SOP CH28: Hope in the Box

Sunlight illuminated the morning dew upon the blades of grass, each tiny droplet holding a speck of blue like a fragment of the firmament. Clouds raced swiftly across the sky, a hint of gathering storm gloom hidden within the clear blue.

At this moment, two figures sat side by side on the meadow of Everday Hamlet.

One was a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, her hair like flaxen thread tangled messily behind her neck and dusted with wheat bran, possessing a pair of deep blue, curious eyes. The other was a mysterious woman veiled in black gauze, wearing a solid black gown with a fishtail hem, appearing to be around twenty years of age.

“Madam, where do you come from? Judging by your attire, you must be an important figure.”

Blinking her eyes, Daisy looked at the exquisite embroidery and ruffles along the hem of the woman’s dress. She had run out this morning to fly her kite, and since her playmate Morana had not arrived yet, she had come to the meadow first, only to find this strange woman in a black dress sitting here.

The woman in black merely chuckled softly. “I am no important figure, merely an… old acquaintance who lived here a very long time ago.”

“Are you a villager of Everday Hamlet too?”

“Heh heh, things have changed and people are no longer the same; many no longer recognize me.” Sunlight slanted across half of the woman’s face, her smile emerging right on the border between light and shadow, mysterious yet sorrowful.

“Daisy, if one day you had the opportunity to become someone capable of changing the world, would you want it?”

“Of course I would, Madam! Who wouldn’t want to stand out and make a name for themselves?”

“Even if that fame would bring calamity upon the world, would you still want it?”

Daisy hesitated, frowning in thought. After a long pause, she shook her head. “No. If it’s fame bought at the cost of hurting others, I’d rather remain unknown for my entire life. I think my best friend Morana would definitely feel the same way.”

The corners of the woman’s lips curved upward faintly, like a shallow mark pressed into skin by a fingernail, vanishing moments later. She gazed up at the sky, murmuring to herself:

“Yes, she would certainly think the exact same way. That is why she will never hand this calamity over to someone else, even if it means committing an unforgivable sin from which she can never redeem herself.”

Daisy found her words terribly difficult to understand. Just then, the woman in black abruptly stood up, brushing blades of grass from her skirt. At the end of the muddy path, a figure holding a kite and wearing a cotton dress stained with herbal tinctures came running toward them—it was Morana.

“Are you leaving, Madam?”

“Yes. Please give Morana my regards.”

Only then did Daisy realize that although she had never revealed her name, the woman had accurately recognized both her and Morana. As the woman’s black dress brushed over the grass, it made a chilling rustle like a serpent flicking its tongue.

“Who on earth are you? How do you know me and Morana?”

The woman pulled a playing card printed on cotton-linen paper from her coat, her face backlit so her expression could not be clearly seen.

“You may call me—’Madam Spades.'”

Taking the playing card, Daisy beamed with excitement: “Spades… Ah, so you’re Morana’s relative! Welcome back to Everday Hamlet! How long will you be staying here?”

“Not very long, I imagine.”

“When will you come back next?”

The woman turned back around. Daylight blazed brightly, bathing all things in incandescent glare, yet her black gown swayed in the wind like a patch of shadow no light could ever illuminate. She offered one final, gentle smile, leaving behind a cryptic remark:

“A thunderstorm is approaching; head home early.”

“I will return here many more times. Perhaps hundreds, thousands, or even countless times.”

Morana Spades had indeed returned to Everday Hamlet in 1805 countless times.

At first, she was still able to return to the past intact. Yet after turning back time hundreds, even thousands of times, at some unknown point, she discovered that her consciousness could no longer enter the physical shell of the 1805 Morana.

In other words, a situation arose where “two versions of the same person existed simultaneously within a single spacetime.”

“You ask whether time travel causes one’s future self and past self to cross paths?”

During one of her escapes, she had posed this very question to the Time Cleaner, Raven. Perhaps he was a hunter with ample leisure to toy with his prey; Raven had actually pondered the question and answered patiently:

“As a rule, any form of time jump is the transfer and reconstruction of matter, energy, and information. Consciousness is essentially an informational pattern generated by neural activity in the brain, while the body is the material vessel carrying that information. Each of your earlier jumps amounted to sending your information into the past. However, as the number of jumps increased, the accumulated information grew too vast; only through the physical structure of a body can your conscious data be stably anchored, preventing you from dispersing into the past spacetime.”

“Surely you understand that a single body cannot grow two brains? Put simply, your brain carries far too much information accumulated from time jumps, so it must remain bound to your physical body to travel cleanly into the past. Consequently, two of you appear within a single spacetime.”

Raven’s words felt like a wad of paper lodged in Morana’s throat, neither swallowing down nor coughing up, leaving her filled with melancholy.

Shuttling back and forth through time, she had grown taller without noticing, transforming from a young girl into a grown woman. Dressed in black as though mourning lost time, she gazed from afar at Morana and Daisy flying their kite on the 1805 meadow. Now, she aged alone within the currents of time, unable to merge back into the years of the past.

