[4] The realm of invisibility

The next time I enter this dream, I'm already in the Duchy of Andres. The capital of the country is called Tervian and is a beautiful and majestic city. The city is known for its rich history and humanistic architecture, most notably the Thanvien Cathedral in the centre of the city, slightly to the southwest. The marble-carved building is meticulously maintained as white as snow, and the ornate and stately statues, minarets and halls are cleverly combined to stand proudly against the blue sky.

But my mind, I mean, as Hunter, is not on these old buildings. After settling into the hotel, I inquired about the performance times of the famous local opera house and booked my tickets for a week later. Looking back now, I can't remember how that week passed, and why I couldn't find Nina directly. The flow of time, and the sequence of cause and effect, seemed to be stirred up by some higher force, perhaps the most humble delusion in the brains of mortal carbon-based creatures.

Anyway, on the day of the performance, I arrived at the opera house with intense anticipation. It is a sprawling building with seven floors, each of which is covered with a silk curtain. The ladies at the table were all well-dressed, many of them carrying bouquets as if they were attending a ball, and the courteous gentlemen wore gowns, many of them wearing gold or silver medals.

The opera house was very bright under the illumination of some kind of alchemical apparatus, as if in the brightest sunlight, but I did not see any harsh reflections. Loud and melodious music played, the curtain of the stage parted to both sides, and Nina, as the heroine, appeared in silk, gold ornaments, and a crown. After many years, her singing voice has become more and more moving, and to me it seems that only the legendary fairy can compare with her. Afterwards, when I recorded the dream as usual, I hesitated for a long time, but I was still unwilling to use pale language to desecrate this shocking scene.

The show ended in my ecstasy. Everyone was applauding Nina and throwing flowers and garlands at her. Every time she went backstage, the cheers called her out again, so she kept walking in and out. After this, when she left the opera house, people in the street gathered around her car, ecstatic. Nina stood at the front, happily, unsparingly, generously and appropriately greeting her audience, her admirers and supporters.

As I followed the flow of people to her brightly lit house, Nina was huddled tightly to the door of her car. The door opened, and she stepped out. The light was shining on her lovely face, she smiled, she gently thanked everyone, and she seemed very touched. She's already a good performer. I looked into her face, and she was keenly aware of it and looked back at me.

But she didn't recognize me—the experience of accidentally entering Kalkesa, I don't know if it was a dream within a dream, had changed a part of me forever, a part of Xu Mingshan and Hunter, and the girl in front of me was still as bright as ever. A gentleman with a star on his chest stretched out his arm to her—they were engaged, everyone said.

Hearing the news, I only felt that my eyes were dark, and the part that was Hunter almost fainted under the intense emotional turmoil. I used what was left of my sanity, the only thought that dominated my body, to drive it back to the inn and wake up in my bedroom.

I've been in this dream ever since, but the experience has become extremely uneventful. Hunt returned to Langley Carlow, to Woodford, who had remained the same in the course of time, and had locked himself in his room all day writing. I, as Xu Mingshan, no longer feel any sense of self on Hunter's part, but I am often driven by some kind of inexplicable inner drive to write. After repeating this three or four times, I realized that it was only when I entered the dream world that Hunter really began to write.

I've tried to recreate my creations when I'm awake, but I can't capture the wonderful inspiration in my dreams. One time when I was in a dream, I noticed that there was an extra piece of paper in front of my desk that looked like a memo, which read:

"Only the spirit that comes through the void is projected on a mortal named Hunt......"

The latter strokes were halfway through, and the alchemical quill pen I was holding in my hand inadvertently arced across it.

At that time, I really thought that the spirit of Xu Mingshan from the earth would have some kind of wonderful reaction when it was projected onto Hunter, who didn't know how far away he was, or even how elusive the void was, which led to the birth of "The King in Yellow". But the play doesn't seem to be worthy of the praise of Hunter, a well-known scholar.

"Camilla: Tell you, sir, take off your mask.

Stranger: Really?

Cassida: Really, it's time. Except for you, we've all lost our disguises.

Stranger: I'm not wearing a mask.

Camilla: (startled, whispering to Cassida) Aren't you wearing a mask? Not wearing a mask!"

This clip is from Act I, Scene 2 of The King in Yellow. I still vividly remember that I commented that it was not bad as a horror effect, but it could not hide the memeality and simplicity of the first act as a whole. I was wrong.

