truly going insane.

Then, with a hint of helplessness, the voice added: "[I mean, about your previous question...]"

The previous one—

The child thought for a moment and realized it was reincarnation.

The soul itself is a result of causes and conditions. Generally speaking, after death, the soul dissipates and returns to the heavens, breaking down into smaller particles, which then recombine.

[...]

Different combinations produce different souls, and the same soul can develop into completely different forms in different environments. Therefore, when a person completely returns to this great cycle of reincarnation, the particles that constitute that person have already undergone countless smaller cycles in the universe.

The child's head was buzzing.

"This is too much trouble."

[It sounds like one thing, but in reality, over the long river of time, it's almost imperceptible. Like the example you mentioned earlier about whether two identical leaves exist.]

"I see..."

The child muttered to himself, lost in thought, when suddenly a chill ran down his spine: "Doesn't that mean our current conversation has actually happened countless times before?"

Just as my scalp was tingling, the voice rang out again, unhurriedly, this time almost too calmly.

That is indeed the case in theory.

In theory...

"Are you a schoolteacher? Why do you speak so formally?" It was rare for a child to speak so boldly to anyone.

Firstly, it might be because they didn't see each other face-to-face.

Secondly, he felt a strange familiarity with the voice, as if it were an old acquaintance he hadn't seen in a long time. He might not even remember the name if he met the person, but there was a vague sense of warmth and familiarity about the voice.

Although, the other party is very likely not even human.

"No," the voice spoke again.

The child was stunned for a moment, then blurted out, "Isn't it... a person?"

[...not a schoolteacher.]

Whether it was a misperception or not, the child seemed to detect a hint of speechlessness beneath the other person's calm tone.

At that moment, he suddenly found the voice's reaction rather cute.

If... if I could just stay here and have someone to talk to, it wouldn't seem like such an unbearable thing.

It's strange...

Despite having never met before, and not even knowing if the other person was human—the previous statement only denied the teacher's identity, without addressing the child's previous question.

Even so, he easily accepted the premise that having this person by his side meant that even if they continued to stay in such a desolate and dark place, it wouldn't be a big deal.

However, the child only just realized that this... well, let's just assume it's a person—this person's reactions are actually quite slow.

The child thought he was already quite slow-witted, but it turned out that this person seemed to be even slower than him.

I always remember to answer the previous question only when he asks the next one.

I don't know if it was intentional, or if it was just my nature, or if there was some other reason... It felt just like a communication lag caused by network latency.

The thought naturally flashed through the child's mind, and the next moment, the child realized how strange the idea was.

—What exactly is network latency?

As he thought this, some related knowledge surfaced in the child's mind, vague and unclear.

But with the help of those seemingly plausible memories, phrases like "network delay" and "communication lag" suddenly became less difficult to understand.

The children also felt that they were becoming less and less like themselves.

More accurately, I'm becoming less and less like the person I used to be, staring blankly at the loquat tree in my little fenced yard.

Pipa was lost in thought when she suddenly heard the voice speak again, saying that there wasn't enough time.

"There's not enough time..." he said, his voice becoming faint.

Upon hearing these unexpected words, the child suddenly became somewhat flustered.

"What do you mean there's not enough time? Are you leaving?"

Just a moment ago, I was thinking about being here with this person, even if I couldn't see their face. I just wanted someone to talk to…

But before he could even ask a question, was this person about to disappear?

Is this something that has happened countless times before, and will repeat itself in the future—the same regret, the same helplessness, the same inability to speak?

But now, there's no need to speak up, because the question itself has lost its meaning.

So, after a moment's hesitation, the child asked at an unprecedented speed, "If it were you, what would you want me to choose?"

【I……】

"That's right, I'd like to hear your opinion. I've never made any friends in my life."

At this moment, he was speaking as the loquat: "No, there is actually one, but he can't speak... so I hope you can tell me."

My heart, which I thought had stopped beating, suddenly started pounding uncontrollably.

Amidst the deafening pounding of a heartbeat, the child seemed to hear a distant sigh.

Get some sleep.

The voice spoke, seemingly laughing, but it sounded even more distant and ethereal.

Perhaps... we... will meet again in our dreams.

Upon hearing this, the child nodded silently in the darkness, unsure whether the other person could see him, and hurriedly replied, "Okay, I'll choose this one. It's a promise then, from now on... from now on you must come to me in my dreams, okay?"

"Um."

"Hook up and hang yourself—"

"Um."

The other party agreed with unusual ease, and the whole process went so smoothly that it was almost unbelievable to the child. Just as he was about to relax, his heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly remembered that there was still an important thing he hadn't asked.

"Name? What's your name?!"

The child was so desperate that he thought he should at least keep something as proof of their future meeting, since he didn't know their identity or appearance. He didn't even consider whether he would remember everything if the next cycle of reincarnation began.

—Did that person think of it?

Perhaps it was something I had in mind... but just like countless times before, and like countless times in the future, the other side responded earnestly.

"orchid……"

The last sound dissipated gently into the darkness like wisps of smoke.