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Dark Feast: Twelve Dishes
墨書 Inktalez
I rubbed my aching temples, the time displayed in the bottom right corner of the computer screen read 1:15 AM. The office was empty, and outside, the streetlights blurred into a hazy yellow glow through the rain.
After packing my things, I opened my umbrella and stepped into the downpour. The early autumn rain carried a slight chill, pattering softly against the umbrella. The streets were deserted at this hour, and my footsteps echoed distinctly amidst the sound of the rain.
As I turned the corner, a sweet and cloying fragrance suddenly wafted towards me. It was a peculiar scent, reminiscent of ripe lychees, yet tinged with an almost imperceptible fishiness. Following the aroma, I spotted a hunched figure under the streetlight.
It was an elderly woman dressed in a gray cloth shirt, her bamboo basket overflowing with bright red lychees. In the rainy night, those lychees appeared strikingly vivid, as if they could bleed.
"Young man, would you like to buy some lychees? Just picked," she rasped, her voice rough like sandpaper.
I initially intended to decline, but the lychees looked too tempting to resist. Their skins were bright and glossy, glistening under the streetlight, even fresher than what I had seen in the fruit shop earlier that day.
"How much for a pound?" I asked.
"Ten yuan, very cheap," she replied.
She lifted her head, and I finally got a good look at her face. Her skin was unnaturally pale, with deep-set eyes and a strange smile curling at her lips.
I pulled out my phone to scan for payment while she used her bony fingers to grab a handful of lychees and place them into a plastic bag. Her fingers were icy cold, and when they brushed against mine, I couldn't help but shiver.
Once home, I set the lychees on the coffee table. Under the light, they appeared even more vibrant, droplets of water clinging to their skins. I picked one up and gently peeled back its skin. The moment it split open, a strong odor assaulted my senses.
I froze; this scent was not that of lychee but rather akin to raw meat. Gritting my teeth against the discomfort, I continued to peel away the skin. Inside was not the usual creamy white flesh but an eerie translucent substance.
What was more terrifying was that something seemed to be encased within the flesh itself.
My hands began to tremble, but I still pried open the flesh of the lychee. An eyeball lay quietly nestled within the fruit's meat.
I let out a scream and threw the lychee away. The eyeball rolled a few times on the floor before coming to a stop by the coffee table. It looked fresh, the pupil a deep brown, staring directly at me.
A wave of nausea surged through my stomach, and I rushed to the bathroom to dry heave. When I finally regained my composure, I realized my back was drenched in cold sweat.
Returning to the living room, the eyeball was still in its place. I shakily opened my phone and searched for "lychee, eyeball," and the results that popped up filled me with dread.
Twenty years ago, there had been a serial disappearance case on this street. Five young people had gone missing within a month, and the police had found no leads. The only clue was that each of the missing individuals had last been seen near a grandmother selling lychees.
I stared intently at the lychee on the coffee table and suddenly noticed that its skin seemed to be slightly undulating, as if... it were breathing.
I couldn't sleep all night, and as soon as dawn broke, I headed to the city library. Amongst piles of yellowed old newspapers, I found a report from twenty years ago.
Five Missing Persons—three men and two women, all aged between twenty and twenty-five. The report included their photographs; they were all strikingly attractive young people.
One detail caught my attention: they were all organ donation volunteers.
My hands began to tremble again. Could those eyeballs inside the lychees be...
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