As they walked forward, Ryan realized more and more just how massive this place was.
The entire neighborhood stretched out endlessly, its architectural layout completely defying reality. Some houses hung suspended in midair, some windows opened directly onto the ground, and there was even an entire street hanging upside down in the sky, yet the pedestrians went about their business as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
The strangest part was—there were far too many people here.
Ryan had originally thought that extraordinary beings were extremely rare, but in this single area alone, there were at least a hundred people, and they were clearly not just Londoners.
Some wore Eastern robes, others were draped in desert-style cloaks, there were dark-skinned sailors, and he could even spot individuals who looked like colonial military officers.
The man seemed to have guessed his thoughts.
“Think there are a lot of people?”
Ryan nodded.
The man let out a soft chuckle.
“That's because the place you were staying before was too small.”
“The Wood has never belonged to London.”
“Nor does it belong to the Empire.”
“In theory, anyone who can dream could potentially end up here.”
As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed toward the distant gray mist.
“And Moth Lane is just one of the entrances.”
Ryan looked in that direction. Deep within the gray mist, he could make out other areas. Some glowed with red lights, while others were shrouded in complete darkness. Further away, a massive shadow was slowly moving behind the fog. Its silhouette was larger than an entire building, and with every movement, the gray mist billowed around it. Yet, the crowd below continued to bustle to and fro.
Ryan silently withdrew his gaze.
The man led Ryan further down the street. The buildings on either side grew increasingly cramped, and gas lamps hung suspended in midair. The stone road beneath their feet occasionally transitioned into a wooden bridge, only to turn back into stone bricks after a few more steps.
Ahead stood a tavern. Its sign hung outside a second-floor window, but its main entrance was located on the roof. A few masked figures were currently walking straight up the side of the wall.
Ryan stared at them for an extra moment.
Chris laughed.
“Everyone's like that on their first visit.”
“Always feeling like something's not quite right.”
“Because things aren't supposed to be right here.”
He reached out and caught a gray moth drifting down from the air. The moth landed on his fingertip and quickly dissolved into ash.
“This is probably your first time actually interacting with someone of the Moth aspect, isn't it?”
Ryan didn't deny it.
After walking for a few minutes, the man suddenly stopped and glanced back at Ryan.
“Almost forgot.”
“It's best to give yourself a name here first.”
Ryan frowned slightly.
“A fake name?”
“Of course it's a fake name.”
The man smiled.
“You didn't actually plan on telling anyone your real name, did you?”
“There are plenty of ways to find you through your name here.”
“They don't even need to know where you live.”
“Just knowing your name is enough.”
With that, the man extended his hand.
“Chris.”
“Of course, it's fake.”
Ryan fell silent for a couple of seconds before speaking.
“Lin.”
The man was visibly taken aback.
“Lin?”
“Yes.”
“What a strange name.”
Ryan didn't explain, merely looking at him calmly.
The man shrugged.
“Whatever.”
“It's not like anyone here actually believes the names people give anyway.”
Chris continued forward, his tone casual.
“Lantern folk usually don't like us.”
“They think we're eccentric and like to lie. Which, to be fair, is true.”
Ryan glanced at him.
“At least you're honest about it.”
Chris laughed.
“Because there's no point in lying to you.”
“You carry the scent of the Bureau.”
Ryan's heart stirred slightly, but he didn't reply.
Chris didn't press further, clearly understanding the unspoken rules.
No one in Moth Lane liked to pry into another's identity, at least not on the surface.
The two of them passed through a narrow street, and a small plaza suddenly appeared ahead.
A crooked lamppost stood in the center of the plaza, surrounded by dozens of people who seemed to be watching something.
Ryan looked over and discovered that they were actually gambling.
They weren't betting money, though.
One person produced a photograph, another offered a lock of hair, and someone else put forward a notebook.
Seeing Ryan frown, Chris offered an explanation.
“Anything can be traded here, including memories and even your luck for the next few days.”
Ryan fell silent for a moment.
“People actually buy that?”
“Of course.”
Chris shrugged.
“Only the poor sell their labor. Extraordinary beings sell their destiny.”
