Stories have an ending, and so too does the night.
After Ye Lan finished telling the little girl the eighty-third story, daylight returned to the City. Only when a sliver of light shone through the window did Ye Lan finally see what the little girl looked like.
She was likely a child with albinism. White hair, white eyelashes, and even her skin was a fragile, pale white. She wore an oversized white dress, and the only color on her entire body was her eyes.
They were a pair of shining red eyes. Reflected in the irises, made fragile by her albinism, was Ye Lan's own image. The little girl was watching him just as intently.
Her gaze reminded him that he had fallen into a filthy place when he first appeared on this street. He looked down and realized he was covered in rotten tissue fluid and bloodstains.
"I've been in these dirty clothes for so long, I almost forgot I fell into a pile of filth," Ye Lan sighed and asked the little girl, "Can I take a shower here?"
She nodded and pointed to a door next to the living room. Following her direction, Ye Lan walked into the bathroom and tossed his Lobotomy Corporation uniform, which he wasn't sure could even be cleaned, into the washing machine.
Letting the machine run, he stood under the showerhead. Having not bathed for what felt like three days, he savored the feeling of hot water washing over his body. Only when he was completely clean did he turn off the water and return to the sink.
Ye Lan obviously hadn't shaved in days. A layer of stubble now covered his face, making his still-youthful features look somewhat haggard. Combined with the fake smile he had cultivated over tens of thousands of years of loops, he looked like a psychopathic serial killer.
Maybe my heart is just as twisted as my face looks right now?
Ye Lan thought to himself, then grabbed a long bath towel from a nearby shelf and wrapped it around his waist. With no clothes to wear for the time being, he would have to make do.
He took his now-clean uniform out of the washing machine and walked out of the bathroom.
"Where can I hang these clothes?"
Ye Lan showed the slightly dripping clothes in his hand to the little girl. After getting her direction, he hung them on the curtain rod in a bedroom, using the clothespins that were already there.
After hanging the clothes, Ye Lan surveyed the bedroom's layout. It seemed to be the parents' bedroom. On one wall hung a large family portrait that took up most of the space. In the photo, the little girl was holding a parasol, smiling happily between her parents.
But judging by the dust on the photo, it had been a long time since anyone had done any housework.
Besides the bed, the only other furniture in the room was a wardrobe. Ye Lan, still with a towel around his waist, walked over and opened it, hoping to find some clothes he could wear temporarily.
There were clothes, yes. But they were covered in dust, and some had even grown mold. The clothes told him one thing—the girl's parents probably hadn't been back to this house in a very long time.
Ye Lan sighed. He didn't know if the child's parents were dead or had abandoned her. But regardless, the little girl had helped him out in the darkness. Out of principle, he had to repay this kindness.
As for his feelings, he didn't know. He had been looping for too long, and that fake smile had been on his face for too long. Although the spectacle in the office had proven he still had a desire for entertainment, he wasn't sure if he still had the heart to help others.
As for choosing to help Angela, perhaps it was because of the plot, or perhaps because she, like him, retained her memories of the loops?
"A pity. Nothing to wear."
Ye Lan pushed these thoughts aside, closed the wardrobe door, and returned to the living room. The little girl was still sitting on a bench, silently staring at an empty vase on the table.
"Speaking of which, I still don't know your name. Are you willing to tell me?" Ye Lan asked as he walked toward the kitchen.
The little girl was silent for a moment behind him, then a name escaped her lips: "Luna."
"Luna? The moon? A fitting name for you."
Rummaging through the refrigerator, Ye Lan took out a few vegetables from the chiller and a block of frozen meat that was probably pork from the freezer.
He haphazardly sliced the ingredients, threw them all into a pot, and stir-fried them into a simple dish of meat and vegetables.
"The rice in the fridge hasn't gone bad. I heated it up. We'll have to make do with this today. Although my company's situation is probably not looking good, my salary card should still work for now. Later, we'll go out and buy some fresh ingredients and a few sets of new clothes."
Luna, who was eating silently at the dining table, looked up and asked Ye Lan, "Are you going to live in my house?"
"Mhm," Ye Lan hummed lightly, quickly shoveling the food from his bowl into his mouth. After chewing, he said, "I can't just leave you all alone in such a big house, can I? The City isn't exactly a safe place."
"I'm not alone. My mom and dad will come back one day," little Luna pouted, but in the end, she didn't refuse Ye Lan's request to live with her.
Deep down, she knew her parents weren't coming back.
"By the way, which Backstreet are we in? These past few days of darkness have made me lose all track of where I am," Ye Lan said with a self-deprecating laugh, then put his dishes in the kitchen's dishwasher.
Little Luna craned her neck to watch him clean up in the kitchen. When he was almost done, she said to him, "We're in Backstreet 9."
"Oh, Backstreet 9... wait, is this the Street of Music?"
There was a reason Ye Lan specifically asked if this was the Street of Music.
The first reason was the plot he knew. As the sequel to Lobotomy Corporation, almost the entire story of Library of Ruina began in this very Backstreet.
The second reason was that this Backstreet, as a gathering place for music lovers, was second only to the Nests in terms of safety. If death was commonplace in other Backstreets, then it was strange that Luna's parents were missing, and very likely dead, here.
"Yeah, this is the Street of Music."
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