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墨書 Inktalez
"......Huh—"
Lin Zhao Cheng suddenly opened his eyes, his vision blurry, his head still immersed in some kind of chaotic whirlpool, his ears filled with a buzzing echo.
He couldn't remember how he had stopped, nor where he had fallen. He only knew that his consciousness had been abruptly pulled back, like a terrifying free fall, and then—he had come to a halt.
He gasped for breath, his hands trembling as he slowly felt around his surroundings.
—The soft touch of leather.
—The smooth armrest.
—The cold, hard floor.
"......No way?"
He looked around, his eyes gradually adjusting to the light in the room, slowly beginning to see this world clearly.
That familiar sofa, the Glass Coffee Table placed beside it, the dim yellow light in the room, the wall clock still ticking away, and the quiet night outside the window.
This is... his home?
He was still sitting in the Massage Chair.
Everything remained unchanged.
Everything in the room felt as if time had frozen, completely unchanged, as if he had never left this place at all...
“...Damn.”
He suddenly sprang up from the Massage Chair, as if jolted by electricity, jumping back a few steps in sheer terror, gasping for breath as he stared fixedly at the chair.
His legs felt weak from the overwhelming fright, his mind a chaotic whirlwind, unable to distinguish between reality and illusion—
What he had just experienced... was it a dream? Or had it really happened?
Had he truly gone to the Blood Flesh Hell? Killed William? Destroyed the Pharyngeal Arch? Escaped from the twisted dimensional rift?
Or was it all just an absurd and bizarre nightmare?
Lin Zhao Cheng's throat felt dry, as if it might crack open. His head was spinning, and his heart raced painfully in his chest.
He slowly raised his hands, his eyes fixed intently on his palms.
His hands... were impeccably clean, devoid of bloodstains, wounds, remnants of flesh, or any signs of battle.
It was as if nothing had ever happened.
“...Impossible...”
Lin Zhao Cheng whispered, a profound sense of dread filling his heart.
If all of this were a dream, then why was his body still trembling slightly? Why did his mind still retain images of that strange world? Why... did he feel that his waist no longer hurt at all?
The sound of his heartbeat grew louder, as if it might shatter his eardrums.
"What on earth... happened?"
The Massage Chair stood silently in place, as always, without a sound.
Yet, Lin Zhao Cheng felt as if it was "looking" at him.
"No matter what... I will never sit on this damned thing again."
Lin Zhao Cheng gritted his teeth, the fear and chill within him still lingering, but he knew that this Massage Chair could not remain here.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his unease, and stepped forward. Gripping the armrests of the Massage Chair with both hands, he stared intently at the seemingly ordinary chair that had brought him endless nightmares.
"...Get out of my house."
With all his strength, he yanked the Massage Chair off the ground!
"Thud—!"
The chair's wheels scraped against the floor, producing a dull sound as if it were making one last struggle.
Lin Zhao Cheng ignored it, gritting his teeth as he dragged it step by step out of the room and to the side of the trailer at the door.
The night outside was unusually quiet; a gentle breeze blew, carrying a chill that made it seem as though the entire city was immersed in some unfathomable silence.
"Ha..."
He gasped for breath, reaching out to open the trailer's compartment and forcefully pushed the Massage Chair inside.
The massage chair slammed against the interior wall of the vehicle with a dull thud, as if letting out a final, unwilling cry.
Lin Zhao Cheng secured it with ropes, closed the car door, and looked up at the night sky, various thoughts flashing through his mind.
Where should he drag this thing?
After pondering for a moment, a place suddenly came to mind—
"The nearby Waste Disposal Site... Yes, they should be able to handle this cursed thing. Maybe I can even get some scrap money for it."
He shook his head vigorously, trying not to think too much about it. He turned around, got into the car, and started the engine.
The vehicle hummed to life.
The headlights illuminated the road ahead as the tires gently rolled over the asphalt, and the car slowly pulled away from his home.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, unwilling to glance back at the cargo in the trunk.
—This time, he had to rid himself of this thing for good.
The car came to a stop at the entrance of the Garbage Recycling Station. The air was thick with the smells of machine oil, rust, and decay, almost suffocating.
Surrounding him were piles of discarded electronics, twisted and deformed metal parts, and mounds of garbage resembling small hills. In the distance, a Mechanical Arm was compressing a heap of Old Appliances into neat Metal Bricks.
Lin Zhao Cheng turned off the engine, took a deep breath, then pushed open the car door and jumped out.
"Damn it, finally here..." he muttered under his breath, then moved to the back of the truck to unload.
"Hey! Buying junk? Or scrap?"
