Visda’s face was dark with gloom. Looking utterly miserable, he slumped weakly over the desk at the office. Three days had already passed since his harrowing escape from that danger-filled alley.
During those three days, Visda hadn’t rushed to the front lines or thrown himself into desperate battles with the enemy like he used to. Instead, he had practically shut himself away in a small world of his own, locking himself tightly behind the office door and cutting himself off from the outside world.
In just three short days, Mobius City had changed beyond recognition.
Originally, gangs and workers had each occupied roughly half the city. Now, only the gang territories remained. The workers had been brutally suppressed—captured, killed—without any chance of putting up a fight.
Of the seventy-plus survivors left after the last operation, now counting Antina and Visda himself, only ten remained.
During these three days, Visda had been frantic with worry. He had tried every which way to find out what had happened to Leoro and Okusai, but every effort was like a stone sinking into the ocean—nothing came back. He had also mustered his courage and tried to search for their traces near that alley. But when he got there, he discovered the area was already completely under the control of Kork’s men. Soldiers patrolled the streets with loaded guns and live ammunition. Visda couldn’t get anywhere near it, let alone sneak in to look for clues.
Deep down, though, Visda had long since reached his own conclusion. To him, facing those monstrous enemies who felt no fear of bullets and were armed with advanced equipment, Leoro and Okusai barely stood a chance of survival. The odds of them being alive were practically zero.
“Was my path the right one?”
Sitting alone in the dim office, Visda stared blankly into the distance and murmured to himself.
He slowly pulled a bottle of liquor out from the office cabinet—something he had secretly bought on a whim some time ago. At the time, he’d taken a curious sip and found it far too bitter, almost impossible to swallow. He had meant to throw it away but then thought it would be too wasteful; maybe it would come in handy for something later. And sure enough, here in this suffocating moment of misery and gloom, Visda dug out that bottle.
“They say alcohol drowns sorrow. Maybe drinking this will let me forget all these troubles for a while.”
He slowly poured the liquor into a wooden cup, took a deep breath, and gulped it down.
The bitter alcohol instantly stung his taste buds, that astringent feeling spreading down his throat and through his whole body. The bitter liquor was like his bitter heart, and for a moment, the bitterness in his mouth temporarily masked the bitterness inside.
“Ah… it’s just running away from myself.”
Visda set down his cup, let out a long sigh, his eyes filled with self-reproach.
“But what can I possibly do now? The team we’d worked so hard to assemble… I lost it all in just three days. The bullets are gone, the food is nearly finished. I’ve let everyone down…”
His voice trailed off, growing fainter with each word.
“Leoro, Okusai… they pinned all their hopes on me. But I’m not as strong as you all imagined.”
That’s right, Visda wasn’t as strong as he appeared on the surface.
He had changed too fast—so fast he could barely bear the immense burden pressing down on his shoulders.
From a naive and ignorant student, to a young man embracing progressive ideas, to someone stirring up revolutionary movements, then to a soldier lifting a gun to kill the enemy, and finally to a commander left with almost nothing—it had all happened in just one month. His mental foundations were makeshift, fragile, utterly unable to withstand such a cascade of drastic changes.
Now, staring at the empty, deserted office, he felt that his heart was just like this vacant room—already shattered into pieces.
What could he do? How could he change this brutal reality? He kept asking himself but could never come up with an answer.
Maybe just give up? He couldn’t figure out this resistance thing, couldn’t do it at all. Maybe go back to how things were before, become a brainwashed, ignorant student again. Then perhaps there wouldn’t be so much anguish and suffering.
“Look, there’s another group of students on the streets. They’re carrying weapons handed out by the school, driving away anyone who tries to resist. They’re more determined than I am, with more resolve to act.”
Visda raised his cup, his eyes unfocused as he gazed out the window. Across from him sat no one.
Unused to alcohol, Visda was already somewhat drunk.
He staggered over to the table and took out his pocket watch. By the dim light filtering in through the window, he stared at the photo of his family tucked inside it. In the photo, his family smiled brightly. That warm image sent a sharp pang through his heart.
“If I’d never come to Mobius City in the first place, maybe everything would have been different. I could be living happily with my family, no school’s constraints, no smoke of war…”
“What am I saying… It’s clearly just my own uselessness. Why blame my choice? It’s only that I didn’t have the ability to see it through.”
Visda closed the pocket watch, slowly shut his eyes, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
It felt almost as though he were standing on the city walls of Clobest City. Before him stretched the vast ocean, rolling light-green waves crashing against the reef with crisp, clear sounds. Further ahead was the beach, where his younger sister and older sister were playing merrily, their laughter echoing in the air. At his side was his father, watching the two girls with a gentle smile, while his mother urged them softly to be careful.
