The Strange Adventures of Hearn the Believer

If you're going to do something, do it to the best of your ability.

The girl is not someone who indulges in fun and wastes her days in a muddled way; on the contrary, the fact that she can maintain such a high degree of self-control in the virtual world of the internet is enough to show that she is a self-disciplined and morally upright person in reality.

"Is that so? Then your skill in manipulating people's hearts doesn't seem very good."

Not long ago, an incident occurred in our daily life, and although neither of the parties involved pursued it further, and the conversation quickly shifted to other topics, the meddlesome older female teacher's unintentional remark still pierced the young girl's heart like a thorn.

Admittedly, among her peers, the girl was an anomaly, completely out of place with the prevailing atmosphere. Although she never uttered a single false or reckless word, she had spoken outrageously more than once. She was not bullied but merely isolated because of her illustrious background and outstanding appearance, not to mention her brilliant mind. In a sense, being born a mindless pretty face might not have been such a relief for her, but reality always goes against her wishes.

“Since graduating from high school and returning to China, you’ve been out of touch with reality for too long. Why don’t you try to lower your expectations and integrate into the group?”

The private lessons I had with the single, older female teacher still echoed in my ears.

"No, you've misunderstood. I'm neither a princess nor a swan. I'm just an ordinary high school girl who can't stand the suffocating atmosphere of the Far East."

"If you take this suffocating air as your enemy, then your future life will be very difficult."

"If possible, I will leave at the appropriate time."

The young woman bowed to the seemingly meddlesome but actually kind-hearted female teacher (an older single woman) and then left the staff room.

The memory ends.

"Back to the ground?" The girl held the letter in her hand up to the sunlight streaming through the window, muttering to herself. After a moment, she withdrew her hand with a hint of regret.

The thin sheet of paper was simple and pure, with no superfluous information hidden between the pages, as if reflecting the writer's sincerity. The girl was not averse to sincere and pure emotions, even though she felt a little conflicted when she was randomly assigned the role of "the beloved," a role that women often find difficult to play, even though it was just a game.

Yes, in order to return to the ground and hone her ability to calmly and jokingly talk to idiots, namely the "art of manipulating people's hearts," Ms. Yukinoshita, who is too thin-skinned to even lower herself in real life, decides to practice life in a way that is free of psychological burden.

"Forget it, we can't rule out the possibility that the writer used special ink to hide information. Let's try some common methods of revealing information after the train arrives at the station."

Ms. Yukinoshita folded the letter and put it into the envelope, then carefully tucked the envelope into her handbag.

She rose from the spacious train seat, stretched to a limited extent, banished her fatigue and weariness, adjusted her state, and prepared to face the unknown.

A melodious train whistle sounded ahead, a sign that the train was about to arrive at the station.

Before everything began, Yukinoshita checked her information one last time. After confirming that everything was under control, she pushed open the equally old train carriage door and stepped out.

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Chapter 11 My Beautiful Sunday - Only Three Hours Left

Fiji is on the left, and Tahiti is on the right.

As dusk falls, the setting sun casts a soft golden hue over the coastline of Rarotonga.

The vast atoll lagoon shimmers with layers of blue reflections, while the deep blue waters of the outer perimeter constantly crash against the coral reefs, creating pristine white waves. The clear, blue inner lagoon is as calm as a mirror. The lagoon is so shallow that boats can only anchor a few meters from the shore, and visitors must disembark and wade through the water to reach the land, carefully avoiding sharp corals and oyster shells as they wade, enjoying the feeling of being one with the sea.

On a rocky outcrop at the edge of a vast white sand beach where the sea meets the land, stands a towering figure that would put even the world's top bodybuilders to shame. He is a tall, muscular man, seemingly of East Asian descent, at least 1.95 meters tall, with thick, long limbs. His broad, triangular back muscles ripple and contract with each shift in his posture, and his highly developed muscles gleam like diamond dust in the setting sun. The lines are wild yet harmonious, devoid of any ferocity, and even possess a sensuality that defies masculinity.

The waves gently caressed the rocks, splashing spray, and his figure shifted and changed in the mist, as if displaying his wild flesh to the world, finally settling into a solemn and sacred pose—his body leaned forward, hands raised high, devoutly facing the setting sun.

