Chapter Thirty-Nine: Departure!

In the hazy realm of dreams, it was as if she had returned to a distant past.

Countless people thanked her profusely, tears streaming down their faces in gratitude; just as many hurled curses, spitting hatred and maledictions.

“Thank you for saving my family…”

“You filthy whore, you’re a demon who deserves a thousand deaths!”

“We will always support you, always stand by your side.”

“Not even death will stop me from haunting you!”

“Your life is more important than ours, please don’t let our sacrifice be in vain…”

“Do you think you’re something special? You’re just a loveless orphan, all alone, with dead parents…”

All alone…

Suzuna Tsukimiya jolted awake in bed, catching sight of Chen Zi’ang adjusting the spiritual pressure monitor.

“What’s wrong?” He turned at the noise. “You still have ten minutes, you can sleep a little longer.”

Suzuna stared at him blankly.

After a moment, she shook her head dazedly. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare.”

“It’s not an early sign of spiritual contamination, is it?” Chen Zi’ang asked with caution.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head again.

“Want a Rationality Lozenge?” He tossed her a bottle of pills.

Suzuna unscrewed the cap, placed one under her tongue. The slow-release medication, tinged with the scent of mint, soothed her considerably.

“If you feel mentally unstable, let me know anytime,” Chen Zi’ang said with concern.

“Mhm…” Suzuna nodded.

It’s all right, Suzuna—those are just nightmares. They’re all in the past.

She gazed at Chen Zi’ang, her eyes so intent, so earnest, as if she wished to imprint his image onto her soul forever.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, sensing something was off.

“No problem, senior,” Suzuna finally collected herself and spoke calmly. “Do you remember what I mentioned to you in the hot springs?”

“The reason I was able to pass Section Six’s entrance exam is because I, too, possess some mysterious… powers—similar to your ability to traverse dreams.”

As she spoke, she lifted her left arm, flicked her hand, and suddenly her shadow on the floor stood upright.

“I see,” Chen Zi’ang observed for a moment. “Shadow manipulation?”

That name sounded familiar…

“Yes.” Suzuna produced the excuse she had long prepared. “Since I was very young, my shadow has had an independent consciousness. She doesn’t die, doesn’t get hurt, understands my words, and will do anything to protect me.”

“To uncover her origins, I joined Section Six. This secret… not even my parents know. You’ll keep it for me, won’t you, senior?”

“Of course,” Chen Zi’ang replied, activating his spiritual sense and studying the shadow for a long time. “What’s your spiritual sensitivity?”

“Seventeen,” Suzuna hesitated. “Measured at onboarding.”

“I see. You must be one of those naturally high-sensitivity types,” Chen Zi’ang realized. “Most people are born with zero, but there are rare cases—individuals with a sensitivity over ten as infants.”

“Such people, even before adulthood, sometimes develop special abilities. There was once a very senior officer in the Public Security Bureau…”

He stopped abruptly.

“There was a very senior officer?” Suzuna prompted.

“They say he was remarkable,” Chen Zi’ang sighed. “Our Section Six intelligence database was built from scratch by him alone.”

“But later, he disappeared—vanished without a trace. The department suspects his sensitivity was too high, and he became so detached from reality that he simply faded away.”

“I see,” Suzuna mused.

“Don’t worry. As long as your sensitivity is below thirty, you won’t lose touch with reality,” Chen Zi’ang reassured her, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost time. Go get your gear—I’ll find Riku.”

Leaving his own room, he went to Riku Suikaze’s door and knocked.

“The thing’s by the door. Take it yourself,” came Riku’s voice from inside.

Chen Zi’ang entered and saw Riku seated with her back to the door, typing briskly on her laptop.

She had placed the old book into a special-material case by the door, inconspicuous as an ordinary suitcase on the carpet.

“Let’s go,” Chen Zi’ang said, picking up the case.

Riku didn’t turn around, merely waved a hand in farewell.

Back in the corridor, Chen Zi’ang waited a moment until Suzuna emerged from her room. Now she wore the spiritual pressure monitor, a pistol with exorcism rounds, and a heavy coat for the cold—making her look like a bumbling polar bear.

“No need for the coat yet. Put it on after we leave town—otherwise, you’ll draw too much attention,” Chen Zi’ang reminded her.

“Oh.” Suzuna turned back, quickly shed the coat, stuffed it into a bag, and brought it out—the bag conveniently covering the gun at her waist. Perfect.

They headed downstairs together, running into Mrs. Fuyutsuki, the innkeeper, who was cleaning the lobby.

“Out so late, are you?” she asked with a smile. “Did you enjoy the hot springs?”

“They were wonderful,” Chen Zi’ang replied warmly. “We wanted a walk. Is there anything interesting nearby?”

“This is an old mining town—there aren’t really any tourist spots,” Mrs. Fuyutsuki laughed, covering her mouth. “If anything, there are a few old-fashioned island-style buildings worth seeing.”

“Oh? Where are they?”

“Mostly on the southwest side of town. There’s also a shrine where the miners’ families used to pray for safety.” She thought for a moment, then added, “By the way, be sure not to enter the mine entrance. The tunnels caved in after the earthquake—it’s very dangerous.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Chen Zi’ang said, nodding, and led Suzuna away.

Mrs. Fuyutsuki watched them leave with a bright smile, then returned to her sweeping.

Once out of the inn, they set off quickly toward the southwest.

Just as the innkeeper had said, most of Hiyori Town’s residences were old island-style homes, dilapidated and worn.

Tall walls separated each home, with shallow drainage ditches at the gates. In one place, Chen Zi’ang even saw a dog hole at the foot of a wall, half-hidden by tangled weeds.

Compared to the dream-version of Hiyori Town, the real one was far more rundown—almost no lights in the houses, only the cold moonlight and a sea of stars glittering in the blackness of night.

Kant once said there are only two things that can profoundly move the human soul: the sublime moral law within us, and the starry sky above.

But unlike Kant, the deeper Chen Zi’ang gazed into these stars, the more confusion—and fear—filled his heart.

“Suzuna,” he said quietly, “be careful.”

“Mm,” she replied swiftly.

She looked ahead into the pitch-black darkness, then at Chen Zi’ang walking before her, a gentle, profound smile appearing on her lips.