Then Zhang Anzai was startled by a sound. "Boom!"
It was a drumbeat.
He turned his head. Chen Xing had actually turned on the radio in this atmosphere and in this state. Before Zhang Anzai could react, he heard the bass and guitar.
"The Fisher King still wants... to go on being the Fisher King."
The song was already halfway through.
He quickly realized why it was playing now.
After figuring out how Chen Xing worked at the gas station, Zhang Anzai was still a little afraid of the strange guy beside him, but at least he dared to do a lot more in the car now.
That included turning on the radio to listen to music when they drove toward the Highway 45 sign again.
This guy's learned this, too...
When it came to operating something on his own, without involving anything else, Chen Xing was still a little single-minded. He probably thought that driving along this stretch meant turning on the radio and listening to music.
But for some reason, Zhang Anzai didn't stop him. He simply listened to the melody in his ears and kept cutting paper.
The old rock playing beside him came from a different era than today's rock music, but he had to admit, Zhang Anzai knew it well.
"And the harbor has long since disappeared."
Zhang Anzai flung open the car window and tossed out a handful of paper money.
The song and the guitar interlude poured in with the wind, then swept back out, carried far away and stretched thin in the faintly visible black fog behind them.
The song's rhythm wasn't hurried, and its sound wasn't frenzied. It echoed through the car.
"My chest is shrouded in twilight."
Zhang Anzai's hands worked up and down, and a paper swallow took flight.
The black fog behind them was like a gaping mouth, surging upward after the swallow that had suddenly flown out.
As he listened to the guitar solo that followed, Zhang Anzai scattered another handful of paper money, lit it, and tossed it out.
There wasn't much paper left in the notebook, and his hands were so tired he could barely hold the scissors.
But when he turned to look—
Flames swirled around the handful of paper money. The guitar's sound waves scattered it in midair, and the fire burned it into piece after piece. They flew even more like real butterflies than the paper discs he'd cut out earlier.
The black fog swept behind them, having long since covered most of the sky. It was as if a sky blanketed with countless dark clouds had suddenly shattered and was about to crash down below.
But just then, the three incense sticks in front of the bag of soil he'd dug up went out again.
This was the third handful since they'd started fleeing.
The last bit of incense ash fell onto his leg, and the little firelight remaining in the car went out completely.
But just then, Zhang Anzai suddenly felt something strange. It was as if the pressure had lifted and his entire bloodless body had regained sensation.
He gasped for breath, and clearly heard his heart beating in his chest. "Thump, thump... thump, thump..."
He looked up. The darkness around them suddenly didn't seem so thick anymore. He leaned halfway out the car window, and the song poured into his ears on the wind.
He saw the real night sky, and quite a few stars.
"Did we... break through?"
Zhang Anzai looked back. The highway behind them was calm as ever. The starry night stretched over the endless road and wasteland, and the ghostly fog and evil spirit that had chased them like nightmares for so long seemed never to have existed.
A strange, unreal feeling came over him. Then he blinked.
"Ah—" A piercing scream reached his ears.
The black fog had surged back, but this time it was pressed flat against the ground and continued sinking into it. Even the evil spirit had half its body submerged in the asphalt.
Only half of the eerie ghost's body remained aboveground. Its terrifying claws scraped at the asphalt, and it opened its jaw, shattered into three pieces, to scream at him.
After that, the ghost never appeared again, no matter how long he watched the road receding behind them in the howling wind outside the car, or how many times he blinked.
"Looks like... the summoning ritual worked. We're no longer trapped in a ghostly loop. We really did get out."
"Whoosh!" The car accelerated again, and the wind rushed in.
Many of the paper scraps clinging to Zhang Anzai's legs and hands were blown away. He didn't have the strength to pick them up or the mood to tidy them. He just gathered his things roughly.
Zhang Anzai let out a long breath. Judging by the distance, they weren't far from the Highway 45 sign.
"Count on you, Chen Xing. We'll be out soon."
Chen Xing sat beside him, quietly driving as always.
The song soon ended, and Zhang Anzai no longer felt as if a giant boulder of darkness were pressing down on his chest.
The radio host was making small talk that had no effect on him.
Zhang Anzai's consciousness slowly left his utterly exhausted body and returned to his real one. He could avoid some of the car's bumps here and rest more comfortably.
Also, because the evil spirit had kept slowing them down on the road, it was already past six.
Zhang Anzai silently shut down the computer, packed up his things, and then went out the door and headed toward the office.
It wasn't time to start work yet. He was only heading out early because he was worried something else might happen. This counted as voluntary overtime; he was the only one doing it, with no one else around.
Halfway there, he suddenly froze.
Although he'd shifted most of his consciousness back to this side, he was only primarily controlling this body. He still couldn't block out the senses of his other body.
So he heard a question mixed in with the song: "Friend, everyone on the radio has a name, and I have one too. What's your name?"
His consciousness returned to the instance. Everything around him was still pitch-black. Only on the horizon, where the Highway 45 sign was now visible, could he see a little dawn light that had yet to turn warm red.
"Walking along the gray path, all I see are the reflections of the Abyss... I've carried a lifetime of hardship, regret, and sorrow..."
The radio had switched to "Gray Track," and it was nearing the double-guitar section at the end.
But Zhang Anzai was still thinking about Chen Xing's question. He didn't look out at the road stretching into the distance.
He realized that Chen Xing's intelligence seemed to have grown again.
After thinking for a moment, he didn't give his player ID. Instead, he said, "My name is Zhang Anzai. I'm your friend."
Chen Xing fell silent as always, just like when they'd first met.
"Vroom!" The car engine roared again. At last, the sedan sped past the Highway 45 sign, and this time, the sign didn't disappear behind them.
The road ahead looked much the same as it always had, but where it led was completely different.
Zhang Anzai's player body was pulled out of the instance.
So he promptly switched his consciousness back to his real body.
The company was still quiet. A moment ago, he must have looked like an ordinary employee who'd stayed up late, felt a little tired, and was resting against the wall.
That wasn't unusual. Many of the potions new players could afford came with side effects, so plenty of people looked listless first thing in the morning.
It wasn't Monday, so this might not have been as common. Back then, plenty of people had dragged themselves back just before their deadlines looking like this.
They were the kind of people who could loudly declare, "I've stayed up all night for the company. I've risked my life for the company."
Zhang Anzai hurried into the office, pretended to catch up on sleep, and flopped down at his workstation.
He'd been busy all night, and at last, it was time to settle the results.
Before you continue