Post-Cataclysm Year 6, March 14
Time: 2:48 AM
Location: Ark Little World, Ark City, Central Administrative District, Ark Cottage, Second Floor
----------------------------------------
The night in Ark Little World was silent, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
A gentle fluorescent glow cascaded from the celestial dome above, like frozen auroras gliding slowly, bringing a faint trace of vitality to this world.
The distant ocean gently lapped against the land, its sound seeming to whisper, yet also to wait.
At the heart of the island, Ark City lay tranquil and solemn, its cityscape sharply defined against its green belts.
The silhouette of the council building stood unobtrusively in the darkness, its outline illuminated by faint lights, like a silent sentinel watching over this small corner of the world.
At the very core of the Central Administrative District stood a modest yet dignified small villa—the Ark Cottage—resting quietly under the shadow of the night.
The villa's surroundings were so tranquil as to feel almost ethereal, with only the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the breeze through the greenery, echoing in harmony with the occasional sweep of patrol lights.
Around the perimeter of Ark Cottage, stationed police officers in dark blue uniforms remained concealed within the shadows.
They showed no signs of relaxing their vigilance, their eyes occasionally scanning the surroundings.
At the main entrance, the identity verification system emitted a gentle blue glow, resembling a gateway to a sanctuary.
Two officers stood guard at this point, one monitoring surveillance footage, while the other spoke softly into a communicator.
Farther away, the rapid response team was stationed in concealed outposts, with six team members on standby.
They were clad in lightweight combat armor, the emblems on their shoulders reflecting a faint glimmer, their gazes steady and vigilant.
Inside the villa, two guards were concealed in blind spots on the first and second floors, ensuring they could intervene swiftly in the event of any incident.
In the second-floor bedroom, the air seemed almost frozen in place.
On the wall, a night lamp cast a dim yellow glow, outlining the room’s simple yet warm decor.
A few slightly worn books rested on the desk, their edges tinged with yellow, as though untouched for a long time.
The sea breeze from outside stirred the curtains slightly, causing them to dance silently, like spectral figures floating in the stillness.
A simple bed was placed in the corner of the room, and the figure lying on it remained motionless, as if frozen in time.
The prolonged slumber had rendered the concept of time illusory, and everything around seemed to be waiting for his awakening.
At that moment, Elo's fingertips trembled slightly.
His eyelids twitched slowly, as if waging a struggle against some invisible shackle.
A low, deep breath broke the silence of the room.
His eyes finally opened, a pair of deep, ocean-like eyes.
The pupils reflected the dim yellow light, as if shrouded in an endless mist.
He did not speak, simply gazing quietly at the ceiling, his brow carrying an indescribable emptiness.
After a moment, he pushed himself up with his arms, and the edge of the bed creaked softly.
His movements were stiff and sluggish, as though his body, long unused, had become exceptionally heavy.
His gaze wandered through the dimly lit room:
The decorations on the walls were simple and unremarkable, the desk piled with a few yellowed books;
The curtains stirred gently in the breeze, letting in moonlight that spilled onto the floor like a veil of haze.
Everything felt unsettlingly unfamiliar, and a growing confusion and bewilderment surfaced in his eyes.
Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor.
At that moment, it felt as though reality had pulled him back just a little.
As he rose, his gaze inadvertently fell upon the bedside table.
There sat a neatly placed family photograph.
In the photo, three people wore warm smiles—a graceful middle-aged woman, a cheerful young girl, and a man with a slightly reserved expression.
He froze, his body stiffening in place.
Memories, like a flood breaching a dam, crashed into his consciousness without warning.
He remembered his name—Elo, thirty years old, a corporate drone at a small company in Tokyo.
The exhaustion of countless late-night overtime shifts, the loneliness of hastily eating convenience store meals, and the longing for warmth while lying on a small rented bed—all surged back in an overwhelming tide.
His gaze returned to the photo.
The middle-aged woman was his mother. Time had etched deep lines onto her face, but her smile remained gentle and warm.
