Mr. Corrugated Paper

Since losing their sense of touch, the three of them would practice writing anytime and anywhere to improve their control. But they never expected that the first time they wrote so many words after relearning how to write was to write a letter.

Why communicate in such an inefficient way?

The man didn't know either; perhaps it was just a whim. He had always completed missions with absolute efficiency, but this time there were no conditions or objectives for completing the mission. So, he would have to stay here until headquarters issued the order to return, so why not slow down?

After finishing the letter, the man wanted to put it in the mailbox, but then he thought about how he would have to pass through the storeroom on his way back, which might attract Chrono's attention again. So he hesitated for a moment, then took the letter and headed towards Aponia's room...

"..."

Um?

Where am I?

Lin woke up quickly. He remembered that he had only fallen asleep for a short time, but in the blink of an eye, the world in front of him turned upside down, and a familiar sense of disorientation welled up in his heart.

He immediately realized that his consciousness had automatically begun to observe the Parallel World again.

What's it this time?

He groggily got up, his vision blurred, and snowmelt dripped down his nose.

He vaguely smelled something burning and embers being extinguished, but the smell was quickly overwhelmed by the smell of rain. Lin looked at the buildings beside him; the place looked somewhat familiar.

Dusk Street?

Did you end up in Parallel World's Dusk Street after an accident while on a mission in Dusk Street?

Lin didn't plan to do anything; he should be going back soon, just like the last time and the time before that, which ended in the same way.

However, doing nothing doesn't mean he'll stay put. He wandered around and looked around. Suddenly, he heard some noises, hid in the shadows and peeked out. He saw a figure walking ahead.

People?

Although I don't know the exact time, I can guess what it is by looking at the moon's head peeking out from the clouds. There are still people out this late; they must be thieves or...

Before he could even get a good look at the person, the person vanished in a flash.

What happened?

Lin quickly stepped forward to check, but there were no footprints extending further forward, so that meant...

He looked up and saw a crack in a second-floor window, with a fairly clear footprint on the wall.

Should we follow them and take a look?

Lin hesitated for a few seconds. What happened in Parallel World might not happen in his own world, but the general trend would be the same. What he was seeing now was probably just a simple burglary, and there was no need to pay attention to it.

But what if it's something very important?

Lin, who was always cautious, decided to investigate anyway, so he put his knees down—

"Sizzle..."

The rain is still falling.

Upon landing, it turned into a sweet, crimson hue.

The excruciating pain in his chest and the weakness throughout his body caused Lin Wangran to cough up blood. What pierced through his chest was a slender arm with delicate skin.

Blood dripped from her pink fingernails and mixed into the rainwater.

With his other hand, he grabbed his shoulder and pulled his hand out of his body, along with his life.

It destroyed the heart with absolute precision, leaving no room for anything else.

Lin collapsed heavily in the increasingly torrential rain. His unfocused pupils saw the person who killed him through the stinging rain.

Then, shock remained forever in his malfunctioning brain.

The murderer withdrew his blood-stained arm, letting the torrential rain drench her body, causing her gorgeous coat to cling to her curvaceous figure, but it couldn't wash away the lingering resentment and anger in her heart.

Lin's body had faded, or perhaps his consciousness in this world had dissipated; the original Lin was completely dead.

The target of her revenge has been killed, so her resentment should have ended.

But she only looked coldly at the slightly open second-floor window.

Endless blood energy, like a flood of disaster, gushed forth.

The man who had just put down the letter suddenly had a familiar feeling of being watched. He glanced at the Nun was sleeping soundly and quietly, then pushed open the window again and landed on the ground to check the situation around him.

Silence.

Everything remained unchanged. He went up and down in just a few dozen seconds. Even the fastest person couldn't have left no trace.

Could it be his own problem again? I only remember that during the ball, I suddenly felt something was off, but it quickly subsided.

It's better to be cautious.

Before him stood "people," fallen corpses, and spreading bloodstains—so glaringly obvious, yet he seemed oblivious to them as he took a step forward.

As she watched, the man stepped on Lin's corpse...

Then, they went through it.

She watched the man walk towards her, standing still without trying to avoid him, and the man walked right through her as if it were nothing.

"..."

She didn't look back. She knew better than anyone that men could sense her gaze, even if they were in different spaces.

She disappeared from the spot along with "Lin's" corpse.

The Nun might start to look forward to the mornings from now on.

Since that night, something unexpected has happened every morning that has changed her once stagnant life.

For example, this morning I found a letter left by a man on my desk.

She hadn't even changed out of her pajamas when she walked to the table and opened the envelope. She recognized it as the envelope from which she had written her letter; it seemed he had simply written it beforehand and stuffed it into a used envelope for convenience.

The letter was short, and their exchange consisted of only a few sentences. The letter simply described the speaker, neither praising nor criticizing him, but he omitted some unnecessary details about his relationship with the speaker.

At the end of the letter, there was an abrupt sentence that was completely unrelated to the above content.

"The sound of roasting potato chips is really nice; you should try it if you have time."

Roasted... potato chips?

The Nun looked at the three words several times and realized that she had not misread them.

Why baked potato chips?

After thinking about it carefully for a while, she sat down at the table and started writing the letter again. After sealing it, she changed her clothes and prepared to mail it.

