This book continues the Alpha thread from the previous volume.
—whoosh.
Like a TV screen blinking dark, Ye Weibai’s vision snapped shut, and the world fell into ink.
He drifted fast through a long, shoreless tunnel, like a leaf pulled by black currents. He clamped his eyes shut, clinging to Little Ash’s warning—don’t open them, or they’ll drag you away.
This time, the chatty gray-haired girl wasn’t at his side. Time only put him on the road; Time didn’t enter the Void Tunnel.
The journey stretched thin and cold. Alone, he lost the feel of hours; minutes peeled away like bark, and day, or year, dissolved like snow in water.
Silence wrapped him, heavy as a sealed tomb. The dark felt damp and endless, and even Ye Weibai’s heart began to tremble, like a lantern flickering in a night wind. Just when he wondered if he was melting into the dark completely—
—whoosh.
A second whisper brushed his ear.
Soft, but in that pin-drop void it burst like thunder. He had no time to be startled before the wick caught; sounds flared one after another, a tide breaking the dead calm. Wind threaded through him. Leaves rasped like silk sleeves. Birds sang clear as glass chimes. And then—a girl’s voice, cotton-soft and sugary.
“Ah, ah, ah, y-you—you—did—”
She stuttered, words tripping like pebbles in a stream.
Dazzle pierced his lids—the color of sun after a long drought. Then smell, taste, touch came flooding back, the senses returning like homing birds.
Rain-washed earth rose rich at his nose. Skin prickled at the chill of dawn air. A rough tree trunk pressed his back, bark gritty like old rope. Dew-heavy grass seeped through thin pants, a cool ribbon soaking cloth. Eyes closed, he still “saw” sunlight sift through leaves, bright as coin-gold.
In that breath, he knew his scene. Morning. A forest. Coarse linen on his body. He sat on damp grass, back braced by a great root. And beside him—an eight- or nine-year-old girl.
He opened his eyes and met the light—and her.
A small girl in simple white, eight or nine, cheeks softly rounded. Ruby-bright irises held a lake’s calm, her features fine as carved jade. With her head tilted, light-red hair flowed like a wave across her shoulder, revealing a long, pale neck.
Her face hovered a fist away. Those red-lake eyes mirrored him, worry deep and clear.
“Ah, ah—you, you, y-you’re awake—awake! A-are you okay?”
She tried again, speech caught in thorns. Pretty as she was, she was a stutterer.
Sun gilded her smile when he stirred, and joy scattered like petals.
Yet Ye Weibai didn’t look at her features. His eyes, hazy and unfixed, went oddly to her neck—and locked there. Her neck was very, very lovely—skin porcelain-pale, and beneath that soft veil, faint glassy veins. Blood moved inside, bright as crushed berries. In sunlight… vivid, alive… almost… delicious. No—certainly delicious—
“Are—are—are you okay!!”
Her small hand waved hard in front of him.
Five slender fingers swept past, breaking his stray thoughts. Ye Weibai snapped awake, a chill crawling his spine.
What the hell?! Why did that look “tasty”? Did I drop into some creep’s body?
He felt the fit of a stranger’s limbs. This wasn’t his original shell. This time, it was soul-only—he’d crossed as spirit.
And the target… he knew it the moment he saw her. It was intuition, clean and sharp. Before leaving, Time had told him, “When Misfortune binds you, it grants you a matching sense. You’re here to hunt what Misfortune needs. You should be keen at catching those wrapped in it.”
So the cute, stuttering girl beside him was walking under a great, despairing Misfortune. That weight had drawn him into this World.
But…
He searched her eyes and found no shadow, no ash of despair—only sunlight without stain. Not even a smudge of grief.
Did I misread it?
He stayed quiet too long. She grew anxious. “Y-you—you—are—are—”
Forget it. If it won’t click, shelve it.
“Sorry. I’m not mute.” He cut in, voice dry.
“Eh, eh, eh? I—I—I thought—”
Her surprise sparkled, disbelief bright as dew.
He stayed lounging; the grass felt oddly cozy. “I don’t need people to finish. I can guess what they’ll say. Mind-reading—that’s my special skill.”
Her eyes went wide. They were large already; now they filled, crystal-clear.
“So—so—so—so—”
“You mean ‘That’s awesome’, right?” Mischief tugged his mouth.
