Chapter 15: The Double Black
At that moment, Dazai Osamu felt lightheaded, as if he had lost all weight and sense of reality, as if he had been carried by the wind to the clouds and then instantly plummeted into the earth. His consciousness seemed to be slowly sinking in the cold, deep sea, his senses fragmented, leaving only boundless chaos and drowsiness.
He didn't know how much time had passed when a faint force pulled him out of his unconscious state.
When he opened his eyes, the surroundings were no longer the hospital room he had seen the last time he opened them, but a pitch-black darkness. Only the small area where he was standing was enveloped by a beam of pale light that seemed to come from nowhere. In this quiet darkness, the only object that existed was a huge floor-length mirror standing in front of him.
The mirror was spotless, clearly reflecting his figure: he was dressed in black, with bandages wrapped around his neck and wrists, his black hair wet and plastered to his forehead, and his iris-colored eyes calmly looking at the mirror.
Everything was normal at first; he just seemed trapped in some dark space. But soon, Dazai Osamu was seized by an utterly absurd feeling.
The reason is simple: the person in the mirror is smiling at them.
It was an extremely subtle yet clear arc, clearly reflected on the corner of "his" mouth in the mirror. "He" wore a smile devoid of any genuine joy, his iris-colored eyes devoid of emotion, a deep, dark expanse that seemed to encapsulate the endless darkness surrounding him.
Dazai Osamu was absolutely certain that his reflection in the mirror was expressionless. There was no joy, no sadness, not even his usual smile.
Although he couldn't see the expression on his face directly, he was certain that it was definitely different from the expression projected in the mirror.
In other words, Dazai Osamu's expression is disconnected between what is reflected in the mirror and what is seen outside the mirror.
Then, a voice rang out. Dazai Osamu didn't speak, but he heard his own voice all around him. All he could see was his reflection in the mirror, his mouth opening and closing:
"How interesting... Who are you?"
Dazai Osamu was silent for a moment. In this strange space, lies seemed to have lost their meaning, or rather, were unnecessary. So he answered truthfully:
"Dazai Osamu."
The reflection in the mirror seemed to deepen the curve of its lips, but there was no trace of a smile in its eyes: "Oh, what a coincidence, my name is also Dazai Osamu."
After hearing his reflection in the mirror say those words, Dazai suddenly went black and lost consciousness once again.
When he woke up again, the moment he opened his eyes, he felt the glaring incandescent light burning his iris-colored eyes, so intense that he couldn't help but close them again. It took him several times to get used to it. His senses were slowly returning to normal: he was lying on a soft but unfamiliar bed, his arms were tingling slightly, and he could smell the strong disinfectant odor surrounding him.
His gaze shifted downwards, and his hand, which had felt a foreign object, lifted up as well. He saw the back of his hand with an IV needle inserted, and the transparent medicine was slowly being injected into his vein, drop by drop, through a thin tube.
Frowning slightly, Dazai Osamu endured the dull ache in his head and struggled to sit up. He looked around and saw cold medical equipment beside him, and a simple vase on the bedside table with a few flowers that someone had brought. Everything in the room indicated that this was a standard hospital room.
There was a chair next to his bed, with a black suit jacket casually draped over it. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the style he often wore.
What happened?
Is this a hospital?
How...did I get here?
He didn't know how he got there, nor could he understand how he was rescued under those circumstances. Logically, he should have been in a deep sleep, and theoretically, the possibility of him being rescued was zero.
He had meticulously calculated the time, place, and all variables, but the slight stinging from the IV needle in his hand and the dull ache from the wound on his head clearly proclaimed one fact to him: he was still alive, not dreaming, and had not gone to paradise.
So... who, and by what method, managed to pull him back from the brink of death?
Dazai Osamu racked his brains but couldn't figure it out, so he simply gave up on the futile attempt to recall. This thinking also aggravated his headache. He could feel several layers of bandages wrapped around his forehead, and he guessed that it was probably caused by his head hitting a heavy object when he was unconscious at sea.
Dazai Osamu stared blankly for a while, then suddenly remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness, and his eyes widened in astonishment.
He vaguely remembered opening his eyes once before, and it seemed like he saw Nakahara Chuuya at that time.
Thinking of this, my heart suddenly clenched.
Absurd ideas grew wildly like weeds.
Was it a hallucination before he died, or was it his soul's last look back at those tangled entanglements in his dreams as it lay dying?
Was death not the end, but rather a throw into another dimension, allowing his soul to enter the world of dreams? Or did he truly arrive in paradise?
Countless questions popped into his mind, and he could almost still vividly recall the other person's angry expression.
Dazai Osamu pinched himself hard, and the pain told him that it was all real, that he was really still alive.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm his chaotic thoughts. In any case, he had to quickly accept this absurd reality: he seemed to have survived in another world, and it was very likely that Chuuya Nakahara had saved him.
Now that he has woken up, he is unwilling to stay here any longer, and he is not yet ready to meet with Chuuya Nakahara or anyone else in this world.
