Chapter 42: Prison Diary 6:

I've been bored to death lately, and my empty room has almost no entertainment. So I've become obsessed with finding some entertainment.

I love playing games, so I found a playmate.

A few days ago, I started playing hide-and-seek with Mr. Eyeball—we're both trying to spice up our utterly boring lives.

Unfortunately, I haven't won yet.

Mr. Eyeball hides well; he knows the terrain well and is a local, while I'm just an outsider invited to play.

He scouted the area ahead of time, giving him a home-field advantage.

Clearly, this is an unfair act of cheating.

Unfortunately, this is a two-person game, with no referee. So I can only swallow this loss for now, hoping to get revenge later.

Fortunately, I'm a master gamer.

Yesterday, I finally found Mr. Eyeball. Tiny, the size of a grain of rice, so adorable, hidden in a crack in the wall, its clear, round eyes gazing at me—

I finally won, and I was so excited—

it was like a diamond. I was worried the red liquid seeping from under my fingernails would stain it… so I immediately let go.

It fell, shattering glass onto the floor.

It was imperfect.

I was heartbroken.

Later, a young man in shabby clothes came in and interrupted our game. He wordlessly cleaned up the debris, repainted my nails, and finally took Mr. Eyeball away… I

was so happy.

He had brought a new playmate, Miss Eyeball, who was even more well-mannered. Knowing I was an outsider, she deliberately arrived late to give me time to get acquainted—

she was very polite.

Unfortunately, she underestimated my abilities.

I saw it…

I pretended not to notice. After all, I'm a gentleman, and I know how to give way to ladies.

…

I was having breakfast.

I planned to draw something on this piece of toast, to unleash my artistic imagination.

So, I took some ketchup and squeezed it onto the toast, but accidentally pushed too hard—a giant glob of ketchup spurted all over my body and face.

I took a napkin to wipe it off, only to find a large glob of ketchup had landed right on the bandage, staining it red.

I frowned, unable to bear the constant smell of ketchup.

So I decided to remove the bandages.

I lifted the arm and stared at it for a moment, then used my free hand to slowly peel the bandages off, one circle at a time.

Beneath it lay scarlet, scabbed, taut, and hideous skin. The marks stood out against my skin tone.

…

…unpleasant.

The hand looked so unfamiliar that I couldn't help but stare at it a little longer. I'm a sucker for novelty these days, and that included this one.

I turned my palm upward and gently touched it with the fingertips of my other hand, but through the bandages, I couldn't feel anything.

So I raised my hand and touched my cheek.

I wanted to feel those rough scars with my cheek.

Tight, uneven.

Strange scars, the warmth of my palm isolated from the outside, almost unnoticed.

…

Suddenly, I froze.

…Something familiar. …

It felt…something familiar.

…I seemed…I seemed to touch these scars often. I…who…the feeling of smooth skin. I, I must have felt it before, somewhere?

Yes, I have felt it—more than once, more than once. I…I remember it…

I don't know…I felt it before…I…I don't know…

pain suddenly shot out from deep within my body, spreading like an electric current along the point where my face and palm met—

…Why did it hurt?

I didn't remove my hand. Instead, I rubbed my cheek with the skin of my palm even harder, seeking some kind of answer—

a strange burning sensation, traveling from deep within my body, spreading upwards, all over my face.

…

My face felt like it was on fire.

It felt like a sticky liquid coated my skin...

like a monster... Its face was a mass of burned flesh, shrunken and shrunken.

I felt like my entire skin was melting. No, not just skin, but muscles, nerves, and even my head. It was all melting.

... I wanted to vomit.

Everything in front of me began to spin. I had to claw at the bed, my temples throbbing, and my brain wanted to leave home.

I knelt on the ground, mouth open, gasping for air. The horrible gasps sounded like an old cassette tape.

Light and shadow shifted within my vision, the world turned upside down. Everything was shrouded in a shimmering green light, blurring into blocks, shrinking, and losing focus.

I was falling into hell.

...

After a long moment,

the blurry vision gradually cleared, and everything that had melted solidified again.

I was standing in an unfamiliar laboratory.

White light bulbs hung from the ceiling. In the center was a lab table filled with various chemical reagents. Around me were people lying on the ground—people in white coats, their lives unknown. Broken glass was scattered on the ground.

In front of me stood a man with his back to me.

Green hair, wearing a white coat.

I stood there motionless and looked at him.

He was holding a transparent beaker in his right hand. The liquid inside was slightly yellow, highly transparent, and had an oily, viscous texture.

Although the distance was far, I could miraculously see clearly that there was a warning symbol on the wall of the beaker, and the label read -

sulfuric acid.

The corners of his mouth were raised, and from this angle I could just see half of his profile - pale skin, blood-red, thick lipstick that almost reached his ears.

He was laughing wildly.

The laughter was sharp, strange and familiar.

My throat tightened and I was a little breathless.

He slowly turned his head, raised the bottle of concentrated sulfuric acid, and suddenly splashed it on his face.