Night Journey

Chapter 135 A moment of warm light

Warm yellow spotlights fell from the ceiling, casting circles of light of varying shades on the bar, while amber-colored liquor swirled in the glasses, refracting tiny specks of light.

"One day, oh...one day..."

An old-fashioned record player played a lazy blues tune. The song sounded familiar to Cillian; it seemed like Bruce had been humming this tune when he left home.

“Paul and I have been in love for many years, and our relationship has always been great, but perhaps because it was too good, we gradually encountered a problem…”

Wenxi held a wine glass, leaning against the bar. The melody of the saxophone drifted over the rim of the glass, creating ripples of intoxication in the air.

"We know each other too well and love each other too much, so we've lost a lot of surprises in life. We no longer have the pink fantasies of love, but only the trivialities of reality."

Glancing at Paul, Wensey complained, "After realizing this, I hoped to change my relationship with Paul, maybe it would rekindle our passion, but that idiot just doesn't get it."

Paul gave an awkward smile. He could never figure out what Wenxi was thinking, which was also what attracted him most about her.

"Then... the story takes a turn, which is the key point I'm going to talk about today."

The crowd quieted down and listened carefully to what Wenxi was about to say. They knew that it was a story about the Reverse Falcon.

“After the party that night, Paul and I talked a lot, but suddenly, we encountered a group of zombies emerging from the darkness…”

Wenxi vividly described what happened that night.

The appearance of the walking dead, Paul's self-sacrifice, and the arrival of the reverse falcon.

She wasn't a good storyteller; her voice was neither loud nor soft, and her tone was dry and unengaging.

Yet, despite his clumsy words, everyone listened intently.

Before attending the party, they had all heard more or less about what happened that night in Vancouver, but hearing it from the person involved was a completely different experience.

"Wow……"

Mafoni sat to the side, listening intently with shining eyes.

Cillian, Dalin, and Anya huddled together in a shadowy corner, each with a different expression.

"The Reverse Falcon appeared out of nowhere, wiped out the zombies, and was just as powerful, deadly, and mysterious as the legends say!"

When Wenxi talked about these things, she sounded like a young girl with a heart full of spring fever.

"However, most importantly, he is not as cold and ruthless as rumored. I actually find him very interesting, even with a touch of dark humor and warmth."

"for example?"

Meifuni couldn't help but ask.

"For example... this one! It was given to us by the Reverse Falcon!"

Wenxi proudly raised his hand, a rough-made iron ring on his ring finger, its surface engraved with fine textures, like a curled-up feather.

What's more noticeable than the ring is Wenxi's ring finger, which looks like it's been branded with a hot iron, with a fresh scar under the ring.

"Your finger..." Meifuni asked with concern.

"Oh, it's nothing. It was originally an iron feather, which was temporarily heated and bent by the reverse falcon... Wow, I was drunk at the time and didn't feel anything. When I woke up, it hurt terribly. Luckily, it was treated in time, otherwise the doctor said it might have become infected."

Despite her constant complaining, Wenxi never forgot the smile on her face as she proudly displayed her ring and scar to everyone.

"After the falcon saved us, it put rings on my finger and Paul's finger and wished us a happy marriage."

Wenxi glared at Paul. "Even though Paul didn't propose and I didn't say yes, Reverse Falcon said so, right?"

Paul sighed helplessly and obediently raised his hand, revealing the same iron ring on his ring finger, beneath which lay the same scar.

Meifuni blinked and exclaimed.

"Is Reverse Falcon... becoming a master of ceremonies?"

This reverse falcon is completely different from the cold-blooded killer I remember.

"It was just a spur-of-the-moment idea of ​​his."

Paul began, "Reverse Falcon's personality is hard to fathom. Rather than dark humor, I think he's more of a guy with a wicked sense of humor, otherwise..."

"There's no need to leave us with such scars."

At this point, Paul tenderly rubbed Wensey's fingers. This was the person he loved, and she had been left with a scar so inexplicably.

"I actually think Reverse Falcon is a super romantic guy!"

Wenxi waved excitedly, "Don't you think this scar is also a kind of ring? It can never be removed, like a vow etched into flesh and blood!"

Suddenly, Wenxi's tone changed, and he stared fiercely at Paul, whispering.

"So, Paul, if you disappoint me, I'll not only take back the ring for Reverse Falcon, but I'll also chop off your finger."

Paul had a terrible headache. Ever since that night, Wensey seemed to have been corrupted by the Falcon, and he had also taken on a bit of a manic streak.

"Wow……"

Meifuni had lost count of how many times she had sighed like this.

Soon, the conversation shifted from the Falcon to the love story of Wensey and Paul.

"Today's gathering isn't just about the Falcon, it's also about my engagement to Paul!"

Wenxi announced loudly, and everyone cheered.

