Chapter 88: The Sun that never returns

A few days later.
The same Starbucks.
Second floor, corner seat by the window.

Lin Yu stirred his long-cold coffee with visible unease, his eyes drifting repeatedly toward the street outside.

It had been three days since that humiliating “fishing operation.”

Three days of living in a constant state of dread, always feeling as if an invisible pair of eyes was staring at him from somewhere behind.

But that sense of being watched had gradually faded.
Nothing unexpected had happened.
No accidents.
No complications.

“Sorry for the wait.”

A crisp voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Lin Xue pulled out the seat opposite him and sat down, dropping a heavy-looking tactical backpack on the empty spot beside her. She looked a little worn out today—light shadows under her eyes.

“So? Any results?”

Lin Yu leaned forward immediately. His voice came out dry with tension.

“Of course.”

No small talk.
She pulled a tablet from her backpack, unlocked it, and slid it across the table.

Displayed on the screen was an incredibly complex 3D molecular structure, accompanied by rows of data he couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Fortunately,”
she tapped the screen and opened a summary report, unable to hide a faint note of pride,
“the sample you brought was crucial. High purity. After three days and nights of analysis—by yours truly—I’ve basically figured out how that thing works.”

She enlarged the report.

“First, the composition of Subspace Dust is even more complicated—and more brutal—than I imagined. It’s made of two main parts.”

She pointed to the first section.

“Here—its chemical components. Over fifteen potent neural stimulants. Obviously, it causes irreversible damage to the nervous system.”

Lin Yu felt his heart clench.

“And the more important part—this.”

She swiped to the next page.

Behind the molecule model came a swirling, chaotic energy flow diagram.

“These are the remaining components. Our tests found traces of psionic-experiment residue. Not much, but even the tiniest bit is enough to affect the human body.”

She glanced at him and offered a comparison he would understand.

“Bro, listen. In a way, this stuff is like those so-called ‘Marrow Cleansing Pills’ from xianxia novels. Once a normal person takes it, they can faintly perceive the existence of the Subspace, gaining a bit of supernatural strength. That’s why the Akagi Gang’s ordinary members suddenly developed all kinds of weird powers.”

“But—”

Her tone shifted, turning cold and sharp.

“Novels are bullshit. In reality, the Subspace contains no immortality, only endless negative energy that devours human reason without effort.”

“Forcing that door open only leads to one outcome—getting consumed by the madness behind it.”

“And with all those addictive drugs acting as accelerants… the user becomes nothing more than a violence-driven, desire-strangled, superpowered lunatic.”

Lin Yu listened, stunned.
Images of Luo Shaotian—those vicious, bloodthirsty eyes—rose unbidden in his mind.

“Then… is there a cure?”

He forced the words out with difficulty.

“That’s what I’ve been working on these past few days.”

A rare smile appeared on Lin Xue’s face.

She reached into her backpack, gently took out a palm-sized pill bottle, and placed it carefully on the table.

The bottle was a matte, icy black.
A label was affixed to it:

【Psionic Activity Inhibitor — Prototype Model α】

“I didn’t have enough time. Completely undoing Luo Shaotian’s condition is basically impossible right now. So our best option is to suppress the violent psionic energy inside him.”

She pushed the bottle toward him.

“There are three pills inside. Prototype inhibitors I synthesized overnight based on the sample you gave me. They have two main functions:

“One—neutralize and help the body metabolize the harmful chemical compounds, cutting off the physiological addiction.

“Two—and this is the important part—your blood.”

“My… blood?”

Lin Yu reflexively rubbed the arm that had been poked with needles all week.

“Well, I heard you have that special physique that can absorb spatial energy, right?” Lin Xue said lightly. “I ran some tests. Using your blood to neutralize Subspace negative energy actually worked surprisingly well.”

Lin Yu stared at the small bottle—it suddenly felt as heavy as a mountain.

“T-Then… if he takes this, he’ll go back to normal?”

“Temporarily back to normal.”

She corrected him immediately.

“Bro, this is only a prototype. It treats the symptoms, not the root. A tranquilizer—not a cure.”

“How long the effects last, whether there are side-effects… all unknown.”

“But for now, it’s all we’ve got.”

Lin Yu lowered his gaze and tightened his grip on the bottle.

“I understand.”

He nodded slowly and tucked it carefully into his pocket.

Then he looked at her and said sincerely:

“This time… I really owe you.”

“Hehe… I’m glad you know ~”

The corners of Lin Xue’s mouth lifted into a rare warm smile.

But it lasted barely two seconds before she reverted to her little-devil self, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

“So, as your tech support, my service fee still counts, right?”

“No problem. When this is over, dinner’s on me.”

“Dinner? Not enough, not enough. I also want to play dress-up with you—oh, I mean with Lulu-chan~”

She made a creepy hand-grabbing gesture like a degenerate otaku.

“I heard your company has that Witch’s Training Manual—with some kind of special transformation skill? I want to see it!”

