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墨書 Inktalez
Pox's mind was filled with various fantasies, the scenes infinitely extending in his heart. Perhaps Anna would lean in like a character from a movie, gently brushing her lips against his in that dim alley, exchanging a delicate kiss laced with mystery. Her slightly upturned lips, sparkling eyes, and gentle breath seemed to be right before him, filling his heart with the warmth of his imagination.
Or maybe she would suddenly wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer into a fervent embrace. In that moment, the world would fall silent, and only their breaths would intertwine in the night, igniting his desire for this closeness. His heartbeat quickened, and his cheeks burned with the imagined scenario as if he could truly feel her warmth approaching him, their noses touching, rendering all words unnecessary. He even fantasized about them losing themselves completely in the passion of that moment, as if only they existed in the night, every flicker of emotion in her gaze stirring his feelings.
Pox's breathing grew increasingly rapid, as if he were at the center of these beautiful illusions. His heart was powerfully shaken by the impending emotions, waiting for every movement, every expression, every word—yet just as these fantasies became more vivid, a soft laugh drifted into his ears, tinged with a hint of mockery.
That laughter seemed to carry a distant taunt, gently dissipating into the air like a whisper mocking his naivety. Pox's heart jolted; he snapped back to reality and opened his eyes to look around. But where was Anna? In the darkness, only the coat that had been shed at some point hung on a nearby pipe, swaying slightly in the night breeze.
The breaths that had been so close just moments ago vanished like smoke carried away by the wind. He stood frozen, his gaze fixed on that lonely coat, a hint of bitterness flashing in his eyes. After finally pulling himself out of his reverie, he felt a sense of loss and couldn't help but find his earlier fantasies somewhat ridiculous. The low laughter still echoed in his ears, as if it were her final jest left for him—playful and elusive—reminding him that he was merely a pawn in her game, a figure of fun she had meticulously crafted.
Pox stood there dazed, feelings of self-mockery swirling within him as he felt somewhat helpless about his earlier self. The lonely swaying coat seemed to wave goodbye to him, hinting at her light departure while he could only watch her figure fade from his world in the cold night wind.
Suddenly, Anna's voice came from above. Pox looked up in surprise to find she had gracefully climbed onto the roof of a nearby building. She stood there, her silhouette elongated and mysterious under the moonlight, exuding an air of unattainable elegance. Anna smiled and waved at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of secret tenderness—as if that dramatic night had merely been a game she orchestrated.
"I had so much fun tonight," she said softly, her tone casual yet imbued with an elusive depth. "Thank you for playing your part so well, Pox."
Pox's heart was still filled with too many questions; the emotions from earlier had not yet settled, and everything before him was hard to comprehend. Furrowing his brow, he looked up at Anna and asked in confusion, "What was all this for? Your identity... your purpose... what does it mean?" His voice carried urgency, reflecting deep unease over this series of uncontrollable events.
Anna shrugged lightly and smiled naturally as if indifferent to his question. Her voice floated down with the night breeze: "Money? Work? A mission? Or maybe it’s just something fun... I don’t know. Perhaps I haven’t figured it out myself; it could be anything."
She paused for a moment, her gaze sparkling provocatively as she looked at him. "It depends on how you see it—what do you think it all means?"
Pox silently gazed at her, feeling increasingly drawn into an unfathomable maze. His thoughts were chaotic while Anna’s response seemed deliberately designed to toss the riddle back to him, leaving him unable to find resolution.
Anna stood at the edge of the rooftop, the moonlight softly illuminating her, as if draping her in a veil of silver. With a smile, she resembled a confident dancer, gazing at Pox with a hint of playfulness and an almost imperceptible tenderness in her eyes. She waved lightly, her movements graceful and casual, as if bidding him farewell.
Pox couldn't help but hold his breath. Just as she was about to turn away, an inexplicable sense of urgency and regret surged within him. Summoning his courage, he called out, "Will we... meet again?"
Anna paused slightly in her steps, looking down at him as the moonlight cast gentle shadows across her face. Tilting her head, she seemed to ponder his question carefully. After a moment, a flicker of undeniable warmth and reluctance crossed her eyes. With a slight smile that radiated irresistible sincerity, she softly replied, "Perhaps it's better if we don't meet again, Pox. You're a good person... I wouldn't want to ruin this beauty."
A wave of unexplainable sorrow washed over Pox. He stared at her, filled with confusion and regret, along with an indescribable longing. This encounter under the night sky felt like a dream; he hadn’t truly come to know her yet she was already leaving. His heart brimmed with unanswered questions; he wanted to draw closer to her but was held back by the gentle yet resolute look in her eyes. That gaze was both a farewell and a kind of deep affection.
"Goodbye, young master. Thank you for tonight," Anna's voice was as soft as a whisper, floating past him with her unique air of mystery. She turned away, her silhouette becoming increasingly hazy under the moonlight, as if merging with the night itself. Bit by bit, her figure blurred and faded from his sight, finally vanishing like a wisp of smoke carried away by the wind.
Pox stood there dazed, his gaze following the direction in which she had disappeared, his heart a tumult of emotions. He couldn't help but murmur to himself, "I still don’t even know your name..."
At that moment, a gentle and distant voice drifted through the night breeze, seemingly an echo carried by the wind—"My name is really Anna... don't forget it."
Pox looked up in surprise, searching for the source of the voice but only saw the empty rooftop and the tender moonlight above. The words echoed in his ears like a soft whisper in the night, swirling through his heart with an unshakeable melancholy and excitement. This encounter felt like an illusory dream woven by the night, and the name she left him became the only tangible resonance within this dream.
He pursed his lips slightly; the turmoil within him was hard to quell. Countless emotions surged in his chest until they finally coalesced into a soft whisper: "Anna..."
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