He opened his eyes, and a searing burst of light slammed into his vision, making dizziness run through his head. “Uggh!” he groaned, struggling to orient himself in the blinding glare.
What’s happening? Why is it shaking? Am I on something that’s moving?
The jolting sensations he was experiencing had told him the answer.
Yeah, for sure it is.
Was it a train? A wagon? Or a carriage? Whatever it was, it was definitely not a comfortable driving experience as his stomach felt queasy.
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. When they did, he could see what was unfolding - there was a group of people sitting in a line in front of him.
There were 7 people total: 4 men and 3 women. All of them, including him, were confined to a small, roofless wooden wagon with only hip-high fences on the sides. Due to the tight packing, there was no room for anyone to extend their legs or move at all, as they were crammed in very tightly with no space to spare.
The tight conditions made breathing challenging. The unforgiving heat of the sun bore down, burning exposed skin and causing a piercing feeling that increased discomfort. His situation felt worse as the sole view was a boundless, empty landscape with no shelter in sight.
As he tried adjusting to the limited conditions, he realized there were likely six additional people squeezed in next to him, left and right, possibly in a similar cramped setting arranged like the group at the front. However, not a single person was recognizable to him.
Who are those people?
Feeling unsettled and wondering who they were, he took a deep breath and swiped the sweats from his brow with a flick of his wrist, releasing the word “Fuuuh.” on the end of an exhale.
Some began questions about where they were, how they ended up there, and what the reason was. Another Joined in, asking if they knew each other. Later, they were silenced by a threatening one, saying, “It’s noisy.”
He didn't know who was speaking, but noticed most voices so far belonged to men. At first thinking the others were weird, he then realized he was in the same position - not knowing why he was there.
He tried to dig up something from his mind and something began to tug at the back of his mind.
Bloods!
The image of bloody hands appeared in his mind. Followed by screams of pain - screams from women and children echoed loud and clear.
What happened?
He tried to dig more, to remember more but suddenly a deafening boom came into his ears—and everything was gone. Nothing stayed, and he forgot what just happened.
Huuuh? What’s that? I can’t remember what just happened—what? What just happened earlier? I can’t remember.
He rubbed his forehead in an attempt to coax it back to the surface. But, it only creates another question.
Seriously. What the hell is this? Where am I? What am I doing in this wagon? And why? How long have I been here? What … What … Wait, really … Just what had happened to me!
Panic rose within him, clawing at his chest as his left hand did the same; his breath came in ragged huffs as his finger crept tighter and tighter over time.
Calm … I need to calm down. Right, I need to calm … Air, yeah … fresh air. I need to breathe.
Yearning for breaths of fresh air, he attempted to stand from his seat—but stopped before he could rise. Someone had forcefully tugged at his shirt—pulled him down back to his seat.
Startled, he looked towards the source of the forceful tug and saw a man with distinctive dreadlock hair sitting next to him.
“Don’t do that. That's dangerous! Especially right now, you could fall from this wagon!” a commanding voice boomed from the dreadlock-haired man.
W—w-what? Who is he? he thought, confused by this stranger's intervention.
As he observed the dreadlock-haired man, his attention was drawn to an intricate tattoo on his right hand - a fierce, coiled dragon writhing across his tanned skin. The mythical design added an aura of strength and mystery to the man's already rugged appearance.
He sensed confronting this man could lead to trouble. Yet he found himself drawn to studying the dreadlocked man's appearance. His tank top was filthy and dampened by dried mud and sweat stains. Tight jeans hugged his legs, torn and frayed at the knees. Upon closer inspection, the man's body bore many scars - old wounds crisscrossed his chest and arms.
The more I look, the more dangerous this man seems to be.
As he continued, their eyes met, the dreadlock-haired man stared at him fiercely, as if warning What are you looking at? Want to die?
Snapped from his trance, fear washed over him under the weight of that threatening stare. He thought, He is scary. I need to run. Need to run … But where? I don’t know. What to do? What to do? Yeah, apologize, right … Apologize, I should do that.
Deciding to apologize seemed his safest option.“Y-y-y-yeah, s-s-s-sorry! Please forgive me!” in a stammering voice.
“What are you apologizing for?” The dreadlock-haired man replied.
“T-t-that’s ….”
As the dreadlock-haired man said, he had done nothing to deserve blame or obligate him to apologize. However, he found himself saying “—Sorry.” while facing downwards. He didn't know for sure, but apologizing seemed natural, yet he found himself hating it.
The dreadlock-haired man clicked his tongue in distaste.
He must have disliked me, right? Yeaah, he must! He thought. Yeaah … I hate myself. W-wait … why did I hate myself this much? I don’t know—I just hated it. But why?
Despite not being fond of him, the dreadlock-haired man still asked him a question,“Forget about it, and what’s your name?”
Though the question was simple, it sent another wave of terror through him. This time, however, he focused on remembering his own name instead of giving in to fear.
My name? What’s my name? That’s— He couldn’t remember, he tried to dig up memories, but nothing came.
He struggled to remember, trying desperately to pierce the fog in his mind.
Again? I can’t remember anything. His forehead wrinkled and a cough escaped.
My head hurts. His head was in pain causing him to grimace in agony.
Seeing his unusual behavior, the dreadlock-haired man watched over him impatiently, fingers tapping on his knees, later exploding with a shout. “Don't say you can't remember your own name! It's only your name!”
“That's right, it's only my name,” he murmured, a tinge of frustration lacing his words. “But... I can’t remember it at all..” he stared at the dread-haired man’s eyes as he said those words.
“What do you—” the dreadlock-haired man started.
But before the dreadlock-haired man could finish, he unconsciously interrupted, hastily asking “But can you remember your own name, though?”
Crap! I’m screwed! He realized he had done something unneeded. Quickly threw his gaze downwards and said “Sorry” then bit his lips with eyes closed, bracing himself for the violence would come later.
However, after a few minutes had passed, nothing had happened. Really nothing had occurred, which piqued his curiosity. To satisfy his intrigue, he steeled his nerves and took another look at the dreadlock-haired man. To his surprise, the man's forehead was wrinkled as if in deep thought, revealing a contemplative mind at odds with his thug-like appearance.
After taking his time, the dreadlock-haired man finally responded, “You're right. I can't remember.”
Apparently the dreadlock-haired man seemed to have the same problem as him.
“You too?” He wanted to let that question out but chose against it. He was afraid of appearing too friendly. So, he chose to remain silent with the words lingering on the tip of his tongue, which added another fuel for him to hate himself more.
I hate myself.
Without missing a beat, the dreadlocked man called out to the man with glasses in front. “Hey, you there, the one with glasses!”
“Y-y-yes,” stammered the glasses man, his voice trembling with uncertainty. His tense posture and frozen shoulders betrayed his nervousness.
“What’s your name?”
“A-a-aah,—” the glasses man hesitated for a moment, his voice betraying a deep sense of fear. “Sorry, I don’t know,” he confessed, his words infused with vulnerability and trepidation, while trying hard avoiding the dreadlock-haired man’s gaze as he spoke.
Observing the glasses man's demeanor, he noted the glasses man overall was a good-looking man, dressed in a nice, expensive-looking white shirt accompanied by nice-looking black long pants.
What a strange person, how could he act like that with everything he had? Maybe he is also scared by this man too? He thought, Well, I could agree with that, this man is dangerous inside and out.
Any man like me would be scared to death if they—
A sharp pang of pain reverberated through his head. In that fleeting moment, he realized something—he couldn’t remember how his own appearance was.
Huh? How could I can’t remember anything about me? It's myself. First, it's my name, then now my appearance? It’s a joke, right? Think. Think. Think, and remember. Remember who I am!
The more he delved into the depths of his memories, the more they seemed to elude him, like wisps of smoke slipping through his fingers.
“How can I not remember anything about myself?” His thoughts slipped out aloud. “It’s a joke right?”
His exclamation drew all eyes upon him. There were no voices or sound, only silent stares that pierced into his eyes.
Aaah … I’m screwed. Please don’t stare at me, please.
