Chapter 14
689words
There was no fear, no pain, only a complete sense of peace.
Countless blurry images flashed before his eyes:
Customer 044 Vivian Miller, wearing that silver ring, nestling in the arms of a man whose face was unclear (Alan Grant), smiling happily...
Customer 077, the little boy, holding a brown Teddy Bear, beside the bed of a gentle woman, softly saying "Mom, don't be afraid of the dark"...
Customer 013, the Dancer, wearing a pure white dance dress, spinning on a bright stage, with thunderous applause from the audience, a handsome man (Alan Grant?) smiling and applauding...
And... the manager in an old uniform with a blurry face, lonely wiping the front desk in the empty funeral home...
Finally, there was Alan. No longer a mummy, but a young man in casual clothes, standing under the old oak tree in Wutong Park, looking at him with a relieved and apologetic smile.
"Thank you... cousin..."
Warm light enveloped him, gently lifting him up...
…
Owen opened his eyes again.
He was lying in the bed of his own room. The morning sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, warm and real.
He sat up abruptly!
His body was intact. No wounds, no fatigue. As if everything from last night was just a long and absurd nightmare.
But he knew it wasn't a dream.
He looked at the bedside table.
There, quietly lying, was an antique silver ring. Inside were engraved two letters: C&L. (Alan & Vivian)
Beside the ring was a brand new photograph with smooth edges.
In the photo, young Alan Grant and Vivian Miller were tightly embracing under the old oak tree in Wutong Park, with bright smiles under the sunny day.
On the back of the photo, there was a line:
[Thank you. Live well.——Alan Grant & Vivian Miller]
Tears welled up in Owen Grant's eyes without warning. He clutched the ring and photo tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.
They were free. They were both finally free.
He picked up his phone.
No messages from blank numbers. No system notifications.
He opened his browser and searched "44 Wutong Lane, Twilight City."
Search result: This address does not exist.
He searched "Twilight Funeral Home."
No relevant information.
He searched "Wutong Park car accident five years ago."
The news records remained, but any vague information about "driving for someone else" had vanished without a trace.
It was as if that eerie funeral home that only appeared at midnight had never existed.
"Knock, knock, knock." Someone was at the door.
"Xiaoyu? Are you awake? Breakfast is ready!" His mother's voice came through.
"Coming, Mom." Owen Grant wiped away his tears and carefully put away the ring and photo.
He opened the door, and warm sunlight and the aroma of breakfast greeted him.
Life seemed to be back on track.
One month later.
Owen's physical and mental condition had recovered well. He found a new job, and life was peaceful.
Only occasionally, in the quiet of the night, would he take out that silver ring and photo to look at them.
Also, he discovered that he still had an extraordinary sensitivity to certain special scents and atmospheres. For instance, when passing by a newly opened flower shop and smelling a certain overly sweet floral scent, he would instinctively frown and move away. Or, in some cold, dim corner, he could vaguely sense a lingering, barely perceptible gloomy aura.
Was this a remnant of Spirit Perception? Or traces of cognitive contamination?
He didn't know.
But he did know that that experience had changed him forever.
Another midnight.
Owen Grant woke up with a start from his dream. He had dreamed of that spinning pink vortex, dreamed of the radiant light of the Purification Core.
He got up to drink some water.
As he passed by the desk, his gaze inadvertently swept across the surface.
On the desk, something lay quietly.
It wasn't a Black Envelope.
But a small, worn-out, gray Teddy Bear missing one eye.
It lay there silently, its remaining glass eye reflecting a cold light in the moonlight.
Owen's pupils suddenly contracted.