The banality and simplicity of the first act only make the ensuing blow even more terrifying. This is definitely not an immortal chapter that I can write as an inconspicuous human individual on Earth. It is an indescribable existence that wants to use my hand to promote the birth of "The King in Yellow". I even wonder if there are some other worlds where there are some slightly more unique minds who have been tempted by Him to bring the horrors of "The King in Yellow" to the world.

That mysterious being cursed the whole world with such a beautiful and terrifying creation, the words are terrifyingly simple and simple, and the truth told is so unbreakable. There are no principles violated in those wicked pages, no heresy is taught, no human faith is trampled. However, it is also not possible to judge by any known criteria. My rational mind vanished from the moment I entered the dream, and the highest standards of art were destroyed without resistance in the face of The King in Yellow. Human nature cannot bear such a style of writing, and neither the refined nor the vulgar soul can grow from the words impregnated with the purest poison[5].

The only thing thankful for is that when I returned to the real world, the aftermath of Act 1 didn't remain in my memory. I don't think they're the information that the human brain can record anymore.

The last time I entered this dream was one day after the publication of "The King in Yellow", I think it was probably a month or two later. Hunter has rarely maintained his will this time, and it is also the strongest I have maintained since I had this dream, as Xu Mingshan, I have finally been reduced to a bystander role. I still have memories of being Hunter, and the fragments of the past that had calmed down with time seemed to have been rudely broken by a boulder thrown into the lake. It was Nina's death, suicide. Around the whirlpool formed by the sinking of the stone, I caught a glimpse of her beautiful figure active on the stage, playing the role of Cassida.

That's when I saw myself drink a lilac potion of unknown use, and lay quietly on my bed. It's strange, I can feel the tumbling thoughts in Hunter's heart, but the outward appearance is strange and unusually calm. I fell into a slumber and was woken up by the sound of a real-world alarm clock, all in a momentary and unsettling experience.

I never had that dream again.

For many years after that, I kept this secret deep in my heart. I visited many ashrams and talked a lot about souls and dreams. I was admitted to the University of Miskatani, where I graduated with a double degree in psychology and philosophy after four years. Right now, I'm in Rath's testing facility and about to enter Soul Translator as a volunteer beta researcher. This is an ambitious attempt by human beings to use quantum communication to create some kind of high-end device that may be able to communicate with the soul.

"Mr. Xu, are you ready?"

"Ready. ”

I nodded to the skinny man named Higajian, closed my eyes, and silently recited the mantra in my mind:

“Link Start!”

Some wonderfully colorful glow filled my vision. I'm not new to this, as I've experienced it before with other fully stealthy devices. However, the subsequent test interface did not appear as expected, and those abstract streamers were changing, combining, converging to build the nameless world that I had been absent for a long time.

The memory of the "Pale Mask", which I will always have in my heart, is now alive in front of me. The canopy of Kalksa was surrounded by moons, and black stars hung high in the abyssal night sky. No, that's not where I ever dreamed: towers, stone monuments, tall figures in pale masks, ragged yellow cedars. This is the Kalksa of the Prosperity that exists in a time and space that should not exist.

The clouds crash on the shore, the sun sinks into the lake, and the phantom is shrouded: it's all in Kalksa.

The dark stars rise at night, the moon runs through the sky, and the vision is the best: only Kalksa.

Bi Xing wept and lamented, the Yellow King's clothes were torn, and the people did not know death: this is Kalksa.

I want to sing and cry all my voice, I want to cry and cry, and I am dead: I am buried in Kalksa.

The reflection in Lake Harry stood up and walked towards me with a smile on his face. I felt very calm and peaceful in my heart for some reason, and I walked towards him with a smile. We become one in a smile...... Now I finally know what the other party didn't say that day, that kind of language with strange syllables that does not look like human beings, what is being said. Ia! Ia! Hastur! Hastur cf'ayak 'vulgtmm， vugtlagln， vulgtmm!

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[1]：H. P. Lovecraft, "Over the Wall of Sleep."

[2]：H. P. Lovecraft, "The Silver Key".

[3]：H. P. Lovecraft, Daredevil.

[4]: Ambrose Bierce, A Resident of Kalksa.

[5]: Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow.