46
Tonight, I'm alone again.
After completing his mission at 7 p.m., Gojo Satoru returned to his dorm room. He paused at the doorway, staring at it for a moment. With a long sigh, he pulled out his key, placed the toe of his shoe against the door panel, and pushed it open. He entered, shopping bags in hand, slipping on his slippers. He pressed his finger against the switch, flicking it. The light came on, but barely. The bulb first blazed a blindingly bright white before quickly dimming to a dull orange. The ceiling light flickered a few times like a projector with faulty contacts before settling.
He looked up and said, "It's broken. The electrician from the technical college isn't home... Let's fix it when she comes back."
The broken light bulb didn't actually affect his vision, it was just...
It's been five days, why hasn't Hipper come back yet?
I miss her so much.
I want to see her and find an excuse to get her to come back soon.
Should I text her? Go ahead. You've been patient for five days without bothering her. It's time to show some concern. Whether as a classmate or... in some other capacity, you should say something.
He walked quickly into the bedroom, put the shopping bags aside, leaned back on the bed, rolled around happily hugging the pillow, and his exhalation blew up the bangs hanging in front of his forehead. Then he took out his mobile phone, found the number in the address book, and wrote a text message.
[Hippo, when will you be back? The light in the room is broken.]
He clicked send, staring at the screen seriously, repeating the words he had sent over and over again. He felt that his tone was a little awkward and his excuses were a little stiff. He should be more... more tactful!
He typed out another paragraph, reviewing it word by word to see if there were any inappropriate words, and only clicked send after he could find no problems.
[I miss you so much]
No matter how long the article is, no matter how many excuses there are, there is only one center - I miss her, I want to see her, I want to get a response.
So in the end, only this short sentence was sent.
To deal with a player like Schipper, hitting a straight ball is the fastest and most effective way.
I stared at the screen expectantly, waiting for a reply, but ten minutes passed and the phone didn't even light up.
I must be caring too much that ten minutes seems as long as half an hour. Maybe doing something else while waiting for the text message would make it less painful.
We need to do something to divert attention.
Gojo Satoru lay sprawled on his pillow, his eyes rolling as he took in the entire room. Homework and textbooks spread out on the table, the headphones attached to his Walkman had fallen to the floor, and gift boxes piled next to the game cartridges...
Hmm? Gift box...
He blinked slowly, remembering what was in the paper bag—a hardcover edition of The Amber Age, a novel published by Schipper that he hadn't opened since he bought it. He had nothing to do anyway, so this was a good way to kill time.
Loosening the pillow and putting it aside, Gojo Satoru got out of bed and walked towards the pile of game cartridges. He sat down with his legs bent and began to open the gift boxes.
"What a huge box. Hmm... so heavy." Could a book and a portrait album be this heavy? Could it be a brick-sized book? How could she have the patience to write it?
The black gift box was wrapped with a red and blue ribbon tied in a beautiful bow. In the center of the front was a giant red mechanical eye. It was a unique design, coated with a layer of paint that reflected light.
After untying the bow and opening the gift box, I discovered that the main weight was not the book, but the gifts - a neatly stacked stack of picture albums.
“It’s really thick…”
exaggerate.
He pinched the thickness of the album, surprised by the quality of the work. Could it be that Hipper had devoted all his creative energy to drawing the characters?
The cover of the album is the black background with a starry sky, and the same mechanical one-eye, but this one has more details. Maybe it is an important symbol?
There is a line of words in the lower right corner of the cover: Ashes to the Stars.
It was engraved. His fingertips brushed over the words, feeling the uneven texture, and his nerves responded with this conclusion.
Will you understand her better after reading this book?
His thoughts drifted away, and he was a little absent-minded.
A person's writings often serve as a mirror, reflecting their life experiences, core thoughts, and the spiritual world at the time of creation. This connection stems from the very nature of creation itself: words are not only a carrier of information, but also an extension of the author's inner life.
What was Schipper going through when she wrote this book at thirteen? I want to delve into her inner world—her pain, longing, hatred, and all the hidden details. I want to observe and interpret it through a multidimensional and systematic approach. Her words, actions, choices, and even unconscious habits may provide clues to understanding her.
Things she talks about over and over again, artists she's obsessed with, favorite colors, foods, and music styles.
No.
She rarely mentioned something twice. Artists... She had never revealed her preferences in this area in front of them, and he had never paid attention to them. Her favorite colors were the same as his, and her favorite foods... did she count as a non-picky eater? Did she listen to music? Did she have an alarm clock?
There are so many things I hate...if you think about it carefully, there are quite a few. If I have to pick one, it would be idiots?
The pain that had hit Hipper hadn't happened yet. She'd been able to piece together her mother's body and still joke with them without batting an eyelid. Probably not, had she? She didn't look like someone who would keep someone who had offended her overnight.
