【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 376 [Empire] The Subconscious is the Abyss

When I walked out of the house and saw two soldiers standing guard at the door, one on each side, I was speechless. Although I had long known that I had become a key target of military surveillance, seeing this scene with my own eyes still made me feel an indescribable sense of awkwardness and powerlessness.

The two soldiers, expressionless, dressed in standard uniforms and standing erect, were clearly no ordinary guards. Their gazes fixed fixedly ahead, without extraneous movement or words, yet a silent, oppressive presence lingered. I deliberately slowed my pace and offered a tentative glance, but they didn't even lift an eyelid, seemingly ignoring my presence.

"Okay..." I sighed helplessly in my heart and could only leave quickly.

Thankfully, they didn't follow me to school. Perhaps it was because I didn't bring Miyou with me, or perhaps it was because the school's security was sufficient to reassure the military. Even so, the discomfort lingered. My back seemed to be constantly shrouded in those two pairs of gazes.

Today, for some reason, the projection of the environmental simulation system seems particularly messy.

The once orderly cityscape has been replaced by a wasteland-like chaos—the facades of high-rise buildings are peeling, power lines are dangling, and billboards on the streets are flickering with broken lights. Some areas even simulate abandoned vehicles and broken roads, looking particularly desolate.

"This is just a wasteland wind..." I muttered to myself, stepping over a piece of virtual "gravel." Although I knew it was just a projection, the feeling of desolation and desolation was still heavy.

However, I knew this was simply a matter of covering up last night's mishaps. Now that the problem had been resolved, the citizens no longer needed to panic.

The pedestrians along the road seemed even more hurried than usual, as if the entire city was shrouded in some indescribable tension. This might be the aftermath of yesterday's "Black Candle Crisis." Even though the crisis has been resolved, the city is still recovering.

I tightened my backpack around my shoulders and headed for school. Even though I didn't want to admit it, I knew deep down that this kind of "focus" wouldn't go away in the days ahead.

The school classrooms remained as quiet as ever, a slightly subdued and solemn atmosphere within them, as if everything were operating smoothly. However, I could occasionally hear the sounds of repairs outside the window; the restoration of those houses was quietly underway. With the pace of reconstruction, the city would gradually return to its former state. And it would surely happen much more quickly than even an "ancient person" like me could imagine.

The teacher quietly explained the course content at the podium, his tone flat and every word insignificant. The students sat at attention, though some seemed distracted, their eyes occasionally drifting to the window, a hint of confusion or contemplation in their eyes. It all seemed like an ordinary, everyday routine. Only the chaotic sounds of repairs outside gave any hint of what had happened last night.

I don't know much about the treatment of the wounded. Last night's battle may be over, but the scars it left are still deeply etched in everyone's mind. Though the mercenaries acted swiftly and decisively, there were still many casualties. I didn't linger long at the makeshift command post. It seemed everyone except the decision-makers was busy tending to the wounded and reporting on the battle situation. I even saw a few unusual new women, seemingly battlefield healers. Green energy condensed into beams, caressing the wounded. The technique was expert.

I thought for a moment, lost in thought, when I suddenly realized that whether the wounded were properly cared for had little to do with me. After all, I wasn't a member of the military, merely a mercenary caught in the middle of this storm. My duty was to complete the mission, receive my reward, and perhaps, at some unforeseen moment, provide assistance to someone. That, in itself, had nothing to do with me. My personal mercenary merits, however, had arrived promptly. This was a special operation, and my personal profile had even included a virtual medal, unique to this operation, under the mercenary level column. It was a cute wax bear in a round wooden frame.

It was the bear in Miyou's arms. It was so lifelike that anyone who saw it would instantly recognize the significance of this medal.

The words on the laptop seemed to become increasingly blurred, and my thoughts drifted away. My past life was like a peaceful river, flowing away naturally.

I suppressed a sigh and continued to look at my notes, but I still couldn't focus. Everyone was accepting this world and adapting to this order in their own way. And I...

