Otto subconsciously took two steps back. Never before had he wished so strongly to be further away from Kallen. Whether it was out of fear that Kallen would see him as an opponent too, or simply fear that Kallen would be tainted by the darkness clinging to him, who could really say?
Silence spread through the boundless, utter darkness, like cold seawater slowly, drop by drop, tightening around one's throat.
After a short while, it was Kallen who once again broke the suffocating silence:
"Otto, did you bring wine? I thought I heard the sound of you putting down a bottle earlier."
"Ah... Ah..."
Otto finally snapped back to reality. He sat back down in front of the iron bars, fumbled around on the ground, and found the red wine he had brought. He pulled out the cork. The wine had already begun to freeze slightly. Otto first used the power of the Void Archives to warm it slightly, then poured the blood-red liquid into a wine glass that appeared abruptly in his hand, before passing it through the gap in the iron bars.
After one or two breaths, a hand covered his, taking the wine glass. Otto withdrew the hand that had offered the wine, silently savoring the faint chill where their fingertips had touched.
Suddenly, Kallen's surprised voice came from the darkness:
"Huh? Is this the bottle of red wine I gave you before?"
"Mm."
"...That's nice."
As her words fell, Otto heard the sound of Kallen downing the wine in the glass in one gulp.
He didn't know what else he could say. He even wanted to quickly flee this place, only hesitating, unwilling to leave, clinging to a sliver of unrealistic hope.
And Kallen... after downing the red wine in the glass, her thoughts couldn't help but drift.
She only heard Otto repeating:
"I won't let you die, Kallen, I definitely won't let you die!"
The corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up, followed by a long sigh:
"Thank you... for coming to see me, my great inventor."
Thump!
Otto's heart skipped a beat. Hearing the nickname only the two of them understood, Otto's blood began to rush through his veins, so much so that even in this icy dungeon, he felt a wave of heat.
But immediately following was an even deeper despair, a rapid loss of body heat, a sense that nothing mattered anymore.
She said: "Thank you for coming to see me."
This was undoubtedly gratitude—only a fool who understood nothing would think so.
"Thank you for coming to see me, that's enough."
"Thank you for coming to see me, but I'm sorry, I cannot, will not, and am unwilling to fulfill the marriage contract with you."
"Thank you for coming to see me, but please relay my message to Bishop Nikolas—Kallen Kaslana would rather die than live shamefully."
"Thank you, my great inventor, but let's leave it at that."
Otto clutched his head in pain. He knew, these were the things Kallen truly wanted to say.
Silence fell between them again, longer, more oppressive, and more...
Perhaps, both understood there was no need to continue talking.
After a while, Otto heard the sound of chains sliding on the other side, followed by Kallen's sigh:
"Perhaps in another world..."
Otto didn't clearly hear the rest, because he had already turned and left.
Listening to his retreating footsteps fade away, Kallen shifted backward, leaning her spine against the wall, which felt no different from solid ice.
This dungeon had almost exclusively held vicious death row inmates. The environment was certainly not good, especially this biting cold that could freeze water even on a bright spring day. If an ordinary person were here, they probably wouldn't survive until execution day.
But for Kallen, it was nothing more than this.
She had indeed drunk the herbal soup. Now unable to use Honkai energy, she was essentially no different from an ordinary person. Yet, only concerning this cold, her body still exhibited an unbelievable adaptability, one could even say she somewhat relished it, like a fish in water.
She suddenly remembered something her father once said:
"Kallen, do you know why, throughout history, only Kaslanas can wield the Judgment of Shamash? It's because ice flows in the Kaslana bloodline, ice cold enough to freeze even the Judgment of Shamash itself. Just like the saying—a sword can become my weapon only because I alone can break it."
"Eh?"
She was young then and didn't notice what her father truly wanted to say. Instead, she focused on the first half of the sentence:
"So, Father, has a Kaslana ever really frozen the Judgment of Shamash?"
"Ah? Hahaha... That... well, I've never seen it, but the saying exists."
What a pity... What a pity...
Kaslanas rarely died of old age. The first thing most Kaslanas learned in life was to regard dying in battle as the best way to die.
And the best among the best was to use one's own life to unleash a strike from the Judgment of Shamash.
But unfortunately, Kallen no longer had the chance for either—neither dying in battle nor dying by the Judgment of Shamash.
Even what ordinary people desired most, dying of old age in bed, was impossible for her.
She would leave this world in a manner utterly ugly, utterly base, a death no Kaslana before her had ever experienced—whether by fire or hanging, ugliness and baseness were certain, weren't they?
Schicksal needed such cruel punishments to establish its supreme authority. And even for the common populace, as long as such punishment didn't befall them personally, it was far more stimulating than ordinary drama, wasn't it?
"Do you regret it?"
