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墨書 Inktalez
Two months later, on a weekend, Qi Luoling drove alone to the countryside to clear her mind.
She drove along a shaded path through dense forests, where the trees seemed to move with her and the car. Sunlight streamed in at an angle from the edges of the woods, casting shifting shadows, while the rarely trodden path was filled only with the soft chirping of birds.
As she passed through the layers of trees, her view suddenly opened up to an incredibly vast field, at the end of which lay another expanse of dense forest.
When she stopped the car, she realized she was in an unknown place.
There was no one around; it was very quiet, with only the distant sound of metal being struck from far away construction sites.
She opened the car door and got out, sitting down on the grass. The grass beneath her feet was slowly wilting in the autumn air, intermingling green with faint yellow.
She gazed into the distance and sighed deeply, slowly lying back on the grass. The midday sky was so clear, with a blue so transparent and clouds so dazzlingly white.
She recalled a line from "One Hundred Years of Solitude": no matter where you go, you should remember that the past is all false; memories are an endless road, and all past springs no longer exist.
At this moment, she did not want to think about anything, especially not the past; she only hoped her mind could be as open as this blue sky and white clouds, with warm sunlight shining down on her.
She stared at the sky, and everything around seemed silent. After a long time of gazing, the blue sky and white clouds lost their sense of reality and became a conceptual existence.
At the same time, in this quiet environment, her ears began to pick up sounds that seemed to be there all along. Some special sounds slowly flowed into her ears: her own heartbeat, someone else's sighs, and also piano music.
Yes, there was also piano music. As she focused on listening, that sound became clearer and clearer. Moreover, that Piano Piece was very familiar—familiar as if it were part of her own body.
To her surprise, she realized that she was listening to the melody of that Piano Piece which she had dreamt about called "Devil's Sorrow."
But where was this Piano Piece coming from?
Suddenly she saw a figure swaying in the strong sunlight not far away—faint but discernible.
She stood up and shielded her eyes from the sun. As the distant scene gradually became clearer, she saw a man playing a Black Grand Piano in the field, with sunlight casting him and the piano into a black silhouette against the bright backdrop.
Every vibrating note was like a living droplet of water, falling onto her incredibly clear heart, producing a crisp sound.
After finishing the piece, the man lifted his head.
She was surprised to find that this man was not the young Jewish man from last time, but the foreign man who had been following her since her car accident.
He stood up, hesitated for a long time in place, and finally walked in front of her.
He appeared to be in his forties, very tall, probably around six feet one inch. Standing at five feet three inches, she felt a strong psychological pressure from their height difference.
The man seemed to see through her thoughts and sat down beside her.
He did not turn his neck to look at her but instead gazed straight ahead at the fields.
To her astonishment, she noticed that the black grand piano in the field had disappeared. She rubbed her eyes; was she seeing things? Or did that piano never exist at all?
"Who are you?"
He turned his head and smiled at her.
"This question has troubled you for a long time, hasn't it?" His tone was relaxed, as if they were old acquaintances.
Qiluo Ling nodded.
"Actually, I don't know who I am either. I only know that I exist because of your existence." He turned his head away, looking lost, his eyes fixed on the fields ahead.
From the side, his eyes appeared more sunken, and his hooked nose looked more pronounced.
She became somewhat distracted by his appearance and took half a minute to regain her focus and clearly hear what he said.
"What?"
"I am just a messenger."
"What kind of messenger?"
"A messenger of Demonic Music."
Qiluo Ling frowned, finding it somewhat ridiculous. What did this have to do with her?
"My mission is to protect you until you turn 24, and then convey the message of Demonic Music to you, allowing you to smoothly become the 17th successor of Demonic Music."
She opened her mouth, speechless for a moment.
"Are you serious?"
He chuckled again, "Do you have a blue Butterfly Birthmark on your upper right arm?"
She nodded in surprise.
"That is the mark of the successor of Demonic Music, and your Butterfly Birthmark is starting to change color to red, which indicates that you have truly become the successor of Demonic Music." He continued, "The successors of Demonic Music have a special name called Uriel (Yuliel)."
Yuliel? Isn't that the name she heard before losing consciousness in the car accident? She fell silent, pondering whether this was interesting or not so interesting.
He turned his head again, gazing at her. She instinctively wanted to look away from his eyes, but his gaze seemed to have a magnetic pull, possessing a certain special charm. Her eyes could not move away from him.
He continued, "Do you know? In our Judaism, Uriel refers to the angel who governs the fires of hell. It is responsible for commanding the angels of hell, opening the gates of hell during the final judgment, and executing eternal punishments by burning those who are deeply sinful in hell. And you are that angel responsible for overseeing Demonic Music."
"Why me?"
"I already said, I am just a messenger. I can never unravel the mystery of why it is you; that mystery needs to be solved by you yourself."
"So what do I need to do?"
She stared directly into his eyes, and at that moment, a blue light emanated from his gaze. She felt everything around her begin to blur. Undoubtedly, she was being hypnotized by him.
"Your mission is to retrieve the sheet music for 'The Sorrow of the Demon.' You must find it. This is an order," he said in a commanding tone, leaving no room for negotiation.
Her mind went blank as she numbly nodded, never considering defying his command.
He smiled and nodded in satisfaction.
"I have now transmitted information about Demonic Music to you. Remember, what I say is not a story or a joke. The gods will bless you. You need to go to Shanghai as soon as possible; that's where what you're looking for is."
After saying this, he stood up from the grass and left.
She stood there, enchanted and motionless, watching his figure disappear into the dusk.
As the sky grew darker, she finally came to her senses and realized she was sitting in the driver's seat of a car, with Chopin's piano piece 'Nocturne' playing inside, its beautiful melody flowing like water.
She buried her head deeply in her arms; everything felt like a dream, as if it had never happened. But she understood that this was not a dream. Regarding the truth of it all, she decided to find out for herself.
So who am I? This Jew, that Korean—who are they? Countless questions tangled like a ball of yarn, black and white intertwined, making it impossible for her to untangle them.
Where should she start looking for answers? With no clues, she now understood one thing: all her doubts began in Shanghai.
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