Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 50 Re-entering the Gray Dream

Dinner was great.

Aunt Sylvia brought out her treasured silver cutlery. In addition to the usual stews and bread, the table was also filled with roasted lamb chops with a rich sauce, chicken stewed in Burgundy red wine, and even goat cheese and chocolate mousse, which she usually couldn't bear to eat.

Victor opened a bottle of expensive red wine to accompany the meal and poured a small glass for everyone, even allowing Sula to symbolically drink a little.

"For a better tomorrow! Praise be to the goddess!"

Victor raised his glass with a ruddy complexion, his tone full of anticipation for the social prospects that the afternoon tea invitation would bring.

"For Green!" Sylvia echoed with a smile, looking tenderly at Green.

Sula immediately raised her milk cup, her little face full of excitement: "For my brother! And for tomorrow's snacks!"

She clearly had high expectations for the exquisite pastries that might appear at the Winston family's afternoon tea.

Emily also raised her glass, her complexion better than during the day. "Well... for... for the family."

Victor looked at Emily with a puzzled expression. This was unlike his usual daughter, who would express her opinions directly or carry a hint of rebellious thorns.

He glanced instinctively at his wife, Sylvia, and found her smiling at Green, seemingly completely absorbed in joy and unaware of her daughter's subtle change.

In the end, he didn't say anything more, or perhaps he didn't want to disturb this rare pleasant atmosphere.

Green also raised his glass, gently clinked it with his family, and drank the wine in his glass in one gulp.

The atmosphere at dinner was generally pleasant and even somewhat lively.

Uncle Victor, unusually, started telling some trivial anecdotes about the port authority, while Aunt Sylvia planned to take Green to the tailor shop the next morning to see if there were any suitable clothes and to buy a more presentable tie.

Sula chattered on, asking questions about how big Winston's house was and whether there were swings in the garden, her curiosity running high.

Emily ate her food quietly, occasionally chiming in with a word or two, no longer as sarcastic or aggressive towards Green as before.

When the conversation inevitably returned to Mrs. Hannah's visit and tomorrow's party, she merely raised an eyebrow in slight surprise:

"Mrs. Hannah Winston came to invite you personally? That's certainly... a great honor."

Emily's tone was flat, revealing little emotion, but Green could sense that her attention wasn't really on the subject.

Everyone seemed very happy, except for Green and Emily.

Green's happiness was an act.

But beneath Emily's joy lay anxiety about the changes in herself.

The power of the potion might excite her, but at the same time, the whispers about shadows, killing, and the instinct to hide, along with the feeling that something within her was awakening, were enough to fill anyone who had just stepped into the extraordinary world with fear and unease.

She dared not show it, not only because she needed to maintain a facade of normalcy, but also because it was her own choice, a secret she had to face and control alone.

Both of them were preoccupied, but neither dared to show their true emotions.

Dinner ended in an atmosphere of superficial harmony, but with everyone harboring their own thoughts.

Aunt Sylvia and Emily were clearing away the dishes when Uncle Victor leaned back in his chair, satisfied, and lit a cigar he rarely smoked.

Sula ran back to her room, rummaging through her hairbands to find the prettiest ones, preparing for her possible "exposure of the world" the next day.

Green made an excuse and got up to leave the restaurant first. As he walked up the stairs, he glanced back.

Emily was carrying a stack of plates toward the kitchen. Her back was slender, but her steps were unusually light and almost inaudible, indicating that the potion was gradually being digested.

Green withdrew his gaze and began climbing the stairs step by step.

It was a long and quiet night.

Green had a dream; he saw that gray expanse again, an endless gray.

The fog billowed, silent and still, as if it had never been since time immemorial.

A huge, indescribable shadow loomed in the depths of the mist, casting a chilling sense of oppression.

In the distance, dim, star-like points of light seemed to float, or perhaps countless indifferent eyes watching down below.

This strange space, which had been imprinted deep in his soul since the beginning of his transmigration, reappeared in his dream.

At the same time, there was an indescribable sense of alienation and... a faint, deep-seated call.

