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墨書 Inktalez
Faced with the self-destructive behavior of the Ghost Messenger, Xiao Mei and Shui Su, like Song Bunan, were equally perplexed. They attempted to analyze the situation but ultimately failed. Xiao Mei muttered in the group chat that perhaps he wasn't familiar with others, to which Song Bunan nodded in agreement.
"I feel like the person who called you over last night isn't very bright," Xiao Mei remarked. Song Bunan vented about the way he had been treated when negotiating terms, expressing his disbelief at having to endure such indignities. While other Ghost Messengers spoke without revealing much emotion, their words generally aligned with his thoughts; this particular individual, however, had the audacity to demand things from him without even having met.
"Be confident; this person just isn't very clever. He came to me without using his own space and spouted nonsense in my dream. He even revealed information about the underground extension of this hospital—it's impressive, really."
The three of them laughed heartily in their small group chat, dragging down the reputation of other Ghost Messengers along with it. Initially concerned about Shui Su's presence, they soon learned that he hadn't descended yet and didn't consider himself part of the so-called official Ghost Messengers.
"If Brother sees the group chat content, he'll definitely come knocking on my head," Song Bunan chuckled, catching Xin Yi's attention. The early riser handed him a cup of warm water and asked what had him so amused. Setting down his phone, Song Bunan candidly shared that his friends had informed him there were still three or four floors in the hospital that needed investigation.
"Let's first get a handle on the situation on the east side of the fourth floor," Xin Yi suggested, looking at Song Bunan. The latter nodded in understanding and confirmed that he would go investigate with Xiao Mei at seven o'clock that evening.
The daytime work devolved into a repetitive cycle of conversation as Song Bunan sat against the wall enjoying snacks he had snatched from Xiao Mei. He noticed that Lin Ling was absent from work. The other two doctors in the office had also changed faces, displaying a disinterested demeanor.
Xiao Mei's area was lively, transformed by two energetic young women who entertained themselves when there were no patients. The four of them enjoyed a cheerful atmosphere in the office. However, according to Shui Su's comments, it seemed that people at New Life Hospital were becoming restless and were trying to use such tactics to lower their guard.
"But why haven't we seen Copper Coin yet?" Song Bunan wondered as he scrutinized each patient entering the outpatient clinic that morning; none were familiar faces. Flipping through a list, he found Copper Coin's name along with Xin Yi's alias as the attending physician.
"Let's wait a bit; it's still early before closing time," Xiao Mei sent a message expressing her frustration about having worked so regularly for several days in a row, feeling both mentally and physically drained.
"When have I ever been this regular? I'm feeling awful," Song Bunan replied. As freelancers, they had initially chosen this lifestyle to escape a monotonous routine. Now, even if it was just temporarily structured, it had already taken quite a toll on all of them.
Song Bunan empathized with Xiao Mei's discomfort; usually after dream adventures, he could rest well at home. Now working at night and during the day was starting to take its toll on his body.
They continued to vent about the downsides of a regular life in their group chat, even forgetting to help Xin Yi with patient records until they felt stiff from staring at their phones. When they finally looked up to stretch, they noticed an unmistakable look of exasperation on Xin Yi's face. On the table lay a phone displaying a chat window featuring an eye-catching sticker of a rabbit swinging a carrot as if attacking someone.
"I'm really not used to this," he leaned closer and whispered an explanation, receiving an understanding nod from Xin Yi. Just then, a patient approached, and upon looking up to greet them, he recognized a familiar face.
Copper Coin sat before them looking much more haggard and weak than when they first encountered him during battle. A plain-looking woman with a gaunt face carefully handed over his medical record book—she bore six parts resemblance to Copper Coin.
From Copper Coin's condition, it was clear he no longer possessed the ability to recognize either of them. Song Bunan signaled Xin Yi to proceed with a normal examination while ignoring everything else. Meanwhile, he discreetly snapped a picture of Copper Coin's state and sent it to their group chat for Shui Su to assess what condition he was currently in.
Every question they asked was answered by the woman on their behalf. Sitting beside Copper Coin, he didn’t spare them even a glance; occasionally, he would react to a few words, but it was merely a slight movement of his head before he returned to his vacant state.
“He’s lost his soul,” Shui Su quickly replied. Song Bunan understood the meaning behind this answer. He took the opportunity to touch Copper Coin under the pretense of checking his physical condition, and he detected the familiar aura of death emanating from him, clearly sensing that what sat here was merely an empty shell.
“It seems we were overthinking this. This person was sent here not to investigate my and Xin Yi’s identities, but purely as a vessel. His soul has been absent for at least five days; there’s not a trace of life left in him.”
Xin Yi informed the woman that her son needed to be hospitalized for observation. The once dull-eyed woman instantly lost all color, as if she had withered away entirely. Her facial muscles twitched, and her lips trembled for a long time but ultimately failed to form any words. After receiving the medical record, she forced a bitter smile and sighed, “Alas… such is fate.”