A wave of unease washed over him, causing both hands to crawl on his chest. Being the center of attention was somehow something he despised.
He fixed his gaze on the floor, avoiding the onlookers' eyes, hoping for someone to steal and divert the attention away from him. Please. Please, someone, say something. Take, no, please steal this attention from me. He prayed.
As he shut his eyes hard, someone finally answered the call, “Yeah, what's my name?” its voice breaking the oppressive stillness.
“Huh? What do you mean? You can’t remember your name…” another followed, “Eeeh, me too, I can’t remember my name.”
The floodgates had been opened, and others swiftly followed suit, their voices joining the growing chorus of confusion. “What do you mean, my name? What's my name?” another voice chimed in, tinged with a blend of confusion and frustration.
“Name, right name, what’s my name is?”
“Eeeeh, what the hell, how can I forget my own name?”
“W-w-wait, how do I end up in this wagon?”
The topic of their identities set the wagon ablaze with a fervent discussion, spreading like an unstoppable wildfire through the hearts and minds of each of them. They were thirsting for answers of their existence. From the simplest query of their names to the more profound questions of their origins and purpose, the air buzzed with a sense of urgency and longing.
With that, the attention shifted away, bringing relief for him. He slowly lifted his face, and somehow exchanged stares with the glasses man’s eyes. In an instant, a silent understanding passed between him and the glasses man, an unspoken acknowledgment of similarity.
In a silent affirmation, he and the glasses man nodded in unison, their gestures serving as a symbol of camaraderie amidst the chaos. With a shared understanding, they raised their hands above shoulder, extending a gesture of friendship toward one another.
Then, a warm smile graced his and the glasses man’s face. That man, I think I can get along with him. He pondered, and maybe the glasses man too. Afterward, he turned his gaze towards the vast expanse of the cloudless blue sky, allowing himself a moment of respite.
Becoming an unnoticed person is the best. Yeah … I hate myself.
The murmurs of the people around him, once a source of restlessness, now blended into the background like distant echoes, spoiling his ears. If he were to close his eyes, he knew they'd lull him into slumber.
And yet, he found himself frequently lowering his gaze and exchanging stares with the glassed man. He didn’t know what was the reason, but for some reason, he felt the burden on his shoulders lighten up whenever he did that. Although some people might find it creepy, he couldn't help it, looking at someone with the same understanding was relieving, just knowing there was a potential friend who would understand and look out for him.
How could that not be relieving, right?
While the wagon continued on its journey, tons of unanswered questions kept coming out.
And the dreadlock-haired man finally joined in, “Stop!” his voice was powerful enough to silence the noises around, “rather than asking each other, why don’t you all ask the man over there.” he suggested, pointing in a specific direction with his chin.
Of course, he tried to have a good view of where the dreadlock-haired man pointed, but because of his height, he couldn’t. However, from what he gathered from its direction; maybe it was aimed at the wagon driver? He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the most likely answer, considering what he was riding on.
With that, the murmurs silenced, and all eyes shifted to where the dreadlocks-haired man’s chin was pointing.
“Who's going to ask the man then?” a male voice responded, “As for me, the answer is a no, a big … big no! I'd rather die than ask the man myself. I know I’m near the driver. Still, I wouldn't do it. Why should I be the one to ask? It's not like I'm the only one near him, right? There is a woman before me who can ask instead.” he continued, his voice irritatingly high-pitched and draining to listen to.
Really, it was a tiring experience, and the energy in the wagon seemed to be drained because of that annoying man.
I must never be friends with him. No, I shouldn't be around him. He sounds like someone who would attract trouble.
Even though, it was already tense, the atmosphere grew even tenser as the dreadlock-haired man's anger intensified, evident from the deep furrows forming on his forehead. Towering over the people around due to his imposing height, the man directed a piercing gaze toward the annoying man. “You, do it!” the dreadlock-haired man commanded, his chin pointing in the direction of the annoying man.
“Why should I–” the annoying man began to protest, but couldn’t continue. As the dreadlock-haired man began to count down, “Three... Two... One….” Impatience radiated from his eyes, as if telling the annoying man, It’s your last chance! Do as I told you, or you will kiss my fist at the end of the day.
