Chapter 35 Midnight Subway (4) Watanabe Mie clung tightly to...
Mie Watanabe clung tightly to her younger sister Mika, as if trying to draw back the warmth she had lost over the past year.
The lights inside the carriage elongated the sisters' shadows, casting them onto the stationary passengers and making the atmosphere even more eerie.
“Sister,” Mika spoke, her voice very soft. Watashi Mie looked at Mika with a puzzled expression.
“Look at that lady in the sailor uniform,” Meijia pointed to a seat diagonally opposite her.
Following the direction Mika pointed, Watanabe Mie looked over and saw a girl with relatively clear features. She had a single ponytail, wore an outdated school uniform, and was tightly clutching a faded backpack.
Unlike the other passengers, her eyes were not completely empty; instead, her sorrow was almost overflowing.
What made Watashita Mie even more uneasy was that on the girl's neck, there was a faint, bluish-purple mark, like a strangulation mark.
“She seems very sad… Is she waiting for someone?” Watanabe Mie hesitated for a moment before asking.
“Yes.” Mika nodded and gently took Watashita Mie’s hand: “She has been waiting here for a long time, as if she is waiting for an apology or an answer, but that answer will never come back.”
Mika's words shattered the fragile calm that Watanabe Mie had been maintaining.
The answer will never come back, just as she will never get the answer to why Meijia got sick, or why fate was so unfair.
Can staying here really help me escape this unsolvable pain?
Is this really the ending I wanted?
She looked around; the motionless passengers seemed like her final resting place.
A faint fear gradually spread through Watanabe Mie's heart. She closed her eyes and subconsciously gripped Mika's hand even tighter.
"Don't close your eyes, sister." Mika leaned on Watanabe Mie's shoulder.
Mie Watanabe opened her eyes, her lips pursed, seemingly lost in thought.
"Sister, please continue watching." Meijia then pointed to the man in a suit with an indistinct face sitting opposite her.
"He has been here for over thirty years."
Following her gaze, Watanabe Mie saw that the man was still looking at the newspaper, but the newspaper in his hand had turned yellow, was brittle, and had curled edges.
The other person was like a statue, devoid of any living presence.
“Thirty years…” Watanabe Mie felt a chill run down her spine: “He’s been like this all along?”
"Like the older sister before him, he seems to be waiting for someone who will never come back, waiting and waiting."
"Gradually, it became like this, almost motionless, and rarely showing any fluctuations in consciousness."
Mika's voice made Watanabe Mie waver slightly. Was this the fate of those left behind? Becoming an empty shell without a soul, would even the obsession to wait be worn down?
"Will I become like that too?" Watanabe Mie's voice was somewhat lost and sad.
Mika didn't answer Watashi Mie's question immediately, but silently tightened her grip on her hand, and then gently said, "Look out the window, sister."
Watanabe Mie looked out the window; outside, it was still an endless expanse of darkness.
But this time, in the darkness, she seemed to see some blurry fragments of light and shadow flashing by quickly.
Those were like fragments of other people's memories, fleeting like a meteor in the darkness, leaving only brief traces.
“These are…” Watanabe Mie was stunned.
“It’s the fragments of memories that eventually dissipate from those who choose to stay on the train,” Meijia explained. “These are one of the fuels that keep this subway running; it consumes passengers’ time and also consumes memories and obsessions.”
This sent a chill down Watanabe Mie’s spine; the subway train felt like a giant monster slowly digesting souls.
She chose to voluntarily jump into its stomach.
"I..." Watashita Mie opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came out.
Mika seemed to see through her struggle. She nuzzled her head against Watashita Mie's shoulder, like she was pouting when she was a child: "Sister, no matter what choice you make, I will always be with you, until... the very last moment."
The voices from the US and Canada carried a resolute determination.
These words brought tears to Watanabe Mie's eyes again, and she hugged her younger sister tightly.
Meanwhile, in another carriage, the atmosphere became somewhat tense.
Ye Zang tilted his head, his iris-colored eyes narrowing slightly: "So you just don't have my memories?"
