Bai Liu simply remarked, "That does sound like something I'd do in any timeline."
Tang Erda studied him for a moment. "If that were all, it would just be one of your many crimes."
He paused. "But if that were all, I wouldn't still remember it now."
Bai Liu turned his head slightly. "What else happened?"
Tang Erda exhaled. "After Armand's death, Georgia recovered physically—but emotionally, he was shattered all over again. The fact that Armand had died avenging him destroyed him. He tried to go back to work, but he wasn't himself. The Bureau of Heresy had to force him into an extended leave."
"After that, he locked himself in Armand's room and stayed there for days. I visited him a few times, tried to talk to him, tried to ask what Bai Six had done to him. But he barely acknowledged me, just mumbled to himself like he wasn't even there—"
"This isn't how it was supposed to be. This isn't the future I saw. It should have been me. It should have been the rest of the world. Not Armand."
Tang Erda fell silent for a moment, biting his cigarette as he looked up at the words [Golden Dawn] scrawled on the whiteboard.
"Later, I asked one of his colleagues if Georgia had ever said what Bai Six did to him. They told me Georgia said Bai Six just… showed him the future."
"No one knows exactly what he saw. But what happened afterward was beyond my expectations."
Tang Erda turned his gaze to Bai Liu. "Bai Six destroyed six of the Heresy Bureau's secret facilities in rapid succession, taking many high-risk heretics with him. We managed to kill the Joker he sent to break them out, but we still suffered heavy losses."
"But that wasn't the terrifying part," Tang Erda continued, voice dropping. "What truly frightened us was how Bai Six even knew where those bases were. The locations of the high-risk containment sites were buried under layers of encrypted security, hidden through torturous means, protected by every safeguard imaginable. Only one person in the Bureau had full access to that information."
"Georgia."
Tang Erda let out a slow sigh. "None of us wanted to believe he would betray the Bureau, let alone for Bai Six. But we had to be sure, so we started investigating him in secret."
"Georgia passed 127 rounds of interrogation." Tang Erda's jaw tightened. "He loathes Bai Six. He would never willingly betray the Bureau. That much, we confirmed. In the end, higher-ups let him keep his position, but the investigation continued—just underground."
"The external investigation hit a dead end. But inside the game… I started noticing something."
Tang Erda's eyes darkened. "A masked player had suddenly joined Bai Six's team. A powerful attacker. Cold, decisive—a killing machine. Same height as Georgia, similar build. But what made me really suspicious was his skill."
Tang Erda took a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling. "He wielded a bow and arrow—the Bow of Retrospection. It rewinds a person's body back in time… exactly three hours."
He looked at Bai Liu.
"The time between Armand's death and the discovery of his body was exactly three hours."
Tang Erda took another deep breath. "I found Georgia and asked if that masked player was him." His fingers clenched around the cigarette. "He admitted it."
"I don't understand why he joined you," Tang Erda said hoarsely. "He passed the Bureau's tests. I know he despises Bai Six. I know he believes in peace and justice. But for some reason… he still chose to become a weapon in your hands."
"So I asked him why," Tang Erda continued. "And Georgia told me—"
"No matter how hard I tried, it never led to peace. Never to justice. Never to a future where Armand existed."
"I have to correct the future. And Bai Six is the only one who can do it."
Tang Erda's voice was quiet. "He told me that no matter how much he hated Bai Six, no matter how much innocent blood he had to spill, it was worth it if it meant setting the future right. And the moment Armand was brought back—"
"I'll die for my sins."
"That is the right future."
Silence settled between them. Bai Liu handed over an ashtray and met Tang Erda's gaze as he abruptly stopped speaking.
"Where does Georgia end up in this world?" Bai Liu asked.
Tang Erda wordlessly stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Then, he exhaled one last ring of smoke and let it drift straight into Bai Liu's face.
"He won the league after you," Tang Erda said finally. "Got a wish." His voice was unreadable. "I don't know what he wished for. But he killed himself the next day."
"Same place Armand died."
"We found his body three hours later."
------
"I hope Armand will be resurrected in the right future."
In his sleep, Georgia saw himself—bloodstained and kneeling before a mass of light, its outline indistinct. A long, rusted silver bow lay at his side, its sleek shape betraying its age.
He was vaguely aware of the extraordinary presence within the light—something divine.
God asked him, "Do you not wish to live in the right future?"
Georgia watched himself shake his head. "I don't deserve that future. I made the wrong choice, and I must take responsibility for it. Death is the future that awaits me."
God asked again, "You are a righteous victor. Do you not wish for others to exist in the right future as well?"
Again, Georgia shook his head. "A broken future is the result of every decision made by every person in this world. Just as I must bear the weight of my own injustice, so must everyone else. They, too, must suffer the consequences of their indulgent desires."
Then, God said, "And yet, you spare Armand. You indulge his mistakes, gifting him the right future despite his wrong choices."
"This is your selfishness, Georgia. This is your injustice."
Georgia closed his eyes, his head hanging low. Blood dripped from his lashes, falling to the ground like self-pitying tears.
"Yes," he admitted. "It is my selfishness as a brother. I know he was wrong, and that he must answer for it. I only wished for all the guilt to be mine alone—not Armand's."
"But I know that's not possible."
God's voice remained unwavering. "Both you and Armand must pay for your selfishness and injustice."
"As punishment, you will forever lose the future in which Armand exists, and Armand will never exist in a world where you are his brother."
"The moment of birth will be erased, and you will walk eternally on opposite roads."
