〔all法斯〕 鬼怪

https://shenghuobuyishangmoutanqi.lofter.com/post/319677f4_2b94984fa

It's hard to believe that someone would use words like "obsessive," "insecure," and "gentle" to describe another person. Paparazzi held a half-filled wine glass in his hand, and the slight intoxication made him utter the name of a boy he could never forget from the past.

The boy may be dead, or he may have become a ghost in the distance.

I vaguely remember the boy who became a god that year looking at me with a bitter smile. He was smiling, but his eyes held tears that were unique to humans, representing sadness.

The boy's voice was as gentle as a spring breeze. He asked himself, just as he always had, whether he could protect everyone now.

Before Paparacha could react, the voice was suddenly replaced by a suppressed laugh. The god who had been standing there laughing at Paparacha a second ago suddenly became a madman. The god clutched his stomach, laughing until tears streamed down his face. Paparacha reached out his hand worriedly, but his gaze unexpectedly met the god's eyes, which were filled with hatred.

————————————

————————

————

He downed the drink in his glass, but instead of leaving as he usually did, he sat there swirling the glass in his hand. He squinted, whether from drunkenness or dizziness, it was hard to tell. Suddenly, someone appeared in front of him. Paparazzi looked up and met a familiar face.

"I remember you didn't like drinking this kind of cheap liquor."

Yan Jing bent down and swept the remaining drinks on the table into the trash can next to him. Paparacha watched Yan Jing's actions with regret but did not stop him in the end, only returning his smile.

"Oh dear, how could His Highness's favorite have time to concern himself with my affairs?"

Yan Jing ignored the implication in Paparacha's words, and Paparacha was clearly not going to press the matter further. Having sobered up considerably, Paparacha leaned against the cold wall, glancing sideways at Yan Jing, who was sitting upright in front of him.

He crossed his legs, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it to wake himself up.

"I'm asking you about the new god..."

"Oh dear, I don't know."

Paparazzi's feigned ignorance was written all over his face. He yawned wearily, his eyes fixed on Yan Jing, whose expression had turned cold. He chuckled inexplicably, his mood improving slightly.

"You know, this is very important to us."

"The new god is the key to everything."

Yan Jing finally chose to continue. He softened his tone, trying to make it sound less harsh. He sounded more like a threat, as if he were forcefully pressing the future onto Paparazzi's shoulders. If Paparazzi chose not to answer, he would become a sinner for all time.

Unfortunately, Smoke Crystal was facing Paparazzi.

Upon hearing this, the other party did not feel guilty for concealing part of the truth. On the contrary, he smirked and stared intently at Yan Jing with half-closed eyes.

"The way you threaten people is only effective on that child."

He lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear him clearly.

"Was he truly fooled by you, or was he still harboring feelings for you from the past and thus unwilling to pursue the matter?"

Yan Jing was taken aback, momentarily at a loss for words. He looked up somewhat irritably, only to meet Paparacha's angry gaze.

"Yanjing, I'd rather Fass be a ghost without emotions this time." Paparacha stood up, pushed the water glass in front of him towards Yanjing, ignoring her probing gaze, and spoke to himself.

"But no matter what, the one who should have been clear-headed all along was you, not me, and certainly not him."

It seemed like persuasion, yet also like a warning.

He didn't look at Yan Jing again. The water in the cup had been knocked over by Yan Jing at some point and flowed to the ground, soaking the exquisitely tailored carpet. Paparacha didn't turn back. The only response Yan Jing received was the sound of Paparacha slamming the door shut.

——————

The moon is a fairyland on earth, a magical mountain, a creation of all beautiful fantasies. Fine food and wine enhance its lively atmosphere, the market is bustling with traffic, people are laughing and playing, and every corner is full of beauty.

It's great on the moon.

No one would want to stay on the moon.

Looking back at the ground, the abandoned chess piece stands alone, completely out of place amidst the clamor behind it.

Paparazzi had no choice. He set foot on the ground and left the moon, but he could only watch the child turn into a monster and a madman time and time again. He could not wipe away Phos's tears at night, could not make him stop lingering, and could not take him home again.

After praying, Paparaja opened his eyes again. The familiar palace proved that he had returned to the past. He had been given a second chance, but he could only return to the beginning of all the evil. He could only watch helplessly as the child died in countless reincarnations, or as in the first ending, he would send the Lunarians to the afterlife and leave himself alone, or he would suffer a mental breakdown and constantly hurt himself.

Through countless cycles of reincarnation, what remains for Phos is an unchangeable tragedy.

But even so, he did not give up, choosing to start over at the end of each ending.