So Dazai Osamu decisively reached out and, without the slightest hesitation, roughly pulled the IV needle out of the back of his hand. Tiny beads of blood instantly seeped from the needle hole in his skin, but he didn't care. Instead, he threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor.
He picked up his own black suit jacket from the chair, draped it over his shoulders, and the familiar feel of the fabric gave him a slight sense of security.
He quietly evaded all the patrolling medical staff and surveillance cameras, and left the hospital.
If this world is similar to his original world, then he must be extremely careful. He needs to avoid everyone who might know him, whether they are colleagues, subordinates, or even Nakahara Chuuya.
He guessed that if he had arrived in a world where Nakahara Chuuya existed, the memories he could recall of Chuuya's last awakening would be enough to confirm that Chuuya knew him. Moreover, there might be many people in this world who were connected to him in the past and were still connected to him now. Therefore, he couldn't let anyone discover that something was wrong with him; he needed to keep things under control.
Furthermore, he recalled what happened in that dark space before he woke up, so he reasonably guessed that there might be another consciousness inside his body, or that this body might not even be his.
More importantly, he couldn't be sure if this partner was the same person he knew.
Using the mental map of Yokohama's streets, Dazai Osamu skillfully avoided the range of all the street cameras. From the layout of the streets to the outlines of the surrounding buildings, even the occasional unique salty and gunpowder-like smell in the air, everything matched his memory of Yokohama with astonishing precision. This eerie familiarity only deepened his suspicion that he was in a parallel world.
He blended into the bustling afternoon streets. The sunlight overhead was a bit dazzling, and pedestrians hurried along, each heading towards their own destination. The surroundings were filled with the noise of people and vehicles; elderly people walked with faltering steps, and students walked together, laughing and joking. All sorts of faces converged into streams of people going in different directions.
However, none of this mattered to him. He seemed so out of place among the crowd, like a walking alien, with one eye that was exposed lifeless, his hair hanging down and covering half of his face, and an unsettling aura surrounding him. Passersby would intentionally or unintentionally walk around him.
As he passed a brightly decorated clothing store, Dazai Osamu involuntarily stopped in his tracks.
The huge floor-to-ceiling window is like a giant mirror, reflecting his figure without reservation.
He turned his head and stared at his reflection in the glass: wearing an inappropriate black suit jacket and jarring blue and white striped hospital trousers. His exposed neck, wrists, and even cheeks were wrapped in layers of white bandages, with purplish-blue bruises and scabbed wounds showing through the gaps.
His iris-colored eyes, not covered by bandages, were lifeless, and his black hair hung down messily, obscuring half of his face. The dejected aura emanating from him caused passersby to either instinctively detour or cast suspicious and disgusted glances at him. However, no one dared to approach him.
Perhaps he'd be mistaken for a dangerous individual who had escaped from a mental hospital. Dazai Osamu thought aimlessly, his heart completely unmoved.
But it seems about the same?
Thinking of this, for some reason, he suddenly felt like laughing, so he couldn't help but raise his hand and cover his mouth with the back of his hand. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and a low laugh escaped from between his fingers, attracting the attention of passersby.
After laughing enough, the morbid emotion quickly receded like the tide, and he turned his gaze back to the glass window, scrutinizing the reflection that moved in sync with his own.
Just as he was about to look away and rejoin the crowd, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, where it seemed as if he had turned and glanced at him.
The person reflected in the glass did not turn around at the same moment he turned.
...It was a completely different movement from his.
Moreover, the [Dazai Osamu] in the mirror seemed to realize he had been discovered. Instead of panicking and trying to hide it, he chose to completely abandon his pretense and brazenly began to make actions completely opposite to Dazai's. At the same time, he smirked at Dazai, his lips moving but no sound came out. However, Dazai recognized him by lip-reading; what this guy was saying was:
I've found you.
Dazai Osamu suddenly opened his eyes wide, turned around abruptly, and stared intently at the image in the glass shop window. However, the instant he turned to focus, the reflection in the glass seemed to have been reset, instantly returning to normal. Both its movements and expressions were completely synchronized with Dazai Osamu's real self standing on the street, without the slightest difference.
The passersby seemed not to notice the strange phenomenon or express any surprise or exclamation, as if... everything that had just happened was just his hallucination.
Dazai Osamu stood there, having no evidence to prove that what he had just seen was real, but he also did not believe that he was hallucinating.
Thinking back to the events of the past few days, such as the inexplicable resurrection, the mirror dialogue world in the dark space while unconscious, and the other world... all sorts of information surfaced in his mind, were broken down and reassembled, and finally led him to conclude that there are likely two "him" inside his body.
He stared at his reflection, his eyes fixed on it. The reflection in the glass no longer showed any abnormality, but he suddenly felt a sense of estrangement from it.
Dazai Osamu couldn't understand why this strange situation was occurring. Before he could delve deeper into this feeling, the crowd on the street suddenly became even more congested. He was pushed and shoved by the people behind him, involuntarily staggering forward a few steps before blending into the throng, temporarily ceasing to dwell on the question of "his shadow not being himself."
He wrapped his black suit jacket tighter around himself and continued walking toward the unknown future, following his original plan.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