History repeated itself over and over, the world inevitably plunging into chaos. The Time Entropy Group’s cleaners pursued her relentlessly like a pack of hyenas. Her heart, too, was worn down within this endless cycle, sinking into numbness.

Every single time, she told herself: Try one more time. Before achieving success, she could restart countless times.

The hands of the clock circled endlessly, moving from one to twelve, and from twelve back to one. Suddenly, in a single moment, Madam Spades decided to stop fleeing and introduce a new variable. Since the past could not be changed, she could choose to seize the future in her own hands.

This time, she did not run from the cleaner; instead, she turned to face Raven. Raven was greatly astonished, watching the prey that should have been fleeing walk toward him with unhurried, elegant poise.

“What is this, Ms. Spades? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to raise your hands in surrender?”

“Not surrender.” Madam Spades carried an imposing dignity honed by the passage of time. By now, spots and deep ravines lined her face, cold and hard as if chiseled by a carving knife. She said, “Take me to the Time Entropy Group. I am willing to assist you, and hand over ‘aether’ along with all subsequent invention patents into your custody.”

Raven looked at her with keen interest, as if discovering a new continent.

“On one condition: your utilization of ‘aether’ must remain under my supervision. I will not allow you to abuse this invention of time.”

“Madam, do you understand your position? You are a target hunted by the Group. We could easily kill you and seize your achievements outright.”

Madam Spades’s eyes gleamed brightly. “If that is the case, why haven’t you struck decisively instead of lingering here in lukewarm hesitation? Raven, you must have ulterior motives of your own. You only ever appear between 1805 and 1806—is it because you are fond of this era, or because you cannot escape from it?”

“Raven, just like me, you are a prisoner trapped in 1805. I do not know the current state of the Time Entropy Group, yet aren’t you merely a discarded pawn abandoned by them in this temporal point? Following my trail through thousands, tens of thousands of loops, you must have grown weary as well. Don’t you wish to conclude this mission as quickly as possible and free yourself from the shackles the Group placed upon you?”

Suddenly, Raven burst into loud laughter, the sound erupting from deep within his chest as his entire body shook.

“Truly worthy of you, actually managing to spark a sliver of interest in me with your proposal.”

Once his laughter subsided, he bowed with theatrical courtesy. “Then, as you wish, Ms. Spades. You should count yourself fortunate to have encountered me, for I consider myself a pacifist among time cleaners. If I can complete my mission without taking your life, I am more than happy to oblige. I look forward to your performance, and hope you can bring more turning points to this era.”

Raising a hand toward the illuminated mouth of the dark alley, he stepped aside to clear a path for her for the very first time.

“Please proceed, Madam. The doors of the Time Entropy Group’s 1805 Branch open for you at this very moment.”

The world of 1805 was turned upside down, completely transformed.

The Industrial Revolution had already entered its middle stage: steam engines were introduced into textile mills, coal mining expanded in scale, and the discovery of “aether” poured roaring flames onto the era’s advancement. The “Time Entropy Group” was established, using “aether” as a primary power source to manufacture and develop time machines. They vowed never to abuse time-jump technology, promising the machines would be used solely to introduce advanced future technologies for the welfare of humanity.

The streets were thick with the scent of rust and coal smoke. Mechanical beings began appearing in mines and along avenues, while airships cruised across the skies. The Time Entropy Group recruited workers into the mines to excavate ore veins, extracting “aether” isotopes to fuel time jumps.

Madam Spades moved into a luxurious estate with gilded staircase banisters and expansive Persian carpets. Looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see thousands of households ablaze with dazzling, flowing lights. Long banners hung from airships embroidered with her portrait; she had become the sovereign of this era.

At the cost of the past, she had won the future, yet an inexplicable gloom and unease lingered in her heart. A voice occasionally interrogated her inside her mind:

Have you truly achieved victory?

She would argue fiercely against that voice: Yes, I have achieved victory! I altered 1805 and introduced ‘aether’ into this era. Time-jump technology is utilized by the Time Entropy Group, the world is in orderly harmony, and chaos has not erupted!

The voice replied: Look at the mines and the streets. How many people lost their homes because of you, their skin ulcerating under the influence of high-radiation ore veins, their lifespans cut short, left with no future?

She countered: Those who accomplish great righteousness do not fret over minor harms. For the future of the majority, sacrificing the future of a small minority is inevitable!

The voice persisted: You know full well yourself that the Time Entropy Group cannot be trusted. That cleaner named ‘Raven’ is an executioner; as long as he remains, the guillotine’s blade stays suspended above your neck, ready to drop at any second.

She clutched at her hair in agony: No, I hold all the winning cards now! I am the Director of the Time Entropy Group’s 1805 Branch, guarded by mechanical soldiers—even the cleaner must bow his head to me!