Apart from the three people sitting in the corner.

Cillian lowered his head, gripped his wine glass tightly with both hands, and stared intently at the table.

Anya sat smiling to Cillian's right. After spending so much time together, she had gradually grown accustomed to the oppressive aura of Cillian's bloodline. "How surprising, Cillian..."

On the left, Daelin suppressed a laugh, put his hand on Cillian's shoulder, leaned down, and asked.

"What were you thinking at the time? Were you planning to work as an emcee as a side job?"

Cillian's face was ashen.

No one could have imagined that the falcon from that night was right here, hiding in a corner listening to the cheers of the crowd.

To be honest, it feels pretty good.

When Wenxi talked about what romance was all about, Cillian's lips already curled up, and a long-awaited joy welled up in his heart.

Until Dalin and Anya sat down beside him without saying a word, like soldiers escorting prisoners.

It's over, it's over.

Cillian was like a mouse spying on other people's happiness, secretly pleased with himself, when he was caught by these two.

It's unbelievable how the situation turned into a public execution of myself!

Cillian retorted defiantly, "You...shut up!"

"Haha."

Anya, who was standing to the side, finally couldn't help but laugh. In all the time she had known him, this was the first time she had seen Ciri so embarrassed, his cheeks completely red.

"If possible, I'd like to invite Gyousuke to the wedding."

Wenxi spoke of her vision, "But how could an ordinary person like me possibly contact the Reverse Falcon..."

"You could create a news corner."

Meifuni offered her own perspective: "Invite Reverse Falcon to your wedding. Since no one knows his true identity anyway, who knows, you might even find another Iron Feather in a corner when the party's over?"

"Oh, right!"

Wenxi grabbed Meifuni's hand and shook it vigorously.

On the other side of the bar, Paul leaned close to Elton and whispered, "Sorry, Elton, this party has completely gone off-topic."

"No way! Everyone was having a lot of fun."

Elton smiled sincerely.

He liked the atmosphere; it gave him a real sense of being in this world, even though the party was about to end.

The soft laughter and clinking of glasses were melodious, cheeks flushed slightly, and eyes softened in the warm light. The aroma of whiskey mingled with a hint of tobacco, creating a soothing rhythm. The lamplight gilded the tips of everyone's hair, and laughter flowed across the table like warm water.

Someone recounted a recent amusing incident, saying that he kept encountering a dog that would carry a newspaper in its mouth. After following it several times, he couldn't find where it went. Others chimed in, asking if the dog had a bald patch on its head.

A bald dog?

Everyone burst into laughter.

The laughter continued; some shared their embarrassing moments, some fantasized about their future, and others inquired about Wenxi's wedding plans and how Paul's preparations were going.

Cillian remained seated in the shadows of the corner.

He didn't say much, he just watched—watched the fine lines at the corners of Wenxi's eyes when she smiled, watched the wine spill when Elton gestured, watched Maefuni gently brush away the stray hairs that fell across her forehead with her fingertips.

A smile played on Cillian's lips, so natural it seemed innate, and he himself didn't even realize how long that smile had been on his face.

Until a certain moment.

Perhaps the record player's melody was off by half a beat, or perhaps the wind outside the window suddenly hit the glass with a muffled thud—Cillian's gaze suddenly stopped.

Cillian looked across at the booth opposite him, where Mefuni was tossing a nut into her mouth and chewing it like a squirrel, while his own hand remained in the position of holding a glass, the water droplets on the glass sliding down his fingers, cool as some kind of reminder.

He suddenly realized that he was Cillian.

“I am… Cillian.”

The thought, like a fine needle, unexpectedly pierced the warm, cocoon.

Who was that smiling "he" just now? Was he just a shadow borrowed from the light, music, and laughter of that brief moment?

A sense of absurdity crept up on me like vines.

Was his smile just now a genuine smile, or a conditioned reflex to a "pleasant atmosphere"? Just as gears turn more smoothly when they encounter lubricating oil, his face automatically arches when it encounters warmth.

But who is he?

Is it the same Xilian who fought his way out of Baiya Town, or the "Xilian" sitting in the warm light right now, with even his fingertips smelling of alcohol?
Cillian stared at the wine in his glass and suddenly felt that the color looked exactly like congealed blood. The laughter around him continued, but it sounded like it was coming through a thick layer of glass—distant, distorted, and even a little jarring.

He slowly released his grip, and the glass gently tapped on the table with a muffled thud.

Cillian got up and left.

No one asked him where he was going, just as no one had asked him why he hadn't spoken.

Everyone was immersed in their own warm light, but Cillian's warm light shattered.

Cillian's steps were as light as if he were escaping from a dream that was too real. The cold wind outside the door rushed into his collar, making him shiver.

He stood alone under the dim yellow sky.

Just like always.

(End of this chapter)