Night is the boundary between the living world and the netherworld.
As the last rays of the setting sun, symbols of human civilization, are blotted out by the night sky, a torrential rain of stars falls overhead. The air grows thick and murky, and the deserted grounds fill with a cacophony of noise.
Countless spirits grow restless at night. They flit through the streets, soar past houses. A man clutching a briefcase shields his face, complaining about the bleak, chilly wind, completely unaware of the two spirits passing right through him, their shrill laughter echoing in his ears.
Before a certain bizarre, wide-open gate, spirits freely indulge in a feast meant for them alone.
Starlight flickers, illuminating the ground with a penetrating brightness.
Standing at the center of the grounds, a black essence swirls around her, mending the wounds scorched into her by living souls during the day.
"You… you're here."
A slow, drawn-out voice reaches her ears. Manhattan Cafe has somehow appeared behind her without her noticing.
"Tonight… is noisier than usual."
Staring out at the endless, silent, and empty training field, Manhattan Cafe furrows her brow.
"I hope it doesn't… disturb us."
It's true.
The desolate street corners are crowded with passersby from times past. The empty roads echo with the whimpers and barks of dogs.
After the clamor of the day comes the equally clamorous night.
Arriving at the spot designated by Sunday Silence, Sunday Serenity flexed her wrists. She lacked structures like blood or muscles; even cracking her knuckles produced no sharp, popping sound.
Did spirits, incapable of growth, really need to engage in sports that required accumulated effort?
Sunday Serenity didn't really understand, but Sunday Silence had told her to, so she wasn't about to refuse outright.
What is the answer? What do you want me to see?
Boom—!
The explosion of dirt from the ground served as the starting signal. In this place with no announcer, no audience, no stage, not even any living people, a race began.
Sunday Serenity leaped forward, surging ahead.
Manhattan Cafe was briefly startled, then immediately followed close behind.
Under the night sky, two dark shadows raced across the field.
Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop…
Their hooves beat rapidly against the ground. The lights along the track flew backward in a blur.
It all felt so familiar.
Everything also began under the glow of those lights.
Sunday Serenity.
He was a person of utter purity.
When he was young, he had seen a movie. He couldn't remember the plot anymore, but one scene was carved deeply into his bones.
A pitch-black night in a frozen, snowy wasteland. A man dressed in black effortlessly solved a problem that had plagued the protagonist for ages, then left with a chic flourish, leaving no name behind.
He was like a savior, always appearing at the most critical moment, yet also like a shadow under the lamplight, vanishing without a sound.
Unfortunately, a sudden fire destroyed the production company, and all the film materials were lost in the blaze. The movie never revealed the identity of the man in black, but that image of his retreating back was something Sunday Serenity would never forget.
He learned one words from that figure.
Cool.
A coolness that seemed to disregard everything. A coolness that felt like ruling the world. That black silhouette was, to Sunday Serenity, a beacon of hope, incredibly dazzling, like a hero everyone admires. He worshipped that figure immensely.
But unlike ordinary children whose passions fade in three minutes, Sunday Serenity carried this resolve through to the end. He wanted to become someone like that.
He wasn't the protagonist of a passionate shonen manga, without a black-and-white worldview of hating evil. He wasn't a genius with omniscient abilities. Similarly, he didn't have some tragic background where ten people combined couldn't scrape together a pair of living parents.
He was just an ordinary person from a harmonious, normal family.
An extraordinarily persistent ordinary person.
To better embody the word 'cool,' Sunday Serenity began learning from the superheroes in anime and manga. He put on a black mask at night to punish evil and promote good. But this was very dangerous. There were many bad people at night, and as a minor, it was hard for him to confront those hardened criminals.
So he started training his body, learning combat techniques, crafting sophisticated, compact weapons.
He hoped to protect threatened boys and girls in the darkness, help them out of trouble, and then leave without giving his name.
Because he thought that would be incredibly cool.
After taking down a few thugs who were threatening others, they seemed to sense the danger and stopped coming near the area. This left Sunday Serenity as the only suspicious character wandering the night.
The surroundings became safer, but Sunday Serenity felt unhappy.
This didn't align with his goal.
This wasn't 'cool' enough.
When he entered high school, he started skipping classes to follow police cars to incident scenes. If he was lucky, he'd encounter officers in the middle of an arrest. He could follow closely, and if the criminal broke free and tried to run, he'd rush over, grapple with them, tie them up, and then make a chic exit just as the police arrived.
He infiltrated companies with negative press, investigated materials in the boss's office, and dropped evidence of shady deals into the mailboxes of journalists, letting them be exposed to the public.
For the sake of that black silhouette remaining from his childhood, he learned how to make weapons, learned spy techniques, learned intelligence gathering.
His academic performance plummeted. His interpersonal relationships were a mess.
But he felt that what he was doing was incredibly cool.
It wasn't for others' approval, not to fight evil and promote good, not for some sense of right and wrong.
Even if he offended more people, even if innocents got caught up in the fallout, as long as Sunday Serenity thought it was cool, he would do it.
This was him. Someone who completely discarded the world's gaze, living purely for his own ideal.
An utterly unrealistic person.
"Just as I thought."
A girl's voice sounded by his ear. Clods of earth and grass flew as an unseen presence ran neck and neck with him.
"Did you get the result you wanted?"
He hadn't.
A resisting fugitive hit him on the head, damaging his memory.
A jailed gangster uncovered his identity, threatening his life.
His spirit wasn't resilient enough. His will wasn't steadfast enough.
He felt shock, tension, frustration, regret.
He was still far, far away from the 'cool' he envisioned.
"I understand. Otherwise, you wouldn't envy me."
It was true.
"More than death, what you fear is boredom."
"..."
I don't deny it.
Because I believe 'cool' is the most interesting thing in the world.
I live for it.
Whoosh—
The wind whistled sharply. Sunday Serenity's body, weightless, streaked across the ground, the landscape blurring past her.
Fast!
So fast!
Her soul burned intensely, her 'heart' pounded madly. Even if her eyes couldn't see it, that figure, like the night sky itself, was right before her—
Running wild and free!
"Try to catch up to me!" Sunday Silence called out from ahead.
Her voice was filled with an unprecedented excitement.
"If the world gets too boring, I'd probably turn to crime too—!"
We two are so alike.
Urgent footsteps sounded from behind. Manhattan Cafe was giving chase, pushing hard.
As Sunday Silence suddenly accelerated, Manhattan Cafe gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts.
This is a race between Uma Musume. Winner takes all.
Before Sunday Serenity's eyes, Sunday Silence's figure gradually became clear. Time seemed to stand still. She saw the girl dressed in black, her steps soft and pliant like willow tendrils, soaring freely across this pitch-black, sky-like ground, moving farther and farther away from her…
That retreating back seemed to proclaim a supreme truth unknown to the world.
'Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one—'
In that instant, her form overlapped with that of the man in black from the silver screen, turning to leave all those years ago.
Sunday Serenity felt as if she had returned to that age of ignorant innocence. Like a child, her mouth agape, filled with yearning, she whispered:
"So cool…"
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.