(29) “Passenger Zero”
The train stopped—not slowed down, but stopped dead, as if it had slammed into some nonexistent terminus. The entire car lurched violently. Asti was thrown sideways, and Morse caught her in one motion. Partner, meanwhile, crashed into a seat.
“...This damn train.” She stood up, rubbing her lower back. “Does it even have seat belts?”
Morse looked at her. “You almost cracked your head open.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
“There aren’t any.”
“Then this train was badly designed.”
“You’re only noticing now?”
“Shut up.”
Asti grabbed Morse’s clothes. “You two still have the energy to argue?”
“Yes.” “No.” They answered at the same time.
Asti: “...” She suddenly had no idea whom to yell at first.
At the other end of the car, Aida was still standing. The cake box in her hands hadn’t fallen—not even a corner of it had bent, as if the violent stop just now had never happened.
“Passenger Zero.” Morse looked at her. “What is this?”
Aida didn’t answer. She walked toward the center of the car. With every step, a number lit up beneath her feet. 0. 0. 0. She stopped in front of Morse, and the number beneath her feet was still zero.
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me...” Aida looked up. “Why am I still alive?”
Morse fell silent. “Then why are you still alive?”
Aida smiled. “Because I was never dead.”
“You died.”
“Who told you that?”
“I did.”
“Which you?”
Morse didn’t answer. Aida stepped closer. “The first? The second? The third? Or...” She reached out and lightly touched Morse’s chest. “This one?”
Morse instantly seized her wrist. Aida didn’t struggle. She only smiled. “Still so guarded.”
“You said you killed me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You just said you did.”
“What I said was...” Aida’s gaze shifted to Asti. “You think I killed you.”
Asti frowned. “What’s the difference?”
Aida looked at her. “A huge difference.”
“How?”
“If I really killed him”—Aida pointed at Morse—“he wouldn’t be standing here now.”
“But if he killed himself...” Aida tilted her head slightly. “That’s completely different.”
Morse’s eyes turned cold. “Explain.”
“Your first death wasn’t caused by me. It was caused by you.”
“The second?”
“Same.”
“The third?”
Aida didn’t answer. Morse stared at her. “Was the third one you?”
“No.”
“Then who was it?”
Aida looked at Partner. Partner’s face changed. “Don’t look at me.”
Aida didn’t avert her eyes. “Her.”
Morse turned his head. “Partner?”
Partner shook her head violently. “I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I did not!”
“The third time, you killed Morse with your own hands.”
Partner glared at her. “I told you, I didn’t!”
But Aida only said, “You haven’t yet. But you will.”
The car suddenly fell silent. Morse looked at Partner, whose hands were trembling. “Don’t believe her,” Partner said.
“I know.”
“Really.”
“I know.”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
Morse looked at her. “I know.”
Partner suddenly looked up. “Then why are you still looking at me?”
“Because you’re suspicious.”
“And the look on your face right now makes you look like you’re about to kill someone.”
Enraged, Partner kicked at him. Morse sidestepped it. “See? You really are suspicious.”
“Morse!”
Asti couldn’t help laughing. Aida laughed too. Only Partner remained standing where she was. “Are you two even listening?”
Morse nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why are you still messing around?”
“Because if I don’t”—Morse looked at her—“you’ll cry.”
Partner froze. She didn’t say anything else. Asti slowly let her smile fade as she looked at Aida. “What are you trying to do?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m taking you to a place.”
“Where?”
“Station Zero.”
Morse frowned. “Market Zero?”
“No.” Aida shook her head. “Station Zero. Before the market.”
Asti asked, “What is that?”
Aida looked at her. “The place where every one of you was first written into this world.”
The train doors opened. There was no platform outside, only a narrow passageway with walls covered in paper. They weren’t posters or announcements, but names—one after another, packed tightly together. Some names had been crossed out, some blacked over, and some had been reduced to half a character.
Morse stepped off the train and looked at the first sheet of paper on the wall—Aida. Beneath it was written:
—Status: Nonexistent. Number: 000. First Recorded: None. Archive Status: Failed.
Morse frowned. “Nonexistent?”
Aida stood behind him. “Yes.”
“Then how are you standing here?”
“That’s why it’s called a failure.”
Morse looked at the next sheet—Asti.
—Status: Temporarily Stored. Number: 003. First Recorded: The Third Time. Archive Status: Incomplete.
Asti stared at her name. “003?”
“The third time,” Aida said. “You’re not the third person. You’re the third time you were rebuilt.”
Asti fell silent. The next sheet was Partner’s. It contained only two lines:
—Status: Absent. Number: 001. Archive Status: Refused.
Partner stared at the paper. “Refused?”
“Yes.”
“Who refused?”
Aida looked at her. “You.”
Partner froze. “Me?”
“The first time, you refused to be Archived. That’s why you became like this.”
