Magical Journey: The Other Shore Blooms on the Other Shore

Because the light source was very conspicuous in the darkness, Elena arrived there without much effort.

Just as Qin had said, a campfire was burning, but two mummified corpses lay to one side, looking as if they had been dead for several days. In the arid desert, they hadn't even started to rot or stink.

It's vaguely discernible that the deceased were a man and a woman; I'd venture to guess they were a couple.

But now they are a pair of doomed lovers.

Although she was somewhat unwilling to accept that Qin had guessed correctly, Elena still obediently touched them to see if there was anything she could use. After all, they were all dead, and since they couldn't use it, it was best to leave it for those still alive.

I'll give them a proper burial later; consider it advance payment.

But after searching their entire bodies, they found nothing. They did find a small notebook, a pen whose ink had long since dried, and other items such as tobacco that was so dry it couldn't be any drier.

The woman could only find some very simple ornaments on her body.

We didn't see any coins.

Honestly, Elena wasn't fixated on finding anything specific. Her gaze fell on the small notebook she'd pulled from the man's body. She shook the dust off the notebook and opened it to the first page.

"Whoever sees these words, I am probably already dead."

These are the words that come into view.

"I don't know if anyone will see what I'm trying to say, but this may be the only way I can convey my message. Whoever reads these words, please, please read on patiently."

……

My name is Amy, and my wife, who should be next to me, is named Shirley. None of that matters. What matters is what I'm about to say.

From here, no matter which way you go east, it's a dead end. For miles around, it's all sand, without a single blade of grass. If you ever encounter trouble and get lost like I am now, please don't go in that direction. There's no hope there, because that's where I came from.

I can't provide any evidence, but even if you think I'm lying to you, I still have to say these things. This is something I've tested with my life.

Although I don't know the situation in other areas, and perhaps it's the same there, I no longer have time to explore. There's nothing left to eat or drink.

Shirley contracted a fever due to the heat, and since there was no medicine in this area, it was a terminal illness. With no food or water, she could no longer walk. In her final moments, I wanted to stay with her.

So, in the end, I decided to use the only flint I had to start a fire. I didn't know how long the fire would last, but I hoped it would last until someone saw us.

At least I want to pass on the direction to those who are also lost—and I hope this fire can bring some warmth to passersby.

Okay, I've said everything I needed to say.

You don't need to read what I'm about to ramble on—I can clearly feel myself getting too hot and confused. But if you could read my story, I would be very grateful, even though I don't have much to offer in return.

Sherry and I were both born in a very, very remote desert town. Although it's hard to talk about, we are siblings. I know it's a forbidden love, but I'm going to die anyway, so it doesn't matter.

I grew up in a terrible environment; after all, my father was an alcoholic and my mother spent her days among men.

When I was a little older, my father was killed by a horse-drawn carriage because he was drunk and didn't watch where he was going. My mother also seemed to have contracted some kind of syphilis and died not long after.

My unknown friend, do you know what? I'm not sad at all; on the contrary, I'm overjoyed.

Finally, I no longer have to spend my life being subjected to their insults. Every time my father got drunk, he would beat my sister and me with a bottle. My mother didn't care about us and was always out having affairs with other men.

They all eventually died.

But my joy was quickly dampened by a sudden debt notice. My father had racked up a mountain of debt due to alcoholism, all of which I, a minor at the time, was responsible for paying off.

Meanwhile, the men my mother had been seeing also coveted our family's remaining assets and claimed they wanted a share.

No one showed any sympathy for the two children, and soon we were left with nothing.

My sister and I grew up in this kind of environment. During the day, we had to do dirty and hard work to pay off the debts that we could never repay, and at night we had no house to shelter us.

Finally, we escaped.

Shirley accepted my confession without hesitation, and then we escaped that hell.

No place could be worse than that hell! No! I still think so now, even though I'm dying.

While I was alive, my dear God failed to give me a guiding star. Not only that, but He also caused Shirley and me to encounter a rare sandstorm. We quickly lost our way, wandered around without finding a way out, and finally ended up here.

Therefore, I think there are no gods in the world. If there are, Shirley and I are already pitiful enough. Why haven't they even given us the most basic hope?

Even in our most desperate moments, we worshipped our beloved God with such devotion.

He did not appear when my father beat me.

He did not appear when his mother went out to be promiscuous again.

Even when I was being forced to repay debts with interest rates higher than my salary, He still didn't appear.

Now, I am finally going to die.

Santiago, the god of the desert, is nothing but a lie, hahaha—I know I'm going crazy, but I don't think I've ever been this clear-headed.

If the gods do not give people a direction for living.

Then I will transform into a star, giving people a direction of hope—even if it's insignificant—even if it's just wishful thinking—

Looks like we're out of ink—read—thank you—

……

The writing eventually became illegible, as the ending stated, because there was no ink left.

Moreover, the closer he got to the end, the more illegible his handwriting became, and the more frantic his tone grew, indicating that the high temperature was gradually pushing him to the brink of collapse. It was truly remarkable that he could write so much before he died.

After reading these words, Elena quietly put the diary away.

Then, with a wave of his wand, he hastily buried the brother and sister, who had died there. There was no need to erect any tombstones; whatever was erected would soon be blown away by the sandstorms.

Then Elena slowly left the place. There was nothing more she needed to do.

May these two people, who have suffered so much in this world, find happiness on the other side of the earth.