The evening streets were still bustling. The taverns on Mercenary Street were filled with rich aromas, low voices, and the crisp clink of glass. I leaned against the tavern window, gazing out at the dim streetlights, my eyes hazy, a glass of wine in my hand. The wine resembled a sweet beverage, yet it had a pungent, tree-sap-like aroma. It was lightly sweet at first, then quickly spread with a pungent, piercing heat. The flavor seemed to match my current state of mind: complex and irresistible, it made me want to take another sip.

My eyes involuntarily fell on the green ivy vine on my wrist. The slender vine coiled around my arm, as if it were my only companion in this world at this moment. It grew quietly, clinging to me without worry, while I felt like I was trapped in some unknown vortex, lost.

"Green Rose..." I whispered softly, my voice almost drowned out by the loud music in the bar. "Tell me, is there anyone in this world as lost as me?"

My voice trailed off, as if I were speaking to it, pouring out my inner confusion. I didn't know when it started, but I began to constantly ask myself, what was all this all about? I'd been transported here, into a world I couldn't fully control, wandering aimlessly through it, only to find that I'd never truly lived for myself. Every decision, every action, seemed not to belong to me—they were made for someone else, or at least, seemingly for someone else.

"From the last time I traveled through time until now... I've been fighting tooth and nail every day for things that don't even belong to me." I put down my glass and gently stroked the vine with my fingers. It trembled slightly under my fingertips. "It's obviously none of my business. It's not my life at all."

I fell into silence, like I was trapped in an ever-spinning maze. Every time I thought I had found the exit, I would be stuck by a new problem or responsibility, unable to move forward or even turn back.

I let out a wry smile and took a sip of the wine. The pungent flavor assaulted my taste buds again, making me frown slightly. Yes, life is like this, bitter and a little spicy. There are always people striving forward, while others stagnate in confusion. What can I do?

The streets outside were still bustling with activity. Mercenaries, their equipment, missions, and often their weary hearts, journeyed through every corner of this city that never sleeps. Inside the tavern, the bar owner chatted with the regulars, while I, still in my own little world, seemed completely out of place.

"Perhaps," I said softly to the green ivy, "I should also learn from it and go with the flow, no longer resisting or clinging."

The vine didn't seem to respond, but it still wrapped around me tightly, as if telling me that no matter what time, I was still not alone.

This glass of wine seemed to have infused me with some kind of strength, and also seemed to have allowed me to see myself more clearly. I may never have the so-called perfect answer, but at least...

I took another sip of wine. The city lights outside the window began to light up. The world under the night sky was still bustling and deserted. I was lost in it, but I also began to accept this loss.

My eyes drifted to the street corner outside the bar. There, Nightingale stood shoulder to shoulder with a burly, well-dressed man, whispering something. The man was a powerful figure, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore a long, fitted black coat, the cuffs slightly turned up, revealing the delicate gold lining. He looked clean-cut and tough. However, what caught my attention most was the expression on Nightingale's face—usually stern, calm, and casual, but now he looked unusually serious and earnest, even a little nervous.

"Is that his teammate? Or his new partner..." I whispered to myself, my voice almost drowned out by the din of the bar. My heartbeat suddenly quickened, as if gripped by an inexplicable emotion. "Yeah, he's gotta do his thing, too. What's the point of hanging around this little brat all the time?"

For a moment, I felt as if I were in a dream. Yes, Nightingale, he was no longer the little friend who had guarded me wholeheartedly in my memory. Perhaps it was because of growth, perhaps it was the mission, or some other reasons of his own, and of course, it was more likely because of my announcement of leaving. He was no longer just the man beside me.

Although I couldn't hear the man's words clearly, from the glances they occasionally exchanged, I could sense a certain tacit understanding and a perfectly balanced distance between them. Nightingale wasn't as all-encompassing and omniscient as I'd assumed. Perhaps he already had a world and responsibilities more complex than mine. Everyone has their own path, don't they?

