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墨書 Inktalez
Jim smiled at Emily indifferently, as if to say that no words could touch his composure. He walked leisurely towards the living room, leaving Emily with a helpless and faint anger. The atmosphere in the living room was relatively relaxed, unlike the tension in the garage just now.
Meanwhile, Alex had already opened the wine cabinet in the kitchen, focusing on finding his favorite whiskey. His movements were skilled and natural, as if at that moment, all worries and pressures had been put aside. The kitchen light reflected on his focused face, appearing particularly serene.
At the same time, Sarah had quietly walked up the stairs, seemingly preparing to nestle in her own room. Her footsteps were light, almost making no sound, as if she wanted to avoid any possible interaction and find a bit of peace of her own.
Jim stretched in the living room, let out a big yawn, showing a hint of fatigue. He looked around and then decided to follow Sarah's footsteps, slowly walking up the stairs, ready to return to his own room. In this moment, his figure seemed somewhat lonely, but at the same time also revealed a sense of relief and freedom.
They each sought their own space in this mercenary life full of pressure and danger, finding a brief moment of peace. As the door to the room gently closed, it shut out the outside noise and locked away their thoughts.
Jim entered his room and his gaze fell on the familiar bed. Without hesitation, he plunged into the soft and comfortable mattress, fully enjoying this rare moment of relaxation. Everything in the room seemed so familiar, yet tinged with a hint of loneliness. His gaze involuntarily turned to the empty iron cabinet beside him, which had once been used by his former roommate, Number Six.
Jim couldn't help but mutter to himself, with a hint of nostalgia and humor, "Ah... Number Six, you stinky black man, I wonder how you're doing in the other world?" As he spoke, he couldn't help but show a self-amused smile, as if through this simple sentence, he could reconnect with Number Six who had already left.
At this moment, Jim's heart was filled with memories and longing for his comrade Number Six. They had experienced countless battles and hardships together, moving forward on the extraordinary path of mercenaries. Even though Number Six is no longer in this world, in Jim's heart, those times they spent together reappear as if it were yesterday, and will never be forgotten.
Jim lay on the bed, lazily propping up his legs and comfortably leaning on the soft pillow. His gaze fell once again on the empty iron cabinet, as if the shadow of number six still lingered there. Unable to help himself, he continued to mutter to himself, his voice tinged with surprise and mockery: "Hey... did you know? That iron rooster, Douglas, actually! Took the initiative to bargain on his own? Oh my, that's really ridiculous, isn't it? Don't you think so?"
Jim paused for a moment, seeming to realize something. He sighed slightly apologetically and then said, "Oh, wait, maybe I shouldn't speak well of him after all, considering you were killed by him..." At this point, Jim unconsciously scratched his head, a hint of complex emotions in his eyes, and then whispered, "But you were too badly injured at that time... can't entirely blame Douglas."
At this moment, Jim seems a bit heavy-hearted. He still feels guilty about the death of Number Six, and understands that even the most outstanding doctor might not have been able to save Number Six's life in that situation. Although Jim's assessment of Douglas carries a hint of mockery, when he mentions Number Six's injuries, his tone becomes softer, revealing a deep nostalgia for his fallen comrade and a sense of helplessness in the face of life and death's unpredictability.
In this solitary moment, Jim allows himself to temporarily set aside the toughness and ruthlessness of his mercenary career, letting thoughts of longing and nostalgia bloom in his mind. However, he also knows that tomorrow he will need to gear up again and face the imminent challenges and dangers, as this is the unchanging fate of their mercenary group.
Jim turned over in bed and felt the uncomfortable pressure under his buttocks. He reached to the back of his pants and slowly pulled out the gun that had been with him for a long time. Wherever he went, it was always carried with him, as if it had become a part of his body. He casually placed the gun on the bedside table, as if it were just an ordinary item.
Then, Jim began to speak to himself again, his voice carrying a soft and deep emotion: "Hey! Number Six... rest assured, you've given me this life... I will live it well." His tone was filled with gratitude towards Number Six and a reverence for life.
"A new guy just arrived, named Leo," Jim continued, his eyes seeming to look through the empty room to a distant place, "You'll definitely like him too, crazy enough, bold enough to fight with a bullet-ridden body? Wow, number six... I guess you couldn't do it either, right?" At this point, Jim couldn't help but show a slight smile, a smile of mutual competition and recognition between comrades.
At this moment, Jim's heart was filled with nostalgia for number six, recognition for Leo, and anticipation for the future. He knew that even though number six was no longer there, the flame of life he left for Jim still burned, and with the addition of the new comrade Leo, it would continue to light their way forward. Jim believed that no matter what difficulties and challenges they faced, as long as they were united, there was nothing they couldn't overcome.
Jim's room was surrounded by a sense of tranquility, with only his soft murmurs echoing in the air. As he lay in bed, his eyelids gradually grew heavy, weariness spreading through every nerve. Yet a faint smile lingered on his lips, his heart filled with longing for his comrades and hope for the future. On this quiet night, his spirit wandered between distant memories and reality.
"Number six... hurry... we..." Jim's voice grew increasingly low, as if each word was a struggle to utter. His thoughts became elusive in that moment, as if drifting between dreams and reality, no longer bound by consciousness.
"Later...catch up." The last few words were almost murmured unconsciously, and as the sentence fell, Jim finally relaxed completely and fell into a deep sleep. In his dreams, perhaps he was embarking on another adventure with Number Six, side by side, fearless, just as they had done in this world.
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