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“A-a-alright... Alright... Alright,” the annoying man stammered, his voice filled with fear; a feeble attempt at asserting his own virtue. "I'll do it, not b-b-b-ecause you o-o-ordered me, okay? B-b-but because I'm a good-hearted man….”
“Stop babbling and just do what I told you to do,” the dreadlock-haired man shouted, his patience clearly worn thin. It was understandable, given the annoying man's fearful demeanor, yet his words of choice were arrogant.
The annoying man stuttered, “Cgguk ... Y-y-yes, sir!” He leaned forward to address the driver of the wagon and began asking the question. “Hey, you over there, the one driving the wagon, do you know what happened to us?” he asked. “The man with the scary face over there told me to ask you. Can you please tell us what happened to us?”
Yep, I should stay away from him. He thought. That annoying guy doesn't know how to restrain himself and keeps fueling the fire over and over.
Luckily, the dreadlock-haired man didn't seem bothered by the annoying man's manner of asking the question. Instead, he closed his eyes as if wanting to focus on hearing the answer.
Of course, he followed suit and did the same as the dreadlock-haired man. He, too, wanted to know how he ended up in this situation. And maybe, everyone in this wagon wanted to know too, because he found the group of people before him closing their eyes too.
With no time an answer was given, but it was unsatisfactory, not only to him but possibly to everyone in this wagon. How could they not be dissatisfied? Especially, when the driver simply answered, “You will know when the time comes.”
Given these circumstances, getting angry and frustrated were understandable, and that was what the annoying man did. He protests like a madman, but still keeps himself as the top priority. “Haaa? Don't joke around man! Heeey! What the hell, 'You will know when the time comes.' I don't care about that shit, just tell me what happened to me at least, even if you don't want to tell the others. Still, you need to tell me. I put effort into asking you, and that's the only answer you give me? What the heck!” He took a long breath, before continuing, “Maybe I look like this, but I am...who am I? Fuck, who cares, right? But just tell me instead of giving me that useless answer.”
“Huuft, you will remember once we arrived then.” The driver answered, he sounded tired.
“The heck! Do you want to pick a fight with me, huh? then okay let’s do it, I will show—”
Before another wave of nonsense could escape from the annoying man's mouth, the dreadlock-haired man interrupted him. “Zip your mouth!” with an intimidating tone.
The annoying man quickly replied, “Yes, sir!”
“Alright, what should I call you, man?”
“Umm I don’t know, I mean I can’t remember my own name. But if you insist–”
“Not you fool, are you dumb! I asked the wagon driver.”
“Sorry, sir! I will zip my mouth until you allow me to speak again.”
Witnessing that, he couldn’t help but to admire the dreadlock-haired man yet scared at the same time, he already subdued that annoying man with this short-time? What a cool-dangerous man.
“Yes, please … siiggh!” The dreadlock-haired man sighed, “—So once again, what should I call you, driver man?”
“You can call me whatever you want.” The driver replied, his voice was calm.
“Then, old man, that's what I will call you.”
Umm, that's a little disrespectful, isn’t it? Maybe you should call him a driver instead. He thought, but those thoughts couldn’t escape from his mouth.
“No problem!”
“Where was I—no, us, before we were in this wagon?”
“You will know when the time comes.”
“Who are you?”
“You will know when the time comes.”
“And where is this?”
“You will know when the time comes.”
The dreadlock-haired man kept asking a series of questions, but the old man only responded with, “You will know when the time comes.”
In the end, no answers were gained, except for the vague promise that they would know when the time came. The lack of answers had left everyone on edge and uneasy. It was truly unsatisfying, even for him.
As a result, the atmosphere around the wagon became stifling and tense.
Hey, cmoon, at least give me a little information, old man. I don't know if you're really an old man, though, because I can’t see you from my seat. But still, give me a little information. He yearned to shout those thoughts, but fear prevented him from doing so.