Green tried to venture deeper into the fog, just as he had done before, or at least get a clearer view. Something there seemed to be drawing him in, or perhaps it held the answer to the mystery of his journey.

However, an invisible, resilient barrier blocked his way.

It wasn't a physical wall, but rather a conceptual rejection or isolation.

The gray mist condensed and solidified before him, forming a hazy, insurmountable boundary.

He tried to concentrate, hoping to penetrate the fog and see what might be behind the barrier, but in the end it was all in vain.

I can't see anything clearly.

There was only a deeper, more chaotic grayness, and a grand, ancient 'sense of presence' that sent shivers down one's spine.

The feeling wasn't malicious, but it carried an absolute, unapproachable majesty, like the unintentional aura emanating from a sleeping behemoth, enough to make any ant that approached freeze in place.

He was kept "outside".

A nameless anxiety and sense of loss welled up inside me, as if I had lost something of paramount importance, or been excluded from a realm that should have been mine. This feeling was amplified infinitely in the silent, gray dreamscape.

Just as he was trying to breach that invisible barrier again, or at least figure out what this change meant—

Time seemed to be suddenly jerked by an invisible hand.

The grayness in the dream suddenly faded, like the morning mist dispersed by a powerful CD player.

A feeling of weightlessness, like a rapid descent, washed over me, followed by the solid feeling of my body touching the bed, and the sudden, clear chirping of birds outside the window.

Its daybreak.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, piercing his eyes brightly.

Green suddenly opened his eyes, his chest heaving slightly, and a layer of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

The suffocating feeling of being blocked and the eerie sense of disorientation in the flow of time from the dream still linger vividly.

In that gray dream, he seemed to linger for only a brief moment, a moment of struggling to see clearly but being refused.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the night had quietly slipped by.

He sat up and rubbed his throbbing temples.

What does this signify?

Is there something wrong with his own condition? Or... is it just a chaotic dream caused by mental stress?

There is no answer.

When Green finished washing up, changed his clothes, and came downstairs, breakfast was already on the table.

The simple oatmeal, toasted bread, and a small dish of jam contrasted sharply with the lavish meal the night before, yet remained true to the Hayes family's usual routine.

The air still carried the faint aroma of last night's roasted lamb chops and red wine, mixed with the scent of morning coffee.

Aunt Sylvia was busy combing Sula's hair, trying to tie her slightly curly brown hair into a more "ladylike" bun.

Uncle Victor was already seated at the table, with today's Oberhafen Morning Post spread out in front of him, a coffee cup in his hand, his brow furrowed, seemingly engrossed in a particular report.

"Good morning, Green." Sylvia looked up and smiled at him, her hands still busy. "Sit down and eat. We need to leave early this morning to pick out a suitable formal suit for you."

"Good morning, Auntie," Green said, pulling out a chair and serving herself a bowl of oatmeal.

Emily was already sitting across from him, quietly eating her bread. Her face was paler than the night before, and the shadows under her eyes were heavier, but her eyes seemed calmer and sharper than before. She glanced at Green quickly before lowering her head again.

"Good morning," Green nodded to her.

"Hmm," Emily mumbled in response.

Breakfast was served in a slightly hurried quiet. Sula complained softly because her hair was being pulled a little, and Sylvia comforted her gently.

Green chewed his food mechanically, but his mind had already wandered off somewhere else.

Just then—

"Bang!"

Uncle Victor slammed his coffee cup down on the table. He grabbed the newspaper in front of him, the veins on his forehead throbbing, his face flushed slightly with anger.

"Absurd! Utterly absurd!" he growled, his voice filled with disbelief and intense indignation.

"Are these gentlemen sitting in the parliament building brainless?!"

Sylvia was startled and stopped combing Sula's hair. "Victor? What's wrong? What happened?"

Sula's eyes widened as she looked at Uncle Victor with some fear.

Emily looked up and gazed at the newspaper in her father's hand.

Green put down his spoon and looked at his uncle. For Victor, who always valued appearances and tried his best to maintain a harmonious family atmosphere at breakfast, to lose his composure like this, the newspapers were sure to report something serious.