He also recalled his dream, the thought that had carried him through many sleepless nights:
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
To earn enough money to buy a house back in his hometown, so his mother could live out her later years in comfort, free from toil.
But what he couldn’t ignore was the girl in the photo—
his twin sister, Vian.
Since he could remember, they had been inseparable.
In childhood, they raced along country paths.
During their adolescence, they immersed themselves in fantasy worlds, weaving "adventure plans" of their own, even seriously discussing what they would do if chosen one day to save the world.
After graduating high school, they moved to Tokyo together, renting a tiny apartment.
There, they spent their days buried in coursework and their nights working part-time jobs to make ends meet.
Vian was always busy in the kitchen, preparing simple yet comforting meals, while Elo quietly took on dishwashing and cleaning duties.
Their division of labor was natural and seamless, and though their days were frugal, there was a delicate harmony to their life.
Vian’s vibrant personality allowed her to quickly connect with people, bringing a lighthearted atmosphere wherever she went.
Elo, however, was somewhat reclusive, always carrying a sense of detachment in his interactions with others.
He preferred solitude, but Vian brought her energy to him, sharing her boundless imagination and helping him dream up fantastical worlds.
Her laughter and unwavering support gave their lives a sense of warmth and companionship in the cold, indifferent city.
And now, the torrent of memories completely engulfed Elo.
His body trembled slightly, and a tear slid uncontrollably down the corner of his eye.
Elo quickly raised his hand, wiping his face with force.
His movements were hurried, as if this act could erase his vulnerability altogether.
His gaze was complex, yet his heart was filled with contradictions.
His memories told him it was merely a brief sleep.
But the heaviness in his body reminded him that everything was far more complicated than he imagined.
Just as Elo was about to get out of bed, the door was gently pushed open.
The figure standing at the doorway made him freeze for a moment—it was his mother.
Her movements were slow and cautious, as if afraid to disturb something.
She stood at the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob, her gaze fixed on Elo lying in bed.
Her eyes widened slightly, and her lips quivered as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t make a sound.
In that instant, the air seemed to freeze.
Tears quickly welled up in her eyes, but she blinked hard, trying to hold them back.
Her lips moved, and finally, a trembling syllable escaped: “E…lo…”
Elo looked up at her, his chest feeling as though it had been struck heavily. “Mom.”
That single word made his mother take an involuntary step forward.
Her movements were slow, as if she were confirming that everything in front of her wasn’t an illusion.
When she finally stood beside Elo, she reached out her hand, wanting to touch him, but unsure where.
In the end, her hand rested gently on his shoulder, as if fearing that even the slightest pressure might shatter the scene before her.
Her voice was hoarse yet gentle, her eyes filled with years of repressed longing:
"Don’t move… just lie down. Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?"
Elo shook his head, trying to keep his tone steady. "I’m fine."
He slightly averted his gaze, attempting to conceal his emotions, then changed the subject:
"Why are you here?"
In Elo's understanding, his mother shouldn’t be standing before him now but should be thousands of kilometers away in their hometown.
Her expression faltered slightly at his words, turning complex as if countless thoughts surged into her mind.
Elo sensed something and glanced around the room again, the unfamiliar surroundings deepening the furrow in his brow.
He looked back at his mother, his tone laced with more confusion. "Where… is this?"
His mother took a deep breath, gently patting his arm.
"Don’t rush. We’ll talk about it later. I’ll go get Vian first."
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the doorway.
A guard appeared at the doorway, and the moment he saw Elo awake, his pupils contracted sharply, shock unmistakably written across his face.
He paused mid-step, seemingly unable to believe what he was seeing, but quickly forced himself to regain composure and adjusted his posture.
"Madam, please stay here to tend to His Excellency Elo. I will immediately inform Miss Vian."
Without waiting for a response, he swiftly turned and left, his steps firm and purposeful, as though carrying out a mission of utmost importance.