“…”

Lin Yu had no words.

The next day, Lin Yu invited Luo Shaotian to the same café.

Sunlight streamed through the glass wall, scattering warm patches across the wooden table.

The air smelled of rich coffee.
Soft jazz played in the background.

Everything felt peaceful.
Safe.

Lin Yu took out the black pill bottle and pushed it across the table.

“…That’s the situation.”

He exhaled deeply.
His explanation—everything about Subspace Dust, the dangers, Lin Xue’s sleepless efforts—had taken him ten minutes of desperate word-weaving.

Now all he could do was wait.

As long as Luo Shaotian agreed to take the pills, everything could return to normal.

His cheerful, sunny best friend would come back.
The crushing guilt in Lin Yu’s chest could finally lift.

But Luo Shaotian didn’t speak.

He simply stared at the small bottle in silence, expression unreadable.

The afternoon sun traced the sharp lines of his profile, making him look like a still, silent sculpture.

After a long while, he finally reached out a hand—

—but he didn’t pick up the bottle.

He used one finger to gently push it back.

He raised his head.
Met Lin Yu’s shocked stare.
Slowly shook his own.

“…What do you mean?”

Lin Yu’s voice felt hollow.

“It means—”

Luo Shaotian’s tone was calm, yet carried a quiet, absolute finality:

“I don’t need it.”

“…Don’t need it?!”

Lin Yu’s voice jumped uncontrollably, drawing glances from nearby tables.

“Dude—do you even know how important this is?! My sister—Xue—she stayed up for days making this! This is the only thing that can save you!”

“Save me?”

Luo Shaotian suddenly chuckled.

“Ah Yu… when did I ever say I needed to be saved?”

He leaned back against the soft sofa, head tilted slightly.

“I admit—you’re right. This power is dangerous. It makes me violent, aggressive. But…”

His eyes glittered with a near-fanatical intensity.

“It also makes me stronger than I’ve ever been. That feeling… you’ll never understand.”

“You—”

Lin Yu tried to retort, panicked.

“This is just the beginning! Someday you’ll lose control completely!”

“Control?”

Luo Shaotian let out a short laugh—as if hearing the funniest joke in the world.

“Do I look out of control to you? No, Ah Yu. I’m clearer now than ever. I’ve simply accepted who I really am.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

He met Lin Yu’s eyes and enunciated every word:

“I don’t want to go back to being that powerless cop who could only watch scum walk free.”

“I like the current me.”

The sentence hit Lin Yu like a pail of ice water dumped over his head.

He stared at the friend—familiar yet now a stranger—as a crushing helplessness washed over him.

He finally understood.

The issue wasn’t “can he be saved.”

It was—

He doesn’t want to be saved.

Luo Shaotian stood up, placing some bills under his cup.

“That’s all I have to say. I appreciate your kindness. But my path—I’ll walk it myself.”

He turned to leave.

“Stop!”

Lin Yu shot to his feet, grabbing his arm.

“You can’t go!”

His voice cracked from desperation.

“Listen! This isn’t a joke! You… you’ll die!”

Luo Shaotian halted.

He lowered his gaze to look at the hand gripping his arm.

He said nothing.

The next second—

—a force Lin Yu couldn’t possibly resist surged through him.

WHAM—!

The world spun.

By the time he could think again, his arm was wrenched behind his back, and his face was slammed onto the cold café table in a humiliating hold.

Plates and cups clattered to the floor, shattering loudly.

“Ah—!”

Agony shot through his elbow joint, forcing a pained grunt from him.

Customers gasped and scrambled out of the way.

“My business has nothing to do with you.”

Luo Shaotian’s voice sounded in his ear—low, cold, and utterly unfamiliar.

“Ah Yu… for the sake of our past, I’ll let this go.”

The pressure on his arm tightened—just enough to warn.

“But don’t interfere again.”

Moments later, the crushing grip vanished.

By the time Lin Yu lifted his head, Luo Shaotian was gone.

He’d left.

——

A wave of crushing confusion drowned Lin Yu’s thoughts.

He had no idea what to do anymore.

He collapsed onto the floor, disheveled and defeated, not even caring about the whispers around him.

It’s over…

It’s really… over…

Luo Shaotian—the sun in his life—
had walked onto a road of no return.

It’s my fault…

It’s all my fault…

He didn’t know how long he stayed there before a pair of white sneakers stopped in front of him.

Lin Yu slowly looked up—
and met the overly calm face of his sister.

At some point, Lin Xue had walked over from a seat nearby.

“See?” she said softly. “Bro, I told you—trying to save someone who willingly embraces the abyss… words and prayers are useless.”

She bent down, picked up the black pill bottle from the floor, and placed it back into his hand.

Then she reached out and pulled her brother up from the wreckage of shattered cups and spilled coffee.

“At this point…”

Lin Xue leaned close to his face—his expression full of loss and pain—and whispered into his ear:

“…we can only use that method.”