I, who advocate giving up, feel like a disqualified person

Because this is Cecilia.

I dragged my heavy leather boots across the red carpet, leaving sticky stains one after another. Politely wringing my raincoat, I wrapped it tightly around my left shoulder and strode forward. I murmured: Why do this absurd, tedious thing? What's the point? Yet, it seemed only a remnant of consciousness... Ah, the existence or nonexistence of meaning is not, and never will be, the basis for judgment or gimmick. Because this place is called Cecilia.

Where the red carpet was about to melt under footsteps, a long-dusted music stand held a dazzling array of reed pipes, each one holding strings of varying calibers. A cello sat steadily in its tomblike wooden box, its edges polished to a gleaming white, its soundbox smeared with fragments. Strings, brass! Trombones, tubas, trumpets! Each horn gleamed with dazzling golden light, perched and interwoven on stands large and small. Slowly and cautiously, I reached out my right hand, wiped away a light layer of dust, and quietly stroked the cold, hard metal.

I twisted the hem of my raincoat with my left hand, the warm air around me gradually tearing away the remaining dampness. The raincoat was still very oily and shiny, the darkness of the night making it seem even heavier, its slightly grayish gloom reflecting a fleeting light.

The black garment was heavy, important. I watched quietly, my gaze drifting back and forth between the instrument and the raincoat. A cool, luminous light condensed and solidified on the string music, while a golden haze formed on the raincoat, creating delicate ripples.

They, they are great musicians, great artists! Dressed in black tailcoats, they stand silently behind me, to my left, to my right. They gaze at the instrument that once belonged, now belonged, and forever belonged only to them. They wear pale bow ties, like archers. They lean forward, some touching their chests, some bowing their heads, silently gazing.

I slowly straightened my back, bowed to it, to him, to them, and saluted.

Great Heroic Spirits!

I combed my slightly messy curly hair, rubbed my eyebrows, straightened up, held my black raincoat tightly, and without looking back, walked away from them indifferently.

I arrived behind the scenes, a touch nervous. Taking a deep breath, I pushed aside the long, heavy curtain to the right. My throat surged, and I began coughing violently. Blushing, I looked up, my gaze met with clouds of tangled dust. Clearly abandoned, the waxed wooden stage gleamed in the dim light; the spotlights cast a clean, translucent veil, untouched.

Yes, they are longing and waiting for someone to come.

Because this is Cecilia, where the sheep are lost.

Looking down, the empty seats stood sluggishly in rows one, two, thirteen. Their cold, indifferent gazes were stiff, as if questioning my very existence. Was it this kind of tranquility worse than death, or the emptiness of a bustling crowd, cold and indifferent, that they desired? This solemn and gloomy scrutiny left me feeling uneasy. A cold sweat, soaked with boundless fear, soaked my back, forcing me to look away with difficulty, pursing my lips, and trembling as I hurried to the table.

Wow—another puff of ash.

Ta-da, ta-da, ta-da. As if cloaked in the armor of a medieval knight, transcending time and space, the resounding clatter of hooves echoed, pressing against the smooth wooden planks. How long... had it been here? The wood, a dull yellow, exuded a sense of ancient desolation. Deep, incised lines silently pointed to the focal point, gazing back at me. A sense of loneliness and desolation suddenly swirled, descended, and vanished. He looked at me mournfully, turned, and remained silent.

His gaze was calm and powerful, yet empty and blank, as if his focus penetrated the curtains and high walls behind me and stopped at a place with life.

But there was no life, and everywhere was… Cecilia. I stood on the stage.

Close your eyes tightly and take a deep breath.

The air here is a little cleaner. Even with the dizzy smell of ivy and sage and the salty tang of moss and rust, it's still much better than outside! Outside! There's no microphone, no conductor. Six feet in front of my right toe is the end of the stage. Beneath the abyss, there are still empty seats filled with a tide of doubt.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I felt guilty. What was I feeling guilty about? ... I relaxed my shoulders and put on my drained black raincoat again. My right hand slid behind my shoulder, and it gently spread out, draping over me and enveloping my fragile frame. The black mud on the outside of my shoes and boots had dried white and curled, but I didn't think it would try to stop my performance with a burst of debris.

silence.

