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墨書 Inktalez
Marbury stood in the corner of the bar, holding a can of beer that he slowly swayed back and forth. The liquid inside reflected a dim sheen under the weak light. He hadn't actually drunk much; it was just a restless heart that kept the can moving in his hand. Leaning slightly against the cold brick wall, he maintained a distance from a group of young delinquents, his gaze wandering aimlessly. Occasionally, his eyes would fall on them as they boisterously gathered around the pool table, and he felt an inexplicable sense of powerlessness and alienation.
These boys, wielding pool cues, had no idea how to play; they merely waved them around, pretending to know how to use these tools. The pool table had long been claimed by them, with no one caring whether the balls went into the pockets or what the outcome of the game was. They were simply enjoying the feeling of holding the cues, as if that alone could make them appear cooler. The cues had become symbols in their hands, representing control, power, and even an illusory "Regal Presence."
"Check out my shot!" one of the boys shouted loudly before swinging the cue wildly without aiming at any ball. The others erupted in laughter, patting him on the shoulder as if he had actually made an impressive shot. Marbury silently observed this scene, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He understood that these people weren't real thugs; they were just playing roles they thought were "cool" and "fearless." In reality, they were merely lost kids trying to find a sense of existence in society.
Amidst their raucous laughter, the topic suddenly shifted. A few delinquents began discussing another gang that had recently been encroaching on what they considered their territory, stirring up some discontent. Those places were once their usual haunts, but now outsiders dared to provoke them, which undoubtedly irritated them. The discussion grew heated, voices rising with challenge and anger.
"Do those bastards really dare to show up in our territory?" one boy said fiercely, furrowing his brow as he swung his cue forcefully as if imagining how to teach those clueless guys a lesson. "We should go teach them a lesson so they know whose turf this is!"
Another boy immediately chimed in, "Yeah, let them know we're not to be messed with! We can rally some people and show them what we're made of!"
Marbury remained leaning against the wall, quietly watching their discussion unfold. He felt no interest in their provocations or fights; instead, he felt a twinge of helplessness. He hadn't joined this group for senseless violence but rather to get closer to the leader in his heart. He knew he was different from these boys; he couldn't truly fit into their way of life but was too afraid to show it. He could only stand aside and watch silently, caught in a contradictory emotion of longing for acceptance while feeling isolated.
In moments like this, he felt again that sense of being on the fringes—the pain of wanting to belong yet never truly fitting in. He knew he was an outsider among these delinquents, but at the same time, he realized he had nowhere else to go.
As soon as the leaders heard about the provocation, they became enraged. Their expressions turned fierce, eyes flashing with anger. One leader shouted angrily, "Damn it! They really dare to mess around in our territory! Let's show them what we can do!" His loud voice immediately drew the attention of other delinquents. Several quickly echoed him, clamoring to go "teach a lesson" to those who dared challenge them.
"Come on, Brothers! Grab your stuff! If we don't make those guys understand our strength today, they'll really think we're easy targets!" One leader gripped his cue tightly and slammed it against the ground several times with a dull thud. Turning swiftly, he hoisted the cue onto his shoulder and signaled for others to pick up their cues and follow him. The atmosphere in the bar instantly became charged as the delinquents excitedly grabbed various items in preparation for a fight.
At that moment, Marbury saw them gearing up for action and hurriedly followed along, yearning to be part of it all—this was a rare opportunity for him to prove himself to others. But as he stepped forward, the leaders suddenly turned and glared at him with disdain and contempt.
"You stay here!" one leader waved his hand impatiently, dripping with scorn. "Don't come along and make things worse; with you being such a loser, do we really have to take care of you? Just mind our stuff!"
The other thugs burst into laughter at the words, openly mocking Marbury. Some mimicked his timid demeanor, while others patted him on the shoulder in a sarcastic manner, exaggerating their voices as they said, "You just stay here and don’t go out to embarrass yourself!"
Marbury stood frozen in place, an awkward smile on his face that couldn't hide the deep sense of loss and humiliation within him. He watched as the raucous group of thugs excitedly grabbed their fishing rods and rushed out of the bar, their figures growing smaller as they disappeared down the street, leaving him alone and isolated, staring blankly at their retreating backs until they vanished around the corner.
The bar fell silent in an instant, leaving Marbury awkwardly standing in the corner, his beer long lost its flavor. He lowered his head silently, letting out a weak sigh, feeling completely forgotten in this chaotic world.
Just as Marbury sank deeper into loneliness and despair, a hoarse, chilling voice suddenly erupted from beside him, causing him to startle. The voice was low and carried an indescribable coldness and aggression that seemed to pierce through Marbury's skin and reach deep into his bones.
"Do you not feel the warmth of society? Do you not... sense the meaning of your existence?"
Marbury looked up in surprise, scanning for the source of the voice. A man dressed in a coat appeared before him, standing in the shadows not far away. The man looked unnaturally thin—his limbs long and devoid of muscle, as if his bones might break through his skin. His pale skin hung loosely like a bean skin over his frame, trembling slightly with his movements, giving him an eerie appearance. The man's face was sickly pale, with deep-set eyes that sparkled with an elusive light, hinting at some dark secret.
He forced a smile that appeared grotesquely twisted; his lips twitched as if his facial muscles were uncooperative, enhancing his already sinister aura. His voice emerged from deep within his throat—hoarse and imbued with an unsettling chill—as if each word had been dragged from a cold abyss.
Marbury was startled by this sudden man, fear coursing through him, yet curiosity and confusion filled his gaze. Who was this man? Why was he here, uttering words that pierced straight into Marbury's heart?
"Who... are you?" Marbury asked tremulously, his tone laced with unease and fear.
The man did not directly answer Marbury's question but instead slowly approached him, moving as lightly as if he had no weight at all. His gaze bore into Marbury's eyes as if he were uncovering all the secrets hidden deep within him, making Marbury feel utterly exposed and devoid of privacy.
"You do not belong here..." The man's voice resonated again, this time deeper and more seductive. "You have been abandoned, haven't you? This world... has never given you the place you deserve. You are like an expendable existence; no matter how hard you try, you will never fit in."
As Marbury heard these words, something inside him snapped. Every statement from this man struck at his soul like arrows, unveiling the deepest scars within him. He swallowed hard, feeling an indescribable chill spreading from his heart.
"You... how do you know?" Marbury's voice trembled, his eyes filled with confusion.
The man smirked, then leaned slightly forward, bringing his mouth close to Marbury's ear. His tone was low and laced with temptation. "Because... I see the darkness in your soul, and that yearning within you. You are not without value, Marbury... you just haven't found the right direction. I can help you... find true power, discover... the meaning of your existence."
These words plunged Marbury into deep contemplation. His gaze flickered as the confusion and desire within him began to intertwine. He didn't know whether to trust this strange man, but the intense allure was impossible to resist.
The man's smile twisted further, a hint of madness and evil gleaming in his eyes. "Follow me, Marbury, and I will make you... an undeniable presence."
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