【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 382 [Empire] Fingertips feel cold

Today's city simulation still had a wasteland feel. Perhaps a lot of repairs had been done over the day, so it wasn't as desolate as yesterday. Since I left too early, I was forced to stand at the school gate again. I saw the young mercenary from the same school holding his sister's hand at the corner.

The young mercenary, dressed in a simple black coat, appeared more serious than usual. He was holding the hand of a little girl, about seven or eight years old. The girl looked frail and frail, wearing a worn school uniform. Her hair was messy, clearly having just gotten out of bed and not had time to tidy it up. The little girl followed closely behind him, occasionally looking up at him with a look of deep dependence in her eyes.

I stood at the school gate, their figures glimpsed from the corner of my eye. The young mercenary was speaking softly to his sister, his voice particularly kind. Now he seemed like just an ordinary brother.

I knew he was the boy I had met in the cafeteria. He and his sister depended on each other for survival, like a faint ray of light in the ruins of this city.

I frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable standing there. As I turned to leave, his gaze landed on me, seemingly unnoticed. In that instant, his eyes quickly grew alert, a hint of doubt in them. It was as if he recognized me.

He lowered his head and said something to his sister. The little girl giggled as if she heard a joke, but the young mercenary did not turn around. He still walked towards me with that calm pace.

"Good morning to you too," he said, leaning closer. "Why are you at school so early today? Waiting outside?" He glanced at the empty street beside me. "Classes probably haven't started yet."

I nodded, feeling a little awkward, and smiled softly: "Well, I arrived a little early and didn't want to go into the school gate."

He was slightly stunned, as if he didn't understand why I was standing outside. Suddenly, as if he thought of something, his eyes swept lightly across the open space beside me and paused for a few seconds.

"Are you okay?" he finally said, his voice tinged with concern. "You look... a little tired."

He clearly noticed the weariness on my face. Perhaps it was from days of continuous missions, or even a bit of mental fatigue. Although this man's identity and background weren't as eye-catching as the others, his calm and thoughtful concern made me feel a little unaccustomed. After all, I'd never truly let myself be so soft before.

"It's okay, I just have some things going on recently." I waved my hand gently, trying to appear more natural.

He nodded, his eyes seemed to be a little worried, but he quickly regained his composure: "If you need any help, remember to come to me."

I was stunned for a moment. His words were direct, yet tinged with a hint of frank sincerity. He wasn't the type to just say it casually; he seemed genuinely willing to help within his ability.

"Thank you, it's okay, really." I chuckled, but felt a little warm in my heart.

He nodded, then turned around and continued walking towards the school with his sister. The little girl ran very fast, almost dragging him along, and his steps became lighter.

I stood outside the school gate, watching their figures gradually disappear into the campus, and a strange feeling of emotion suddenly arose in my heart. Perhaps, in this wasteland-like city, not everyone is destined to walk alone.

After a day of classes, exhaustion hit me almost instantly. I lay on my simple dorm bed, the mattress so thin I could almost feel the biting chill of the frame. The dorm itself was unadorned, offering little in the way of warmth, save for the perpetually cold window and the dust-collecting air conditioner in the corner. Compared to the villa and its gentle care at home, everything here seemed so drab and cold.

But I don't care about that. After all, escaping is shameful, but sometimes, escaping is indeed the most useful option.

I closed my eyes, my arm casually draped across my forehead. The air was thick with the faint scent of alcohol and the distinct musty dorm room. Thinking about the long history lectures I'd heard in class today, my head felt increasingly heavy. Although I'd managed to stay awake during the day, the content of each class felt like an invisible pressure, suffocating me. The chapters of history, those elusive interstellar years, seemed to have tangled up in my mind like a tangled ball of yarn, each thread with no solution.

I didn't intend to dwell on this, at least not right now. Lying on this small bed, I couldn't find the direction I truly desired. Everything seemed so distant and unsolvable.

The exhaustion and confusion in my heart began to blend into a deep sense of weariness. My eyelids grew heavier, and I almost instantly fell into dreamland. In my dream, it was still the same foggy city, as if every street and every corner reminded me of something. And the little bear, who never left my side, was still quietly curled up in the girl's arms, with an eerie waxy sheen, as if waiting for something.