A low male voice sounded beside her. Her eyelashes trembled, and she couldn't help but think back to the events of that morning.
She lowered her head, cupping her cheeks, letting her emotions slowly settle, before finally speaking slowly:
"Mr. Michael, are you asking me... what I regret? Do I regret interfering with the indulgences, or regret not accepting your proposal this morning?"
"Naturally the latter. The indulgences, would you truly regret that?"
"Who can say for sure?"
Kallen, who had been so strong in front of Otto just moments ago, now sounded slightly choked up.
"Actually, it's not too late to accept my proposal now."
Michael gently patted her shoulder.
"Rest assured, the memory clone substitute... no one will know. I have passed off fakes as real before, deceiving many people. You can even consider the substitute as another self. After all, your bodies are identical, and all your past memories and personality have been copied. There's fundamentally no difference between her and you."
"But ultimately, it's still different, isn't it..."
Kallen only remembered being betrayed by her uncle and aunt. When she regained slight consciousness from her stupor and opened her eyes, the first person she saw was Michael.
And what he said, what he planned to do... hadn't he just repeated it?
As for the so-called memory clone...
"Who can say for sure?"
Michael shrugged, directly borrowing Kallen's own words.
"So, you're unwilling to let the memory clone replace you. Why? Do you think I can't do it? Or do you think I'm untrustworthy?"
"Neither," Kallen shook her head. "I've seen your methods, and I don't distrust you. After all, with your strength, if you were determined to have the memory clone replace me, you could just do it directly, couldn't you?"
Michael nodded, a slight ripple entering his usually calm voice:
"So, Kallen, must you die?"
"Mm..."
Kallen let out a light laugh, quickly shaking her head:
"How could that be? As long as someone is human, they wouldn't easily give up the hope of living, right?"
Then came another bitter laugh, "But... I can't. At least not under these circumstances."
Michael didn't answer, just remained silent. So Kallen continued speaking as if to herself, seemingly pouring out all the thoughts in her heart:
"When we were very young, Otto and I made a pact. When we grew up, I would save the world. He was sickly back then, so he would focus on getting better, and then save the world with me! After that, I dragged him out onto the streets to play! From that time on, he always liked hiding alone in his underground lab, making strange and interesting inventions."
Even though there was almost no light around, Michael could sense Kallen's lips curling upwards, because her words carried an irrepressible hint of laughter.
But then her tone shifted, her voice dimming:
"But, ultimately, we were too young, too naive. Just yesterday, when I robbed that salesman of his ill-gotten gains, I was still complacent, thinking I might actually be able to change something. But I was wrong. From beginning to end, I was just a pawn... I don't know if fate truly exists, but for someone like Bishop Nikolas, he only needed to make some arrangements targeting my personality, and he could easily guide my destiny."
"But you should still live, Kallen."
Kallen abruptly turned her head, peering into the sightless darkness. For a fleeting moment, she actually thought the person sitting beside her wasn't the inscrutable Michael, but the familiar Otto. Their tones just now... were practically identical.
"Why?"
"Because of resistance. You want to change this world, the world wants to kill you. Therefore, your best resistance against the world is to live on bravely!"
"Perhaps," Kallen smiled sadly. "Of course, I know if I listened to Otto, married him, and waited until Bishop Nikolas died, there would definitely be a chance to turn things around, and he would support me. Or another way, I could escape. For instance, Mr. Michael, you could actually take me away right now, couldn't you? Or use the so-called memory clone substitute, then I could go elsewhere. I could try to lead those oppressed by Schicksal to raise the banner of rebellion. That's also a choice, also a form of resistance.
"But... I'm sorry, I really can't do it. If striving to resist is one form of struggle, then seeking only death now might not be another form of struggle—yes, I only seek death! Bishop Nikolas truly understands people; he calculated all my actions clearly. But ultimately, he will be disappointed. He probably thought I would choose to live like most people. Well, I insist on dying. I only seek death. This is my resistance. Just... resistance."
"Heh... But, Kallen, this is just a decision made in the heat of the moment. Think it over again. Talk after you've calmed down, okay?"
Kallen turned her head again towards the darkness beside her. She was quite certain the person next to her was Michael, not Otto, but the things they said, their tone, their manner of speaking, weren't just unrelated; they were identical.
Suddenly, a flash of insight struck her. She realized Michael wasn't really talking to her. Although the name he called was Kallen, the person he was speaking to wasn't Kallen Kaslana. It was more like he was speaking across endless time, conversing with someone else.
But what did it matter? Not long ago, she might have been interested in that story, but now, none of it mattered anymore.
Yet somehow, she choked up again:
"Perhaps. But, Mr. Michael, did you know? Otto always saw me as a hero. Because I'm a hero, I can't possibly be fragile. Maybe it sounds pretentious to say, but I'm actually just an ordinary person. Perhaps... the reason I only seek death isn't that complicated. It's merely because of my own frailty."