Several children with bronze skin were chasing and playing on the beach, carrying fish baskets. They looked to be descendants of the indigenous Maori people. They chased each other and gradually moved closer to the reef.

Running in front was a little boy with spiky hair, about seven years old. When he was less than ten meters away from the reef, he raised the fish basket in his hand and shouted loudly as he ran.

"Mr. Hern! I've brought you the starfish you asked us to keep an eye out for last time!"

The man on the reef turned around at the sound and saw the group of kids gradually approaching. A smug smile spread across his face. The sea breeze bypassed his rugged buzz cut, and behind him, the fiery sunset resembled an oil painting.

"Well done, Kelly." The man stepped off the reef and gave the kid named Kelly a firm rub on the head with his large hand. Kelly winced in pain and quickly shrank back, sticking out his tongue and looking around as if searching for something.

"Stop looking around, Kelly. That guy disappeared half an hour ago when I started my daily workout here." The man scratched his buzz cut, then pulled out a rare, old-fashioned walkie-talkie/mobile phone—a rare sight these days—from his brightly colored Hawaiian shorts. "A deserted island should look like a deserted island. Places without radio coverage are practically paradise. Hey, can you hear me? Where are you? Those brats you tricked into working for you are back with their stuff, asking for a reward. Get out here now."

However, the man was met with a sickening noise from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

"Broken?" The man paused for a moment, then started tapping the walkie-talkie in his hand. "Old relics are just unreliable."

“If we keep filming, it won’t be an antique anymore, it’ll be a piece of junk, Makishima.”

A lazy voice came from not far away. The man called Makishima turned around and saw a familiar figure walking along the beach, which was in the direction of the stilt house they rented.

"The rest is up to you. I haven't finished my daily routine yet." Seeing that his companions had arrived, the carefree Mr. Makishima stuffed the old antique back into his floral shorts, parted the kids, and returned to the rocks to continue admiring the sunset.

“Mr. Hearn,” Kelly said, holding up the fully sealed fish basket in his hand as if it were a treasure.

"Katara?" The newcomer asked tentatively, resting his thumb on his chin as if in thought.

“Katara.” Kelly nodded.

"It's not easy for the goods from the western Pacific Ocean to be washed here."

Kelly didn't know whether the other person meant Katara Starfish or them who were looking for Katara when they said "thank you for your hard work," but that didn't stop the group of kids from staring at the other person with bright, expectant eyes.

In fact, among the group of tourists who arrived by boat two weeks ago, Kelly and his friends preferred Mr. Hearn to the tall, muscular Mr. Makishima, who exuded both masculinity and a sense of security.

Even though he's a weirdo who goes on vacation on the beach in a Hawaiian shirt, trousers, and flip-flops, he always wears a white lab coat like the ones scientists wear in American movies.

Even though he's prettier than an older sister.

Even if he doesn't wear a skirt but has long hair, his eyes are still sea blue.

even if

But Mr. Makishima only has muscles, while Mr. Hearn has green paper!

“Let me see. Oh, two should be enough.” Mr. Hearn opened the fish basket and examined its contents in the remaining sunlight, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He pulled a wad of green bills from his pocket. “Thank you, you rascals. This is your payment. I only need Kelly’s basket. You can release the rest or take them home to cook, it’s up to you.”

After a brief commotion, the kids dispersed, satisfied.

Makishima stepped off the reef, looking at the figure carrying a fish basket on the beach with a strange expression. "Don't tell me that your thesis topic is really 'A Possible Ecological Study on the Mating Positions of Katara Starfish,' or your lab boss will kill you, that old woman."

"In our marine biology field, whether I can successfully join the old lady's research group this year and skip the master's stage to go directly to the doctoral stage depends on this. I believe she will like this research topic."

"Please be sure to inform me, your close friend in mechanical design and manufacturing, on the day of your thesis defense so I can come to your lab to witness it. I have a feeling it will cause a sensation throughout the entire college."

How provocative?

"Alien vs. Predator is so cool."

"You are so rude."

The icy fingers slid across Makishima's muscular chest, leaving five equally cold marks. The latter, a 1.95-meter-tall, robust man, jumped three feet away from the other man like a castrated rooster, screaming and hugging his arms, trembling. "Get away from me, you pervert! How many times have I told you not to covet my noble body? You think you're too weak, so you start working out, you lunatic!"