I moved my lips with difficulty, trying to make sounds that resembled musical notes as much as possible.

But the first sound was a harsh, unpleasant crack. My cheeks flushed crimson, and the sudden, stammering pause sent me coughing from head to toe. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of not speaking for so long, but I gasped painfully, clutching my chest tightly as I violently vomited the few remaining bodily fluids.

But, but I still desperately tear my hoarse vocal cords, making them tremble and tremble!

Huh... Huh... I slowly loosened my hands that were hurting my chest and gradually slowed down my pace.

I started singing.

Ha! Strange, really strange! Quite strange, isn't it? As the first syllable was articulated clearly, the rest followed like a string of pearls. Vocal cords! He poured his turbulent emotions into his uvula between his lips, palate, and teeth, and the trembling air surged like a torrent, scraping against the skin and the thin, viscous cavity. The suffocating feeling was banished, replaced by me, me! Hysterically beautiful!

I rolled up the brim of my raincoat, revealing my shiny, lustrous brown hair. I should have sung a song like this a long time ago! I should have!!

There's no one here, no one's looking at me.

Everyone here, everyone is looking at me! They sit on the long porch benches covered with wet green moss, stand on the stairs with umbrellas dripping with rain, and sing softly with me.

My eyes flickered, my cheeks burning, sweat billowing from my head. I tilted my neck back, my whole body trembling with excitement! My blood, long clogged and frozen in my veins, began to flow again! It surged, roaring with joy, and a little warmth trickled down through my veins into my muscles and bones. I felt myself glowing, heating up, burning! Every inch of my body was melting and blazing! Come on! This is the true power of life, this is surging vitality!

My forehead seemed to roar softly. I flung my tangled curls aside, yanking my raincoat free. With my right hand, I flung it back behind me, tracing a perfect arc with the raindrops. I'd never, or perhaps it had been a long time since I'd felt this way: passionate, generous, and overwhelming! Sharp syllables ripped from my mouth as I screamed! My soul, my soul, was about to burst through my body and soar into the air! What did it matter?! Burn! Burn! Burn! I shed burning tears, glaring furiously, coldly, at the people still humming softly.

There's no one there.

Everyone there raised their heads, as if moved, but not one dared meet my eyes, blazing with fire. Their voices suddenly rose as they uttered incoherent words, like Buddhist chants. "Burn all of that, all of that!" they asked. "Why? Why? Why are these cowards still hesitating?" Sing! Sing loudly! Spit out all the injustice, resentment, anger, and fear! Watch them soar to the sky! Break through the silent thunder and shatter the gloomy sky that has imprisoned me, us, for thousands of years! This eternal night, a night where light never sees the light, I bless you, I curse you, I pity you, I hate you, but let it all end! This cycle of emptiness and despair, this lonely and desolate pain, end! End! End! End! Break free! ! !

……

……

It had long since become... a hoarse, raspy cry. Like a madman, my eyes bloodshot, I half-knelt, leaped, and paced rapidly, making the wooden platform, silent for centuries, tremble and creak with pleas for mercy. But it wasn't enough! It wasn't enough!! My chest heaved heavily, making me acutely aware of the piercing pleasure of each inhalation of the biting cold air. My breath, muffled and fiery, scorched my face, creating waves of burning sensation. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I clutched my head tightly with my frantic arms. In my mind, darkness and light alternated in an instant. No!! You can't!! You bastards! I suddenly looked up, gazing at the sky, and roared, hysterically. Those gloomy dark clouds, that cold lightning, you! You! You!! ……

I lashed at my scalp, trembling in agony, my pale cheeks once again flushing an unhealthy red. Stumbling, I sank to my knees, my fingers gripping the rotten edge of the wood, my teeth clenched. Ah! I want to sing it, I want to speak it out! Die, die! I raised my twitching, vein-riddled face and screamed in anger. It can't stop me! It can't! It can't!

The stinging pain in my head was like a sharp thorn, piercing my remaining consciousness fiercely, like a thunderclap in the sky exploding in my thoughts. Cough... cough...

