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墨書 Inktalez
In the corner of the ghost market, it was even filthier and more cramped than I had imagined. The air was thick with the stench of decay, almost palpable. I covered my mouth and nose as I navigated between several crooked shanties, the cold ink stain on my sleeve seemed to emanate an ominous aura, making me paranoid, as if eyes were watching me from the darkness.
After some effort, I managed to slip a few remaining copper coins to a gambling addict and learned about a cripple named "Black Crow." He was huddled in a makeshift hut made of tattered mats, with only one leg. Half of his face appeared to have been burned, the skin shriveled together, and his murky eyes held a glimmer of shrewdness.
"Looking for Mole?" Black Crow scrutinized me with his narrow eyes, assessing my worth. His voice sounded like a broken gong. "There are many looking for him, but few can get him to nod. Judging by your appearance… a fallen gentleman? Or perhaps you've offended someone you shouldn't have? In any case, do you have enough 'tea money'?"
I took a deep breath and emptied all my copper coins onto the greasy low table. "This is a deposit. There will be more once the job is done." I tried to sound calm, but my voice trembled slightly.
Black Crow chuckled dryly, his bony fingers fiddling with the coins without counting them. "Wait." He uttered two words and then ignored me, preoccupied with a pile of unidentifiable bones.
Waiting was torturous. Every minute felt like an eternity in hot oil. I fidgeted restlessly, my fingertips unconsciously tracing lines on the rough wooden table, mimicking drawing motions. My mind was filled with last night's horrifying images and those chilling shadows at the city gate. The ink stain on my sleeve remained cold, like a death warrant.
I lost track of time until the tattered mat curtain of the hut was lifted by a dark hand with defined muscles.
A figure stepped in against the faint light outside.
He was tall but not bulky; he had the lean muscle of someone hardened by years of labor. Dressed in dark, practical attire that allowed for movement, his collar was open, revealing bronze skin adorned with a string of… beads whose material I couldn't discern, their design somewhat peculiar—like items from far western lands.
What caught my attention most were his eyes.
They were extremely sharp, like a predator lurking in the dark, carrying an indifferent vigilance as they scanned everyone in the hut—mainly Black Crow and me. His skin was indeed very dark; his face had defined angles, and his lips were tightly pressed together without any expression.
Was this Mole? A Kunlun slave? In Chang'an City, foreign faces were not uncommon, but few possessed such piercing gazes.
He stood there silently; it felt as if the air in the hut had thickened. Black Crow pointed at me and muttered something to him that I couldn't catch—some sort of coded language—and Mole's gaze fell entirely upon me.
That gaze held no emotion but sliced through me like a knife, exposing all my guilt and fear. I felt like meat on a chopping board; there was nowhere to hide. I couldn't even meet his eyes and lowered my head instead, staring at my hands stained with mud and ink.
"You are looking for me," Mole finally spoke. His voice was deep and carried an unusual harshness that suggested he wasn't from Central Plains; each word seemed to bounce out rather than flow together.
"Yes." I steadied myself and forced myself to look up. "I… I've gotten into trouble—serious trouble. I need protection and some information. They said… you could help as long as…" I swallowed hard, "as long as the price is right."
Mole didn't respond immediately; he just continued to watch me with that penetrating gaze as if urging me to continue.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my last bit of silver from my pocket and pushed it toward him. Then I quickly picked up a somewhat flat piece of charcoal from the ground and tore off a corner of my robe's lining—there was no time for dignity; survival came first.
With the flickering light from Black Crow's hut casting shadows around us, I held my breath and swiftly turned my wrist. The artist's instinct overcame my fear as the charcoal danced at my fingertips, producing soft scratching sounds. The figure from last night—the man in black robes with those hawk-like eyes hidden in darkness—was captured on fabric at lightning speed. The lines were rough but accurately conveyed that chilling and eerie essence, especially those eyes.
It felt like gambling—a bet on whether my "ghostly hand" could earn me a sliver of hope in this place where only fists and knives mattered.
Once finished, I pushed the fabric toward Mole.
His gaze fell upon the drawing this time for longer than before. Those hawk-like eyes narrowed slightly as if his pupils constricted for a moment. He reached out his finger but stopped just half an inch away from touching the drawing—as if confirming something.
I stared at him anxiously, forgetting even to breathe. The ink stain on my sleeve began to feel cold again.
Did he recognize me? Or had he sensed something? The waters of Chang'an were far deeper than I had imagined.
After a moment, Mole withdrew his gaze and looked at me again. His expression remained cold, but there seemed to be a hint of… an indescribable scrutiny.
"Protect you. Ten days." He held up two fingers, his voice still flat. "That’s the amount."
I quickly calculated in my mind. It was the kind of money I would earn in the palace over half a year, with some rewards sprinkled in. But now, money was life.
"…Alright." I gritted my teeth and nodded, adding, "I also need to know about… the kind of dark arts that turn people into monsters with ink, and how much you know about those in black robes?"
Mole glanced at me, and for a fleeting moment, there seemed to be a faint ripple in his eyes, quick as an illusion. He didn’t answer my question directly but simply said, "Pay half upfront."
I pushed all the silver coins on the table toward him. The black crow beside me watched with envy, but at a glance from Mole, he shrank back and dared not make a sound.
Mole pocketed the coins without even looking at them and nodded slightly with his chin.
"Let’s go."
Just one word.
He turned and walked away with clean, swift movements, showing no hesitation. I hurried to follow him while the black crow watched us leave with a complicated expression.
Mole led the way; his pace seemed slow yet perfectly avoided the puddles and debris on the ground, blending into the dim light of the ghost market. He rarely looked back, but I could sense that he kept an eye on our surroundings with peripheral vision, like a lone wolf always on guard. His silence carried a powerful pressure that both reassured me and sent deeper chills down my spine. This man was more dangerous than I had anticipated—profoundly inscrutable.
We twisted and turned through the maze-like tunnels and shanty areas until we reached an even more secluded corner that seemed almost abandoned. Here stood a tightly shut black door made of an indiscernible material, embedded in the damp rock wall.
Mole knocked on the door in a peculiar manner, and it silently slid open just a crack. He stepped aside to let me in before slipping inside himself; the door closed quietly behind us.
Inside was a tiny stone chamber barely large enough to accommodate us, containing only a hard bed and a small table, with some clutter piled in one corner. The air was slightly better than outside but still cold and damp. A small vent had been carved into the wall, allowing a faint beam of daylight to filter through.
"Here. For now." Mole gestured toward the stone room as an explanation.
Leaning against the cold stone wall, I finally let out a sigh of relief, though my taut nerves dared not relax. Looking at this silent Kunlun slave before me, I knew this transaction was far more complicated than just silver coins.
He might know something. And I had already stepped into an abyss from which there was no turning back.
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