I gently swirled my wine glass, frowning slightly. The green ivy vines before me seemed to tremble slightly, as if sensing my state of mind. It's not that I don't understand Nightingale's choices, including his choosing me. I understand that he needs to do his own thing and walk his own path. How could I expect him to stay by my side forever? It's like that kind of long-term companionship. Sometimes it really feels oppressive and exhausting, doesn't it?

What about me? I think I should also understand that I can't always rely on others, and I can't always live for others. I am no longer the little girl who only knows how to rely on others. I need to learn to be independent and stand on my own feet.

"Perhaps, I should start doing my own thing," I whispered. Nightingale's world wasn't mine after all, and I couldn't stay in his shadow forever. He had his future, and so did I.

I lifted my glass and took a gentle sip. The spicy flavor once again stimulated my palate, seemingly igniting my inner self. The bar lights cast dappled shadows as I silently watched Nightingale and the burly man converse. Regardless of the content of their conversation, I knew that my story with Nightingale might have truly reached a point where it needed to end.

Perhaps, I should let him go his way; and I should walk my own way.

For a moment, confusion washed over me like a tide, unnoticed. I sat there, my glass empty, everything blurry and unreal, as if the world had turned gray, its boundaries blurring. I gently gripped the rim of the glass, a slight tremor rising—not from the strength of the wine, but from the emptiness deep within me, creeping up on me.

I suddenly realized that my steps were wandering. I was no longer the girl who relied on others, confined to a fixed path. Wen Ya, Nightingale, and everyone around me—every choice, every path—no longer seemed entangled with me. Should my world also have an exit? How should I define my future?

"Where should I go?" This question has been hanging over my heart like an indelible shadow for countless times.

Once, Nightingale was the source of my unease, and Wen Ya was my only refuge. But now, I can no longer rely on them with the same peace of mind I once had. All my emotions and ties seem to be drifting like kites with their strings cut. I don't know where I should stand, or how to face all this.

As I left the pub, a slightly cool breeze blew against my face. The desolate streetscape seemed a microcosm of me: empty eyes, wandering around, feeling no sense of belonging, as if I, like this city, were also wandering between decay and rebirth.

I didn't want to go back and worry Wen Ya, but I didn't know where to go. My heart felt empty, heavy, and my steps slowed down. Every step seemed to force me to ponder a profound question: Why am I here? What am I seeking?

How is this city, this wasteland-like environment, different from me? Where do I come from, and where should I go?

The street corner in front of me is still a familiar scene - those abandoned buildings, the dim lights on the street, and those people walking in a hurry. It seems that everyone has his or her own story, just like me, walking silently on his or her own way, but no one stops to ask himself or herself: what are you doing and why are you living?

"I don't want this..." I whispered to myself, mumbling as if to myself. Suddenly, the confusion within me deepened. Once, I thought I knew where every path led, where every path ended. But now, everything felt blurry, even myself becoming less clear.

I looked out onto the street again and saw Nightingale disappear into the distant lights, following the burly man into another alley. Suddenly, I realized I didn't want to chase him, as I'd imagined. Instead, I felt a deep desire to distance myself. I didn't need to rely on anyone. I needed to make my own decisions and find my own strength.

But...can I be independent?

Neon lights flickered, occasionally illuminating the empty streets, but I stood there, my gaze dazed. Without a goal, a place to return to, there seemed to be a hole in my heart that could not be filled. Even though I knew I should find somewhere to go, I didn't know where to start.

"Wen Ya..." I whispered his name. That was the only place I wanted to go back to. I knew he'd be worried about me, but I also knew that in my current state, even I couldn't comfort myself. I was afraid to face my inner turmoil, afraid to let him see my vulnerability again.

Yes, what am I pursuing? The man who once gave me warmth, his appearance made me feel a sense of belonging, but am I just running away from my own confusion?

The night wind was still cold, and the air was filled with an air of uncertainty. Perhaps the most difficult thing was not finding yourself with the help of others, but facing your deepest confusion and anxiety without any support.

The fragments of memory suppressed into the subconscious are the abyss of oneself.

“Where should I go?” I asked myself again, the sound of my voice almost blown away by the wind, leaving only an echo.