Compared to her reserved words when facing Otto earlier, she had clearly said quite a bit now.
This certainly didn't mean Michael was closer or more important to her than Otto. In fact, the situation was quite the opposite. It was precisely because she hadn't known Michael for long, and they weren't closely related, that she was willing to say more.
Ridiculous, wasn't it? People never open their hearts to the ones they love most. Instead, they are more likely to tell everything to someone they barely know.
Michael certainly understood this. That's why Michael found it ridiculous.
People, precisely because they fear loneliness, precisely because they want to share everything about themselves with others, cannot help but want to build more intimate relationships. Yet there are so many words, so many thoughts, that cannot be spoken to the ones closest to them.
Fear of being distanced due to misunderstanding, or finding it difficult to broach the subject from the start, or, some selfish thoughts are simply things the other person wouldn't want to see.
Yes, selfish.
"Otto... must be very disappointed."
She asked this question but received no answer from Michael.
She even briefly thought Michael had already left, but she knew he hadn't; she could still hear the heavy breathing beside her.
Michael only spoke after a long while:
"Perhaps it's not as simple as disappointment. Kallen, if I told you he would spend the rest of his life, five hundred years, committing countless sins, just to, at the end of time, deceive family, deceive friends, even deceive God, solely to give you a second life, would you believe it?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Kallen actually managed a tearful smile. "That... might be the best ending for him."
---||---
Clang!
The prison gate slowly closed. Otto took two steps forward, only then realizing that everything around him was enveloped in dim, grey light.
So dawn had already broken. But this light wasn't pleasant, wasn't warm.
He walked forward aimlessly. Passing a flowerbed, he suddenly stopped, bending down to carefully examine the flowers at his feet.
It was a patch of purple irises, dotted amongst slender green grass. Dewdrops clung to the petals. Other than that, there was nothing special, just ordinary irises.
But Otto still plucked one, clutching it tightly in his hand. Not for any particular reason, just because... these were Kallen's favorite flowers...
"Well, well, look who it is? Otto?"
The sudden voice startled Otto. He subtly tucked the flower into the inner pocket of his coat before slowly standing up and turning around.
"Risa? What are you doing here?"
"Hm?"
Risa looked at her foolish younger brother, smiling mockingly:
"Why don't you look around? This is clearly the Apocalypse family estate. If I'm not here, where should I be? Like your fiancée, running around outside making a fool of herself all day?"
"If you're trying to provoke me this way, I advise you not to waste your energy."
"Pfft! Hahahaha!"
Risa laughed exaggeratedly, covering her mouth, bending over forwards and backwards with laughter.
Laughing, she took two steps forward and gently patted Otto's shoulder.
"Alright, no more joking."
She suddenly leaned close to Otto's ear, whispering in a barely audible breath:
"Listen carefully, Otto. Big sister is here to help you. Didn't you want to save Kallen? I have a way."
"Why should I believe you?"
"That's why I said, listen carefully, Otto. You want to save Kallen, and I want Marseille to take over the position of Schicksal Bishop. We each get what we need, understand?"
Otto narrowed his eyes. This was the advantage brought by the information gap. Risa apparently didn't know about his conversation with their father last night. She still thought their father intended to pass the Bishop position to Otto, as he had said at the banquet a few days ago.
"Listen up. After you rescue Kallen, you must leave Kolosten immediately and never return for the rest of your life. That's the price. Well? Do you accept?"
"First tell me, what do you intend for me to do?"
"Simple..."
Risa blew softly into Otto's ear. She practically nibbled his earlobe as she spoke. Otto's eyes widened slightly, then he shoved Risa, who was pressed against him, away.
But the words that came out of his mouth were agreeable:
"I understand. Deal."
---||---
Tap tap tap!
Su knocked lightly three times on the door. He received no answer, but the chill behind the door receded slightly. He knew this was Kevin's way of saying "Come in."
He turned the handle and gently pushed the door open. The frosty airflow that instantly rushed out made him take two steps back.
After a moment, Su wiped the thin layer of white frost from his face before stepping back into Kevin's room.
"Earlier... what Eleanor said, you heard it all, right?"
Kevin lay on the sofa with his eyes closed, the Cleaver of Shamash leaning casually against the chair. He didn't reply.
Su was long accustomed to this, so he simply asked directly:
"She hopes we can save Kallen Kaslana. Yes, your descendant."
"Kaslana..."
Kevin repeated softly:
"Kaslana... holds no meaning for me anymore."
"So?"
"Besides, compared to what we must do, their troubles are less significant than children playing house."
"So you intend to..."
"However, before we pinpoint Michael's exact location, there is still enough time. We can at least watch the show."
As he spoke, the blade of the Cleaver of Shamash was already completely covered in frost.