——————————————

——————

In the ninth cycle, he evaded everyone and ended up covered in wounds. Only when he stood on the ground did he feel that it was all worth it, and this time he might have a relatively perfect ending.

He wanted to tell Phos everything, to recount all the conspiracies and schemes, and to run away with Phos, to the ends of the earth, to a place where no one could find them.

But the joy he felt could not withstand the test of time. Before him lay the already cold corpse of the god. The seawater lapped against the god's pale, bloodless arms. He leaned against the rocks, the dried blood clinging to his skin on his neck.

He chose to end his own life, an ending that had not occurred in the previous eight reincarnations.

He brushed aside the god's hair, which was wet with seawater, revealing a bloodless face. His body was like that of a moon person, without body temperature or heartbeat. He leaned against the reef, as if it were his only safe haven.

People born on the moon do not shed tears.

What occupied his mind was a sudden pain, like a wave crashing without warning.

It felt like my heart was being torn apart.

Paparazzi wasn't a fool; he knew that Phos couldn't hear him.

On the ground, he called out the name of the gods again and again, and told them interesting stories from his past on the ground.

It felt as if a great tree that had always supported my reason had suddenly collapsed, leaving not even a leaf behind. It seemed to have turned into a drop of water that flowed into the parched earth and disappeared without a trace.

If I had come a little earlier, just a tiny bit earlier.

——

His body was moved to the moon not long after, and he could not stop it or take him away.

His former companions didn't care at all, only feeling a little regretful that they couldn't be saved. Paparazzi underestimated the madness of the so-called researchers. They wanted to resurrect the god and let him continue to experience the loneliness and pain of the past just for their own end. Paparazzi, unusually, did not stop them, but instead participated in this experiment that was destined to be a tragedy.

Everyone was happy about Paparazzi's change, but no one saw the lingering gloom in his eyes.

Years later, the extracted divine consciousness was shattered by Paparaja himself. The mint-colored starlight fell to the ground and gradually lost its luster. The disappearance of consciousness prevented the god from being resurrected as they wished. He looked at the people who came and showed a crazy and angry face, including his former comrades who had fought alongside him.

How ironic!

Paparaja thought to himself, smiled at the crowd in front of him, and then jumped off the platform without hesitation.

Take this time to sleep, Phosphorus.

——

In the thirty-fifth cycle, he finally saw another ending as he had wished.

Phos did not choose suicide or prayer; instead, he sat on the beach and drew lines in the soft sand with a stick.

He clearly saw Paparazzi, and they stared at each other without saying a word. Phos just stared blankly at the red-haired man in front of him, and then looked away after a short while.

A terrifying thought surged through her mind, and Paparaja stared incredulously at the person in front of her, muttering to herself.

"Fos?"

He didn't speak, nor did he look up.

In this life, his face seemed to be shrouded in an inescapable sorrow, like a blade of grass clinging to life amidst ruins. Papara stopped in her tracks, about three steps away from Fass.

Some rough wooden sticks rubbed against the man's palm, causing small patches of rosy red, but Fass seemed oblivious and continued to draw enthusiastically in the sand.

Paparaja couldn't help but look over with some curiosity, but suddenly her heart skipped a beat.

Above it is a small figure holding a long sword, and higher up is a moon person riding on clouds, drawing a bow and shooting an arrow.

"phosphorus?"

He turned around.

He tossed the stick onto the beach, slowly stood up, and looked at Paparazzi with a mixture of confusion and surprise. He hesitated for a few seconds, then took Paparazzi's hand, and a smile instantly spread across his previously indifferent face.

"you......"

"Paparaja! You're awake!"

woke up?

The gloom in the boy's eyes vanished, replaced by eyes as bright as stars in the night sky, and an irrepressible joy filled every part of his face.

Paparazzi, on the other hand, looked at Fas in disbelief, suppressing the worst thoughts in his mind.

"Rutile's restoration is so slow this time... He hasn't come to see me in a long time, but now that you're here, I should be able to see them again."

Fass feigned anger, but his voice was filled with the joy of a long-awaited reunion. He seemed to want to pull Paparazzi down for a heart-to-heart talk, but the person in front of him remained silent and motionless for a long time.

"Paparacha?"

He released Paparaja's hand, waving his palm in front of him. Phas wanted to say something more, but Paparaja grabbed his wrist tightly, refusing to let go.

"ah..."

Seemingly hurt by his force, Fas let out a soft cry. He looked at Paparazzi with some pain, but was startled by the reflection of the person in his eyes.

Whose image is reflected in his eyes?

Phos saw it; it was a madman, a mixture of cinnabar and gold, a monster created from the overlapping of pearl eyes and lapis lazuli.