“Y-yes—yes!! C-can you—can—can—”
“I can teach you. But first—learn to bark like a puppy.”
She stared. “Ah—ah—ah—ah?!”
“In your head you’re saying, ‘He’s messing with me, right?’ My mind-reading’s spot-on?”
“Th-that’s… true…”
“Decide fast if you want it. If not, don’t bother my nap.”
“…” Her teeth worried her lip. Inside, a tug-of-war raged. After a long moment, she set herself, and whispered, “Woof…”
He snorted a laugh. “Pfft.”
“Eh?” She blinked.
“Gotcha.” He grinned. “Mind-reading’s a lie.”
“Eh—eh—eh—eh—eh—eh—eh—eh—eh?!”
Her indignation puffed like steam.
He ignored the glare. “Hey, Little Red.”
“I—I—I’m n-not—”
“I know that’s not your name. But red hair, red eyes—you qualify. Don’t like it?”
“I—I—”
“Okay, you don’t. I’ll drop it.”
“…”
What the heck!
She’d been guessed twice mid-sentence; anger ballooned her cheeks. She decided she’d never speak to this person again!
From birth till now, she’d never met anyone like this. First meeting, and he made her bark—infuriating!
Yet sulking, she didn’t notice how, in just a few exchanges, his gentle nudges folded distance. They chatted like old friends, and her wary shell had gone wandering.
Part of it was her soft, slightly daft nature. But Ye Weibai’s god-tier knack with little girls—charisma +10—was no small thing.
“Okay, don’t be mad—catch this.” He shot a finger out like lightning and poked her puffed cheek.
She hadn’t expected the sudden warm touch. Eyes flew wide, vows dropped like leaves.
“What—what are—”
“Sorry. I just had to press it.” He smiled and poked the other side.
“Fair’s fair. Both cheeks—balanced.”
“What—what’s fair about that!!”
Like a cat with its tail stepped, she fluffed up and leapt at him.
“I—I—I’m g-g-going to poke—poke—poke you—you—you—too—so—so—”
She climbed him, jabbed his cheek, and declared, “That’s fair!”
She pushed with all her might, fierce as a sparrow. He held firm and steady, making sure she wouldn’t slip.
Watching her triumph, his mind drifted. Another little girl’s silhouette rose and overlapped her.
“Rin…”
“Ah—ah?”
“Ah—no, nothing.” He shook loose from memory, smiled, and offered his hand.
“Hi. I’m Ye Weibai. You can call me Xiaobai.”
She stared at his hand, blinking, lost.
“Do you not do handshakes here? Like this.” He caught her small hand, set it in his palm, and pumped it gently up and down.
“Now we’re friends.”
“F-f-friends—?”
At that word, her struggle stilled. She looked at him, and red eyes bloomed with color like lanterns lit at dusk.
He knew he’d hit a trigger. He softened his smile, squeezed her hand, and said, “Yeah. Friends.”
Her face burst into sunshine.
“I—I—I’m c-called—”
She spoke carefully, each syllable placed like stepping stones.
“Phi—lia!”
Ye Weibai rubbed his hollow belly. “Philia, can I come to your home for something to eat?”
She nodded hard. “Y-yes, yes!”
“Then let’s go.” He stood, smiling.
...
...
Crunch, squelch—
"—Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"Mmph, mmph—"
Chew. Chew. Chew. Chew.
...
...
"Ah, ah, ah—"
A little girl's voice, soft and sticky-sweet, timid and halting, drifted in like a sky-borne bell and tugged Ye Weibai up from the dark.
From a night thick as tar, he pried open his eyes, and a stranger about eight or nine stood there like a small flame.
Her red hair spilled to her shoulders like sunset silk; her red eyes burned like embers; she was beautiful, worry clouding her face.
When he blinked awake, that worry broke like dawn, and a smile bloomed bright as spring on her lips.
Such a lovely, adorable little girl, and she stutters— what a pity, he thought, the idea light as a passing cloud.
Then a cold rose first, like the filthiest sludge oozing from a well’s black bottom, and in a breath it coated his whole body.
A nameless unease and fear bit down like wolves and swallowed his mind; Ye Weibai’s face drained white as paper.
No—
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
But—
What— is— wrong?
...
...