At that moment, she suddenly found herself looking forward to a reply the next day.

Chapter Eleven Mr. Corrugated

"Get up, time to work."

The man woke up the moment he heard Chrono's words. It was the first time he had slept so soundly and woke up so late. Perhaps it was because he didn't need to get up early to exercise?

The man wasn't grumpy when he woke up; he was fully conscious the moment he woke up. Chrono tossed him a work uniform and a pair of gloves.

"Put them on."

"..."

Both his work clothes and gloves were dirty and covered in sweat stains. The man looked at Chrono, but Chrono was too lazy to explain. He changed into a new set of work clothes, put on his gloves, and walked out.

The man quickly changed his clothes and followed.

"Whether you plan to stay long or not, as long as you stay here, you'll work for me." Chrono said to the man as he walked. "Be quick and efficient. If you can't move something, leave it to me."

The man is the type who looks slim in clothes; he doesn't have particularly obvious muscle definition, and at first glance, if you don't pay attention to his chest, you might not be able to tell whether the person covering his face is male or female.

Naturally, Chrono would think he was just a skinny bamboo pole who couldn't carry much.

"... What are the job responsibilities?"

"Job duties? Ha, your wording is really 'civilized'." In fact, Chrono had already noticed that the man's clothes were not like those of people from Dusk Street. They were neat, clean, and even had few wrinkles. They weren't from any particularly luxurious brands, but they were enough to make people realize that he was different from the others.

Why would someone like that come to Dusk Street? Qian Chrono didn't want to think about it; it was pointless. He had already said that since the Nun had brought him back, he should just abide by the rules of the sanatorium if he planned to stay there. Chrono didn't want to care about anything else.

People from the countryside might care about people from the city, but Chrono is neither from the countryside nor the city; he is someone who will settle things with his fists if necessary.

"We don't need to do anything. There aren't many jobs for us on Dusk Street. We just need to move some goods or equipment." Chrono and the man walked out of the sanatorium. His "reputation" seemed to be renowned on Dusk Street. People would avoid him when they saw him, afraid that they might accidentally offend him.

Even without a fight, Chrono's terrifying tone and voice were enough to make people tremble.

"And you'd better be careful... Hmm? Where is everyone?"

Turning around, she found the man had vanished. Enraged, Chrono circled around and found him standing in front of a wildflower.

"You..."

Are there many plants on Dusk Street?

Chrono was about to say something when the man interrupted him, turning his Ultraman mask around to look at Chrono.

"How would I know! Do you think everyone's as idle as you, paying attention to wildflowers?"

The man looked at the wildflower again. Seeing that it was growing so vigorously in such cold weather, he became suspicious of this unusual behavior.

"Snort."

Chrono snorted as she watched the man effortlessly carry the last item onto the shelf without even exhaling, but her expression beneath the mask had softened somewhat.

The man was surprisingly capable; he was clearly not the typical spoiled rich kid type, much better than those useless people who came to the sanatorium to laze around but couldn't do a single job.

He doesn't talk much, but he gives off a reliable vibe. That's good, it suits his taste.

"Is that all?" the man asked.

"That's all, that's all. I already told you there's not much work to do." One of the reasons the sanatorium's income is so meager is that there are very few jobs available on Dusk Street. After all, cheap labor is plentiful here, and even if Chrono could do the work of ten people, he still wouldn't get many jobs.

If they were to extend their reach into more complex areas, they could earn a considerable amount of income, but Chrono disdained to do so, and the Nun would not accept money earned from such activities.

These jobs don't even provide the same amount of exercise a man needs in half an hour at the gym.

When people have free time, they tend to chat, but Chrono is someone who has no intention of asking about other people's affairs. Most of the time, he just stands there with a fierce aura, giving everyone the impression that he doesn't want strangers to talk to him.

Men should be like that too, but this time he unusually started the conversation first.

"Did you grow up on Dusk Street?"

"Tch..." Chrono clicked his tongue, not expecting the man to start talking about family matters. He replied irritably, "Growing up in Dusk Street? Apart from that weird woman Aponia, I'm afraid no one can do that, right? They either ran away or never grew up. I'm afraid less than half of them can stay here from birth to adulthood."

When did you meet Aponia?

"Three years ago? Two years ago? I can't remember."

"You..."

"So annoying! He keeps chattering away!" Chrono had a fiery temper, but he was a man of few words. His reticence seemed to have made him a man of few words. He glared at the man and said, "Are you checking my household register?"

"Okay, thousand... Corrugated Paper."

"What Corrugated Paper! You didn't even remember my name!"

As Chrono flew into a rage, a person stumbled towards them. Chrono glanced at him and roared, "Get out of here!"

The man, who had been on the verge of death, immediately perked up and turned to run away.

"Aren't these pickpockets afraid of death?"

"They're afraid of dying, that's why they steal."

Chrono frowned and looked at the man who was contradicting him. The man was watching the pickpocket walk away.

Are you giving him an excuse?

"I'm looking for the reason."

"Heh... whatever the reason, it's done."

"But we still need to know why."

The man turned around and said to Chrono, "You did nothing wrong, that's all."

I really don't understand this person. He speaks in a cryptic and mysterious way, like Nun, as if he's studying philosophy. He must have something in common with that woman.