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After a dizzying round of creative explanations, Kenta finally grasped the reality of the situation.
He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache blossoming behind his eyes, and spoke with the weary helplessness of a man who had seen too much.
"So, let me summarize," Kenta said, pacing the small clinic floor. "You stumbled upon the Silvermane Guards arresting the interstellar travelers we met yesterday. Then, in a fit of spontaneous philanthropy, you knocked everyone unconscious with a smoke bomb and 'casually' kidnapped several of them into the Underworld?"
Sampo nodded, his gaze wide and dripping with manufactured sincerity. "Precisely, old buddy. You know me. Kindness is my middle name. Reliability is my brand."
"..."
"Should I believe that, or should I believe I'm the long-lost emperor of a unified China?"
Kenta signaled for him to cut the act. Brother Kenta isn't buying it. Did you even manage to keep a straight face while saying that? Kindness was a currency Sampo didn't trade in unless the exchange rate was astronomical. Furthermore, how do you "accidentally" bring back the High Commander of the Silvermane Guards? Was she just a garnish on the side of the main dish?
Just as Kenta was preparing a 'friendly greeting' involving his boot and Sampo's shin, a groan drifted from one of the recovery beds.
"Ugh..."
The group turned to see Dan Heng sitting up, one hand clutched to his forehead. He surveyed the rusted walls of the clinic, his eyes flickering with a momentary confusion that was instantly replaced by an analytical, stone-cold composure.
"Where is this?" he asked, his voice steady.
"You're awake," Natasha said, stepping forward with the practiced grace of a doctor. "Do you feel any pain? Any dizziness?"
Dan Heng shook his head. "I am functional. May I ask our location and the nature of our arrival?"
Kenta watched him, impressed despite himself. As expected of the Astral Express's resident intellectual. Look at that poise. That's professionalism. He stepped in, explaining the "rescue" on Sampo's behalf. Dan Heng listened, processing the information with a series of sharp nods. Seeing the tension thaw, Sampo rubbed his hands together with a fawning grin.
"Hehe, Master Dan Heng! You're new to the Underworld—a dark, confusing place for a refined gentleman like yourself. Why don't old Sampo here show you the local sights?"
Dan Heng didn't answer immediately. He pondered the offer, his eyes drifting toward Kenta.
Kenta: "..."
The weight of that gaze made Kenta's skin crawl. Seriously, buddy, why are you staring at me like that? I didn't send out the invitation. He subtly shifted his weight, preparing to decline any "group activities," when an invisible aura suddenly rippled out from the spearman.
It was a cold, ancient pressure that swept past Kenta. It felt hauntingly familiar—a sensation that tugged at the very roots of his soul—yet he had no conscious memory of ever feeling it before. He glanced at Sampo and Natasha; neither seemed to notice a thing.
Is this a targeted broadcast? Or am I the only one wired to receive it?
Kenta realized then that his assessment of Dan Heng was dangerously incomplete. There was a weight to this man that didn't belong in a simple space-train guard. Of course, until he could confirm Dan Heng wasn't harboring a strange obsession with him, he vowed never to turn his back while they were alone.
[Vigilance Intensifies]
Under the pressure of that gaze, Kenta finally nodded. Dan Heng let out a small, audible sigh of relief—as if he'd been prepared to reveal a far more dangerous part of himself if Kenta hadn't responded.
Without further delay, the two left the clinic, leaving a bewildered Sampo and a curious Natasha in their wake.
A Dark Corner of Boulder Town
Kenta led the way into a secluded alleyway, the shadows of the overhanging pipes shielding them from prying eyes.
"Alright, Dan Heng," Kenta said, leaning against a rusted wall. "What was so important that we had to ditch the doctor?"
Dan Heng took a moment to organize his thoughts. "Mr. Kenta, I have no intention of provoking a conflict, nor do I wish to offend you with my inquiries..."
If you think it's going to be offensive, just don't say it! Kenta grumbled internally. But Dan Heng's next sentence caused the blood to drain from Kenta's face.
"I wanted to ask," the man said, his tone hesitant yet sharp. "Are you truly a native of Belobog? Born and raised on this planet?"
"!!!!!"
The words hit Kenta like a physical impact. To anyone else, it was a strange question. To Kenta, it sounded like: "I know you're a transmigrator."
Cold sweat poured down his back. His brain began to reel. Is he one, too? Does he have a System? Can he smell the 'Outworlder' on me? He remained frozen, his external expression a mask of absolute silence.
Seeing this, Dan Heng's eyes flickered with a strange, bittersweet disappointment. "I see. My hypothesis is likely correct." He spoke again, his voice dropping an octave. "Kenta... do you truly not remember me?"
"Huh?"
Kenta pulled himself out of his panic, the question catching him off guard. "Have we met? I'm pretty sure I'd remember a guy with a six-foot spear."
Dan Heng remained unmoved, though a shadow of sadness crossed his features. "Well, at least you recognize that you are not native to this ice-bound rock. Even if you have lost your memories, the fact that you are alive and functional proves the situation isn't as catastrophic as I feared."
Kenta was now thoroughly lost. "Wait, I have amnesia? Since when? How would I even know if I had amnesia? If I forgot it, I... forgot it."
He had always assumed he'd simply transmigrated directly into a new life. But now, reviewing the hazy gaps in his early days on Jarilo-VI, he realized many things didn't add up. He'd chalked it up to the "trauma of the crossover," but Dan Heng was painting a very different picture.
"Are you telling me you knew me before I arrived here?" Kenta asked plainly.
Dan Heng shook his head. "I am mostly certain that 'you' are the person I knew. However, I cannot guarantee it. Perhaps you are simply a double—different souls with the same face and name."
Kenta: "..."
Are you kidding me? You're practically reciting my ID number, but you're still being this pedantic? He had to admire the man's academic rigor, even if it was infuriating.
"Then just tell me about this person you knew," Kenta pressed.
"I cannot." Dan Heng's refusal was immediate. "Due to certain... complications and the nature of my own past, I cannot give you a direct answer. I can only tell you that, long ago on the Xianzhou, that person was known by a specific title: The Carefree Wanderer."
As the title left Dan Heng's lips, a violent pulse of familiarity surged in Kenta's heart.
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