Who exactly is the monster in Paparazzi's eyes?

in the end

Who is it?

——

Paparacha laughed, moving the hand that was holding Phos's wrist to his arm, forcefully pulling Phos's thoughts back to reality. By the time Phos looked up, the monster in his eyes had already transformed into his own image.

yes.

How could a ghost be myself?

"Phosphorus, can you tell me what you just drew?"

What is it?

The answer was obvious. Phos put the ghosts he had just seen out of his mind, excitedly pulled Paparazzi to sit on the beach, and continued to gesture with the stick that had been thrown on the ground.

He watched as one little figure after another appeared behind the one holding the longsword, each with its own unique characteristics. He finally stopped after drawing about twenty of them, and then smiled at Paparazzi.

"Paparazzi arrived too early, and I hadn't finished drawing her yet. I'm finishing it now."

After saying that, his smile widened.

"I want to be like a round diamond in the future." He stopped halfway through his sentence, looked at the sand painting with some disappointment for a while, and then continued.

"Forget it, that's too much of a stretch. At least, at least I can lift the long sword to protect you."

He suppressed his negative emotions, afraid of affecting the people around him.

When did the idea of ​​using phosphorus come about?

Paparazzi, who had remained silent all along, finally spoke.

"Hmm, I'm not really sure."

Phos pondered for a while but still couldn't come up with an answer. Logically speaking, he was only three hundred years old, and his memory shouldn't be so bad. How could he forget something like this?

"But no matter what, I will definitely make it a reality."

The boy's clear eyes seemed to be filled with the entire future. He has always dared to think and act. If he didn't have such low hardness, he might have become a round diamond.

"Why? Why are you so determined to protect them?"

Paparazzi was clearly smiling.

Even if they abandon you, even if they break and repair you countless times, even if they don't care about this relationship.

"If you knew this would be the outcome, would you still have selflessly sacrificed yourself to protect them?"

"Paparazzi? You..."

"Fasfafilette! Answer me!"

He suddenly grabbed Phos's arm, disregarding whether the man would be in pain. Phos fell awkwardly onto the sand painting, his messy hair slapping against his face, the rough sand behind him rubbing painfully against his back. He looked at Paparacha with some fear, wanting to ask why, wanting to ask what was wrong, but it was as if an invisible pair of hands had covered his mouth, and he could not speak, only able to watch the man in front of him lose his composure and unable to move.

As Phos saw Paparaja's figure gradually blurring, the only thing that remained clear was the ghost that reappeared in those scarlet eyes.

In his bizarre dreams, Phos would often dream of being abandoned by everyone, of how he gradually lost parts of his body, of being shattered and buried in the winter night, of holding a long sword, of himself completely, utterly broken.

He became the one wielding a long sword, but sadly, the person he was supposed to protect became the crescent moon in the sky.

Liquid welled up in his eyes, and the hands on his body loosened their grip. Without waiting for the person in front of him to move, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Paparazzi's neck, but immediately let go as if he had been electrocuted. He barely managed to grab the clothes on his chest and pressed his head against his chest.

The monster in Paparaja's eyes is Phos.

Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. His suppressed sobs turned into agonizing howls, and his whole body trembled as if he were releasing all the grievances he had accumulated in the cycle of reincarnation.

"I'm so scared, Paparazzi."

"Please, please, don't leave me, don't abandon me again, don't... don't leave me alone again."

He waited a long time for the man's reply, and his grip on the clothes tightened. He was terrified that Paparaja had come to say goodbye and sever all ties with him.

"Papara...cha?"

The red-haired Lunarian cupped Phos's face in his hands, gently wiping away his tears as if they were a fragile piece of porcelain. Paparazzi's hands trembled, and Phos didn't know why.

Before he could react, Paparazzi grabbed him and pulled him away.

This embrace, which he had never experienced in thousands of years, felt somewhat unfamiliar to Fas. He instinctively reached out and hugged Paparacha back, and as he grabbed the clothes behind his back, his tense nerves completely relaxed.

This time it's not a dream.

It's real, a real Paparazzi.

————————

——————

————

Before he could even enjoy the long-awaited embrace, he seemed to have been transformed; the smile and surprise on Phos's face vanished instantly, but even so, he still did not let go of Paparazzi's arms.

He leaned on Paparazzi's shoulder, savoring the last moments of tenderness.

"Don't start over for me again."

He noticed that the person in front of him was stunned.

"If you hadn't come, I would have gone mad in this cycle of reincarnation, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to stay with me until the very end."

He spoke softly, without waiting for Paparaja to continue.

"Paparazzi".

What kind of happy ending do you envision?