Zhu Yi leaned against the cold carriage wall, his wine-red pupils slightly constricted, and all the muscles in his body tense.
What exactly did the other person mean by what they said?
Could it be that I have lost not only Yozo's memories, but also other missing memories?
He tried hard to recall, but his mind was shrouded in a thick fog. Apart from the relatively clear experiences of the past few months after his transmigration, his earlier memories—about being a college student before he was killed by the ghost story—were all he could remember.
Although he knew subconsciously that it existed, he couldn't recall it no matter what he tried; it was shrouded in a hazy mist, and the details were blurry and unclear.
He initially thought this was just a normal phenomenon resulting from time travel, but now it seems...
"It seems not." Ye Zang didn't need Takeichi's answer; he drew the conclusion from Takeichi's blank eyes.
He suddenly leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching, his warm breath brushing against their skin, carrying an indescribable danger.
"Poor Takeichi."
"Like a piece of white paper that has been wiped almost clean, leaving only the false traces I drew on it." Ye Zang smiled, his finger lightly touching his temples. In the depths of his iris-colored eyes, something seemed to be surging wildly. Zhu Yi felt his head start to ache again.
Do you still like the peaceful and tranquil past I wove for you?
"You, knitted this?" Zhu Yi covered his head in pain, his lips turning pale.
Were all his identities before he died fake? Including family, classmates, friends...?
"Otherwise what?" Ye Zang chuckled softly. Zhu Yi felt the sounds around him become harsh and distorted, as if countless sounds were overlapping and echoing, polluting the mind.
"Why do you think you were lucky enough to escape that hell, to escape that... script that keeps repeating itself, that script called tragedy, that you're watched by their eyes, that you're used as a playground by countless players?"
The amount of information revealed in Yozo's words was enormous and terrifying.
Zhu was initially unable to think; he felt a wave of dizziness: "Hell... script... player?"
These words assaulted his consciousness, and fragmented memories gradually unraveled.
“Yes, a terribly bad, third-rate script.” Yozo’s tone was filled with annoyance and mockery. “And I am the protagonist, imprisoned by the script, destined for a tragic life. And you…”
His gaze fell on Zhu Yi's face, carrying a complex emotion that mixed jealousy, dependence, and a certain destructive urge.
"You are the only one who has appeared in different forms throughout my countless reincarnations, witnessing my ugliness and wretchedness... Takeichi."
“We tried to rebel, we tried to destroy everything, we tried to escape.” Yozo’s voice became ethereal, as if he had entered a memory: “But I found that as the ‘core’ of this fragile world, I cannot truly leave. The external pollution has become too deeply entangled with my essence, and to leave would mean complete collapse.”
"Destroying the world... that's just bringing the end to the play early, and then everything is reset again, and the cycle begins again."
He spoke calmly, but Zhu Yi sensed the despair and suffocation in his words—a deep-seated sense of powerlessness after countless failures.
“So,” Zhu Yi’s voice was a little hoarse, “the system and the abilities…”
“It was I who used the power of the [Book] to open a crack for you.” Ye Zang took over his words, his eyes refocusing, with a kind of almost insane obsession and fixation: “I sent you away, cut off most of your connection with that world, wove a seemingly reasonable memory for you, and gave you a tool to survive in the outside world.”
"That so-called system."
"The ghost stories you collect are essentially drawing energy from other worlds to maintain the existence of our world, which is on the verge of collapse, and to delay the time when it will be completely assimilated or ruined."
"Ha." Zhu Yi covered his face mockingly, the truth washing over him like ice water.
He thought he was a time traveler chosen by fate, possessing a unique cheat ability, but he never expected that he was a "battery" that was being used and exiled.
The energy he gained was used to nourish his terminally ill homeland with anomalies from other worlds.
"Why me?" Takeichi quickly calmed down. Why did Ye Zang choose him to escape? Why was he chosen to take on this mission?
Ye Zang stared at him quietly for a few seconds. Even through the blurry face, Takeichi sensed an extremely complex and almost sorrowful emotion.