Georgia tried to wake from this fevered dream, but the harder he struggled, the more the dream fragmented—warping, twisting into something darker.
He saw himself again, head bowed, kneeling before a figure hidden in shadow. The bare skin of his neck was laced with deep red welts, the marks of a whip.
A long, black whip uncoiled in the man's hand. He tilted Georgia's chin up—not with his fingers, but with the toe of his polished leather shoe.
For the first time, Georgia saw his captor's face.
A man lounged in a wide leather chair, his smile warm and harmless. His features were sharply handsome—an Asian face adorned with a friendly expression that did nothing to soften the weight of his presence.
"Georgia, I'm very pleased with you."
His voice was light, almost conversational.
"I know you didn't mean to submit to me, but your performance is just too good."
Bai Six lowered his gaze, replacing his shoe with the handle of his whip, forcing Georgia's jaw higher and higher.
Georgia's throat bobbed in silent restraint, his long, pale neck stretched near its breaking point. The fresh welts on his collarbone stood out in stark relief against his skin.
"One game," Bai Six mused, almost in admiration. "And you killed a dozen players without hesitation. You gave me the locations of six secret strongholds with a single breath. You handed me hundreds of names without so much as blinking an eye."
He exhaled, a sigh of appreciation. "You are perfect—like a machine. In both execution and beauty."
"They called you a cold, unfeeling elf in the game." Bai Six's thumb brushed across Georgia's expressionless face. "And I have to agree. You look nothing like the righteous, noble Captain Georgia anymore."
He paused, studying him.
"It's fascinating, isn't it? How the death of someone dear to you can change you so completely."
Bai Six withdrew his hand, tightening his grip on the whip in thought.
"I've been through the same thing," he murmured, "but the only thing it changed in me... was my ability to control my anger when I see your face."
"You look too much like your brother."
His tone remained lazy, almost indifferent—so much so that when he struck, it was unexpected.
The whip cracked against Georgia's body.
Georgia barely flinched. He had long since learned that Bai Six would strike him without warning. After a single shudder, he lowered his head again, waiting.
"Tell me," Bai Six said, tapping the whip thoughtfully against his palm. "During the last game, when you shot those innocent players—where did you aim?"
Georgia's lashes trembled.
"I remember." His voice was quiet.
Bai Six's eyes half-lidded. "Then you know what must be done. Strip."
Georgia stood, removing his clothing with practiced obedience. His body was littered with crisscrossing welts—wounds that had not yet faded, curling around his waist and thighs like coiled vipers.
Each mark, he realized, represented a life he had taken.
The breath caught in his throat.
Bai Six had never needed to inflict suffering through physical pain alone. Georgia felt nothing from the whip.
But Bai Six knew that.
Instead, he made Georgia name every victim, recall every fatal wound he had inflicted. Then he traced the strikes across Georgia's body—marking each life with deliberate cruelty.
"What I do to you," Bai Six had once said, "is not even a fraction of what you have done to them."
After the punishment was over, Georgia dressed in silence, bowing respectfully before exiting Bai Six's quarters. His uniform was zipped high, collar stiff against his jawline.
He moved through the corridors without pause, his steps unwavering.
Then, as soon as he reached his room, he rushed to the toilet and vomited.
He clawed at the welts across his skin, as though trying to carve something out of himself—something rotten, something unclean. But he could only bring up clear water, and soon, his body convulsed from the strain.
He tortured himself in every way he could.
Digging his nails into his wounds. Pressing a blade to his own skin, deepening the marks Bai Six had left.
His breath came in ragged gasps. Silent, ceaseless tears streamed down his face.
At last, Georgia collapsed onto the bed, curling into himself.
In his hands, he clutched a pocket watch.
He wanted to open it—to look inside.
But in the end, he only pressed his lips to the surface, closed his tear-stained eyes, and drifted into unconsciousness.
He knew what was inside.
A single photograph.
Him and Armand, frozen in time.
--------
Bai Liu escorted Tang Erda out of the room, and they chatted as they walked down the street.
"I'm curious," Bai Liu said, glancing sideways at Tang Erda. "You must have reported Georgia's betrayal to the Heretic Council as soon as you found out. What did they do with him?"
Tang Erda shrugged, pulling on his jacket as he turned around. "First, Georgia was stripped of his position. Then, they launched an investigation into the reasons behind his defection—but by the time the investigation started, he had already gone rogue."
"There were two main theories within the Heretic Authority at the time. The first suggested that Georgia had been contaminated by some kind of heresy through Bai Six and had suffered spiritual corruption, making him fall under Bai Six's control."
"But that theory didn't explain everything—especially the fact that Georgia revealed the location of the secret stronghold to Bai Six. Even if he had lost his mind, Bai Six wouldn't have been able to extract that information unless Georgia trusted him completely. No amount of insanity alone could have accounted for such an action."
Tang Erda hesitated for a moment, his expression twisting slightly. "Then there was another theory... Some speculated that Georgia had developed feelings for you. That, due to a Stockholm Syndrome effect, he fell in love with you—and that's why you had complete control over him."
Bai Liu raised an eyebrow. "District 1 is surprisingly gossipy."
"It's not gossip," Tang Erda argued stiffly. "To uncover the truth, we had to consider every angle." Then, after a brief pause, he added in a more subdued tone, "Another reason why that theory gained traction was... Georgia often had unexplained whip marks on his body. And your—well, Bai Six's—weapon just so happened to be a long whip."
Bai Liu: "..."
Had he really played that rough in other timelines?