In his emotionless tone, Paparazzi heard a mixture of expectation and tenderness.

"I want you to live, that's all."

Almost without hesitation, Fass paused for a moment, then curled his lips into a sneer.

He released his grip on Paparazzi, turned his head, and met his surprised gaze.

A kiss landed on his lips, and the god held his face and murmured.

"But I don't want to live anymore."

————————————

————————

————

He was forcibly sent to the next cycle of reincarnation.

The previous ending never happened again; instead, the god became a madman on Earth.

————————————

——————

——

He had already forgotten how many cycles this was.

He stood in the flowerbed, head bowed, and picked a mint leaf.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Paparazzi turned around and saw Cinnabar dressed as a gardener. Out of politeness, he smiled at her, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then continued with his work.

Chensha clearly had no intention of continuing the pleasantries. Seeing that Paparaja was busy, she turned around and went to the rose garden to pick some roses to take back for decoration.

——

After most of the day had passed, Chensha, carrying two full wooden basins of roses, walked out of the rose garden with some difficulty. He saw that Paparazzi was still in the same place, but now he had a bunch of lisianthus in his hand.

"Do you need any help?"

"Ah, no need, I can manage on my own, and these aren't too heavy, besides, you have things in your hands too."

After he finished speaking, he looked at the exquisitely packaged lisianthus flowers in Paparazzi's hand, which were also decorated with some mint.

Seeing that Chensha refused, Paparacha did not insist. They walked out of the flower garden side by side, while Chensha curiously looked back at Paparacha from time to time.

"If you have something you want to say to me, there's no need to do it this way."

Paparacha lowered her head and played with the petals of the bellflower. Cinnabar, who had been exposed, was a little embarrassed. Now she could only shamelessly ask.

"I'm sorry, but this is the first time in so many years that I've seen you come to the flower nursery in person to choose flowers. And it seems you've spent a lot of time and effort on it. Is it for someone important?"

"Yes, I'm giving this to someone I love."

"So that's how it is... Ah?!"

Paparaja has a lover? When did that happen?!

He stared in shock, his mouth agape, stammering for a long time before finally managing to say something.

"You don't need to be so shocked."

Paparacha smiled and comforted the frightened child as an elder would in the past. Seeing that Chensha was still a little confused, he changed the subject and focused on the bouquet.

"I considered giving him roses, lilies, or even a bouquet of forget-me-nots, but after much thought, I finally chose lisianthus."

After saying that, he lowered his head and smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"It represents eternal, unwavering love, doesn't it?"

Perhaps influenced by Paparaja's emotions, Cinnabar was also happy for him. He sincerely offered his blessings and expressed his desire to meet the lover Paparaja spoke of if he had the chance in the future.

"You've already seen him."

He ignored Chensha's extremely puzzled expression, as if he hadn't said those words at all, and changed the subject again, leaving Chensha confused.

"Does Chensha want to know why I decorated the side with some mint?" His smile was not deep, but upon closer inspection, it contained a coldness. He spoke to himself before Chensha could come up with an answer.

"It symbolizes our next reunion."

"cinnabar."

You won't see him.

The smile on his lips vanished without him noticing. His fingers gently brushed across the petals of the bellflower, and then, to Cinnabar's astonished gaze, he snapped the stem downwards with a sharp blow.

The bellflower was shattered like a broken glass bottle as he looked at Chensha's face, speaking slowly and deliberately.

My beloved, named Phos, is long dead.

————————————

————————

—————

The name Fasfafilette is taboo.

He was crowned with the title of god and sealed in the past. Only a blade honed for ten thousand years could pierce through his flesh and dissect that pathetic and laughable past, presenting it thoroughly to every lunar person.

Paparazzi is that sharp blade that pierces through soft flesh.

He has nailed Phos firmly to their hearts throughout the cycle of reincarnation.

He wants everyone to live in regret at all times.

He lured Cinnabar into the trap little by little in the garden, and in the tavern, he used the so-called deity's weakness to bring Smoke Crystal to the ground, forcing Smoke Crystal to witness the moment the deity went mad.

He wants everyone to take a good look at the bad consequences they have sown.

Only after their last fig leaf has been torn away do they remember Phosphafilette, the children on the ground, and every single moment they spent together. The mocking and sarcastic faces from their past reincarnations become their most terrifying appearance.

Paparaja stood in the crowd, holding a withered bellflower in his arms.

————————————

————————

——————

Paparazzi held a half-filled wine glass in his hand, and the slight intoxication caused him to utter the name of a boy he could never forget from the past.

He lay languidly on the sofa, his bright eyes slightly narrowed before lifting them again. After seeing the person's face clearly, he raised the corners of his mouth, his eyes revealing an undisguised malice.

