Chapter 87: Kafka!

His sudden, bizarre experiment shattered the tense atmosphere, freezing it in a way that was nothing short of surreal.

Ms. Welt: “…”

March 7th: “…”

Uncle Himeko raised a hand, gently pressing his fingers to his temples as if trying to ward off a migraine.

What truly made them want to bury their faces in their hands, however, was Qiong, who had been shadowing Chen, watching his every move with rapt attention.

When she saw Chen’s earlier poking action, a spark of comprehension had lit up her golden eyes. She seemed to have concluded that this was some sort of necessary, esoteric procedure.

And so, just as Chen finished his prodding, under the collective, complicated gaze of everyone present, Qiong followed his lead. Her little face was a mask of solemn concentration as she extended a delicate finger.

Toward the other leg of Kafka’s shimmering projection, she carefully… poked.

Her finger, too, passed straight through the holographic model.

Qiong blinked. She retracted her finger, stared at its tip for a moment, and then glanced back at Chen. Seemingly confirming that the operation was executed correctly, she gave a slight, satisfied nod, as if she had just completed a monumentally important task.

“…”

Ms. Welt silently averted her gaze, turning her attention to the ceiling of the parlor car as if suddenly fascinated by the artistic process behind the Astral Express’s interior paintwork.

March 7th’s previously tense and battle-ready expression completely crumbled. He covered his eyes with one hand, unable to bear the sight.

Even Kafka, who had maintained an elegant and composed smile throughout the encounter, felt the flawless arc of her lips lock for a tenth of a second.

Her gaze, tinged with a hint of genuine surprise, swept over Chen, who looked perfectly calm after orchestrating the tag-team poke. Then, it fell upon Qiong beside him, who was mimicking his posture with utmost seriousness.

Finally, Kafka’s eyes returned to the headache-ridden Mr. Himeko and the “I don’t know them” expression plastered on Ms. Welt’s face.

She cleared her throat, her impeccable, slightly playful smile snapping back into place as if the little interlude had never occurred.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, everyone on the Astral Express,” she purred, her voice smooth as silk. “Especially… those two little ones, so full of the spirit of exploration.”

Her gaze lingered on Chen and Qiong for an extra moment before she continued.

“This unannounced visit is not for the sake of conflict. I was merely entrusted by someone to deliver… a notice of a script revision. And a… friendly reminder for a certain future scene.”

Meanwhile, the culprit, Chen, was still rubbing his chin, his eyes fixed on Kafka’s projection. His mind was a whirlwind of questions.

‘Why can’t I touch her? Is it a solid light projection or just a data stream? And a script revision… Could she be talking about the mess I made on Jarilo-VI?’

He tugged Qiong over, and the two of them ducked behind the side of the large, circular sofa in the lobby, pricking up their ears to catch the first few sentences of Kafka’s message.

Something about “interesting disturbances in the Threads of Destiny.”

Something about “the script is not set in stone.”

Something about “the early conclusion of the Jarilo-VI incident has made certain audiences… quite pleased.”

‘Well, that all sounds very deep,’Chen thought.’She’s basically saying that because of the butterfly effect I caused, the whole plot has gone off the rails, right?’

He nodded to himself, carefully hiding his pride at a job well done.

But then, Kafka’s tone shifted. She began speaking of things that were meant to sound impressive and world-altering, but to Chen, she was basically just a walking, talking plot summary. She spoke of the Stellaron and the looming crisis of the Luofu… things he had already heard countless times in the original game.

Inevitably, Chen’s attention began to wander.

He tugged on Qiong’s sleeve, and the two leaned their heads together, their whispers a stark contrast to the grand pronouncements filling the car.

“Precious Qiong, that feeling when you were charging your Ultimate just now,” Chen murmured, completely ignoring the cosmic-level secrets being broadcast mere feet away. “Was the force gathering here, or here?” He gestured vaguely toward his own lower abdomen and then his chest.

Qiong watched his gestures with a serious expression. She hesitated for a moment before pointing a finger to her own heart. “Here,” she whispered back. “It’s warm. But as soon as I think about releasing it, it just… dissipates.”

“The heart… so it might be triggered by emotion! That’s the key! Next time, let’s try remembering something else, shall we? For example… what if I treat you to something delicious, and then I suddenly snatch it away?”

“Don’t snatch.”

Qiong immediately shook her head, a hint of genuine disapproval in her eyes as she subconsciously tightened her grip on the hem of Chen’s clothes.

“Alright, alright, I won’t snatch, it was just a joke…” Chen chuckled, ruffling Qiong’s silvery hair.

Their low-voiced exchange, set against the rhythmic cadence of Kafka’s narration, was exceptionally conspicuous.

Ms. Welt’s mouth twitched again. March silently turned his head away, focusing on a particularly interesting dust mote dancing in a sunbeam.

Kafka’s projection, however, didn’t seem to mind the audience’s inattention. After she calmly finished reciting her lines, her gaze finally swept across the entire parlor car one last time. It lingered for a fraction of a second on the two heads huddled together by the sofa. Deep within her eyes, an elusive, knowing smile seemed to flicker—as if she was looking at an unexpected, yet perfectly logical, variable in her grand equation.

“…Well then, I wish you all a pleasant journey.”

The voice faded.

Her projection, just as it had appeared, dissolved into dispersing streams of data, vanishing silently into the air. All that remained was that final, meaningful sentence, echoing faintly in the carriage.

Uncle Himeko let out a soft breath and shook his head, his expression a mixture of helplessness and fond tolerance. He looked over at Chen, who was still whispering to Qiong by the sofa about his insights on charging up skills.

“Chen, stop brooding over your little teaching syllabus,” he called out. “Go get Dan Heng. We need to have a formal meeting to decide on the specific itinerary for our next stop.”

“Oh, okay, Uncle Himeko!” Chen responded immediately. He patted Qiong’s shoulder. “Precious Qiong, you stay with March and the others for now. I’ll be right back.”

Qiong nodded. Though she was clearly reluctant to let him go, she still obediently released his shirt and sat down on the sofa next to March 7th. Her gaze, however, never left Chen’s back as he walked away.

Chen passed through the carriage connector and arrived at the door to the archives. He raised his hand and knocked, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Dan Heng? Uncle Himeko is calling everyone to the lobby for a meeting. We’re deciding where to go next.”

The room was quiet for a second or two before Dan Heng’s calm response came through the door.

“…Wait a moment.”

The door slid open with a soft hiss. Dan Heng stood in the doorway, her face looking even paler than usual under the corridor lighting.

“Dan Heng, you…” Chen frowned, taking an instinctive half-step forward, his tone laced with concern. “You don’t look well. Was it too much exertion before, or… did you not sleep well? Have a nightmare?”

Dan Heng shook her head, her gaze flicking away from his as she stepped aside to clear the path. “I’m fine. I just got a bit absorbed in organizing the data archives. Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”

She took the lead, walking briskly toward the parlor car.

Chen watched her retreating back for a moment, muttering to himself, “It seems Teacher Dan Heng is under a lot of pressure… I’ll have to find an opportunity to help her relax later…”

He quickened his pace to catch up, and the two of them returned to the lobby, where the atmosphere had already become lively once more.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]