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墨書 Inktalez
You ran desperately down the dark corridor, your feet pounding against the wooden floor, echoing a frantic "thump thump" that felt like the only thing you could still control. The air around you was thick and cold, wrapping around you like an invisible net, making each breath feel as if you were inhaling sharp thorns. You gasped, your lungs burning, and with every breath, it felt as though your chest was being violently torn apart.
You dashed past one closed door after another, the walls around you twisting in your vision like smeared paint. The lights flickered erratically, elongating your shadow, which seemed to be pursued by countless ghosts. You told yourself, "Run, keep running; as long as you don’t stop, you will surely escape!"
But the more you ran, the weaker you felt. Time seemed to stretch infinitely, and the corridor appeared endless, extending into an unseen distance. Your legs began to weaken, your steps faltering as if you would collapse at any moment. Yet you turned a corner and pressed on until...
The surrounding darkness suddenly vanished. You blinked in surprise as blinding light surged in, momentarily blurring your vision. Once your eyes adjusted to the brightness, you realized you were standing in a completely unfamiliar corridor, with snow-white walls and a polished floor that reflected your image. The overhead lights shone brightly and coldly, illuminating the space to a pristine state.
Your footsteps halted, your chest heaving violently as the pain in your lungs reminded you of your frantic escape, but your mind went blank. You stood there dazed, murmuring to yourself, "What... was I running from?"
Indeed, what were you running from? The more you pondered, the more absurd everything seemed. Just moments ago, fear had gripped you tightly; you had felt an urgent need to flee from something. But now those reasons seemed to evaporate into thin air, leaving only endless confusion and bewilderment.
You tried to recall why you had been running, why you needed to escape, but those memories crumbled like dried leaves at a gentle touch, turning to ash before your grasp. Instead arose a sense of futility surging from deep within you—a silent flood that completely engulfed you.
You lowered your gaze to your hands; they were damp with anxiety and trembling so much that they couldn't hold onto anything. "What... is all this effort for?" Your voice was barely above a whisper—like self-talk or a question directed at some unseen presence. But no one answered; only the white walls around you stood silently, swallowing your words without a trace.
Your heart thudded heavily in your chest; each beat seemed to remind you of an indescribable sorrow. This sorrow seeped silently into every inch of your being, leaving you suddenly overwhelmed by an unnamed fatigue—as if the meaning of running had long been lost and you were merely chasing after a goal that no longer existed.
You slowly leaned against the wall, allowing its cold surface to press against your back. Closing your eyes made your body feel heavier; the burden in your heart pressed down like a boulder on your chest, making even breathing difficult. You murmured softly, "Why... is all of this happening?"
But there was no answer—only silence, an endless silence that magnified your solitude infinitely.
Suddenly your legs gave way beneath you as if losing all strength. You slid down against the cold wall until you sat on the floor. The surface was smooth and chilly; its coldness seeped through your clothes into your skin, causing you to shiver slightly. You ran your fingers through your hair in an attempt to untangle the chaos in your mind; yet the harder you tried, the more disordered it became—like spilled ink spreading across paper, impossible to tidy up.
At that moment, you suddenly thought of her.
The woman who welcomed you into the inn—though you couldn't quite recall her name or her appearance, her figure vividly emerged in your mind, like a silhouette illuminated by light. She was so gentle, so warm, like an old friend you hadn't seen in years, or a caring family member. In your hunger and fatigue, her smile was like a warm flame, rescuing you from darkness and loneliness.
“She…” you murmured softly, the corners of your mouth involuntarily lifting, as a bittersweet sensation surged within you. Every gesture of hers seemed etched in your memory: that tender voice, the meticulous care she showed, and those eyes that looked at you as if they could embrace everything—a deep sea into which you found yourself helplessly sinking.
You tried to grasp these memories, making them your sole support in that moment. How lovely she was—you thought, feeling an indescribable flutter in your heart. She was so gentle, always softly asking what you needed, as if nurturing a lost traveler. She was so kind, preparing a warm room for you, pouring you a cup of Unsweetened Lemon Tea, all while wearing that sweet smile.
The sweet and sour feeling filled your chest, as if amidst the cold and fear of the abyss, a warm ray of sunlight had suddenly emerged. Even though you still felt exhausted, lost, and even sorrowful at that moment, just thinking of her seemed to soothe your heart with some strange emotion.
She was so wonderful… but strangely enough, within this beauty lay an unnoticeable shadow, like a fine needle pricking at the depths of your heart, making it impossible to ignore. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to cast aside this dissonant feeling, forcing yourself to immerse in the memory and her tenderness.
You lifted your head against the cold wall, gently closed your eyes with a hint of a smile on your lips, whispering: “She really… is wonderful.”
As you thought this, the bittersweet flutter in your chest gradually succumbed to the coldness. The chill came unexpectedly, like a cold snake slithering slowly up your spine until it crawled into your very marrow. You couldn’t help but hug yourself tightly, attempting to warm yourself with this feeble gesture; yet that coldness spread from within outwards and could not be dispelled.
You sighed softly, resting your head against the icy wall as an indescribable bitterness welled up inside you. “Yes… I can think about her all I want, but she’s not here,” echoed in your mind with an inescapable pain, like an unhealed wound that you kept touching.
That pain was what truly brought tears to your eyes. “Oh… when did I fall in love with her?” you quietly asked yourself, your tone laced with confusion and helplessness. It felt as if you weren’t even sure where this feeling came from; all you knew was that it had already taken deep root in your heart.
You lowered your head and raised your hand to gently bend your fingers as if counting something—counting the days spent here, counting every moment shared with her. You tried to recall; those blurry memories were like shattered glass—fragmented yet still something you endeavored to piece together.
“Two days ago…” you murmured as your fingertips glided over each finger gently bending them. “Three days ago…” then came the third and fourth fingers. You thought it should be three days ago, right? But it felt wrong. You bent your fingers again and began to ponder: “Maybe five days ago?… No, it should be longer than that.”
You furrowed your brow, trying to concentrate harder, seeking the exact answer. Your memories were like a haze, images shrouded in mist, impossible to see clearly. You counted on your fingers again, this time feeling it must have been three weeks ago… no, that was too short; it should be three months ago, yes, three months felt right.
"But… was it really only three months?" This question suddenly flashed in your mind, leaving you even more bewildered. You recalled her figure, that gentle smile, her soft inquiries, and her meticulous care. This sense of familiarity was so profound yet so elusive, as if it existed in every corner of your life but simultaneously felt entirely foreign to you.
The passage of time became elusive, as if your life here had been stretched countless times, disconnected from reality and trapped in an endless cycle. You looked down at your hands, your lips trembling slightly, wanting to say something but finding your words pale and powerless.
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