The woman’s hunched back appeared even more pronounced as she left than when she had arrived, dragging along the soulless figure until the door closed behind them. Only then did Xin Yi hear Song Bunan sigh beside him, muttering about how unfortunate it was.
“Unfortunate?” He turned to look at Song Bunan, whose bright eyes held an indescribable emotion, revealing more regret than anything else.
“He’s only twenty-seven years old; just because he took a wrong turn in life, he ended up like this. From his mother’s situation, it’s clear she has worried for him over the years. Such a promising age—how can it not be regrettable?” Song Bunan often revealed a maturity that made Xin Yi feel unfamiliar, yet it was in moments like these that he remembered that this man was already thirty.
“Are you really that concerned?” During these past few days of consultations, Song Bunan had hardly shown any sentiment towards patients; at most, he would analyze their conditions. This emotional response was something Xin Yi had never witnessed before.
The one being questioned chuckled softly and shifted into a more comfortable position against the wall. In the blink of an eye, he had concealed all emotions and replied that he was merely regretting the loss of another capable person in their circle.
“To be honest, I don’t feel much about life and death separations. It’s just regrettable for the effort others have put into him. Nowadays, many families have only one child; if they’re not united in heart, it’s one thing, but for those who love deeply, it’s akin to a disaster.”
Perhaps due to the seriousness of Song Bunan's expression while saying this, Xin Yi found himself momentarily speechless. He didn’t know how to interpret those words and tried to read something from his demeanor. He saw in Song Bunan's eyes an indifferent glimmer that confirmed these words came from his genuine feelings.
“I always thought you were quite sentimental.” Their conversation was quiet enough not to draw attention from the two in front of them. After Xin Yi said this, he was met with an astonished look from Song Bunan, who smiled broadly, even causing lines to form at the corners of his eyes.
“Of course I value emotions,” Song Bunan replied. “But not towards strangers. I won’t waste my feelings on unnecessary people; sentiments are just sentiments; everything else is merely conversation material.”
Wow. Xin Yi felt surprised. He silently processed Song Bunan's words in his mind and found that his understanding of him had gained some new shades—though this time the colors were rather muted, dulling the once vivid memories.
They fell silent after that; Song Bunan noticed that his genuine emotional expression had caused some turmoil within Xin Yi and thoughtfully moved back against the wall, giving him space to digest everything.
He wasn’t speaking lightly. Over his years in this profession, he had witnessed all kinds of farewells and had even personally seen off friends and family. At first, he would cry and feel sorrow over these matters, but later he realized that all sadness ultimately only brought discomfort to himself. Departure is departure; if someone has no lingering attachments, they wouldn’t look back at those still living once they became free spirits.
However, the seemingly cold Xin Yi was actually more emotionally invested than he was, often revealing a sensitivity in his speech that left Song Bunan perplexed. In Song Bunan's understanding, someone like Xin Yi shouldn't possess such a high level of empathy. Being overly emotional would only hinder the execution of tasks.
Perhaps it was due to family reasons, Song Bunan reasoned with himself.
“Copper Coin Ward is located in the fourth room on the left side of the east wing on the fourth floor. Pay attention when you investigate tonight.” Shui Su and Xiao Mei were discussing methods to infiltrate the east wing among a larger group while sharing important details within their smaller circle.
Originally, only Shui Su was scheduled to be on duty tonight, but for some unknown reason, Xin Yi had suddenly been included as well. The doctor who delivered this news wore a smile that made Song Bunan uncomfortable; he felt there was something suspicious about that person’s gaze.
With this new arrangement, the only ones who could investigate the east wing between seven and seven-thirty were Song Bunan and Xiao Mei. Shui Su repeatedly urged them in their small group not to overexert themselves and to leave immediately if anything felt off—no waiting even for half a second.
“Although the Restriction has been broken, there are other things inside. Entering with your physical bodies could easily lead to danger.” In response to Shui Su's warnings, Xiao Mei chimed in, expressing his belief that it was unlikely they would encounter a Ghost Messenger inside.
“It’s probably filled with those enhanced Godless One, who are specially monitored. They want to be able to deploy them at any time when needed. Those individuals are indeed tough to deal with.” Song Bunan recalled his encounter in the woods with one of them, whose ruthless moves pushed him toward defeat; a moment's distraction could have led to injury.
If it hadn't been for his superior skills that time, he might have truly fallen victim to a sneak attack.
After receiving Copper Coin, the consultation room became desolate again. The two doctors seated in front of them had slumped into their chairs, lost in thought, while only Xin Yi sat expressionless at the computer, seemingly deep in contemplation. Song Bunan reflected on his earlier words and found nothing particularly difficult to understand about them.
Was he affected by it? He scratched his chin but couldn't come up with a clear answer.
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