Having said that, he suddenly turned to look at Ryan.
“Why do you think I'm telling you all this?”
Ryan looked at him and didn't answer.
Chris smiled.
“Because there's no such thing as a free lunch.”
Finally, the catch.
Ryan actually felt a bit more relaxed; this made sense.
He had been waiting for this line ever since they met.
Chris leaned against a railing and lit a new cigarette.
“Don't worry, I'm not asking you to risk your life or trying to trick you into joining some organization. I've just been working on a project lately and need to find a few people to help out.”
Ryan remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Chris exhaled a plume of smoke.
“To be precise, it involves observation, recording, and dreaming.”
Ryan's brow furrowed slightly.
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Chris said.
“I'm researching certain phenomena in the Wood, but I need records from people of different aspects. Lantern, Moth, Winter, Forge—they're all different. Even in the exact same place, different aspects will see completely different things.”
Ryan suddenly understood. This was indeed logical, and it didn't sound like a trap—at least, not on the surface.
Sensing his thoughts, Chris added with a smile,
“Of course, I won't make you work for free.”
He pulled a brass token from his pocket. A moth was engraved on its surface, and its edges were heavily worn, clearly having been used for many years.
“Each time you help me record something, I will pay you. Knowledge, materials, or information—take your pick.”
Ryan didn't take it, asking instead,
“Why me?”
Chris fell silent for a couple of seconds before smiling.
“Because you're a newcomer. Newcomers are bold, and you haven't been scared out of your wits yet.”
He paused here.
“And there's another reason.”
“That road-permit isn't something just anyone can get their hands on.”
“The fact that someone could send you into Moth Lane at least proves you're worth observing.”
Chris leaned against the railing, his fingers lightly tapping the brass token. After a few seconds, he spoke again.
“It's actually very simple: record dreams.”
Ryan frowned.
“Record dreams?”
“Yes.”
Chris nodded.
“Not the dreams of ordinary people, but dreams within the Wood.”
He raised his hand and pointed toward the distant gray mist, where a dark, shrouded area lay, revealing the faint outlines of collapsed buildings.
“When different people enter the exact same place, what they see can be completely different.”
“Some see a forest, some see the sea, some see deceased loved ones, and some even see the future.”
Ryan didn't say anything.
Chris continued,
“And therein lies the question.”
“Is it the place that changes, or is it the person entering who changes? No one knows.”
A breeze blew from the end of the street, causing the gas lamps to sway gently.
Chris lowered his voice.
“For the past few years, I've been collecting records.”
“The same location, different aspects, different identities, and extraordinary beings at different stages.”
“What they see, what they hear, and what they forget upon entering.”
Ryan suddenly asked,
“Forget?”
“Of course.”
Chris laughed.
“You didn't actually think entering the Wood came without a cost, did you?”
“Once you go in, you end up forgetting many things by the time you come out.”
“Some forget a specific memory, some forget a name, and others even forget why they went in there in the first place.”
He spoke very calmly, as if discussing the weather.
“My experiment is very simple. I give you a location, you go in, observe, record, and come back to tell me what happened. That's it.”
Ryan looked at him.
“That doesn't sound like much of an experiment.”
“Because I haven't finished.”
Chris smiled.
He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Its edges were severely frayed, and the pages inside were densely packed with notes.
“It's the same location. You go once, and someone else goes once as well. Then I compare the results to see what different people actually saw, and—” He paused, his blank white mask slowly turning toward Ryan. “...whether the Wood is changing people, or if people are changing the Wood.”
The surroundings suddenly fell silent, and a distant tolling of bells echoed from some non-existent church.
Chris tucked the notebook back into his breast pocket, his tone returning to its previous lightheartedness.
“Don't worry. The first time won't be too dangerous. At most, you'll just have a dream or forget some trivial things.”
Ryan stared at him, remaining silent.
Chris was the first to break into a laugh.
“Alright, even I don't believe that line.”
“So you can take your time to think it over.”
“Moth Lane isn't going anywhere, and I'm not going to die anytime soon.”
Rate on N.U.
