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墨書 Inktalez
Anthon woke up again in the middle of the night, hearing sounds coming from downstairs. It seemed that Haohao and the others had returned. He opened his somewhat dry eyes, remnants of unfinished dreams lingering in his mind. The moonlight outside filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow that made the room feel particularly tranquil. Yet, Anthon couldn't find peace within himself; he wondered how Haohao and Da Shewan were faring during their filming. But thinking about it, they were in a public place, so it was unlikely anything serious had happened.
Still feeling uneasy, Anthon sat up, preparing to check on Haohao later. His body felt heavy, but the worry in his heart kept him from lying back down. He slipped on his slippers and quietly walked to the door, opening it and stepping out.
Just as Anthon was about to head downstairs, he heard the sound of a faucet running from the second-floor bathroom; it seemed Haohao was taking a shower. The sound of water flowed clearly in the stillness of the night, stirring a mix of confusion and concern within Anthon. Why was Haohao showering so late? What had happened today?
He tiptoed to the bathroom door, listening to the sound of water and occasional murmurs from inside. Standing outside, Anthon hesitated about whether to knock but ultimately decided to wait for Haohao to come out.
When Haohao finally opened the bathroom door, the momentary look of panic on his face deepened Anthon's worry. Haohao's complexion was pale, and there was a hint of distress in his eyes. Anthon could tell that Haohao was trying hard to conceal something, but he refrained from asking too many questions for fear of making him more anxious.
"Haohao, you're back," Anthon said softly, trying to keep his voice calm.
Haohao forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm back. The filming went pretty smoothly."
Anthon noticed that Haohao's hands were still trembling slightly, intensifying his suspicions. Haohao's gaze flickered as if he were avoiding something. Anthon managed a weak smile and said, "You’ve worked hard. Go take a shower and get some rest."
Haohao gently patted Anthon's shoulder, making an effort to appear calm, but that facade of composure did little to mask the fear within him. He turned and walked toward his room, each step echoing heavily in the quiet night.
Anthon stood there, listening as Haohao's footsteps gradually faded away, his concern growing stronger. He had no idea what Haohao had experienced outside, but his intuition told him that things were not simple. The look of terror on Haohao's face and his anxious eyes felt like a silent plea for help that Anthon could not ignore.
Taking a deep breath, Anthon decided he would wait until Haohao had rested before asking him what had really happened today. He knew that Haohao must have something to say; he just wasn't ready yet.
Back in his own room, Anthon sat on the edge of his bed, replaying the earlier scene in his mind over and over again. He tried to sort through his thoughts, but the questions and worries swirled like weeds in his heart, refusing to settle down.
"What has Haohao really gone through?" Anthon silently questioned himself, but he knew that only Haohao could provide the answer.
Anthon gently shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He understood that the most important thing for him now was to stay composed and wait for the right moment to seek answers. He glanced at the time; it was already late at night, yet he felt no drowsiness.
Haohao lay in bed, his body tense like a frightened child. He felt incredibly dirty, as if no matter how much he washed, a disgusting odor lingered on him. That sensation was unbearable; it felt as though hundreds of hands were touching him, whispering, their sensations and voices echoing in his mind like an inescapable nightmare.
He closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself, but those horrifying memories remained etched in his mind. Waves of nausea and humiliation washed over him, filling him with helplessness and despair. Haohao couldn't help but cry; tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, soaking his pillow.
"Why... why did this happen..." he murmured to himself, his voice filled with pain and hopelessness.
On the very first day in Pingtung, such a thing had occurred, leaving Haohao in immense pain and confusion. He had thought this trip would be a beautiful experience, but reality dealt him a merciless blow. He felt as if his faith and courage had been utterly shattered in that moment, leaving him unable to find any hope.
Tears continued to flow from Haohao's eyes, his heart filled with resentment and fear. He thought of Anthon, feeling both anger and longing towards him. Why hadn’t Anthon endured this torment alongside him? Why could Anthon sleep soundly at home while he was subjected to humiliation by Da Shewan and those strangers?
He felt isolated and helpless, overwhelmed by despair. Haohao tried to calm himself again, but those dreadful memories and sensations lingered in his mind, causing him immense pain and shame.
"What should I do..." Haohao whispered to himself, his voice heavy with helplessness and despair.
The stillness of the night made Haohao feel profoundly lonely and powerless; his heart was filled with pain and confusion, unable to find any escape. He could only let the tears flow freely, allowing this suffering to spread within him without relief.
At that moment, Haohao's phone suddenly lit up, the glaring light stark against the darkness of the room. Fearfully, he glanced at the screen; it was a message from Da Shewan. Upon seeing that name, Haohao's body tensed instantly; his breathing quickened and his heart raced.
He couldn't control the trembling of his body; the deep-seated fear and disgust caused him immense pain. He dared not pick up the phone, trembling on the bed instead, filled with helplessness and despair.
"Why... why is it him again..." Haohao kept asking himself, but there was no answer.
Da Shewan's name felt like a sharp blade, piercing deeply into his heart. Haohao's fingers trembled as fear and despair washed over him. He knew that opening that message would only plunge him deeper into terror and anguish, yet the light from his phone relentlessly reminded him that Da Shewan's influence still loomed nearby.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down Haohao's face once more as he curled up on his bed, feeling like a helpless little creature at the mercy of fate. His heartbeat quickened, and his breathing became rapid; every movement was filled with fear and helplessness.
"Anthon... Anthon..." Haohao whispered, calling out Anthon's name in hopes of finding a sliver of solace from this pain, but he knew that in this moment, he was alone in facing it all.
Da Shewan's message remained lit, like a silent threat that filled Haohao with overwhelming dread and despair. He dared not pick up his phone, allowing himself to tremble on the bed, waiting for the fear to gradually subside.
Haohao felt his spirit being utterly torn apart; the inescapable fear and pain wrapped around him like an invisible web, binding him tightly with no way to escape.
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