But when he opened his eyes, there was nothing there. That beautiful vision had vanished in an instant, like a dreamy bubble popping.
Bang!
Just then, a violent crash sounded from outside the office’s main door. A flash of golden light flared, and it sounded as if something had been sent flying with great force, crashing into the tables and chairs outside the shop across the way.
“What the hell?!” A complaining shout came from a distance.
Half-dreaming and half-awake, Visda heard the commotion. He set down his cup and unsteadily pushed open the door. Looking around, a bitter smile crept onto his face.
“I really am drunk. Seeing hallucinations now.”
Visda murmured to himself.
He seemed to see Okusai’s figure. Okusai was frozen in place, his eyes staring toward Leoro, who was sprawled amid the broken tables, chairs, and debris in the distance. Behind Okusai appeared to be four or five workers, carrying two injured and unconscious comrades on their backs.
“Visda…”
Seeing Visda, Okusai called out softly.
“Hah, it can even talk. This is getting pretty realistic…”
Visda said with a bitter chuckle, convinced that all of this was his imagination.
Okusai caught the heavy smell of alcohol on Visda and knew at once that he’d been drinking.
“You’re drunk,” Okusai said, frowning.
Leoro, now climbing up from the mess of tables and chairs, muttered something under his breath in a mocking tone: “Well, well, look at you, sneaking drinks on your own!”
“I’m truly useless. I couldn’t even protect the two of you… The team has fallen apart. I don’t deserve to be your leader at all. Maybe… maybe stepping onto this path was a mistake from the start.”
Visda’s eyes were lifeless.
His words sent a tremor through everyone present.
Leoro took two steps forward, but Okusai reached out to stop him.
“He’s drunk!” Okusai said urgently.
“I know! I just can’t stand seeing him like this!”
Leoro brushed Okusai’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger.
Okusai couldn’t hold him back. Truth be told, Okusai couldn’t stand Visda’s current state either. Those disheartened words had sparked a nameless fire in their hearts too.
Okusai shook his head helplessly and walked inside. The workers behind him filed in one after another, and the last one shut the door behind them.
Leoro grabbed Visda by the collar and shoved him onto the sofa.
“You!”
Leoro’s eyes bulged as he roared.
“I thought you were a smart man, but I see now that you’re a hopeless fool. I thought, ‘Here’s a young guy who could organize our team, lead us to victory.’ But it turns out you’re covered in mold, a rotten stump of a man, completely incapable of carrying this burden!”
His shout echoed through the office.
Tears instantly poured from Visda’s eyes. He choked out through sobs:
“I wanted to! I wanted to make it work! But the enemy’s numbers are so overwhelming, their strength so great—even if I gave everything I had, I could never beat them! Almost everyone who followed me is dead. Only ten of us are left, barely clinging to life. I’ve always been a fool, just a fool with hot blood…”
Visda’s emotions completely crumbled, tears streaming down his face.
No sooner had he finished speaking than a burning, stinging pain suddenly bloomed across his cheek.
It felt so real, instantly cutting through the fog in his mind and sobering him up a few degrees.
This didn’t seem like a dream after all. That genuine sensation of pain was an insistent reminder.
Visda slowly opened his eyes. The Leoro and Okusai before him were no longer phantom shadows; they were standing there, real and solid. Their expressions, their movements—everything was unmistakably true.
“You… you came back?”
Visda’s voice trembled, his eyes brimming with disbelief. He had truly believed he would never see them again, thought they’d been killed in that brutal battle.
Seeing Visda’s utterly lost and broken appearance, Leoro didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh. He still had a firm grip on Visda’s collar, as if determined to channel all his fury and disappointment through that one gesture.
“Yeah, we came back. Crawled all the way back from hell! Do you have any idea how hard the journey was? Enemy pursuit everywhere, death threats lurking all around. But we gritted our teeth and pushed through. And what about you? Seeing your utter incompetence now, we came back to give you a good lesson, to wake you up! Look at the state you’re in! What does this look like? You’re our leader, everyone’s hope! Just look at you!”
Leoro grew more and more worked up with every word, as if desperate to vent every ounce of his frustration.
“You’re not dead?”
Visda looked at Leoro, his eyes still a little vacant, as if still submerged in his shock and daze. The words Leoro said after that probably didn’t sink in at all—he was just repeating that one fact over and over in his heart.
They were alive. They had really come back.
