Chapter 162: Why Is This Happening?

“Chen! Wake up! Look at me!”

March 7th’s voice was sharp with rising panic. He brought his hands down hard on Chen’s back, the slaps echoing against the fabric of his friend’s coat.

Slap! Slap!

The sound was crisp and clear in the quiet of the Parlor Car. Chen’s body trembled slightly with the impacts, but his only response was to smack his lips softly and shift on the table, nestling his head into a more comfortable position for his nap.

A cold tide of fear and despair washed over March 7th, threatening to pull him under. He stood frozen in the center of the car, his wide eyes darting between the companions he could see, could touch, yet who remained utterly oblivious to his presence. They neither saw him nor heard him.

A deep sense of loneliness, of being abandoned by the entire world, constricted around his chest.

His movements grew more frantic as he tried to shatter the suffocating wall of their disregard. He slammed his palms down on a nearby table, the heavy thumps reverberating through the wood.

No one even glanced in his direction. The only result was a sharp, stinging pain that shot up his arms.

He scrambled over to Uncle Himeko, his hands reaching out to snatch the delicate coffee pot she was holding. His fingers made contact with the warm metal body of the pot, the heat a solid, obvious presence against his skin.

But Himeko’s movements continued without the slightest hesitation or resistance. She smoothly poured a stream of steaming water from the pot into the filter cup, her expression one of serene concentration. It was as if his hand was nothing more than a phantom limb, a ghostly decoration on the pot’s polished surface.

Desperate, he planted his feet in the middle of the car and began to sing at the top of his lungs. The tune was a garbled, off-key mess, but it was loud. His voice, raw and strained, echoed in the otherwise tranquil car, and his frantic gestures stirred a faint breeze—the only physical proof of his tantrum.

Yet everyone’s gaze remained fixed on their own tasks. Aunt Welt was absorbed in a stream of data flowing across her monitor. Uncle Himeko was brewing her coffee. Dan Heng sat in perfect stillness, meditating. Caelus was watching the star-dusted void drift past the window. And Chen… Chen was still sleeping.

He even tried a more direct approach. He crouched in front of Caelus, attempting to pry open his eyelids with his fingers. He moved on to Dan Heng, trying to pinch her serene face.

He could touch them. Their skin was warm and resilient under his frantic fingers.

But the people he touched showed no reaction whatsoever. No flinch, no sign of displeasure, not even the slightest physiological response.

Every touch was real. Every response was a soul-crushing zero.

“Why… why can’t you see me…” March 7th’s voice cracked, dissolving into a choked sob.

His legs gave out from under him. He slid weakly down to the plush carpet, his back pressing against the cool wall of the car as the tears he’d been holding back finally gushed forth, hot and uncontrollable.

“I’m right here… I can touch you… I’m March… Look at me… Please… Look at me…”

His voice was a broken whisper, a desperate prayer to an uncaring audience. “Uncle Himeko… Aunt Welt… Dan Heng… Caelus… Chen…”

“Look at me… I beg you… Just look at me…”

He curled into a tight ball, burying his face in his knees as his shoulders shook with silent, wracking sobs. The muffled sounds of his weeping filled the space around him, just as his frantic shouts had moments before.

And just like then, no one paid him any mind. No one responded.

“Wake up.”

The voice was Dan Heng’s.

March 7th’s head snapped up. His tear-blurred vision instantly locked onto the young woman who had risen from her meditative pose and now stood near the wall. Her gaze was fixed, not on him, but on Chen, who was still sound asleep on the table not far away.

She was the first person since he’d woken up to actively make a sound, to perform an action that wasn’t part of their silent, looping routine.

A desperate, brilliant spark of hope ignited in the darkness of his heart.

He scrambled to his feet, practically using all fours in his haste. He stumbled towards Dan Heng, his voice a tangled mess of sobs and incredulous ecstasy.

“Dan Heng! You heard me? You saw me, right? You finally reacted!”

He stretched out a trembling hand, wanting to seize this lifeline.

However, Dan Heng’s gaze passed straight through his figure, not pausing for even a fraction of a second. She didn’t acknowledge his choked cries in the slightest, simply speaking again in her calm, measured tone.

“Time to get up. Don’t oversleep.”

As soon as her words fell, Chen, still sprawled on the table, finally seemed to stir. He groggily lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his face still slack with a post-nap laziness.

“Mmm… Dan Heng? What is it?” he mumbled.

“Nothing. Sleeping too long is bad for your health.”

Chen let out a massive yawn, stretching his arms high above his head. His gaze swept lazily across the car. Naturally, his eyes fell upon March 7th, who was now frozen rigidly at Dan Heng’s feet.

But there was no surprise in Chen’s eyes. No question. Not even a momentary pause.

It was as if he were looking at a piece of ordinary furniture. His gaze slid right past March 7th and shifted towards the bar.

“Uncle Himeko, is the coffee ready?”

“It will be soon,” Himeko’s gentle, smiling voice replied, right on cue.

March 7th remained frozen in place. The fragile flame of hope that had just flickered to life was instantly snuffed out, plunging him back into an even colder darkness.

He watched Dan Heng respond to Chen. He watched Chen carry on a natural conversation. He watched Uncle Himeko reply from across the room.

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible, icy hand, the pain so sharp he could barely breathe.

Only one persistent, agonizing question remained, looping endlessly in his mind.

Why did Dan Heng react, but only to wake up Chen?

Why could she respond to Chen’s presence and speak normally with Himeko… yet completely ignore him, who was standing right beside her, who had just been crying his heart out in front of her?

He couldn’t understand.

Just before he’d fallen asleep, he had been laughing and chatting with everyone in the Parlor Car.

Chen had definitely been trying to snatch his snacks.

Aunt Welt had definitely told him to get some rest.

Dan Heng had definitely lent him a copy of an ancient manuscript to look at.

Caelus had definitely been counting the stars with him through the window… Everything had been fine.

Why, after just one nap, had everything turned out like this?

[Elysian’s Note: Having a good time with the story? Every single bit helps immensely: