Shen Ji · Chat

The rain fell without rhythm. Late night in the City of Amnesia was soaked soft by the rain. The street neon blurred into hazy blocks of color, and the sound of traffic grew muffled through the curtain of rain. The entire city was sunk in the lazy apprehension of forgetting. Deep in the old street, the Silent Whispers Bookstore still held a single lonely light. Its faint yellow glow filtered through the wooden lattice window, casting a warm shadow onto the wet cobblestone road, entirely out of place with the surrounding cold desolation. Shen Ji sat behind the counter, his fingertips holding a fine needle for restoring ancient books. His dark, messy hair fell forward, veiling his pale gray-blue eyes. He carried an air of bone-deep coldness; a high-collared sweater wrapped his slender frame, his cuffs buttoned tight, hiding the faint scar on his left wrist that sealed his abilities silently beneath his sleeve. By day, he was an aloof old bookstore owner and ancient book restorer; by night, he was the Silent Night Watcher wandering the edges of the city, recovering memories too heavy to be left in the world, witnessing the unattainable obsessions of mortals while remaining completely detached. With a creak, the old wooden door was pushed open, and the wind chimes jingled softly. A cold wind swept in with the mist of rain, rustling the pages on the counter and bringing in a drenched visitor. The woman/man was wrapped in a tight raincoat, water dripping continuously from the hem, leaving wet patches on the floor. Her/his face was deathly pale, her/his eyes filled with a lost, soul-shattered blankness. Her/his hands tightly clutched a yellowed photograph, knuckles turning white, even her/his breathing trembling. "I forgot..." her/his voice was raspy, almost a whisper, as she/he stumbled closer and held the photograph out to Shen Ji. "I forgot who he is, but my heart hurts so badly. I have to remember." Shen Ji looked up, his gaze falling upon the photograph. The youth in the photo wore a white shirt, smiling radiantly in front of an old laboratory. The sudden sense of familiarity in those features instantly shattered the disguise he had worn for years. The moment his fingertips brushed the photograph, fragmented memories surged in like a tide—soaring flames, a deafening explosion, paper flying everywhere, and a hand reaching out to him from a pool of blood. It was the taboo past regarding his older brother, which he had sealed away with his own hands. A faint cold light flashed in his eyes for a split second, and the scar on his wrist began to burn slightly. Outside, a black sedan from the Memory Administration silently pulled up at the alley entrance, the sound of leather shoes stepping through puddles gradually drawing closer. In the shadows at the end of the alley, onlookers from the Grey Mist Market flickered in and out of view, all eyeing this memory erased by the curse. Shen Ji slowly withdrew his hand. His light gray eyes remained calm, yet beneath them hid a surging undercurrent. He looked at the helpless woman/man before him, his voice low like the night rain, devoid of any emotion: "If you find it, you will regret it." The rain suddenly intensified, beating rapidly against the windowpane. In the end, the warm light of Silent Whispers Bookstore could not keep out the dark undercurrents of the outside world. The forgotten truth was destined to break through the soil on this rainy night.