A hoarse and lazy voice came from nearby.
Lin Zhao Cheng looked up to see the Fat Boss sitting on a worn-out folding chair in the recycling station. On the small table beside him sat a cup of discolored tea and a crumpled old newspaper.
He wore glasses with one lens smeared with grease, squinting slightly as he stared in Lin Zhao Cheng's direction, seemingly assessing whether he could bring in something valuable.
"Scrap," Lin Zhao Cheng replied while tugging at the trailer's securing ropes.
"Hey..." The Fat Boss narrowed his eyes, his gaze landing on the Massage Chair in the trailer.
"This thing looks pretty new. Is it broken?"
Lin Zhao Cheng panted, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He couldn't be bothered to explain further and coldly replied, "This thing can't stay; it's scrap. Get rid of it quickly."
The Fat Boss's eyes roamed over the chair, as if evaluating its worth.
"Tsk... This material is decent, and the motor should still work... If we take it apart, the parts could be worth something."
He licked his lips, revealing a greedy smile.
"How about this? I'll give you a thousand, and you leave the item here."
Lin Zhao Cheng rolled his eyes in annoyance, dragging the Massage Chair down as he impatiently said, "It doesn't matter how much you offer; I don't want to see this thing again. Just get rid of it."
The Fat Boss paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at him. "What's wrong? Is there a ghost in that chair?"
Lin Zhao Cheng's hands froze, and after a brief silence, he murmured, "Don't ask. You wouldn't want to know."
The Fat Boss shrugged, deciding not to press further. He simply smiled and turned to shout at the workers in the back, "A Quan! Come take this chair apart!"
Not far away, a young worker wearing a hard hat responded and walked over with tools in hand, heading towards Lin Zhao Cheng.
Finally, Lin Zhao Cheng let out a sigh of relief. He stared at the Massage Chair, which lay quietly on the concrete floor of the recycling station, feeling an indescribable sense of liberation wash over him.
—At last, he was completely rid of this damned thing.
The Fat Boss looked up and noticed that Lin Zhao Cheng was still standing there, arms crossed and brow furrowed, his gaze fixed intently on the Massage Chair as if he were watching some dangerous creature, afraid it might suddenly lash out.
"Hey, brother, aren't you leaving?" The Fat Boss casually wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel hanging around his neck and said in a lazy tone, "You can leave it to us from here; you can head out."
This sounded like a routine courtesy. After all, customers who came here to dispose of junk usually had no lingering emotions about their discarded items; they typically just dropped off their things and left. No one wanted to stick around to watch an old appliance being dismantled.
But Lin Zhao Cheng didn’t move.
His feet felt as if they were nailed to the ground; his body tensed up, and he swallowed hard before whispering, "No way. I need to see it get taken apart piece by piece."
Hearing this, the Fat Boss was taken aback for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow and a smirk crept across his face. "Tsk... there sure are plenty of oddballs these days."
He looked at Lin Zhao Cheng with a sidelong glance as if assessing someone slightly unhinged. After a while, he shook his head as if too lazy to argue with someone who seemed off-kilter and turned back to wave at the worker.
"A Quan! Hurry up and take this thing apart; this customer wants to see it turn into trash."
Not far away, a young worker responded with a grunt, wiping the grease from his hands as he approached with a toolbox in tow. He wore a blue work uniform stained with dirt, his safety helmet askew, and his eyes appeared lazy, as if he had little enthusiasm for the job at hand, yet he still carried on with what needed to be done.
A Quan squatted down, one hand resting on the Massage Chair while the other picked up an electric screwdriver. With a series of clicks and whirs, he unscrewed several bolts, causing the casing to loosen and reveal the intricate mechanical structure inside.
"Hey, this chair looks pretty good," A Quan remarked casually, turning to smile at Fat Boss. "If we refurbish it, we might even sell it again. Why not just scrap it?"
"Less talk, more action!" Fat Boss replied lazily, his tone tinged with impatience. "The customer wants it smashed to bits. We're in the business of following orders; just do as they say and don't ask questions."
A Quan shrugged and quickened his disassembly process. The sounds of metal scraping against metal and screws clattering to the ground echoed sharply in the quiet night.
Lin Zhao Cheng stood frozen in place, his gaze locked onto the Massage Chair. His fingers unconsciously clenched tightly, knuckles turning white. Though his heart raced, with each screw that was loosened, his breathing gradually steadied.
He didn't understand why he felt such a strong obsession, but a voice inside him insisted—
This time, he had to ensure that the chair was completely destroyed; otherwise...
It would come back.
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