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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Three
"When I returned home, everything seemed to have returned to normal, but it felt like this was just the beginning."
Dawn hung over the city like a worn-out rag, feebly wiping away the heavy haze that cloaked the skyline. The grayish light filtered through the fogged-up windows, barely illuminating my messy room. Dragging my leaden legs, I stumbled to the front door, each step a struggle as my bones protested, as if I had just endured a brutal fight.
The key slid into the lock with a faint "click," a sound that pierced the silence of the early morning. I pushed the door open, and a familiar musty smell mixed with a hint of sandalwood rushed at me. After that strange night in the graveyard, this scent oddly brought me a sense of comfort, like a drowning person grasping at a straw.
"What on earth? Why does it smell so musty?" I murmured as I fumbled to turn on the light. The dim yellow glow illuminated the room, revealing everything as it had been when I left: books scattered across the floor, mountains of dirty laundry, leftover takeout boxes… They silently accused me of my chaotic life and evoked an indescribable sense of strangeness, as if I were trapped in a dream that felt both familiar and distant.
My gaze involuntarily fell upon the old Antique Wooden Cabinet, the one whose glass had shattered suddenly last night. My heart lurched as if an invisible hand had tightened around it, making it hard to breathe. "No way..." I muttered to myself, an ominous premonition washing over me.
I walked slowly toward the Antique Wooden Cabinet, each step feeling like walking on cotton—light yet unbearably heavy. My breathing quickened; my throat felt constricted and dry.
With trembling hands, I reached out toward the Antique Wooden Cabinet, my fingertips almost brushing against its smooth glass surface. With a soft "thud," a drop of cold sweat slid down my forehead and landed on the cabinet, creating a small water stain.
Finally, my fingers touched the glass.
Intact.
I widened my eyes in disbelief at what lay before me. The glass on the cabinet was completely unharmed, without a single crack—just like… just like everything from last night had been nothing but a nightmare.
I rubbed my eyes vigorously to confirm that I wasn’t mistaken.
The glass was truly restored.
"How… how is this possible?" A wave of dizziness washed over me as if the entire world were spinning. Last night, I had clearly seen the glass shatter; sharp shards had scattered everywhere, and I had even cut my finger on one of them—the piercing pain still vivid in my memory. But now, the glass was whole again, and there were no traces of shards on the floor, as if… as if nothing had ever happened.
Could it be… could everything that happened last night really have been just a figment of my imagination?
I began to doubt myself, to question my mental state. Stumbling, I made my way to the mirror and gazed at my haggard reflection: sunken eyes, unshaven face, pale complexion—like… like a corpse.
I reached out and touched my face; the icy sensation sent a shiver down my spine.
No, this isn’t an illusion! Everything from last night truly happened! I vividly remembered that bone-chilling cold, those low whispers, and that… that eerie scent of sandalwood.
But how could the shards of glass have restored themselves?
Could it be… could there really be some mysterious force controlling all of this?
The thought sent chills down my spine, making me feel as if invisible eyes were watching me from the shadows, monitoring my every move.
I forced myself to calm down, taking a deep breath in an effort to steady myself. I sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag; the taste of nicotine helped me relax just a bit.
I began to recall everything that had happened last night, trying to find some clues within the chaos.
Suddenly, I remembered that mysterious voice. “Do you really know you’re wrong?” The voice was deep and hoarse, carrying a chilling undertone as if it came from the depths of hell, yet it echoed right beside me.
Who was that voice?
Could it be… could it truly be the Ancestors speaking to me?
The thought sent another wave of chills through me, causing the cigarette butt in my hand to drop onto the carpet, leaving a charred mark.
I suddenly stood up and walked to the window, pulling the curtains wide open to let the sunlight pour in. The warm rays bathed me, dispelling some of the fear in my heart, but also deepening my confusion and unease.
Could it be... am I the only one experiencing all of this?
I took out my phone and dialed my friend, Zhang Qiang. "Hello, Zhang Qiang, it's me, Li Ming." My voice trembled slightly.
"Li Ming? Your voice sounds strange. What happened?" Zhang Qiang's tone was filled with concern.
"I... I encountered something weird... Can you come over to my house?"
"Weird? What kind of weird?"
"I can't explain it over the phone... You'll understand when you get here..."
"Alright, I'll be there soon."
After hanging up, I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, gulping it down in one go. The cold liquid slid down my throat, bringing me a bit of clarity.
I returned to the window, looking down at the street as I waited for Zhang Qiang to arrive. I needed someone to talk to; I needed help analyzing what was happening... I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down.
"I hope... I hope Zhang Qiang can give me some answers..." I murmured to myself, filled with anxiety and fear.
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