"Oh, are you here to ask me about the new god?"

As he spoke, he sat up straight, scrutinizing the crowd before him. He exchanged glances with his familiar companions, their hostility growing even stronger.

"I will answer all your questions."

————

The leader of the Lunarians spoke with urgency, and his flustered appearance was indeed rare. His usual arrogance made him seem quite unfamiliar in his current disheveled state.

Where is he?

He got straight to the point, without any pleasantries or basic courtesy. Paparazzi feigned surprise and then looked directly into Yanjing's eyes.

"'who is he?"

He feigned a puzzled expression.

"Please tell me his name."

He looked at the angry face of the person in front of him, then let out an inappropriate "ha," which turned into a fit of hysterical laughter as he clutched his stomach.

"Oh no...you guys have forgotten his name?"

He wiped away non-existent tears from the corners of his eyes, pushed away Anteku who was trying to help him up, and then smiled freely at him and the crowd in front of him, enunciating each word clearly.

"Phos, the good god in your eyes, is dead."

The wine glass reflected Paparaja's somewhat ferocious face.

"Let me guess, who did it?"

He was probably drunk; he glanced around and then shook his head to himself.

"I can't find it, but it should be among you."

"Or perhaps, each and every one of you."

————————————————

——————————

Paparazzi said a lot that night.

He said that Phos might have died at every party hosted by Smoke Crystal, or at Dia's countless concerts, during the blooming season of the flowers in Cinnabar Flower Shop, or every day that Anteku ignored the truth.

He's probably gone mad.

He stared intently at everyone, letting them sink into self-reproach as he wished. He only needed to add fuel to the fire at the right time, and they would immediately crumble.

Will Phos be happy? Will he be happy that they finally regret their actions, finally remember Phos, and finally come looking for him to go home?

Is this the ending Phos wanted?

Paparazzi drank the wine in his glass.

He didn't know, and he dared not know.

He was simply unwilling to accept that they had to enjoy themselves on the moon while stepping on Phos's corpse, and then, after they got tired of it, they could justifiably make Phos pray.

Paparaja could not save Phos, but he imprinted every bit of Phos's suffering on the eyes of every bystander, letting them know how absurd and ridiculous he had been.

The poison spread through his body, and excruciating pain swept over him.

In the cycle of reincarnation, this was the only time Paparaja experienced suffering.

He always felt that Phos in the cycle of reincarnation was like a ghost, a puppet without emotions, but after experiencing so much, who wouldn't become like that?

And now, it seems that the ghost has unknowingly become himself.

He reserved all his feelings for Phos and his lover on Earth.

Paparazzi's vision grew increasingly blurry, and he no longer lingered, slowly closing his eyes.

He was going back to Earth to continue being with the child who longed to be loved.

————————————

————————

The moon has been much quieter since that day.

Dia's concert was no longer scheduled, Cinnabar's flower shop closed down, and Smoke Crystal lost interest in organizing parties. Without their activities, even the people who were originally from the Moon were losing interest.

After receiving another announcement of the concert's postponement, the fans were somewhat disappointed and went to ask Dia why she would never perform again. The glamorous Moon Woman paused for a moment, then left without answering, escorted by others to Cinnabar's residence.

As she passed by the palace, Dia saw Smoke Crystal and Anteku.

The clothes and jewelry she had cherished in the past were burning in the fire. Yan Jing stood by the fire, watching those things turn to ashes, without a trace of reluctance in her eyes.

As for Anteku, he remained the same as before, except that when facing King Kong, there was no longer any admiration or enthusiasm in his eyes.

————————

——————

"Cinnabar, don't you think it would be so nice if we could do it all over again?"

Daiya held a teacup in her hand, her eyes lowered, her eyelashes concealing the regret and sorrow in them.

Upon hearing this, Chensha trembled slightly, spilling some water from her teacup.

"Maybe."

He wanted to be able to naturally put on a fake smile like Padparadscha, but he could never do it.

"Perhaps, Fass never wants to see us again."

When Antker and Smoke Crystal arrived on the ground, it happened to be the snow season, and the heavy snow covered all the colors that the ground used to have.

Along with the traces of Phos and Paparazzi, they disappeared in the snowy winter.

——————————————

——————————

————————

Phosphorus, take a nap, and wake up to greet a new day.

The man named Paparazzi is waiting for you.

Take a nap, and wake up to welcome spring.

The person named Paparazzi loves you.

——

He felt his hand being pulled up, then clasped together, and then he was pulled around to hug that person.

It's him.

She was his lover, as radiant as the blazing sun.

END.