Amidst the confusion, another male spoke up, “Hey, old man,” he began. “What if I told you I'm going to leave this wagon?” The voice belonged to a man sitting next to the glasses man, he was at the end of the wagon. He exuded an air of arrogance, similar to the dreadlock-haired man. The only difference between the two was their appearance. This man had spiky black hair and wore a heavy gold-colored necklace around his neck.
The old man laughed and replied slowly, “You can do that, but I wouldn't recommend it if you want to stay alive.”
Despite the old man's seemingly easygoing tone, his words were anything but. There was no doubt that everyone on the wagon felt intimidated by him.
“So you mean, the moment I leave this wagon, you’ll kill me, huh?” The spiky-haired man asked with a little chuckle. “Then try me, old man.” then snapped his right index finger with his thumb.
“Bwahahaha. Why should I dirty my hands with your filthy lowlife blood?”
The spiky-haired man's anger was ignited. He seemed ready to shout or even run at the old man. However, he refrained from doing so as the old man continued speaking.
“The moment you leave this wagon, you may not die,” the old man said slowly. “However, that doesn't mean you will survive either.” then took a long breath before continuing, “look around—”
“Huh? What are you trying to tell me, old man?”
“There's no water, no animals. There's nothing out here that can support your needs.”
As the old man's easygoing words sank in. He came to a realization - one that perhaps everyone on the wagon shared. What the old man said was true. It had been a while since he had been conscious. He had been looking at his surroundings since then, but all he could see was a barren and unchanging landscape devoid of any signs of life. Even the sky seemed frozen, not moving at all, the sun didn’t move an inch.
The realization of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks crashing down on him. “So, what's going to happen to me?” he yelled, his thoughts spilling out of his mouth without him realizing it.
Ooops! Crap, I lost control. Please don’t look at me. Don’t look.
Fortunately, the people around him didn't seem to notice; of course they were not. They were lost in their own thoughts, contemplating their dire situation.
“A–a-are w-w-we going t-t-to die?” After a while, a question emerged from a girl who sounded embarrassed mixed with fear.
Her words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, and everyone on the wagon fell silent, their hearts beating fast with fear. It was the question that he and they had all been silently asking themselves, but no one had dared to voice it until now.
“Of course not, as long as you stay in this wagon,” The old man replied.
“So, you mean we'll be safe as long as we're in this wagon?” another girl asked, this girl sounded more and much confident than the earlier shy girl.
“You are right, how smart you are! You just repeated my answer.” Although the old man said it with ease in every tone, for some reason it sounded like a mockery.
“How should I trust you?” the confident girl asked skeptically, clicked tongue could be heard as she let those words out.
“You don't need to trust me,” the old man said with ease as ever, “I'm just a delivery person. Believe what you want, but I won't do anything to harm you. I don't like doing this job either, but I'm not going to do anything scummy, like killing you all slowly.”
“A-a–no, so we will save as long as we stay in th-th-this wagon, right? The shy girl asked.
“Of course! Again, the same smart girl asking the same question twice with different words, what an useless, oh sorry, I mean what a foolish, ooh, wait, wait—”
As the old man tried to send another mockery, the dreadlock-haired man finally interrupted, “So, you mean we just have to wait it out? And how long do we have to wait?”
Although it was almost inaudible, the shy girl uttered a grateful word. The man with dreadlocks seemed to have heard her, as he raised his right hand and gave a reassuring wave to indicate that it was no problem.
“Finally, a real genius has arrived,” the old man exclaimed. “You're much easier to talk to than the rest of those people.”
“I don’t need your compliment, just answer what my questions are!”
“Whoaa, what an intimidating voice you had there. But sorry, for your answer, I'm afraid there is no set time. After all, It could be long or short depending on the people involved, but rest assured, I can say this thing, all of you’re not going to die—especially in this wagon.” The old man took a deep breath before continuing. “However, I'm not sure what might happen to your mind,” he added cautiously in ease tone.
“So that's how it plays out, huh? Then count me in,” the dreadlocked-haired man said, nodding in agreement, a smile of excitement was palpable on his face.
“As I thought, you're smarter than the rest of the people here,” the old man said, chuckling softly.
