Lin Chuan watched Klein pace pitifully beside the stove, occasionally flicking his gaze toward the cupboard before snatching it back as though he had been shocked.
He knew what was going on. The cupboard held the pound of lamb Klein had bought earlier, and Klein wanted to wait until Melissa came home so they could eat it together.
Although that pound of lamb amounted to only about half a kilogram, and was hardly a good cut, it was still countless times better than rye bread.
Lin Chuan felt conflicted. He was unsure whether this came from Zhou Mingrui's kindness or, more likely, from having absorbed Klein's memories.
Lin Chuan felt somewhat conflicted. He wasn't sure whether this was due to Zhou Mingrui's kindness or, more likely, the result of merging with Klein's memories.
Klein finally remembered what else he had bought and stopped simply waiting for the water to boil. Lin Chuan watched him rush into the washroom with two potatoes, and soon heard water splashing. He did not float after him, merely hovering where he was, his gaze resting on the empty cupboard.
For a moment, he saw two figures overlapping.
Ten thousand years ago, that had been his familiar friend, Zhou Mingrui, a young man who had just passed the civil service exam and was still worrying about making a living. He would munch on instant noodles late at night while complaining to Lin Chuan about the bizarre characters at his workplace, though he was already far luckier than those working away from home. He had been Lin Chuan's close friend for five years.
Now, ten thousand years later, that was the protagonist he had come to know in a book, Klein Moretti, a friend who had inherited the original owner's memories and feelings. He would gnaw on black bread with an empty stomach just to wait for his sister to come home and share a meal of lamb. He longed to return home, yet also carefully protected those who had not originally been his family, but whom he had come to regard as such.
Was there a difference? Lin Chuan asked himself.
There was no difference. The stars beyond the world gave him an answer. Perhaps it was an illusion, or perhaps an echo sent through the barrier by some distant version of himself.
He lowered his eyes, recalling the choice he had made after arriving.
After leaving Sefirah Castle and sneaking into Tingen as a Spirit Body, he had actually had many paths available to him. The easiest would have been to find a nearby, recently deceased body whose physical functions were still intact and move into it. That would have posed no difficulty for him. He needed neither authority nor characteristics; his innate status alone was enough.
But he had not done so.
At first, he told himself it was because he did not want to miss the people he was about to meet, or the iconic scene of Tingen's Nighthawks squad coming to inspect the place.
He could also scare Klein along the way and see how amusing that face looked when shocked. But Lin Chuan knew that none of those was the main reason.
The main reason was that he felt somewhat lost.
He had not received the memories he should have had of his ten thousand years of traveling and learning among the stars. His last recollection remained the moment when, with the Oldest One about to awaken, he had sealed his Spirit Body and severed his connection to his Sefirah's main body. Everything after that was blank.
He could still sense a part of himself. That Outer Deity, who might or might not have adopted some flashy name by now, was somewhere in the solar system, voyeuristically watching Earth through the barrier.
He could even vaguely sense another part of himself somewhere far away on this planet, facing him across the sea. Yet their connection was as weak as a signal from the stars passing through the Oldest One's Barrier.
There was one, and only one, place on Earth that could cut him off: the Gray Fog barrier the Celestial Worthy had erected around the Western Continent.
From that perspective, part of his Sefirah was among the stars, while another part had entered the Western Continent. Considering that the Oldest One could not converge onto him, he could only have done it voluntarily, tearing his own Sefirah apart in concert with the Oldest One's convergence.
Those matters alone were enough to leave him bewildered for a while. But what truly unsettled him was the missing ten thousand years of memories.
Normally, even if he had sealed his Spirit Body and severed the connection, all his memories should have synchronized instantly the moment he emerged.
This quality, similar to yet different from the Celestial Worthy's "omnipresence," was something even he could not change if he wanted to. "Lin Chuan" was, and could only be, a single "Lin Chuan"-one whole.
Unless some versions of "Lin Chuan" no longer belonged to "him."
Lin Chuan closed his eyes. He was not worried about those matters, because even in the worst case, where he had betrayed himself, only the "Lin Chuan" closest to the one who had first transmigrated and crashed into this world could become the main body.
In other words, apart from the part in the Western Continent, which he genuinely could not contact for some unknown reason, he could still draw on the Sefirah and symbolism of his main body among the stars whenever he wished.
What had troubled and worried him earlier was that time and memories could both change a person. What if his self out among the stars, or the versions of "Lin Chuan" in those other places, changed over the course of ten thousand years?
Then how could he himself remain unchanged after endless ages? That really was unlikely. Faced with something like this, a human mind was far too fragile, yet he insisted on trying.
But there was really nothing to worry about.
The sound of running water stopped. Klein emerged from the washroom carrying a basin of washed potatoes, wiped his wet hands haphazardly on his clothes, then hurried off to chop them. He really did seem to be starving.
So Lin Chuan thought.
Was there a difference between Zhou Mingrui and Klein? Home. Zhou Mingrui wanted to return to his old home. Klein wanted to go back, but also to protect the home he had now. At their core, there was no difference. Some deeply rooted qualities would never change.
What about him, then?
Lin Chuan tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, as though he could see some distant star through it.
He wanted to go home. To the place he had never had the chance to properly say goodbye to before transmigrating. The place with food delivery, air conditioning, internet cables, novels he had yet to finish, and games he had yet to beat. The place he had complained was boring on countless late nights, only to realize how precious it was after leaving.
That goal had never changed, not since the first day.
He did not know what he had experienced among those stars, nor what the part of him in the Western Continent was like now. But he knew one thing: as long as they were "Lin Chuan," no matter how many parts they split into or how many tens of thousands of years passed, they all wanted to go back, exactly as they had been.
Then there was no need to worry. Have a little more faith in yourself.
Not far away, Klein was still struggling to get a mouthful of potato and rye bread soup. Now that really was delicious breadcrumb soup... Lin Chuan made a quip in his mind that only he understood.
He drifted leisurely over, ready to pick up their earlier conversation. As he passed the desk, Lin Chuan noticed the notebook still lying open on it, bearing the sentence, "Everyone will die, including me."
-then afterward
!Bang
Bang bang!
Suddenly, at the door
came a series of urgent, forceful knocks.
Before you continue