"""
But this nightmare was unlike any before.
After hearing the lead-in, Annan didn’t imdiately wake up, nor could he hear anything.
It was as if a ghost was pressing down on him... his consciousness slowly regained clarity, but he could not open his eyes or move his body.
It seed as though a great fire was burning around him.
The crackling sounds of wood burning sporadically reached him, smoke shrouding the area. Annan could sll the odor of charring... and it wasn’t just the scent of burnt wood.
Annan faintly felt soone breathing heavily, standing by his bed amidst the flas.
Just then, amidst the smoky haze, Annan managed to barely pry his eyes open a sliver.
His eyes were filled with tears, and through the blur, he saw a skinny figure raising an axe held with both hands high above him—
The next mont, Annan suddenly woke up.
He was basked in a very lively sunlight.
Like a solar panel charging, Annan quickly recovered his vitality under the sunshine.
Raising his head, he followed the sunlight with his gaze.
A huge sunset hung on the horizon, emitting a brilliant golden glow.
And Annan found himself in the midst of a wheat field.
The wind gently brushed through the wheat, softly rolling under the radiant gold of the sunset.
For so reason... the undulating waves of wheat montarily made Annan think of a golden retriever’s fur tumbling in the wind.
Annan checked himself.
To his surprise—although it was a nightmare from the Otherworld, Annan was not using his own body.
His limbs were scrawny and dark, with sowhat loose skin. His attire was simple and holy, with a hoe placed beside him.
This suggested that the role he was currently playing was likely that of an old farr...
The main quest had still not appeared, and no introductory plot had unfolded.
This map seed just too vast...
Thinking this, Annan picked up his hoe and looked around as he stood up.
He soon spotted it—the endless wheat field stretched infinitely to the east. Toward the western sunset, not far off, there was a small village of modest size... One could even see thin plus of cooking smoke slowly rising and dissipating into the air.
Just as Annan was staring blankly in that direction.
Suddenly, soone gently yet firmly tapped him from behind.
"Hey, old man."
A sowhat frivolous voice ca through: "What are you looking at?"
Annan turned around, instantly taken aback.
The one calling out to him from behind was a young man in his early twenties with straw-like ssy blond hair.
But what caught Annan’s attention was... his face was exactly the sa as his own!
Had his own body been transferred to this man?
It didn’t take long for Annan to realize that sothing was off.
Instead of saying he looked exactly like Annan... it was more accurate to say he resembled "Annan in his twenties." Although Annan had aged a year, he was still too youthful.
This person’s face did look quite similar to the "grown-up version" of Annan from another nightmare in the Otherworld.
...But how should he address him?
Annan pondered, but verbally he responded straightforwardly: "What are you doing here?"
"Of course, I ca to watch the sunset."
The young man replied brightly: "Don’t you think this sunset is beautiful, old man?"
"Indeed, it is beautiful."
Annan nodded in agreent.
"It would be nice if we could see such a sunset again tomorrow."
The young man murmured softly.
"What?"
Annan inquired.
He had actually heard him, but Annan decided to ask anyway—responses can elicit useful information.
However, the young man simply shook his head: "It’s nothing."
"Where are you planning to go back to?"
Annan persistently asked.
"To my sister’s place, I guess."
After so thought, the young man answered: "Go there for dinner."
"Would you take with you?"
Annan inquired tentatively.
"Don’t you have any other chores to do today?"
The young man asked in return.
"""
Annan paused for a mont.
"That’s all."
He replied as such.
Then, before Annan could say anything else.
The scene Annan was in automatically switched—
From the wheat field, it suddenly shifted to the interior of a building.
—It was as if he had entered the settlent stage.
Annan imdiately surveyed his surroundings.
There was no TV, but there were old-fashioned refrigerators and radios, confirming that it must be a recent era on Earth; there were several well-kept ornantal plants in the corner of the wall, the living room did not have a bed... it probably wasn’t a very small apartnt.
Occupying more than half of the room was a large round table. Around the round table were eight chairs, judging by the size from chair to table, it looked like the kind found in a restaurant’s private room for ten people.
Outside there were windows facing the west, perfectly angled to view the golden sunset outside.
The room’s door was wooden, and noisy sounds ca from outside. It sounded like relatives chattering loudly in the corridor, giving a warm but headache-inducing feeling.
Paper slips were posted on the wall beside Annan, seemingly inscribed with sothing...
But Annan couldn’t check to see.
The door to the room then opened.
Three people entered the room together.
One was an old woman in a tal wheelchair, wearing a white fluffy hat; one was a skinny child who seed to be only twelve or thirteen years old; one was a sturdy man pushing the wheelchair, exuding an aura of steadiness—he appeared exceptionally strong, his arms even thicker than soone’s thighs.
And what they had in common was.
The old woman, the little boy, the sturdy man... each of their faces looked exactly like Annan’s.
Or rather, they were "the faces that Annan should have" in different identities.
"Blonde!"
The old woman sitting askew in the wheelchair shouted as soon as she entered the door: "You must co to work tomorrow no matter what!"
...He’s actually called Blonde?
Annan was startled for a mont.
"Alright, alright, grandma."
Blonde, with legs resting on the table, said impatiently: "Definitely, I’ll definitely go back to work tomorrow.
"Right, Mr. Fixer!"
Blonde said, sitting up from the table: "Take a look at this... my watch has stopped ticking."
His rough action made the candlestick on the table shake a bit, nearly tipping over. The strong man next to him instantly steadied the candlestick and put it back in place.
Blonde took off the chanical watch on his left wrist and handed it to the skinny child.
The child took the watch, inspected it for a mont, and asked with a professional deanor: "When did it stop ticking?"
"I noticed it stopped this afternoon. But I’m sure it was ticking yesterday!"
Blonde asserted: "Turn its ti back to yesterday."
"Okay then."
The child said so, placing his hand on the watch.
Under Annan’s gaze—the hands of the watch first remained still, then suddenly began to move backward. It continued until pointing to 5:45 before finally stopping.
"I’ve reset it to this ti yesterday."
"Mr. Fixer" replied: "Is there anything else broken?"
"No, that’s all," Blonde sat back down with a mischievous grin, propping his legs back on the table, then suddenly rembered to add: "Thanks, Mr. Fixer."
Just then, the door opened again.
A heavily pregnant woman, weighing at least three hundred pounds, complained loudly while struggling to squeeze through the door: "Doctor, I’ve been feeling very unwell lately... is it ti for to deliver?"
"Let take a look, ma’am."
The sturdy man quickly responded in a deep voice.
He pushed the old woman’s wheelchair next to the table, then turned to help the pregnant woman sit down beside it. Due to her excessive obesity, she took up the space of two.
—This sturdy man is actually a doctor?
Annan was sowhat surprised.
The sturdy man gently touched the pregnant woman’s abdon, then withdrew his hand firmly: "The due date is tomorrow.
"Eat less today, have a good night’s sleep... around this ti tomorrow, it should be about ti."
Tomorrow, again tomorrow...
Annan pondered.
These people seem to all have abilities related to ti. And they all seem to have so relation with "tomorrow"...
The uncle, the grandmother, Blonde, the doctor, Mr. Fixer, the lady, plus the sister who’s cooking.
There should be one more person.
Annan waited patiently for the last guest, directing his gaze towards the papers on the wall.
Reviews
All reviews (0)