At some point, footsteps sounded outside. I opened my eyes slightly, and the light from outside the dormitory door shone through the crack, illuminating me. Suddenly, I felt unsure if I was ready to face tomorrow.

And then, as if by fate, my computer suddenly chimed in. It showed an unfamiliar number, and I subconsciously felt a surge of nervousness, my heartbeat accelerating.

I was almost stunned.

In that instant, my mind raced through the past night: his drunken appearance, his pained and agonizing voice, his bewildered eyes. I felt like I was trapped on an island within myself, unable to make a decision, and unable to escape easily. The man's voice came back from the other end of the line, a subtle tremor in it that made my heart tighten.

"Yang Ruyuan...you...even you...are not coming back..." His voice was hoarse, as if he had been through a torment, as if he was being suffocated by something. Every word was heavy, as if carrying the loneliness and loss that he could not bear.

I didn't reply immediately, only gently gripping the metal bedside, my fingertips feeling slightly cold. Last night, he'd made dinner for Shan Qi, even before he'd returned, still silently waiting. I could sense the silent anticipation behind him, as if he were waiting for something, waiting for that overlooked desire to be seen, perhaps just acknowledged, that his efforts hadn't been in vain.

But that’s none of my business!

"I made dinner... for you..." His voice came again, low and weak, like self-mockery, but also like a plea. I couldn't help but bite my lower lip, wanting to say something, but suddenly I found myself at a loss for words.

Recalling his disappointed eyes and his powerless expression when I left him last night, I can't help but feel a pang of sadness. I know he doesn't really want to use me as a replacement. His pain hides so many emotional entanglements, and what part am I, or am I just an unintentional dependency? I don't have an answer.

I let out a gentle breath, as if to dispel the confusion and uneasiness in my heart. "You... are still making dinner?" My voice was a little dry. I tried to calm myself, but the silent worry still escaped my words.

There was silence for a few seconds on the other end of the phone, as if he was sorting out his emotions. Finally, his voice became low: "Yes... but, aren't you coming back?" His tone was faintly helpless, as if he knew the result, but still expected a miracle to happen.

I know what I should do, but I always feel like something is missing, or rather, I can't find the right way to express the true concern in my heart. In fact, what confuses me most is myself.

"I'm...still at school." I forced a smile, my voice trembling slightly. "I have something to do today, so I might be back late."

"Don't you like that dish? Or did I cook it badly?" His voice was a little anxious, as if he was eager for a response.

I sighed softly and closed my eyes. My mind seemed to revisit that night: the dinner he cooked, the cold food, the endless stream of disappointment I felt while waiting, and then, finally, the tray he brought me. And here I was, still standing there, torn between a rock and a hard place.

The silence on the other end of the line felt like a heavy stone pressing down on my chest, nearly suffocating me. I knew I shouldn't have spoken to him like that, but exhaustion and anxiety suddenly surged over me, uncontrollable. I was surprised when those words slipped out so coldly, as if all emotion had been drained from them, leaving only a rational indifference.

"I told you, I have something to do. I'm very busy." I tried to lower my voice, almost shouting.

There was silence on the other end of the line, as if the other party hadn't reacted. After a long while, his low voice came from the other end, with a hint of imperceptible sadness: "...Okay, come back when you're free."

I could hear the deep sense of loss and helplessness in his tone. At that moment, my heart tightened and I almost regretted what I had said, but I swallowed my words and clenched my teeth.

"Okay, I'll hang up first." I said this coldly and hung up the call.

The air was icy cold. The image of the dinner he'd left for Shan Qi last night, and those unwilling eyes, flashed through my mind. I suddenly felt like an outsider, someone who shouldn't have had to deal with this difficult situation.

This wasn't the first time I'd felt my own apathy. But every time I pushed those feelings away, a deep unease crept in. Maybe I should get used to it.

I stood at the window, looking out at the dimly lit street, my thoughts drifting away. What should I do?

I sighed and looked down at the computer screen, my fingertips feeling a little cold.