“Wait, wait what is that? I don’t know, but it sounds fun, let me in.” Another new voice joined the conversation, from its tone it came from a boy - a fun or teen playboy voice? He didn’t know, but that was how the voice sounded.
“Fuck, I hate playing, but I will play with your game, old man.” The spiky-haired man somehow agreed and joined.
“Hmm... Hmm... Hmm... Hmm…” The annoying man's humming filled the air, as if he wanted to say, “Don't leave me alone, count me in.”
Listening to their reactions had left him in confusion. Huh! What are they talking about? There’s no time set? And how long or not depends on the people? And why did those people want to play that ill-defined game? He couldn’t understand at all their happy demeanor.
Well, did it matter whether he understood or not? Knowing he wouldn’t die as long he stayed on this wagon was enough to relieve his worries and maybe the people on this wagon.
Still, he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the old man's uncertainty regarding what would happen to their minds.
But what could he do? Think about it? Nah, it’s not an option either. There was no benefit for him to even think about it, as he was sure there would be no answers he would get by doing it.
What was left was to do as the old man, also known as the wagon driver, said: wait, and wait some more, until they arrived or the time came. Of course, with no water and food while under the relentless burning of the sun overhead, doing so was tedious and agonizing.
Exchanging glances and talking using gestures with the glasses man who sat in front of the dreadlock-haired man was the only entertainment he had in the meantime. However, as the hours dragged on, even this interaction lost its appeal.
The relentless passing of time took its toll. They grew weary of the boredom and felt more distressed by their thirst, hunger and unknown circumstances. The dragging minutes offered no relief as their unease increased with each rumble of the wagon wheels.
Even the annoying man grew tired of waiting silently. He broke his pledge to the dreadlock-haired man and refused to remain quiet. Repeatedly, he pestered the old man with questions like “How long until we arrive?” and “How far away is our destination?” Ignoring his agreement, the annoying man took it upon himself to badger the driver for updates on their progress and estimated time of arrival.
And the answer he got from the old man was,“they will arrive in no time,” or “It's already near.”
Well, that was a lie, though, as it already been a while long after the answers were given, yet they were still on this wagon. As a result, the annoying man grew increasingly aggravated. He cursed and swore at the old man, venting his frustration. His voice, as grating as ever, drained and irritated everyone who could hear him.
He wanted to shout and told the annoying man to stop blabbering, but again, he was too scared to do that.
So, the one who did what in his mind wanted to do was the dreadlock-haired man, “Zip your mouth, man,” he snapped, his frustration and anger palpable in his voice.
“Shut up, you dolt!” The spiky-haired man followed suit.
The annoying man complied and stopped talking, but just for a few minutes, before soon resumed his questions, again and again.
Realizing the personality of the annoying man, the dreadlock-haired man decided to ignore the annoying man.
Nice decision, man! He somehow agreed with the dreadlock-haired man's decision. The best way to face someone as the annoying man was not to give him more attention.
*
Without him realizing, he had endured yet another interminable time of waiting on this roofless wagon journey, which began to ignite his intelligence to understand the old man's words.
So this is what he means by saying, ‘However, I'm not sure what might happen to your mind,’ huh! These unchanging surroundings stretch on endlessly, creating an overthinking of uncertainty on me. No matter how much time passes, this desert is the same as ever.
Sigh of exhaustion escaped from his mouth.
Since the moment I woke up until now, nothing had changed. Even my ears could only pick up the sound of people breathing and the wagon wheels grinding on the ground. There were no other sounds except us. Just like that old man said.
And what the hell is wrong with this unchanging scene before me? As if this wagon is not making any progress at all. Yet, It keeps moving as if giving hope, a hopeless hope. It was so frustrating, really frustrating.
Another sigh escaped.
Frustrating.
The unclear and seemingly endless journey had taken its toll on him, to the point where he began to hope that it was all just an illusion.
Am I somehow trapped in an illusion? Is this real or just a figment of my imagination? He pondered, scratching his face.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know
How can I know? I've forgotten my name, and I can't even recall my appearance. So, how can I know? But, if It's an illusion, please, please wake me up!
With the loss of the ability to keep track of time, he had no idea how long it had lasted. But it must have been another interminable amount of time because the annoying man's voice somehow did not enliven the atmosphere anymore.
This situation was tough, undeniably tough. Not just for him but for the people around him as well. Even without turning away to check his surroundings, he knew they were exhausted and dehydrated. It was evident by the sound of sighs and murmurs he heard. The only exception was the dreadlock-haired man, who remained calm and collected with his hands crossed over his chest.
Man, I am jealous of you! I wanted to be cool like you too. A smile of frustration drew on his face. But I could never be, even without remembering how I was. I know that I'm born to be a loser.
I hate myself. Thinking about it only made him hate himself even more.
Again, why am I in this situation anyway? It’s hot. It's frustrating.
My lips and tongue are dry.
My throat is hurt.
My skin is burned.
My head … My head … My head hurts so much. It feels like my brain is being toasted, and the pressure is building up to the point of explosion.
He was so dehydrated that he had to stick out his tongue to lick the sweat off his skin that wasn't even there.
I don’t think I can hold it anymore.
Trying to keep himself steady was incredibly tiring, especially with his body feeling heavy and his vision starting to blur.
I want to sleep.
I want to lay down.
There’s no way someone like me could handle something grueling like this anymore.
Surrendering, and letting other people take care of the rest was the best option he had after much thought.
That's right, let's just close my eyes and go to sleep. It’s not like those people would leave me alone, right? Yeah … I hate myself. For god sake, I hate myself.
Unconsciously, his eyelids drooped, closing his vision. With that, the energy that had been keeping him awake dissipated, causing him to stumble and somehow accidentally rested his head on the dreadlock-haired man's shoulder.
Aaaah, I’m screwed. His heart beat faster, pumping his blood like crazy and sending an electrifying shockwave through his muscles. In an instant, he lifted his head from the dreadlock-haired man's shoulder. “S-s-sorry!” he shouted, “It must be sweaty, l-l-let me wipe that with my clothes.”
“No need, it’s okay! There’s no sweat at all.” The dreadlock-haired man stopped him before he could do that.
“But–”
The dreadlock-haired man stared at him without uttering a word as if saying, Did you not hear what I said? Or are you trying to pick a fight with me?
“Umm, I’m so sorry!”
The dreadlock-haired man sighed and turned his eyes away from him. Although he didn't say anything, it was clear he was disappointed in him; no, disgust was the right word to describe it.
I hate myself. I hate my chickening self.
With that happened, he could no longer drop his guards, even if it meant torturing himself.
Man, please speak, utter those nonsensical words from your mouth.
And somehow, he found himself hoping that the annoying man would start blabbering again.
Why? He didn't know the reason, perhaps he felt superior to the annoying man, and hearing his draining voice would at least make him say, well, I'm not that low. But he couldn't say for sure. If given a choice between becoming like the annoying man or remaining himself, he likely would choose to become like the annoying man without hesitation.
For him, it was better to be able to speak his mind rather than keep his thoughts hidden. Despite not remembering who he was, he knew that he was someone who kept his true feelings buried deep within his heart.
And he hated himself for that. Despite it.
Then, it finally happened. His hope was answered. Although the annoying man's voice was weak and raspy, Still it was audible enough for him to hear.
“Heeey… Old man, how much longer do I need to wait?”
Thank you, man! Please do it three times more—
As he braced for the usual answer from the old man, he was surprised to hear something different this time. “We arrived.”
And then the wagon stopped, causing him to collapse to his knees on the wagon floor. “We've arrived? It's finally over?” he exclaimed, his elation clearing his blurred vision once again. But as his eyes scanned his surroundings, his happiness dissipated instantly.
“What—” he began to say, only to be cut off by the annoying man's sudden outburst.
“Hey, old man, what the heck do you mean we arrived?” The annoying man had pulled the old man's collar and was causing chaos.
He turned to the scene. Go, annoying man. This time I agree with you.
“Well, we arrived,” the old man replied, as calm as ever.
