Kiana's disappearance didn't seem to have much of an impact on Shu's life.
Wake up, eat, kill time.
That was how he lived before she arrived, and it was how he was living now.
But that didn't mean Kiana hadn't left her mark on his life.
Rice Cake was exceptionally affectionate toward him, a far cry from the aloof disdain the cat had shown in his "delusions."
Shu often felt as if Rice Cake had accepted a mission from someone, and was now throwing its entire being into keeping him company, trying its hardest to lift his spirits.
...How could a cat possibly think like that?
Shu reminded himself not to fall back into the trap of "overthinking." That was the sickness talking.
Still, Shu couldn't help but reveal his deeply buried tenderness whenever he took care of the kitten. He would cup it gently in his hands. The moment the food or water in the automatic dispensers dropped even slightly, he immediately refilled them.
And Rice Cake didn't take this affection for granted. Its energy seemed limitless; the moment Shu sat down, the kitten would trot over with a toy in its mouth, demanding to play.
Shu now spent a massive chunk of his day keeping the cat company. But in truth, he felt it was the other way around—Rice Cake was exhausting itself just to help him pass the time.
When it came to Rice Cake's food, comfort, and care, Shu spared no effort. But when it came to himself, he had completely regressed.
He hadn't thrown out any of his instant meals, and now that they were back in rotation, he didn't even bother ordering takeout.
He locked himself inside the house once again, killing time alongside the cat.
And it wasn't just his daily routine that had returned to "normal." He was also back on his strictly scheduled medication regimen.
The small medicine cabinet—which he had once hidden away, believing he'd never have to open it again—had finally been unsealed. Staring at the blister pack missing exactly two pills, Shu had silently, desolately placed it back in the most visible spot in his room.
He had to take his medicine every day. It was the only guarantee for his health.
At least this time, there was no one left to disappear because of it.
Shu popped a new pill into his mouth, chasing it down with a mouthful of cold water. He let out a long, heavy sigh, as if shedding a massive burden.
He set the cup down, turned, and walked out of the bedroom into the living room.
A new day began with a quick, sloppy wash.
Shu's life held no sense of ceremony. He didn't greet the morning, nor did he announce his presence to the empty house.
He didn't harbor any desperate hope that someone would reply. The only task he had to accomplish today was simply to—survive until tomorrow.
He scrubbed his teeth a couple of times with a heavily pasted toothbrush, spat out the foam, rinsed, and then cupped some cold water from the tap to splash his face.
Even holding his breath for that brief second made his heart race. He braced his hands against the sink, breathing heavily as he looked up into the mirror.
His reflection was definitely not in good shape.
His eyes were slightly puffy. His hair stuck up in a chaotic mess. His cracked lips hadn't improved even after the glass of water he'd just drank.
Although he didn't have dark circles or eye bags, his deathly pale complexion fully broadcasted his weakened, fragile state.
Shu stared at the mirror in silence for a long time. He reached up, roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair until it looked somewhat acceptable, then splashed his face one more time. He forced the corners of his mouth up into a strained smile.
Ugly.
His face returned to an emotionless mask, and he walked out of the bathroom, as if he had expected the result all along.
With the curtains drawn, the living room was dim and oppressive.
Rice Cake had already crawled out of its bed and trotted over to his feet. Shu bent down, scooped the kitten up, and carried it to the sofa, sitting down in front of his computer.
Rice Cake curled up quietly in his lap, its eyes half-closed, looking like it hadn't finished sleeping.
So it just wanted to change beds?
Obliging the cat's wish, Shu became a human cat bed. He looped one arm protectively around Rice Cake and used his other hand to pull out his phone.
The lock screen displayed a few basic notifications and a couple of unread messages from last night. Shu skimmed them, confirmed nothing was important, and unlocked the phone.
Time slipped away quickly as he scrolled through the fragmented sea of digital information. Rice Cake snoozed peacefully in his lap. Shu remained perfectly still; only his thumb moved, swiping across the screen.
The real world is vast and vibrant, but the internet filters that chaotic world and forcefully blasts the most "exciting" parts directly into your face.
Of course, the things blasted in your face aren't always the most "exciting." Often, they're the most utterly incomprehensible, abstract garbage humanity has to offer.
Because of this, the new generation's worldview has become increasingly polarized. The dazzling, infinite colors of reality fade away, leaving behind a strictly black-and-white lens.
The human brain is indeed powerful, though. Even under such constant bombardment, it somehow manages to synthesize a third color from the black and white: "gray."
But for the vast majority of people, that's where it stops. They never truly grasp the infinite spectrum of the world. They cling to those three colors and arrogantly believe they've mastered the universe.
Some go even further. The moment they perceive the "gray," they treat this narrow slice of nuance as their own exclusive intellectual property, using it as a license to spout nonsense.
There's an ulterior motive behind this good deed. There's an ulterior motive behind this tragedy.
You ask me what the motive is? I can't tell you, I just know there is one! And I'm going to mock you for being naive, backward, and slow, because that makes me feel superior.
And if my life isn't perfect, it's obviously because the world is unfair and my genius is unappreciated.
So what exactly is the truth?
I don't know! But I know it's a conspiracy, and I'm the only one smart enough to see it! I'll even attack the people who actually point out real issues, because they're stealing the thoughts I would have totally come up with eventually!
You can't take away my only coping mechanism for being a failure!
Aside from 'conspiracies,' I have no other excuse for why I'm inferior to everyone else!
Are these people insane?
A genuine psychiatric patient read the comments left by these "normal people" and felt a profound, heartfelt admiration for the wisdom of their ancestors.
They were right to separate 'idiots' from 'lunatics'. Reading the shining thoughts of these humanoids made Shu feel like he was strolling through a serene Norwegian forest, his brain completely smooth and unbothered.
Time flew over the surface of his wrinkle-free brain until he felt Rice Cake stretching in his lap. It was already noon.
"Meow~" The first thing the cat did upon waking was issue a quest to its fragile human.
"You hungry?" Shu set his phone face down, ignoring the newly refreshed headline:
[Multiple domestic pets reported missing in local neighborhoods. Preliminary police investigations point to an underground animal abuse ring...]