"Tsk." Hern withdrew his hand sullenly. "I wonder what you ate to grow up like that muscle baboon?"

“Grains and cereals!” Makishima returned to his original spot.

"Alright, let's go back." Mr. Hearn pulled a small mechanical alarm clock from the pocket of his white coat. The faithful hands moved slowly as the clock was wound up. He frowned, then stuffed the clock back into his pocket. "My beautiful Sunday is almost over."

Why would you care about Monday during the Christmas holidays?

"It's nothing, Monday is just a good day to sleep in."

The two started walking back.

"Why would someone as lazy as you choose marine biology, a major that inevitably involves flying all over the world?" Makishima kicked a pebble on the beach back into the sea, puzzled.

"Because my mother graduated with a degree in this field, and the life of a hands-off boss who flies all over the world seems very cool."

"But you are already a PhD candidate in geophysics."

"Friend, it's 2097. In this era where everything on the Earth's surface has been explored, yet the human soul is still bound by gravity, don't you think choosing marine biology is actually a way to pursue the last bit of romance on this planet?"

“Okay, I’m planning to take a boat out to sea tomorrow to find a nice diving spot for some romance. What about you two?” Makishima suggested enthusiastically.

“Don’t call me. I’m involved in an overly classical game. As for Lesenba, why don’t you give it a try? What if you succeed?” Hearn gave a strange and knowing smile.

"No way, I absolutely don't want to be alone with that weirdo whose name sounds like a German vampire raised in England in any enclosed space, like below sea level." Makishima Urie shook her head like a rattle-drum. "She actually tried to use me as a human fuse last time and almost succeeded! Even though it was in the [Electronic Sea], there's definitely something wrong with the way her brain is structured, and so are you!"

"Don't say that. I don't care, but Charlotte will cry."

Even so, Hern himself felt that this was not convincing, and he turned his gaze away from the distant sea, his interest waning.

Beyond the lagoon lies the azure sea and the deep ocean, seemingly brimming with endless possibilities, though those few fish heads at the boundary are a bit of an eyesore.

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Chapter 12 Welcome to the Electronic Ocean Paradise

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OK! B.Bchannel~ Welcome back to the electronic world! [Previous...]

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Mr. Hearn habitually clicked the [X] in the upper right corner and began clearing the mountain of junk advertisements in front of him.

"My stupid sister—ah! When using the home terminal to download programs, you have to be careful of those damn bundled software packages!"

He quickly clicked one "X" after another, stepped through the entrance garden, hung his white coat in the open wardrobes on both sides of the walk-in closet, and finally found peace and quiet when he entered the living room.

The Hern family's residence is a high-rise apartment model, a medium-to-large unit of about 270 square meters. It features a simple and relaxed Nordic style, with light-colored solid wood used in every corner. The floor is made of dark gray wood, which creates a visual contrast with the warm-colored fabric furniture. The pseudo-open kitchen is separated by transparent glass to prevent oil fumes. The living room is bright and airy from north to south, with a deep and secluded corridor in the center that hides seven or eight rooms and eventually leads to a viewing balcony at the end, facing the sea, where spring is warm and flowers bloom.

A series of light, hurried footsteps echoed from the depths of the corridor, interspersed with the dull thud of a body slamming against a door.

"My magnificent brother—welcome home."

As a languid voice echoed through the living room, a girl who appeared petite but was actually quite tall—in short, yet somehow incongruous—peeked out from the hallway. Her attire was very casual; she wore a white shirt that was clearly too big for her, the buttons in a way that would drive anyone with OCD crazy. It wasn't so much that she accidentally buttoned it wrong as she had completely given up on trying. Her alabaster-white, delicate skin was faintly visible through the thin fabric. As for her casual denim shorts, they were simply a complete departure from her usual style, transformed into Schrödinger's cat, thanks to the oversized shirt.

"My gorgeous older sister is a gentle and virtuous Yamato Nadeshiko. She rarely leaves the house, is very knowledgeable and cultured, has long, beautiful black hair like a waterfall and eyes as dark and bright as the night sky. She always refers to herself as 'wasai' when she speaks. Every morning she gently wakes me up. Occasionally when we go out together, if we come across a conscientious shop selling organic milk ice cream, we only buy one. She always says that since we are siblings, isn't it normal to share an ice cream? I always let her be willful. What can I do? She spoils me so much. — When acquaintances ask about you, that's what I always say. I think I've done my best to save your face."