But it was instantly replaced by a twisted, malicious laugh: "Because... you are Takeichi."
This answer is ambiguous, full of Yozo's ambiguity and evasiveness.
Yozo-shiki, it seems he once made a complaint about this?
Ye Zang avoided Zhu Yi's gaze: "Perhaps it's because, in all the constantly resetting cycles, only your existence is relatively independent and has the possibility of being separated."
“Or…” He leaned closer, his voice low and seductively malicious: “It’s just because I don’t want to be trapped in that eternal nightmare alone. I have to pull someone else along, or rather, create a fellow traveler who is also burdened with the curse like me?”
"Ugh..." Ye Zang let out a suppressed groan of pain, suddenly took a step back, covered his face with his hands, and seemed to have a strange aura emanating from between his fingers.
“Mental pollution.” Zhu Yi unconsciously uttered Ye Zang’s current condition, his wine-red eyes looking at him without the slightest ripple.
"How annoying, Takeichi, the look in your eyes." Yozo placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, his voice carrying a hint of unconscious pain and exhaustion, but he tried to cover it up with a cheerful and self-deprecating tone: "Look, I even have a hard time maintaining a stable form for a long time."
"So, Takeichi."
"Don't think about exploring the past, it won't do you any good. What you need to do now is make good use of the system I gave you and collect as much energy as possible."
"This is for the sake of the world you have long forgotten, and also for your own sake. If that world completely collapses, do you think you, as someone who came from there, can remain unscathed?" Ye Zang tightened his grip on Takeichi's shoulder slightly.
His words were mostly warnings and half threats.
Zhu Yi lowered his eyes, feeling as if his thoughts had been torn in two. One half was Zhu Yi, whose mind had been corrupted by the world's lack of moral boundaries, and the other half was Zhu Yi as a human being.
He was plunged into immense confusion and shock.
All her long-held beliefs were overturned, her identity was confused, the task was heavy, and she was afraid of Yozo, who was a complex and dangerous person who was both her savior and the source of her curse. All sorts of emotions were intertwined.
“We’re almost at the next stop.” Ye Zang seemed to have recovered, lowered his hand, and looked out at the darkness: “This place feels a bit like a low-budget version of our world. It’s filled with obsession and stagnant time, giving me a nauseating sense of familiarity.”
He turned to Zhu Yi, his iris-colored eyes flashing with a strange madness, but his tone remained calm and gentle. However, his words sent a chill down Zhu Yi's spine: "However, for you, it might be a good hunting ground? After all... the quality of the nutrients here doesn't seem too bad."
“I won’t hurt anyone else,” Takeichi said.
Ye Zang looked at him with her iris-colored eyes, as if she had expected it: "Ah, just as I thought."
“But, Takeichi. You want to see me summon such a high-level ghost story? Are you sure you can control it? From the moment you summoned the ghost story, you’ve been completely on my side.” Yozo said happily, his eyes curving gently.
"We were accomplices."
"Even if you possess an identity and moral values that I have created for you."
"But my subconscious still leans towards me."
"We're still good friends, right?" Ye Zang smiled and leaned closer, her voice soft as she guided Zhu Yi. The words "good friends" were uttered gently by the other person, but there was no hint of a smile in her iris-like eyes.
"Is that right?" he asked again, gently touching the other person's hand.
Zhu Yi did not answer.
Just then, the train trembled slightly, as if it had passed a certain point.
Yozo's figure became somewhat illusory.
"This makeshift passage is still quite unstable." Ye Zang's voice became somewhat weak: "It seems we can't stay here for too long."
He looked at Zhu Yi, who had remained silent, and said with an unmistakable sincerity, "Live well, Zhu Yi. At least while you still have value. Don't forget, the energy you absorb is related to the survival of that world, and also to the anchor of your own existence."
After he finished speaking, his figure began to fade and gradually disappear.
Before disappearing completely, his lips seemed to move, leaving behind a final whisper.
"We will meet again, at the next turning point in the story."
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Author's Note: Ughhhhh, the deadline is here! I'll probably add another chapter tonight!
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