Partner reached out and touched her name. A black crack suddenly appeared across the paper. She snatched her hand back. “That hurt.”
Morse frowned. “Names can hurt?”
Aida shook her head. “Not the name. The memory.”
Morse continued forward. The next sheet had no name, only: 002. Status: Deleted.
Morse stopped. “What about the second time?”
Aida said, “It doesn’t exist.”
“Why not?”
“Dead.”
“Who?”
“You.”
Morse looked at the paper. “Then what about the third time?”
Aida didn’t answer. Morse walked on and finally saw it: 003—Asti. Farther ahead: 004—Morse. Beneath his name was only one sentence: SUBJECT FORBIDDEN TO READ.
Morse stared at the sentence and suddenly laughed. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Asti looked at him. “What is?”
“The more someone doesn’t want me to look, the more I want to.”
Partner nodded. “I agree with that.”
But Aida said coldly, “You’ll die if you read it.”
Morse stopped. “Then I won’t read it.”
Partner: “...” Asti: “...” Aida: “...”
Morse spread his hands. “Do you really think I’m going to act recklessly every time?”
Asti looked at him. “You will.”
“The old me would.”
“You still do.”
“...” Morse decided not to argue.
At the end of the passageway, a door appeared. It had no sign, only a black circle.
Morse stopped. “Station Zero?”
Aida nodded. “Once we go in, don’t call anyone’s name.”
Asti asked, “Why not?”
“Because this place responds.”
Partner frowned. “Responds to what?”
Aida looked at her. “Whoever you call, it will bring them back.”
Partner fell silent. But Morse suddenly asked, “What if I call Aida?”
Aida’s face changed instantly. “Don’t.”
Morse looked at her. For the first time, he saw real fear on Aida’s face. Not an act, not a disguise—actual fear. “Why?”
Aida didn’t answer. Morse stared at her. “If I call you, what will come back?”
Aida said quietly, “Me.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“Not the me who exists now.”
Morse’s gaze darkened. “Then who is it?”
Aida looked at the door. “The one I killed the first time.”
Asti suddenly asked, “Who did you kill?”
Aida closed her eyes. “Morse.”
“Which one?”
Aida didn’t answer. But Morse suddenly understood. “The first?”
“No.”
“The second?”
“No.”
“The third?”
“Not that one either.”
Morse’s expression slowly changed. “The fifth?”
Aida opened her eyes. “No.”
“Then who?”
Aida looked at Morse. “The one without a number.”
Partner’s face changed instantly, as if she had suddenly thought of something. “No.”
Morse looked at her. “You know?”
Partner shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You know.”
“I said I don’t know!” She suddenly grabbed her head. “I just... I just feel like I’ve seen it.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then what do you remember?”
Partner abruptly looked up. A flicker of fear appeared in her eyes as she looked at Morse. “I remember a room.”
“What kind of room?”
“White.”
“What else?”
“A bed.”
“Who was on the bed?”
Partner’s breathing quickened. “You.”
Morse froze. “Which me?”
“I don’t know.”
“And then?”
“Aida was beside you.”
“What was she doing?”
Partner squeezed her eyes shut. “She was crying.”
“Why?”
“Because...” Partner suddenly opened her eyes. “You told her not to kill you.”
The entire passageway fell silent. Aida closed her eyes. Morse didn’t move. But Asti slowly turned toward Aida. “You really did kill him.”
Aida didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
“Who?”
“Morse without a number.”
“Why?”
Aida looked at her. “Because he wasn’t Morse.”
Morse frowned. “Then what was he?”
Aida answered, “The first person to get off the train.”
Morse was silent for a long time. Finally, he asked, “Then where did he go?”
Aida looked at the door. “He’s inside.”
Morse slowly placed his hand on the doorknob. Aida immediately grabbed his hand. “I told you not to go in.”
Morse looked at her. “The more you tell me not to, the more I want to go in.”
“Morse.” For the first time, Aida called his name in an almost pleading tone. “Don’t.”
Morse stopped. Looking at Aida, he suddenly asked, “Are you afraid of what’s inside, or are you afraid I’ll remember?”
Aida didn’t answer. Morse slowly pulled his hand free from hers. “I get it.”
Aida looked up. Morse said, “You’re afraid of the latter.” He gripped the doorknob. “Because once I remember, I’ll know...” Morse looked at her. “You weren’t the one who killed me the first time.”
Aida’s eyes reddened. Morse pushed the door open. “It was...”
Beyond the door was darkness. From within it came a man’s voice. “She killed me for you.”
Morse went rigid. The voice was exactly the same as his. The next second, a pair of eyes lit up in the darkness. Not the fifth Morse, not the first, not any numbered Morse. The eyes looked at Morse and slowly smiled. “The fourth time. You finally came.”
Morse stared at him. “Who are you?”
The man was silent for a second. Then he spoke a name: “Morse. The real one.”