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墨書 Inktalez
I strained to turn my stiff neck and looked back. I couldn't see my own back, but I could see Jack's face, streaked with tears and filled with despair.
Tears streamed down my face.
From Jack's expression, I could tell that the situation on my back was likely worse, more terrifying than what he was experiencing.
I cried, "Can you handle it?"
I was deeply worried about Jack. Of course, I wasn't in the mood to fret over his injuries; I was more concerned that his trembling hands might turn my back into a checkerboard. I feared that if he slipped up, he might stab me while trying to extract the glowing object embedded in me, using a knife.
Upon hearing my words, Jack's tears flowed even more. This was truly moving; this was where true feelings are revealed in times of hardship.
"I can," Jack replied firmly.
"I'll give you a shot of Morphine first." I certainly didn't want him to accidentally kill me in his confusion.
"No need."
Then I heard two soft pops from behind me, and it felt like two spots on my spine had the sensation of cupping being removed.
I shouted nervously, "Wait! Use my knife."
Jack's knife was effective for killing, but it would be risky for surgery. The thought of him using such a terrifying blade on my back sent chills down my spine.
I reached for the knife but then heard Jack's sobs behind me. This was distressing.
This time, it was me who was about to be cut open; my mood was already at its peak of tension and gloom. Yet there he was, not comforting me or encouraging me, just wailing away. I felt certain that this time I was doomed; in his state, he would either stab me or cause me to bleed out.
Through my tears, I tried to comfort him, "Jack, let's not cry just yet. We can cry after we deal with this stuff, okay? If I end up dying, you can mourn for me then."
Saying those words felt incredibly awkward. The odds were high that I'd die at his hands during the procedure, and here I was trying to soothe him—what a loss that felt like.
Finally, I extended the dagger behind me.
"Not at all. It's already done," Jack said.
I turned to glare at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. If it weren't for the fact that I couldn't handle this myself, I would have already punched him.
This was incredibly dismissive. I knew this procedure was complicated and disgusting, and given his current state, whether he could even complete it was questionable. But the way he was brushing me off was unbearable. From the tear-streaked expression on his face, I could tell that my situation was not looking good. Had he really been scared into silence?
Another possibility crossed my mind: perhaps there was no longer a need for the surgery. The thought sent a chill down my spine—how terrifying must my condition be?
My voice trembled involuntarily, "Is there... no hope?"
Jack nodded.
My expression froze in shock; I felt utterly defeated.
As dizziness washed over me and I felt my strength fading, I saw Jack raise both hands, each holding something the size of a jujube.
"They're beyond saving."
I stared blankly at Jack, my neck stiff from the strain.
After a moment, I managed to ask, "What about me? Am I still okay? What are you holding?"
Jack extended his hands toward me. "These are what’s on your back—these two things are beyond saving."
I stood there in a daze for a while before finally focusing on what Jack was holding. They were dark brown, resembling dried lotus pods, with a one-inch-long stem protruding from the top. Overall, they looked similar to what was on Jack's back but were only about one-tenth the size of his and were clearly withered.
In an instant, my expression shifted dramatically. A cold laugh escaped my lips.
"Jack, don’t mess with me. Do you think I would believe this?"
"You can feel for yourself if you want to know; why would I lie to you?"
As soon as I heard that, I realized I had been so scared earlier that I had completely forgotten about it. I couldn't perform surgery on myself, but I could still feel.
I reached behind my back with both hands; it was very smooth. Aside from a layer of goosebumps from the cold, there was nothing else. I focused on the spot where I had felt the suction cup being pulled off earlier. I could feel a dent, but the skin was elastic, and there was clearly no wound.
It was truly a miracle. My eyes sparkled, and I felt instantly revitalized.
"Damn it. This is too much."
Before my excitement could fade, I heard Jack's cries.
"We're all trapped by that thing, and you have no injuries while I'm covered in wounds and feeling worse than dead. What kind of situation is this?"
I looked at Jack with sympathy. Of course, I was thrilled inside; anyone would be excited after escaping such a life-or-death situation. But I didn't dare show it; that would just be pouring salt into Jack's wounds. Besides, I couldn't even muster tears; I really lacked that kind of acting skill.
I suppressed the urge to burst out laughing and gave Jack a complex expression. "You were dragged into its insides and remained in a state of unconsciousness or delirium while desperately choking me. I think it was your lack of basic resistance that gave it an opportunity."
My expression was indeed very complicated. I had to fight to hide my ecstatic feelings while also putting on a sympathetic face, which created such a stark contrast that it was impossible to unify them. I felt like a super chameleon, constantly changing—I'm referring to my expressions.
I tilted my head back to show him where he had gripped me hard.
Jack glanced at it. "I remember getting into a struggle with a nemesis; he was choking my neck too. Then two hands appeared—I only saw the hands, not the person. Those hands were slapping me hard..."
At this point, Jack stopped and touched his face, asking me, "Was it you again?"
"No," I immediately denied.
He was clearly feeling extremely unbalanced psychologically. He was already resentful about experiencing a hundred times more pain than me in the same situation, and now if I told him that his pig-like swollen face was my doing, it would surely drive him mad. Fortunately, he had truly been unconscious this time; without evidence, he couldn't prove anything against me.
"It must have been some substance secreted by that thing that caused your allergic reaction. You were dragged in there; your whole body was submerged in green liquid at the time, and your face turned purple."
Jack looked at his arm. "Then why aren't other places swollen? And my face feels hot."
I paused for a moment.
Wow, this guy's mind is surprisingly clear.
"Maybe your facial skin is more sensitive. That also means you have thin skin. Move your body a bit and see if there are any other issues besides the injuries on your back. If there’s nothing else, we need to leave quickly. We have to find some water, or we'll risk dehydration."
I quickly changed the subject.
Jack looked at me with skepticism for a moment before starting to move his limbs.
Kneeling face to face felt strange, almost like we were performing some sort of ritual. I hurriedly stood up and put on my clothes, secretly wiping away the cold sweat. This guy is quite intelligent; it’s not easy to fool him.
After a moment, Jack stood up. "I don't have any other problems; we can set off."
With that, Jack comfortably climbed onto my back.
To Be Continued.
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