Chapter 109: Smile a Little More |
"It shouldn't be like this..." The bubble beside Miles's head continued to relay his thoughts.
He rested his chin on one hand, sinking into deep contemplation.
"Even if this is a memory scene, the scene in Mr. Stage's memory shouldn't be like this either."
"The human brain polishes memories of past events, and even if something is blurred, it should fill in the gaps with memories from elsewhere."
Not to mention that this scene was created by him through his extraordinary ability.
Even if not everyone had their own personality or their own persona, they should at least be spirited enough not to be seen through so easily.
"Then there's only one conclusion..."
Miles had an inkling and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, a trace of pity had crept into his gaze.
Whether for public or private reasons, he had no justification for letting Samuel go.
But after a hundred years of calming his heart, he no longer had any desire to confront Samuel.
Not being able to defeat him was one thing, but his heart truly had settled.
Faced with this kind of situation, what he felt most was regret.
With that thought, Miles took another step, bypassed the square in front of the shops, and walked into the mall.
The mall was huge, much larger than he had imagined.
It had several floors.
He strolled around casually, going from the first floor to the fourth, then from the fourth back to the second.
Unsurprisingly, he saw that the people inside were all going about their normal business in a perfectly ordinary way.
Their movements were normal, their actions were normal, every move they made was logical.
But...
They all wore identical smiles on their faces, and every action seemed pre-arranged.
Standing by a window on the mall's second floor, Miles looked down from above at the only person on the square with a lively expression, performing energetically. His eyes were filled with complex emotions.
He raised his left hand and lightly knocked three times in the air.
Knock knock knock...
A sound like knocking echoed out, and the performer's movements suddenly froze.
He looked around in slight bewilderment at the gathered onlookers, as if just waking from a dream, finally realizing there was something wrong with the people around him.
He stood there dumbly, his eyes wide open.
Then, he lowered his head, as if thinking about something.
Miles withdrew his gaze from the second floor, not wasting any more time.
He reached up and touched his chest, sensing the spiritual energy reserves within his body.
The rule of this "game" was that he had to break Samuel's Law before his spiritual energy ran out.
He decided to cast a wide net.
He would find all the "base points" of this memory first before deciding which one to attack with focus.
Of course, if one of them happened to collapse on its own during his search, that would be good too.
Then, he disappeared once more.
For the next period of time.
He passed by several houses in succession and entered several rooms.
He saw a boy sitting on a sofa, a young person standing by a window, a man standing in a park...
Among them, the youngest boy seemed to be having a birthday party, but everyone around him wore identical smiles, their movements like a pre-rehearsed stage play.
Friends... classmates... neighbors... parents...
The boy was completely unaware, lost in his own fantasy.
This was the most immature of the base points, seemingly not even an adult yet.
Then there was the slightly older young person. He stood by the window, his body swaying, as a withered, massive hand reached in from outside, trying to pull him down.
He also saw an even older young man sitting alone in an empty room, but dark shadows lingered faintly all around him, each seeming to want to kill him.
And there was a man alone in the park, waiting for something unknown. But the houses around him, the sky above him, and the ground beneath his feet had all sprouted eyes, watching him.
Miles could tell that this was probably some kind of sequence.
Among them, the one that looked the most immature revealed a terrified expression after Miles dispelled the fog of illusion.
He had the strongest reaction of all the base points.
But that was to be expected, since he was the youngest.
Watching that base point huddle miserably in a corner, clutching his head, surrounded by family and friends who kept comforting him but wore identical expressions, Miles felt more complex emotions than ever.
He stayed in this area the longest, but it was only a few minutes.
Soon, he left again.
He didn't need to do anything; he only needed to let them break through the illusion and clearly see this world.
For ordinary people, knowing the truth like this would basically break them. He didn't need to do or say anything.
Everything a person experienced from childhood to adulthood was pre-arranged—who they would meet, who they would talk to, what achievements they would have.
Why they succeeded, why they failed—all of it was pre-arranged.
Even their friends, family, neighbors, and loved ones...
Were all pre-arranged, controlled puppets.
He wasn't in a hurry to attack those base points directly. First, he would pierce through the falsehood and let them see the truth.
This was a small trick he was used to using.
First, wear down a person's spirit, then target them later.
Soon, he found the last base point.
In this steel-and-concrete jungle of towering buildings, rain fell in a steady drizzle.
Inside a living room of one of the units in a large building, the lights were on. Even though it was raining, the window was open.
A young man stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, reaching out his hand and lightly tapping on the glass.
His resemblance to Samuel Gavris was nearly zero, but the feeling he gave off was very similar, whether it was his temperament or his cheeky, grinning expression.
Back then, he was still called "Wu Lang."
Behind him, the shadow on the sofa flickered slightly, and a figure appeared there, silently sitting down on the couch.
It was Miles again.
He had arrived at the final area.
For now, he had briefly detached himself from the memory, observing the "Wu Lang" not far away.
Was this the person who left the deepest impression in Mr. Stage's memory?
He pondered inwardly.
He didn't connect the "Wu Lang" before him to Samuel himself.
Although both of them felt very similar to him, he more regarded the person before him as "one of the people who influenced Samuel the most" and didn't think of him as "Samuel himself."
He glanced at "Wu Lang" by the window, then looked around the living room.
Just then, "Wu Lang" by the window moved.
"Ah, it's raining. Seriously, always likes to create atmosphere with things like this," he said, looking at the rainy weather, his tone light.
"Honestly, I'm in a pretty good mood, though." He rested one hand on his hip, the other touching the glass in front of him.
This wasn't Liastanian; it was Chinese, which Miles unconsciously took as "alien language."
But Miles could understand it.
Because in the world of consciousness, whatever language Samuel knew would directly translate into Miles's mind.
Very convenient.
Miles watched "Wu Lang," watching him lift the hand that had been touching the glass. His fingertips tilted upward at an angle, pointing toward the sky through the glass. He pursed his lips slightly and hummed a nameless tune under his breath.
As the tune hit a small turn, his finger flicked upward, as if pulling something.
Then the dark clouds were torn apart, the rain stopped, and a rainbow appeared.
"Don't look so glum either," he said with a smile, looking at the sky, his tone gentle.
Then, he turned around, looking toward the sofa, his gaze landing on Miles, who shouldn't have been detectable.
He tilted his head and said with a smile:
"You too—smile a little more."