Mr. Hearn said through gritted teeth, the last few words almost squeezed out between his teeth, “My stupid sister, you’re 24 years old, a mature adult. You should go out and create value with your own hands to support yourself, instead of staying at your dear brother’s house day in and day out, year after year, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, like a mushroom.”

“My magnificent brother is so outstanding that he could support me for the rest of my life until my death without any problem.”

“If our hands-off mother were to come back one day and see her eldest daughter, whom she was so proud of ten years ago, now reduced to this shut-in state, she would be furious to death.”

"Stop talking nonsense, where are the local specialties?" Miss Hearn skipped over to Mr. Hearn, looked up, and reached out her hand, full of hope.

"Are you out of your mind from staying at home? I'm still enjoying my annual Christmas holiday in Rarotonga, Cook Islands. This is the Sea of ​​Electronics, a second home created by foolish souls bound by gravity for self-comfort." Mr. Hearn originally wanted to give this good-for-nothing a good whack on the head, but he couldn't bring himself to do it halfway up, so he gently brushed the other man away. Then, in a fit of despair, he went into the kitchen to check the refrigerator. "Good heavens, the fridge is almost empty. I remember stuffing in almost a month's worth before I left. Just heat it up and eat, okay? Tell me honestly, how long has it been since you left the house?"

"I don't remember, but please come home before I starve to death, my magnificent brother."

Why don't you expect our hands-off mom to suddenly come home before you starve to death, my stupid sister?

"No thanks. I think my magnificent brother is much more reliable than our hands-off mother. Expecting her to come home before I starve to death is less desirable than hoping for a third world war and nuclear peace before I die."

"you..."

"uh-huh?"

"I owed you something in my past life."

"Yes, I've thought so ever since I first opened my eyes and saw you through the isolation ward when I left our mother's body."

"Even though you've gone from a popular young lady to a shut-in, Kaguya, the only thing you haven't changed is your arrogance."

"I think it's fine to stay like this. You haven't changed, have you? Believer."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Please be home within a week." The stay-at-home girl leaned against the doorframe, looking reluctant to leave. "Otherwise, your dear sister will really starve to death."

"Well, my beautiful South Pacific Christmas holiday has been shortened again," the believer said with a pout from outside the door, but in the end she still stretched out her right hand, or rather, her right little finger.

Kaguya smiled broadly and made the same gesture.

"Pinky promise, never to change, or the one who changes will be divided into seventeen pieces."

After finishing everything, the shut-in girl closed the door with satisfaction. The heavy, dark-colored door turned into scattered data streams and disappeared without a trace after closing.

As the blind woman Hearn pressed the familiar button, she rode the semi-open observation elevator smoothly down from the 21st floor of the high-rise apartment to the ground, gazing at the leaden-gray sea and sky through the elevator's tempered glass-like interior walls.

It's drizzling outside, so staying home is perfectly justifiable.

Mr. Hearn walked out of the lobby and stood in front of the rain curtain formed by electronic signals. Someone silently held up a black umbrella for him.

She was a gray-haired girl, slightly shorter than the shut-in girl, wearing thin purple-rimmed glasses. Behind the glasses were beautiful violet eyes, but they lacked warmth and vitality, like the freezing rain falling from the sky. She wore a large, all-weather hoodie, black with red stripes, and the visible part of her lower body consisted of matching knee-high socks paired with suede boots. The scarlet hood was pulled up over her head, revealing gray bangs. Overall, she looked very warm, like Little Red Riding Hood on a rainy day.

Charlotte von Lesenba, a German vampire raised in Britain, a junior student from the computer science department next to the marine biology research lab who slacks off and drifts through life, a gray ghost in the electronic sea, a regular visitor to the 3+2 Pentagon for parkour and shopping, and one of the participants in the genius of the faith girl Hearn's "South Pacific Cook Islands Christmas Holiday Plan". In short, she is a werewolf, of course, one of them is a joke.

"Didn't Makishima invite you to go diving, Charlotte?"

"According to the latest weather forecast, a tropical depression is passing by the Cook Islands, Mr. Hearn."

"Really? Hopefully, we'll see Makishima return before it develops into a storm, tomorrow."