The girl looked at him as if she had just encountered a sorcerer. Witnessing Surjo's boundless knowledge and his sophisticated way of speaking, she became utterly amazed and deeply intrigued. Her respect for Surjo seemed to leap tenfold in an instant.
"Ah! How do you know so much? You really are extraordinary!" the girl said, her eyes filled with wonder.
Hearing the praise, Surjo was momentarily taken aback and felt a rush of shyness. He scratched his head and gave a modest laugh. "Ha ha... oh no, I don't actually know that much. Osman told me all of this."
"Osman? Who is…?" the girl asked, knitting her brows.
"Osman? He is my only friend!" A strange brilliance danced in Surjo's eyes. "I talk to him all the time. He tells me what our world used to be like. To be honest, I don't always understand everything he says, but it sounds amazing! He even told me about the Internet. And so many other things... that I can't even explain to you!"
As he spoke, a deep affection for Osman flooded Surjo's heart. He spread his arms wide, drawing a massive circle in the air to demonstrate the sheer scale of Osman's vast wisdom.
The girl grew even more curious after hearing about Osman. To her, Osman sounded like a great sage or a powerful magician. But hearing an unfamiliar word from Surjo's lips gave her pause. "What is the Internet?" She had never heard such a strange name in her life.
"The Internet!" Surjo puffed out his chest, preparing to recite the lessons Osman had taught him. "Do you know what Osman told me about the Internet? Wait, let me see how to explain it to you... hmm, let me say it exactly the way he did."
Surjo pretended to be grave, as if he were now a teacher himself. "Listen, the Internet is like an invisible thread. It is a medium for talking to people from one end of the world to the other. No matter how far away they are, you can connect with them using this Internet. Osman said it is a massive storehouse of knowledge left behind by the people of the past!"
Surjo gestured wildly as he described it, acting as though he had unlocked all the mysteries of the Internet himself. Even though the concept remained a foggy labyrinth to him, he didn't want to miss this chance to play the Hero in front of the girl.
However, without realizing it, Surjo had used language that was far too complex. The girl's innocent face made it clear that she understood none of it. Surjo faltered for a moment, realizing he was accidentally becoming a bit too poetic or complicated, just like Osman. Yet, the idea of being complex gave him a small sense of secret delight.
Still, he had to explain it in simpler terms, so he mimicked Osman's words exactly:
"The Internet is a medium through which you can contact people who are very far away."
The girl frowned in confusion and asked, "Faraway people? Who are they? I don't know anyone far away. Who would I contact?"
Hearing her words, Surjo felt a sharp pang in his chest. He realized that this girl was just like him—alone in this world of ruins, her horizon limited only to these broken alleys.
So, he delivered the final line in Osman's signature style, "Don't you dare say you have no one! Am I not here? Your wisest friend!"
Finishing his sentence, Surjo gave a broad, beaming smile.
At Surjo's reassuring words, a thin, sweet smile flickered at the corners of the girl's lips. For a brief moment, it was as if a spring breeze had swept across her melancholy face.
"But I have to go now," Surjo said, taking his leave.
This single word felt as if it slightly cracked the broken violin that was slowly being mended.
***
The night was deepening. Surjo walked briskly toward his home with small, hurried steps. This time, however, he wasn't in a narrow alley; he was crossing a vast, open field. The somber moon overhead seemed to be shining a bit brighter tonight. Right in the middle of the field sat a small pond—one that hadn't been born from a natural source. Many years ago, the impact of a devastating bomb from the sky had carved a massive crater here, and years of rainwater had eventually turned it into a silent reservoir.
A gentle breeze rippled across the calm water of the pond. As those soft waves lapped against the shore, they created a strange, sweet melody. To Surjo's ears, the sound played like a mysterious, beautiful piece of music, spreading a peculiar sense of peace through his restless body.
But suddenly, a bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. In this deserted expanse, he heard the faint sound of footsteps other than his own. It felt as if someone was silently following him.
Surjo whipped his head around to look back.
At first, he saw nothing but the strange dance of moonlight and smoky shadows over the open field. The sweet melody of the pond's water, which had sounded like music just moments ago, suddenly turned into a sinister whisper.
Suddenly, in the dim gloom of the silvery moonlight, he saw a figure moving. It looked like a human, yet didn't quite seem human. Silently, in an eerie manner, it was advancing toward Surjo.
Surjo's heart hammered against his ribs. The icy chill now spread throughout his entire body. One by one, the ghost stories Osman had told him about the old world—the restless spirits said to wander this ruined earth—began to flood his mind. He felt as if his heart might leap out of his throat! He stood frozen like ice, stripped of the strength to move even a single step.
The ominous shadow slowly emerged from the darkness. And right then, a sharp sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds and fell directly upon it.
Surjo let out a long sigh of relief. Not a ghost! It was the girl he had saved from the bullies just a short while ago.
In the moonlight, her form was now clearly visible. Fear and exhaustion were etched onto her pale face, but her eyes held a strange stubbornness. And in her hands... clutched tightly against her chest, was that broken, dark wooden violin—its severed strings shimmering like silver threads in the moonlight.