Desires and dreams... She seemed to have told Glass that she wanted to see the stars? What was this? Was it a random event?
I went through all of Hipper's information in my head and realized she was completely wrapped up in secrets. This kind of interpretation is essentially a "detective game," and it's impossible to completely recover the truth. People are much more complex than words—she might not even be aware of certain motives. So the best approach is still—
Ask her directly.
No further exploration, that's all.
I couldn't control my curiosity at all. I wanted to uncover her secrets, to get into her eyes and peek into her brain. I wanted to see what she saw and hear what she heard.
Hipper is a grand and detailed puzzle, but also a fragmented collection that needs to be carefully pieced together and restored.
He has the most patience for things that interest him, as he is professionally qualified.
"Hmm~"
Gojo Satoru placed the album on his lap, reached into the shopping bag with his left hand, took out a can of soda, opened it with one hand, and took a sip.
Peach flavor. He glanced at the packaging and took another sip.
This should be the flavor that Hipper would like. The taste is average, not as good as Coke.
By the way, with Hipper publishing this book, Mengmei should have at least some inside information, right? This little guy seems to know a lot of Hipper's secrets, but he's so secretive and refuses to reveal them. Is he afraid of being caught by another Hipper? Speaking of which...is Mengmei a little too focused on his and Hipper's affairs?
Is it planning something bad?
Just ask.
[You care so much about me and Hipper, are you planning to do something bad?]
Add a threat.
[Be careful, Hipper will catch you and put you in a dark room :-P]
A certain electronic ghost doll that never actively sends text messages and always passively replies to Gojo Satoru's questions has come online.
【Is the CP-shipping bothering you? 】
"……ha?"
Was he mistaken? Was that what he understood? Was this electronic ghost trying to connect him and Hipper?
You are the one who should be careful :-C
After all, you can't beat her.
...He just can't beat her now! Didn't he see how 28-year-old he was eating Hipper to death? She had no power to resist!
This electronic ghost is just like its producer. They are both guys who get angry as soon as they open their mouths. If they insist on making a fuss, they will be the ones who suffer. In the end, they can only swallow their anger and type with gritted teeth in hatred.
He suppressed his anger and his nails tapped on the keyboard.
[Schipper wrote a book, didn't you know?]
The electronic ghost replied very quickly.
[I know. What do you want to ask?]
[The secret of this book comes at a price, so you should think carefully]
This book is very, very important!
【Please read it first before you talk about it】
【You won't be disappointed】
This topic seemed to have opened its mouth, and text messages followed one after another, notifications sounded non-stop, and it was still not satisfied. If it hadn't received the reward it wanted, it would probably have bombarded him with text messages by now.
The fox's tail is exposed, right? He said he had no bad intentions, but now he's charging for asking a question. He's really mean, just like Schipper.
What price do you want? Tell me.
He decided that if the price was too high, he would just refuse it. He didn't really need to get an answer from it anyway.
【You go on a date with Hipper】
【If you can’t do it, die】
“…”
The word "date" on the phone screen threatened to burn a pink-purple afterimage into his retina, its edges clinging to his gaze like honey. Even the background of the chat box suddenly transformed into a series of expanding concentric ripples. The throbbing of his carotid artery echoed in his eardrums, and his knees gave way slightly, as if losing their lock. His fingers suddenly loosened, nearly dropping the phone—only then did he realize he'd been holding his breath, and the tight, burning sensation in his chest was the aftershock of his tachycardia.
His ears burned, his throat tight, as if someone had gently pinched his trachea. He blinked, trying to comprehend this unfamiliar feeling of suffocation—until his gaze fell back on the word "date" on the screen, and all his symptoms suddenly fell into place.
There was a cognitive delay in the body responding before the brain, and he finally understood slowly what this reaction meant.
“…”
It's over. I have already done something intimate that only couples can do, but now I am still shy because I see my date.
Date——
Would Hipper wear the blue dress he'd picked out? Then what would he have to wear to match it? They could hold hands and even kiss openly—at this thought, he suddenly covered his face with his hands, his ears already red. The mere thought of "kiss" made his eardrums swell, like someone setting off fireworks inside his skull. His Adam's apple rolled up and down unconsciously, and worse, his fingertips began to numb uncontrollably, blood rushed, and his whole body felt hot.
My mind suddenly flashed with inappropriate associations: her swaying waist, her drooping arms, her arched neck, the hollow of her collarbone, the tip of her tongue poking out... Stop! I couldn't think any further. I tried to restrain myself, but I couldn't stop more images from flooding in - if we really kissed, would she open her mouth obediently?
Unable to suppress his obsession with her, his body and brain honestly told him one message - he wanted to have her, to completely occupy her both physically and mentally.
[Is it too late to be shy now? ]
[Shut up! ]
My emotions were immediately calmed down by this text message.
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