Chapter 18 Interlude:

Night was drawing to a close, daylight gradually brightening.

Jack gasped for air and leaped from his bed.

He held his forehead, his mind still reeling from last night's dream—the relentless feeling of falling, the terrifying noises, the blinding light. He couldn't recall anything, only the feeling of constantly running.

"Guess it's just been too stressful lately..." He rubbed his brow.

He reached for the candy jar by the bed—but accidentally knocked it over, sending colorful candies tumbling everywhere, some even rolling under the bed.

"...What bad luck!" He sighed, staring at the empty jar, and got out of bed to pick up the scattered candies.

Each of these fruit candies was the size of a bean, originally packaged in bags, each containing a mix of several flavors. He used to throw the bag away, empty the entire package into the candy jar, and then randomly pick up a few, so he could taste the various flavors all at once.

But now the candy coating was covered in dust, making it inedible.

What a pity...

After cleaning up, he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in a daze, feeling a tasteless taste in his mouth.

"I wish there were donuts for breakfast." He laughed at himself, patted his face, got up to wash up, and tried to put the exhaustion that was enveloping him behind him.

-

At noon , there was the roar of racing engines in the arcade , the sound of music, and the sound of bickering. 

There were two figures in front of the screen, they were close together, and the game controllers in their hands were clacking. 

"Turn, turn! You're going to run off the track again!" Jason shouted. 

"I'm - overtaking on the curve!!" Jack stared at the screen with his eyes, his tone rising with an exaggerated tone. But as soon as he finished speaking, the car he was operating rolled over and flew into the lawn. 

"Uh... taking a shortcut." He added desperately. 

"Your car's going to be a total loss." 

"I'm just trying a new trick." 

"Got it, Jaybird," Jason chuckled, looking at his already widening lead. "I'm going to lap you for the third time." 

Not long after, Jack's car veered sideways off the track again, slamming into a roadside pillar with a thud. 

An explosion appeared on the screen, followed by a broadcast celebrating Jason's victory. 

"Yes!" Jason said triumphantly, lowering the controller. "I won all the races today. Admit it, I'm better than you." 

Jack threw his head back with a wail, then collapsed onto the sofa. 

"Who just said they were going to beat me in terms of skill?" 

"I don't remember," Jack said weakly. "I must have gotten worse because of my hand injury." 

"Come on," Jason grinned. "You're just a weakling." 

Jack rolled his eyes and used the controller to navigate the options menu. "What was that game you said you wanted to play last time? Two-Player?" 

"That one takes too long to complete," Jason said, pulling the controller over. "I'm talking about this apocalyptic zombie-killing online game that just came out." 

"Oh! Sounds exciting. I love it." Jack's eyes lit up. "Let's play together next time? Radik?" 

"Isn't he very busy lately?" 

"He'd definitely love to see you two bond more." 

"Hey, don't be so disgusted!" Jason protested in disgust. 

"Don't you want to beat his skills and see him pathetically call you Guru?" 

"Okay," Jason laughed. "I have to admit, that would be pretty cool." 

The two smiled and bumped fists. 

After dinner that evening, Jack returned to his bedroom with a cup of hot cocoa. His supervisor had mailed him the script for a new play, one of Moliere's masterpieces, The Miser. He decided to take advantage of his few days off to pore over the lines. 

[I bet the wig and the ribbon alone are worth at least twenty pistoes. If you lend out twenty pistoes at one-twelfth of the value, you'll get eighteen livres, six soles, and eight deniers a year.] ”】

He repeated certain passages of dialogue over and over again, and then began to mark the rhythm, stress, and intonation on the script. He figured out the emotional color of the language, analyzed the character's motivations, and then tried to interpret the role in different ways. 

Maybe he was a little tired, Jack began to feel sleepy, and his attention began to wander. His pen tip had deviated from the text at some point, and began to outline some strange lines in the blank space. 

First he drew the nose and hair, and then a blurry face. The lines were random at first, but the more they were drawn, the clearer the lines became, and the outline gradually approached a familiar image. 

Round eyes, big nose, painted face, and the corners of the mouth were grinning from ear to ear. 

A funny circus clown. 

He stopped writing. 

Jack looked at the picture, and goose bumps appeared on his back. 

"Am I distracted? Why am I drawing this kind of nonsense? "He muttered to himself. 

He threw the pen on the table, walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face. The cold water made him feel much more awake. He closed his eyes and tried to sort out his thoughts. 

When he looked up, he saw in an instant - 

someone in the mirror was smiling at him. 

The skin was pale, the corners of the mouth were cracked, and the blood-red arc was hideous and terrifying. He stared at the "self" in the mirror, and his pupils suddenly contracted. 

"......!! " 

Jack shuddered as if he had been electrocuted and took several steps back. 

The person in the mirror looked at him leisurely. 

He took a deep breath and forced himself to close his eyes. 

... 

When he opened them again, the person had disappeared, leaving only his terrified expression. 

He froze in place, his heartbeat roaring. 

His mind suddenly flashed back to the dream of the previous night, and those forgotten scenes came flooding back like a tide. 

Applause, blood, audience members without facial features. 

And - that, the weirdo standing in the audience with a face exactly like his said to him, "Are you ready to take your bow?" 

Jack fell to the bathroom floor, gasping for breath and covering his face.