The voice spoke one final time: Look at yourself in the mirror. That is a face so hideous, stained with greed, a face for which countless people have paid the price.

She turned her gaze toward the mirror, and her spirit shook in shock. It was a visage resembling a sea reef gnawed by ocean gales for decades—sagging wrinkles, clouded eyes. Without realizing when it had happened, she had transformed from a young girl, to a woman, into an elderly crone; all her youthful years had slipped away in her struggle against time.

Madam Spades visited the mines.

Dust and smoke billowed everywhere. People hunched their backs, swinging pickaxes, every strike kicking up fine stone grit that settled onto their patched, coarse burlap garments. No one spoke; only the sound of ragged breathing echoed between the heaps of ore. Madam Spades watched the exhausted, ragged laborers with an icy, merciless gaze. Having shuttled through time for so long, her capacity for emotion had grown weaker and weaker.

Yet right at that moment, a silhouette caught her eye.

It was a young girl wearing a cotton gauze mask, her skin pitted and coated in dust, frail and diminutive, her arms as thin as twigs, yet possessing a pair of clear, amber eyes.

Seeing her, Madam Spades felt as if a red-hot iron wire had suddenly plunged down her throat, her entire body shuddering.

That was the Morana of 1805—the version of herself untouched by the trials of time.

She brought Morana back to the estate, keeping her on as a maid. Because the Group had drastically altered the current spacetime after partnering with her, Morana’s life trajectory had shifted enormously as well. The Morana of this world was an orphan who had labored in the mines since childhood, completely ignorant of her origins or surname.

When Morana asked for her name, she hesitated for a moment before using the name of her childhood friend: “My name is Daisy. You may call me ‘Madam Spades.'”

She stared at her own reflection alongside Morana’s face in the mirror. Due to the high-radiation ore veins, Morana’s skin was ulcerated, while frost had long dyed her own temples white, leaving her decrepit and aged. Time had carved an insurmountable chasm between two people who were originally one and the same.

Madam Spades began training Morana with harsh, unforgiving rigor. She forced Morana to read the pharmacopeias she herself had read hundreds of times, and feigned carelessness to let her catch glimpses of the time machine in the basement and the entrance to the time labyrinth.

At night, she crept silently to Morana’s bedside, placing both hands around her neck, her fingers tightening as she wished to end the life of her past self. Yet gazing upon that frail, disfigured young face, hesitation coiled around her heart like creeping vines. She hated this past self who had opened Pandora’s box, yet knew all too well that even if she killed herself, someone else would simply push history forward in her stead.

Now, upon the river outside the Tower of the Crown, the wound in her chest pierced by Raven throbbed with excruciating agony. Feeling her life slipping irretrievably away, she reached out to Morana, speaking with her final sliver of strength:

“Mora…na. You are me, living in this era… still completely ignorant of the future. And I, who arrived in this world through the time labyrinth… am you, originally from another spacetime.”

Pale-faced, Morana slowly shook her head, seemingly unable to accept the truth. Looking at this past self who no longer resembled her, Madam Spades smiled faintly.

Summoning her strength to lift her head, she looked at the gray-haired youth beside them: “Sir from the future, I am already… beyond saving. Please… take Morana to the future with you.”

Lowering his gaze to look at her, Quicksand slowly shook his head:

“My stupid boss said we’re taking you with us. If I don’t save you, he’ll use it as an excuse not to pay my wages again.”

Madam Spades laughed, yet a great gout of bloody froth welled up in her mouth, cutting off her words. Choking and coughing, she managed to say: “The reason you two gentlemen… came from the future is because my future self… met with some unforeseen accident, isn’t it?”

“Just as in 1805… someone was destined to discover ‘aether,’ a Madam Spades was destined… to die right here.”

Quicksand watched her in silence, his expression as cold and still as chilled water.

“I am someone destined to die… After enduring so many years, my heart has turned to iron and stone… But Morana is different. She is still kind, passionate, and yearns to save the world and help others.”

Taking a deep breath, a sudden spark of light flared in Madam Spades’s eyes. Gripping Morana’s hand tightly, she raised it upward, as though lifting a sacred ember.

Blinding white light flooded her vision as her consciousness drifted steadily away. In a daze, she felt as if she had returned to many years ago—that stormy night when she touched the small vial of “aether,” altering her life forever and setting her adrift through time.

Tonight was also her destined night. From this moment on, her mission was complete, like a flower blooming and fading, the fruit falling back into the soil. The hands of the clock, having circled endlessly, were finally permitted to halt and rest at this very second.

One final smile surfaced upon the old woman’s face—gentle, warm, and kind. At the very last instant, she had finally become an ordinary mortal once more.

“Please take her to the future, gentlemen. If I am the sinner who altered the world and scattered calamity across it…”

“Then she is my original aspiration… the final hope hidden at the bottom of Pandora’s box.”