I wanted to ask Mona Ouyang again, but as she said, just being able to enter a dream like this is already difficult for her—she can only stay for a short while.
I quietly followed beside them. What exactly was that thing just now, or rather, who was it? In this dream, something exists, something that disturbs the nightmare of the Dark Will.
Although the Dark Will self-destructed within the nightmare, why were those three assimilated so quickly, each falling into their own dream? As for me, it's as if I've fallen into a double-layered dream—a dream within a dream. My consciousness is clear, but those three are not.
I wanted to ask Mona Ouyang again, but as he said, just being able to enter a dream like this is already difficult for him—he can only stay for a short while.
Even if the Undertaker’s arm had been severed, and the power attached to it could devour the Dark Will’s nightmare, it shouldn’t have caused them to fall into their own dreams so quickly. What did Sylvia Blue notice at that moment? She never told us anything, or maybe she herself didn’t know. But she sensed it—the instant the Undertaker attacked us, she kicked him away.
I kept following Samantha Chen. The village chief stopped and led her into a patch of woodland on the left. In the open space at the center stood a nameless stone grave.
Samantha Chen walked over and knelt down, silently staring at the grave before her. The sadness from last night had faded from her face, replaced by a sense of release.
The village chief walked away without a word. Samantha Chen remained kneeling before the grave, silent and unmoving, all morning. By noon, the village chief returned, carrying some food.
“Xiaomin, I know you’re hurting inside. Eat something.”
This time, Samantha Chen stood up and took the basket from the village chief’s hands.
"Let's go. Let's head home."
Back at home, Mrs. Chen was deeply worried about Samantha Chen. She noticed Samantha's eyes were red and swollen.
"Samantha, what happened to you?"
Samantha Chen shook her head, then lay down on the bed and pulled the quilt over herself.
"It's nothing. I just had a few drinks at the village chief's house. We discussed that I'll be repairing the bridge tomorrow. It's been ten years—though the bridge Dad built is still sturdy, some of the materials have aged. I'll replace them with new ones."
Mrs. Chen nodded and chose to remain silent, but a trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes.
Over the next few days, Samantha Chen worked alone, carrying her tools back and forth between the village and the bridge. Many relatives in the village advised her to stop doing men's work, to stay home, and to find someone to marry. But Samantha only joked that she was already married—to her craft.
After half a month, Samantha finished the repairs. She planned to leave.
"Samantha, how long do you plan to go on like this?"
Samantha Chen shook her head and replied with a smile.