Yet, I finally unleashed a final, fierce roar. Like a dragon's roar, it soared into the air, clashing with the gloomy lightning. It burst through the hall's ceiling, shaking the entire space violently, sweeping away a cloud of debris and dust. It, it, collided with the lightning, shredding this hypocritical conspiracy that judged all injustice in the world. A light shone from my cold, heartless eyes. Thunder, oh heaven, fear! Shrink! Haha... ha... cough...

Verdict! Verdict! Verdict!!

……

My vision gradually became shrouded in thick darkness, and fatigue, weakness, and dizziness overwhelmed me. I leaned back softly, finally collapsing silently, only my heavy breathing becoming increasingly distinct. It felt like cool, warm raindrops were dripping down my cheeks, gently soothing the remaining redness and swelling...

Huh...cough cough...ha...

My vision... blurred. I struggled to stretch out my right hand, trying in vain to catch the leaking rainwater, but...

But I won, didn't I? Hey... Feeling very sleepy, I raised my eyelids slightly, a relieved smile appeared on the corner of my mouth, and I fell into a deep sleep facing the silent thunder and lightning, the gloomy black clouds...

The crowd around me, who had stopped chanting, fell silent. They slowly straightened up and bowed deeply to me solemnly and seriously.

There was no one around.

Only the priest holding the black umbrella remained upright, staring at me silently and quietly.

After pondering for a moment, he bent down, gently put down the black umbrella, then turned around and left towards the gate on the stormy night.

Then, there was a loud thunder.

Around them, the crowd quietly and sparsely left. When they reached the door, they all glanced back silently. Then, they turned and disappeared behind the heavy, desolate lacquered door.

What's left is the big black umbrella, sliding with the rain, rolling lonely in the corner of the wall, swaying in blurry and graceful arcs.

...Silence.

……

Everything, everything, was silent.

Lonely, quiet...

It was like the dawn piercing the dark night. The chaotic shadows before my eyes gradually overlapped, and my vision...became clear again.

I moved my index finger and felt a clear, present presence. Then my arms, shoulders, chest, neck, head, and…my thoughts. I surveyed the ceiling, lying on my back. Nothing seemed different. My breath returned, and my soul stood still.

The numbness and soreness after the attack still continued in my bones. I propped up my hands, bent over, and stood up.

The surroundings were in a mess, as it should be.

Books, crumpled pieces of paper, and silver spoons were all pinned heavily between the seats and scattered on the ground.

The crowd had already dispersed.

There was no crowd.

I swung off the stage in a daze and walked to the rows and rows of auditoriums. There was no wind. Books on science, law, morality, philosophy, religion, art, ethics, and society were all torn and scattered on the floor and the stone steps.

The Bible... there is no Bible here.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, I turned around and stared at the crumpled black garment on the stage—the raincoat. He seemed to be sighing.

I hesitated.

After a long while, I finally managed to take the difficult steps and inched my way onto the stage. With a long sigh, I leaned over, grabbed him, glanced at him briefly, and then returned the way I'd come.

In this world, the sound of my crisp footsteps can be heard.

I didn't go through the corridor I came in by, but left through the main door.

Because I don't want to disturb those musical instruments and those heroic spirits anymore.

But I stopped. In the corner, the big black umbrella was standing with its ribs spread out, quietly waiting for me.

Without hesitation, I grabbed him.

The priest's sword. Holding the cold ribs and handle of the umbrella, I once again rolled the raincoat around my left shoulder, then, holding the ribs and canopy, I walked steadily towards the lacquered door.

The thunder has died down, or perhaps it will never die down.

I seemed to see God's giant hand reaching out to Adam and the Virgin Mary's loving eyes gazing at Jesus.

I'm at peace.

Without a second thought, the spotlight on the stage behind me went out. Without looking back, I opened the door and walked out quickly.

The door was not closed again. A ray of light seemed to shine in.

Outside the house, there was no sound of wind and rain.

I'm going back there again.

It is the evening of April 1, the 39th year of the Gregorian calendar, at 7:40 p.m.

The city was called Cecilia.

This is a lost place.

It is a lost city-state.