Chapter Thirty-Eight: People Like Fireflies

The iron gate slowly opened, its hinges scorched by fire, groaning with shrill, creaking noises as they moved. Qi Chen and the Gentleman instantly grew vigilant, wary that the harsh sound might disturb whatever strange presence lingered outside the rooftop.

Yet, even as the gate swung fully open, no attack came upon them.

With the gate completely unbarred, the scene atop the rooftop was laid bare before their eyes.

“Officers, what do you see?” came the urgent voice of the Analysis Department through their earpieces. Ordinary people and electronic devices could not perceive the eerie silhouettes; now, after opening the door, the two frontline investigators fell into silence. Those in the rear grew anxious, fearing Qi Chen and the Gentleman might have succumbed to mental distortion. If so, the matter would have to be reported immediately, and more investigators called in—the threat level of the mission would escalate rapidly!

Fortunately, it did not come to that.

“Nothing... just a vast swarm of fireflies,” Qi Chen murmured, staring in astonishment at the vista before him. No wonder the rooftop of the accident building was suffused with such a dense aura of strangeness: in every corner, blue-glowing fireflies shimmered with sorrow.

The entrance to the roof was near the center of the top floor, and now the two felt as if immersed in a sea of blue. Everywhere they looked, fireflies danced in the air.

The uncanny power radiating from the fireflies, so densely gathered, reached a new peak; a wave of intense sorrow erupted simultaneously in the hearts of Qi Chen and the Gentleman.

Unconsciously, both clutched their chests, the acute grief manifesting physically.

But as investigators acquainted with the bizarre, they possessed exceptional mental resilience, forced to experience every nuance of sorrow in a state of utter clarity.

“If you can’t bear it, leave—let me handle this,” the Gentleman’s face twisted, warped by anguish, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks.

Qi Chen, however, ignored him and stepped forward.

Suddenly, the surrounding fireflies stirred, surging in a swarm with uncanny force.

“Careful!” the Gentleman shouted, his warmth detached and sent forward, its greater range intended to intercept the onrushing fireflies.

“Don’t attack them!” Qi Chen cried, stopping the Gentleman’s actions. The latter hesitated, then summoned his warmth back.

Unhindered, the fireflies swept forward, closing the distance in an instant. At the Gentleman’s utmost tension, the swarm halted as one.

Then, in the air, they began to separate, gathering into vaguely humanoid shapes of varying heights and forms.

The Gentleman stared wide-eyed at Qi Chen, who remained calm, but his reason told him not to speak—let Qi Chen, with his greater mental strength, face this scene beyond all conventional understanding.

“Your hearts... have died of sorrow, haven’t they?” Qi Chen suddenly spoke, approaching the nearest “firefly person,” his crystalline gaze not filled with sympathy, but rather with compassion—not for individuals, but for the world itself.

Beneath the profound sadness, another, deeper emotion threatened to surface.

The blue-lit firefly people moved quietly, encircling Qi Chen and the Gentleman, and before their eyes flashed the scene from the day of the fire.

The blaze erupted from the first floor, black poisonous smoke filled the building, and ordinary people, driven by instinct, finally gathered on the rooftop, hoping to escape disaster.

The iron gate, sealed by flames, could not be reopened; all hope rested upon rescue from the Administration Hall, which, upon receiving the alert, dispatched rescue teams with utmost urgency.

Yet the building was too low, the fire too fierce, desperation swept in from outside.

Here, sorrow reached its zenith.

Faces marked by tears thrust themselves into the investigators’ vision, the collective grief coalescing into a weapon that assaulted the mind.

Caught in these emotions, the urge to end one’s life seemed natural; when sorrow reached its utmost, and body and soul could bear no more, one might do things never before imagined.

“Everyone is like a firefly, desperately shining to survive, but as they shine, their lives burn away,” the Gentleman said, his face shadowed with deep grief. “Especially for ordinary people in the Era of Mist—it’s all the more true.”

Even in City Three, proud of its welfare, it was impossible for every citizen to enjoy the good days of the world before the mist descended. The Administration Hall’s decades of effort ensured there were no absolute slums, but most lives were fated from birth to spend their days in monotony beneath the tower lights.

Qi Chen now finally understood the emotion lying beneath sadness: confusion.

Individual confusion, and confusion of the times.

In the moment the flames consumed them, the residents of Happy Community surely looked back on their lives in the Era of Mist—their sorrow sprang from this.

“It’s as if they never existed at all,” Qi Chen’s voice grew heavy, and the imposing figure of the Conqueror suddenly appeared beside him.

“It shouldn’t be like this.”

Murmuring softly, Qi Chen took a step toward the firefly people, slowly raising his hand to reach for the blue-glowing insects.

The Gentleman hesitated, ready to summon his warmth for battle, but when he saw the firefly people reach out in response to Qi Chen, the veteran slowly lowered his fist.

“Flames can destroy matter, but cannot kill the spirit,” Qi Chen said, to the firefly people and to himself. “Everyone’s existence matters... You can’t ignore the light just because a firefly’s shine is brief.”

Rustling sounds rose—the dense cluster of firefly people parted, forming a straight path leading to the farthest corner of the rooftop.

The earpiece came alive with timely intelligence from the Analysis Department:

“That spot—records from the Administration Hall show many victims gathered there. Initially, it was thought they were driven into a corner by the fire, but after bodies were cleared, it was found they had piled together to cover something beneath.”

“Have the Special Operations team bring those relics to the entrance of the community—I’ll fetch them at once,” the Gentleman nodded to Qi Chen, then hurried to the gate.

Soon, carrying a large bag, the Gentleman returned to the rooftop.

The key to resolving this strangeness might lie inside the bag.

“Be careful, some things inside have become brittle,” he said by habit, opening the bag to reveal bundles of group photos.

Immediately, the fireflies surged, each targeting a different photograph.

In that instant, the sorrow that had weighed upon their hearts eased considerably.

The photos covered by fireflies seemed to glow with blue light, and began to float upward.

Surrounded by countless points of blue, all the photographs soared skyward; as they rose, the sadness in Qi Chen and the Gentleman’s hearts swiftly dissipated.

“So this was what made them sad,” the Gentleman mused, his heart touched. “Confusion stems from missing the most important people in one’s heart.”

Qi Chen remained silent, watching the firefly swarm recede into the distance.

People can be fireflies, but they can also become brilliant stars in the sky.

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