“I know, but it's still the same, it’s still the same desert of frustration. There's nothing changed, it's still the same!” he said, his voice growing increasingly hoarse. Still, his anger overpowered his sickness, and he continued to lash out. “Are you joking around, old man? You wanna fight–” but the old man interrupted him by putting his fingers on his mouth.
“Shh. Once you step your feet from here, you'll know,” the old man said, calm as ever.
“Huh—” he and the annoying man muttered.
They were still trying to make sense of the situation.
What's going to be different? It's still the same barren landscape without signs of life. It’s not like there’s going to change even when my feet touch the ground.
“I know you think it’s nonsense, right?” The old man said, with the same calm as ever attitude. “But, believe me, once you leave this wagon, you will remember a part of you; and you will find something bizarre.”
The atmosphere on this wagon completely silenced, and the dreadlock-haired man stood up first and broke the silence, “Alright, there's no option but to do what you said after all,” then jumped off the wagon.
“Fuck, I’m in.” The spiky-haired man followed suit.
The annoying man stared at the old man like a madman but then bit his lip and yelled near his ears, “If you're playing with me, I'm going to haunt you even after you die, old man. Remember it, I'm going to.” Then he, too, jumped off the wagon.
“Sure!” The old man smiled sarcastically, as if saying, if you can survive that’s.
“Well, there’s nothing to do in here, isn't it?” The playboy shouted in excitement then followed.
“Aara, whaaat a long and tiring jooouuurney, isn’t it? I think I should join them, I wonder?” Did it come from a girl? No, it sounds more like a woman's voice, a sexy and slow but erotic way of speaking.
If he could, he wanted to look at the source of the voice, but he couldn’t.
While he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, he suddenly felt a pat on his back, causing him to turn around.
“Umm, I think I’m going to follow those people.” The shy girl said. She stared at him. “Aren't you going?”
He shook his head, “E-eeh … you can go first!” and replied without staring back at the shy girl's eyes because his eyes were fixed on her breast.
Big and fluffy!
The shy girl nodded and left the wagon, her braided purple hair with bangs covering her face and swaying as she went.
“Scum!” The confident girl who stood behind the shy girl shouted as she found out where his eyes were staring at.
“E-e-eeh … Sorry! for being a scum.” He retorted and took a look at the confident girl.
She had short bob hair which was either orange or red—he couldn't quite tell what color it was, but it was between those two colors. She had big yellow cream-colored eyes which were beautiful. With her skin like a white creamy thing and slender body, there was no doubt she was indeed a beauty, but not like the shy girl, she had small breasts.
“Don't stare at me, you scum! low tier scums!” She said before kicking him hard on the face and then following the shy girl.
Her kick, like a nee-san, kick! He thought. What is nee-san? I don't know—But why does this word appear in my mind? Well, whatever, her kick is dangerous.
With the help of his right hand, He rubbed his right cheek, a place where the confident girl's kick landed.
I should not make her my enemy, at least … for some reason if I make her my enemy, all the girls in the world would turn out to be my enemies.
Not long after that, the glasses man approached him, and then using his hand gesture, said, I’m going too, wanna go together?
With a smile, he raised a thumb, “You can go first, I need to take more breath, here.”
“Kay.” Then the glasses man followed the others—leaving the wagon.
One by one, the people on the wagon followed suit, leaving him and the old man alone.
“What are you waiting for?” the old man asked, his voice still calm as ever. “Do you need some help?”
I hate myself, but somehow I hate that old man more.
He wanted to do what the others were doing: jumping out of the wagon. But he couldn’t, he had no more stem on him.
“Even if you look at me like that, there’s nothing going to change you know!”
Yeah, I hate that old man.
“I-1-1-I know. E–e-even without y-y-y-you telling me, I will follow t-t-those people!” He shouted and hid his eyes from the old man.
Without wasting any time, he used his hands to pull himself towards the wagon's fence.
Arriving at the fence, “Where are the other people?” he pondered aloud.
Even though he was the last one on the wagon, there was no way those people could gone from his vision. At least in that short time, this kind of situation was absurd and unbelievable, yet, he found himself in that kind of situation.
“Really…where—whaaat!”
To be continued.