Ed never expected that in just a few days after his resurrection from the dead, he would have to attend two funerals - the first for a human and the second for a cat.
For this farewell ceremony, shop owner Downston specially closed Broken Dreams Cafe for one day. Nymelissa's remains were put into a small white oak coffin, and the people who came to attend the funeral were all regular customers of the cafe.
"I have never seen such a scene: so many people gathered together to mourn for a cat." Ed walked to Mr. Downs, took off his hat and put it on his chest, bowing his head in greeting.
Mr. Downston forced a smile, his fancy beard stained with obscure and dim sadness:
"Funerals are for the living, whether the deceased is a human or a cat. Besides, she's my family."
"Family is indeed very important," Ed nodded slightly in agreement, "You taught me a lesson."
"People often say that black cats have nine lives. I want to know what kind of danger it was that cost Nymelissa nine lives at once."
"This... it's better that you don't know. Curiosity will not only kill the cat."
He thought for a moment and decided not to let ordinary people like Mr. Downston get involved in matters related to the mysterious realm.
The two were silent for a moment, and the gloomy sunlight emerged from the clouds, falling on the window and scattering apricot light, which shone on Mr. Downston's brown eyes, which were as fragile as withered tree roots.
It was Ed who broke the silence first again: "So, where did the name Nymelissa come from?"
"...my daughter's name, the year after she left, her mother also went with her. So I raised a cat, at least I can have a companion by my side."
Downston's smile was both sad and warm, like the afterglow over a dilapidated city:
"I think about them often. I dream about living with them, which is stupid and boring... but it makes me feel relieved, as if everything is okay..."
"Sometimes reason reminds me: 'They are dead.', and then drags me out of my dream like a robber, but I can't do anything, fuck..."
He lowered his head and laughed at himself for his gaffe, took out his handkerchief and gently wiped the corners of his eyes:
"Heh...boy, is there anyone you miss? Do you feel the same way sometimes?"
Ed pursed his lips, his words showing helplessness:
"Well... to me, nostalgia is a luxurious emotion."
He really wanted to pat Downston on the shoulder and say, "I understand this feeling," but he didn't understand. Without memory, there is no way to remember.
"When I cry like a baby and come to another world, Nymerissa will wipe away my tears with its fluff. How to say...it is like their reflection in this world, the reflection of home. "
Downston stuffed his handkerchief back into his coat pocket, counted out five one-pound notes from his wallet, and handed them to Ed:
"...Anyway, I still want to thank you for sending Nymelissa home, kid."
Ed pushed back Mr. Downston's money with the back of his hand:
"Forget it, I deserve it. The commission says to bring her back alive."
While the two people were refusing repeatedly, a childish voice came from outside:
"Is Mr. Downston here?"
I saw a group of ragged children standing outside the window. The one standing at the front had his trousers hanging on the ground, leaving only two holes where his front teeth had been.
"I'm just, what's the matter? We're closed today."
Downston walked out of the store with a tired and helpless tone. He naturally knew that these children could not afford coffee.
"Well...we found your cat."
The youngest child took out a kitten from the torn bag. It was as thin as a mouse.
But her fur is indeed darker than the night, her eyes are like bright yellow gemstones, her limbs are covered with pure white gloves, and her tail is hung with iceberg-like pure snow——
"Nymelissa..." he murmured, "No, this is impossible..."
The originally panicked kitten stopped chirping when it saw Mr. Downston and stared at him with its two yellow eyes.
"Is this your cat? The gentleman over there with the cane told us that you lost your cat and are willing to pay to get it back."
Mr. Downston carefully held the cat, gently stroked its down, and looked back at Ed.
Ed stood far away and raised his hat to greet him:
"Okay, now you should know who to pay the money to."
After that, he put on his smoky gray flat-topped cap, picked up his cane, and quietly turned around and left.
Mr. Downston's choking voice came from behind: "Yes, this is my cat. Take this money, this is what you deserve, children, thank you..."
The dense clouds seemed to have dispersed, and the weak sunlight shone on the road, as if gently swaying in the wind, shining with a light golden color like hope.
how to say? Maybe it would be a good ending for Mr. Downston and those brats.
Ed thought to himself as they walked back.
In his opinion, it was just a kitten that looked similar. But for Downston, that may be some kind of spiritual comfort...
Or maybe, as people say, black cats really have nine lives...
…
In the evening, in Arthur's old room. Ed sat on the bedside, and Sylvie's flame text slowly appeared in front of the mirror:
[It seems that this adventure has been fruitful, my dear good sir. 】
Are you making fun of me? I obviously didn't make a penny and lost two pennies. Oh, maybe you can also gain a long-lost family affection.
Ed rolled his eyes. In a sense, it was quite rewarding.
【I am serious. That ancient scroll is an encrypted document that uses a special language called "secret contract." After deciphering it, the coordinate data of an unknown dreamland will be obtained. 】
A new dream beacon?
Ed suddenly became interested, and even his hands that were originally resting idle behind his head were placed on his knees:
But the ancient scroll has been taken away by Tia, and it is probably now delivered to the employer or the middleman.
[When you scan the document, I will automatically read and copy the same content for you, and it has been stored in your mind palace. 】
Before Sylvie could finish writing the flame text, Ed had already knelt down on the bed and began to enter a meditative state.
About 10 minutes later, he successfully entered the palace of thought, and saw that the strange-looking white machine had spit out a card——
"Dream Beacon: Treasure Room"
The picture on the card is a square beech wood treasure chest with a medieval feel.
"Is there any danger this time?"
The last experience in Arthur's dream made Ed somewhat guilty. Later, Sylvie told him that extraordinary people who died in dreams also had to pay a very high price - mental pollution.
When extraordinary people are under extremely high mental pressure or encounter things that cannot be understood by their reason, the crystallization of their personality will be contaminated.
Unlike physical trauma, this kind of mental trauma is almost irreversible: as the pollution intensifies, the Extraordinary's character and behavior will become increasingly distorted until they fall into uncontrollable madness.
[The possibility of risks cannot be ruled out. But this is a neutral dream, there is no subject, and there will be no dangerous subconscious incarnation like the "Mechanical Owl". 】
"Well, wealth can be found in danger..."
Ed said half-hypnotically, and then inserted the card into the slot on the door.
After a burst of light, the door opened——
Contrary to Ed's expectation, the world behind the door was about the same size as a single-room hut in the countryside. The space was filled with cobwebs and dirt, and a dusty wooden box was squeezed into this small, closet-like space.
Well……
Ed glanced at his hands, looking embarrassed, and finally chose to open it.
Ahem!
As soon as he opened the lid, dust rushed into his face, choking him so much that he could hardly open his eyes. Ed clenched his left hand into a fist and coughed. His right hand kept fanning the air in front of him, and he finally saw clearly what was inside the box:
A set of drawings, and a coin.
