Farewell to Childhood

Ru's body screamed in protest as he forced himself upright, each muscle a knot of agony. Adrenaline, a treacherous ally, surged through his veins, numbing the pain but amplifying the dread that clawed at his sanity. His hand, slick with a cold sweat, closed around the baseball bat, wresting it from Vaelan's limp grip.

He gave Vaelan a gentle pat on the shoulder as a gesture of comfort in this surreal nightmare, a silent promise of protection in the face of overwhelming terror.

"It'll be okay," Ru said, his voice a hoarse whisper, trying to dispel the darkness that surrounded them. The words tasted like ashes on his tongue, a bitter lie in the face of the carnage before him. He wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

Vaelan remained unresponsive, his eyes glazed over, lost in a labyrinth of horror. Ru knew he couldn't wait for his friend to snap out of it. Time was a predator, and they were its prey.

Ru tried to see Clockmaker in Vaelan's eyes. She was there. "Could you please put Vaelan's consciousness to sleep? I don't want him to stop me," he said.

"But Liru…" the Clockmaker began, her voice faltering. She was unfamiliar with the rules of this world. She had no idea what was going to happen next. Above all, she was at a loss for why Ru acted like this.

"You keep holding on to Vaelan and then give Claude a call. I'll need his help," Ru said, looking serious.

"Can you at least tell me if you're going to be hospitalized again?" Clockmaker asked sadly.

"I've decided I'm going to make a change this time and stay in prison," Ru said with a grin, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Don't go," Clockmaker said in an innocent and tearful voice.

"No way. The police went to a lot of trouble to come here," Ru said, shrugging his shoulders.

He turned away and faced the police, who were approaching. The flashing red and blue lights made the ordinary street look like an action movie set. This wasn't the scene Ru had imagined, but he stood tall and walked by the atmosphere. If he wasn't ashamed, he would have asked the police "What's up, dude".

After passing a certain distance, his comfort gave way to tension. Ru’s thoughts raced, but his heart steadied. This was the end of the line, at least for now. The bat in his hand felt heavy, like a king's scepter, a symbol of power he neither wanted nor understood. Yet, he gripped it tightly, his stance a silent challenge to the encroaching law.

"Don't move!" the police barked, their voices echoing in the tense night air, amplified by the silence that followed.

Ru could feel their eyes on him, the weight of their suspicion, their fear. He raised his hands slowly, letting the bat drop to the ground with a hollow clatter. His gaze flicked to Vaelan one last time, hoping the boy would understand. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped forward, surrendering himself to the inevitability of what was to come.

The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into his wrists, and as they led him to the squad car, Ru's mind was already miles away. The game was far from over, and he had to be ready for whatever came next.

The scene shifted quickly from the chaos of the street to the cold, sterile walls of the courtroom. Ru was sitting at the defendant's table, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edges of the chair. He was still thinking about the events of the last few days: Vaelan's haunted eyes, the glare of the police lights, the weight of the stick in his hand, and that message from the VIP number.

Ru was checking out the jury members one by one. He figured the shady character who was playing games with him was in the courtroom.

“If I were you, I would come and watch this show,” he thought.

But now, it was the judge's voice that filled the room, a steady cadence that contrasted sharply with the turmoil in Ru's head.

"Given the evidence presented," the judge began, flipping through the pages of the psychiatric report that had been submitted earlier, "and taking into account the circumstances surrounding the incident, including the fact that the deceased was the aggressor, the court finds grounds for reduced sentencing."

Ru barely heard these words. His mind was elsewhere, as one of the police officers had caught his attention with his ice-blue eyes. Could he be a genie? But even through the fog of his thoughts, he caught the key points—the psychiatric evaluation, the determination of self-defense.

"The defendant has been diagnosed with a mental illness that impairs his ability to fully comprehend the consequences of his actions," the judge continued, his tone clinical, almost detached. "This, combined with the fact that the deceased was the initial aggressor, justifies a reduction in the standard sentence for a crime of this nature."

Ru’s eyes flicked to his lawyer, who gave him a brief, reassuring nod. It was the first sign of hope he'd felt in what seemed like an eternity.

"As such, the court hereby sentences Lirui Xiaolian to two years of incarceration, to be served at a psychiatric facility, where he will receive the necessary treatment and care."

Two years. 'Meaningful and planned,' Ru thought. It was significant that he was kept locked up for two years, especially since the apocalypse was two years away. His playful enemy had managed to set him back somehow. Ru didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. But as the gavel came down, sealing his fate, a strange calm washed over him. He had survived this long—he could survive two more years. He had to.

The guards were about to escort him out when his lawyer leaned in close and said, "Stay strong, Lirui. We'll keep fighting this. There's still hope."

Ru nodded, but the words didn't register. He was already retreating into his thoughts, into the labyrinth of memories and fears that had become his constant companions. The game wasn't over yet, and he would play his part, whatever it took.

As he was led away, the sounds of the courtroom faded, replaced by the dull hum of the world beyond. The next chapter of his life had begun, and it would be written within the confines of a place where reality itself was often blurred. But Ru was no stranger to blurred lines. He had lived with them his entire life.