Elo's face was full of confusion. He didn’t recognize the person who had just left, and what caught his attention even more was that the man was clearly Westerner.
If Elo's memory served him correctly, he had never had any interactions with Westerner throughout his life.
His mother, sitting beside him, handed him the glass of water from the bedside table, her tone gentle:
"Drink some water, don’t overthink it. We’ll talk when Vian arrives."
Although Elo accepted the glass, his mind was still in turmoil.
The title "Your Excellency" rang clearly in his ears. In the thirty years of his life so far, no one had ever addressed him as "Your Excellency."
The sound of light, hurried footsteps came from the end of the hallway.
The moment Vian pushed open the door, her steps froze involuntarily.
She stood there in the doorway, stunned, disbelief written all over her face.
“Bro…” Vian’s voice trembled, carrying a mix of astonishment and long-suppressed emotion. “You’re really awake…”
She almost ran to Elo’s bedside, grasping his hands tightly, her eyes glistening with tears yet radiating unmistakable joy.
Elo looked at the smile on Vian’s face and felt the warmth from her palms, yet his heart was filled with confusion.
Even though he was utterly bewildered by the situation, he still tried to comfort her. “I’m fine… don’t get so worked up.”
Vian shook her head, her eyes slightly reddened, but her smile remained bright.
Her words came in a rapid rush, as though she wanted to fill every sentence with the five years of silence.
“Do you know? For the past five years, Mom and I came to see you every day.
We changed your bedding, massaged your hands and feet, afraid you might feel uncomfortable while you were asleep.
Bro, you have no idea what these five years…”
Elo’s expression showed a trace of awkwardness.
He couldn’t understand why his mother and sister were so overjoyed, nor could he connect with their emotions.
Elo raised his other hand, gently patting the back of hers, interrupting her torrent of words.
“Vian, I’m really fine.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath, swallowing the words that might embarrass her brother, and tried her best to calm herself.
Meanwhile, the news of Elo's awakening spread like wildfire.
Around the perimeter of Ark Cottage, many prominent figures were already on their way.
The first to arrive was a white man whose appearance bore the marks of age.
His neatly combed silver hair and steady, dignified expression complemented his impeccably tailored dark suit.
A guard immediately stepped forward to greet him, standing at attention and saluting with respect. In a low voice, he addressed him:
"Prime Minister."
The Prime Minister’s eyes carried a sense of urgency as he quietly asked, "What is the current status?"
The guard promptly replied, his tone calm and resolute:
"Everything is in order. The doctor is en route.
Madam and Miss Vian are currently in the room, and their reunion should not be disturbed at this time."
The Prime Minister looked up at the second-floor window before speaking again.
"Has Alaya issued any directives?"
The guard shook his head and replied, "No directives from Her Excellency Alaya have been received yet."
The Prime Minister gave a slight nod. "Understood."
Adjusting his tie, his gaze revealed a mix of emotions before he began walking toward the stairs.
His steps were not hurried but deliberate and rhythmic, each stride conveying the respect he held for the person he was about to meet.
Upon reaching the bedroom door on the second floor, he stopped.
Standing upright with his hands at his sides and his gaze lowered, he waited respectfully.
He made no attempt to disturb but stood there quietly, like a minister awaiting an audience with the emperor, patient and solemn.
Soon after, the remaining six cabinet members arrived one after another.
Most of them were elders over sixty, each exuding a unique aura of authority and gravitas.
The sole white cabinet member had a composed expression, his silver hair naturally swept back, faintly revealing the traces of time.
The three cabinet members of Asian descent displayed reserved expressions, each with a distinct temperament.
One radiated the calmness of a scholar, another embodied the resoluteness of a soldier, while the third conveyed the steady wisdom and deep thought of an elder.
The last two were Black cabinet members, their figures steadfast and powerful, their gazes filled with focus and resolve.
Their arrival carried the weight of humanity’s future, each step measured and deliberate, as if echoing the imprints of history itself.