Ye Cang gazed intently into his deep eyes, feeling as though he could see an entire inverted galaxy swirling within them.
“I…
don’t know,” the young man hesitated slightly.
At the end of the day, he was just an unlucky bastard dragged into this world for no reason.
Whether this world lived or died had nothing to do with him.
He hadn’t even played the beta test, so he harbored no particularly deep attachment to the characters of this game world.
Even the only two familiar faces—Uncle Welt and Himeko—merely carried irrelevant memories from his past life as an old Captain.
“Love me, love my dog”—that was about the extent of it.
Now, an Aeon calling himself “Mr.
Yue” stood before him, tossing the question back into his lap.
He was asking him—were he willing to become an unsung hero to save a world that had nothing to do with him?
Damn it!
If he said no, could this guy actually send him back to his original world?
“Of course.” As if seeing right through Ye Cang’s thoughts, Mr.
Yue slowly turned his head.
Upon his delicate, beautiful face, his eyes glowed with the luminescence of molten lava.
What an aloof, divine pair of eyes!
Mysterious, powerful, confident, sharp, all-powerful!
“I will send you back to your original world, and then attempt to find a solution on my own.” “And if I ultimately fail, I will reboot the world once more!” The man clenched one fist and spoke with firm, resounding certainty.
His tone was as casual as if stating a self-evident fact, or as if his words were the sole truth of the cosmos.
Ye Cang stared at him blankly, feeling somewhat moved by the man’s emotion.
“Why?
Aren’t you an outsider too?
What does the fate of this world have to do with you?” Mr.
Yue smiled faintly.
“Of course it matters.
My wife and child are here.
You tell me what it has to do with me.” Then his smile vanished.
Rolling up his right sleeve, he exposed his right arm—covered in a dense web of pitch-black cracks—to Ye Cang’s gaze.
In a low voice, he said, “Besides, as you can see, I’ve already been infected by the Dread Calamity.
If the current me returned to my original world, that entire realm—my loved ones, my children, my friends…
everything I hold dear—would be destroyed by the corruption I carry.” “So, do you understand now?
I am not noble; I simply have no choice.” “Before becoming whatever Aeon of this world, I am first a father, a husband, a guardian of a world, and the king of a nation.” “But you are different from me, Ye Cang.” Mr.
Yue let his hands fall, his sleeves once again concealing the cracks on his arms.
The divine light in his eyes dimmed slightly.
“You still have the chance to choose, and I should return that right of choice to you.” “To stay or to leave…
make your choice, child.” Ye Cang opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but felt a heavy tightness in his chest, as if a lump were stuck in his throat.
Under the intensely built atmosphere, all his thoughts dissolved into mist.
Only after a long silence did he manage to squeeze out a sentence: “If I stay here, what about my parents back in the real world?
And I have a little sister twelve years younger than me…” Hearing this, Mr.
Yue looked deeply at him and said slowly, “Whenever you wish, you can actually go back…
assuming, of course, that you come to understand what the Dread Calamity truly is.” “Saving this world and caring for your parents are not mutually exclusive.
It’s just that the format may exceed your expectations.” Ye Cang’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean?” “You will find out.
Now, I must be on my way.” Mr.
Yue turned around slowly, standing with his hands behind his back.
He spoke softly, “Prolonged contact with Path concepts at the Aeon level will leave an indelible mark on you.
Before you are assimilated by my Path, I need your answer.” Ye Cang took a deep breath, hesitating no longer.
He gave a firm nod.
“I will stay.” “Very good.
I hope you won’t regret your choice.” Still without turning back, Mr.
Yue snapped his fingers.
A dark green mailbox materialized out of thin air in the corner of the Parlor Car, its shape resembling a tin frog standing silently with its mouth slightly agape.
“What’s this?” Ye Cang asked, confused about what the man was pulling now.
“Your personal spatio-temporal mailbox.
It has only one function: to receive letters sent to you from the past by me.
I’ll share intelligence with you from time to time, but don’t hold out too much hope.” “Of course, you can also use it to contact me.
However, mailing a letter backward through time consumes a massive amount of temporal energy.
You can only send one letter a month—remember that!” Having finished, Mr.
Yue raised his arm and gave a subtle wave with his back turned to Ye Cang, offering a farewell.
“I’ll take my leave first.
See you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow,” Ye Cang waved back.
Before he could even finish speaking, the figure in snow-white robes had completely vanished into thin air, as if fading directly into the void.
Everything bloody and grotesque inside the carriage vanished along with his departure, erased as if wiped away by an eraser, leaving the room once again neat, clean, and elegant.
Outside the window in the starry sky, the calamity-infested train running parallel to the Astral Express had disappeared as well, along with the corrupted husk of the Lord of Elation inside the carriage.
Aha was gone too, leaving without so much as a goodbye or a prankish joke.
Everything felt surreal, as if it had never occurred in reality.
Ye Cang felt his body go limp, sinking heavily into the sofa beside him.
Beside him, a pink-and-white-haired girl wearing a blue-and-white sailor outfit slowly opened her eyes, gazing around in complete confusion.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Ye Cang crossed his legs, resting the Death Note on his knees, and began jotting down everything that had happened.
As his pen moved, he didn’t forget to tease the cute girl who had frightened him out of his wits earlier.
Especially the scene where Aha served March 7th’s head on a platter—it had nearly scared him to death on the spot.
It was only thanks to Ye Cang’s formidable mental fortitude and near-numb tolerance for pain; otherwise, in the previous cycle, he would have broken down long before reaching the end.
“Sleeping Beauty?
What’s that?” March 7th blinked, her lips pouting slightly with annoyance.
“Ha!
I get it!
You’re making fun of me for sleeping in, aren’t you?” Ye Cang stopped writing, looked up at the cute girl before him, and asked softly, “Do you…
not remember anything?” March 7th paused.
“You mean…
I forgot something important?” “No, it’s nothing.” Ye Cang smiled, pulled back his gaze, and resumed writing.
She lowered her head, brow furrowed in thought.
Then, noticing her slightly disheveled clothes, her eyes suddenly flew wide open.
“Ye Cang, you didn’t do anything weird while I was asleep, did you?!” “How could I?
Do I look like the type to take advantage of someone?” As Ye Cang spoke, the smile on his face froze, and his writing arm stiffened in mid-stroke, leaving a long ink smear across the page of his Death Diary.
He whipped his head up, his breathing heavy, his eyes locked onto the fuming March 7th.
Word by word, he asked, “What…
did you just call me?” “Ye…
Ye Cang?
W-What’s wrong?” March was clearly startled by his sudden, intense reaction.
Her body recoiled into the sofa, her hand patting her chest lightly.
Ye Cang took a deep breath, that spine-chilling sensation washing over him once again.
March 7th shouldn’t know this name.
In the memories of the Astral Express crew, his name should be [Cang]!
What was going on?
Had he still not escaped that calamity cycle?
And what about “Mr.
Yue’s” existence?
What about the four Aeons in the Interstice of Paths?
He clutched his head tightly with both hands, veins bulging on his forehead, his eyes bloodshot.