Chapter 107

The sky over the miniature city had completely darkened, and the two prepared to head back. Hels asked Horne whether he wanted to stay in the Thunder Pavilion for the next couple of days or return to the top floor of the Red Light District.

Horne said the top floor. Since he had some temporary free time, he could fight in a few more arena matches in the Red Light District in addition to practicing his shooting and pay off the debts he owed from before.

“You’ve matured a lot more than before,” Horne said slowly. The stiffness and indifference in his voice had finally completely eased after Wang Wudao left an hour earlier.

The two walked from the living area toward the descending platform and slowly ascended. The blue-gold dome illuminated the entire Thunder Pavilion day and night. This was right around the time when the researchers got off work, and they were leaving the Thunder Pavilion to return to Loch City and resume their roles as degenerate, unemployed vagrants who indulged in games every day.

There were quite a few people, crowded on the descending platform. The two stood at the edge. Someone in between recognized Horne. After greeting Hels, he also respectfully addressed Horne as “Colonel Horne.”

“Mm.” Horne nodded to him without any further gesture.

“Just ‘more’?” Hels repeated what Horne had said before they reached the upper platform. He was still coughing, but it didn’t affect his train of thought. He roughly calculated, “If we go by the twelve years I’ve lived alone, we’re the same age now.”

Horne nodded lightly, his gaze shifting to higher floors along with the platform’s ascent. People kept boarding, and their position moved increasingly toward the corner.

It was very crowded. They were at the very back, pressed tightly against each other, the warmth clearly transmitting through their clothes.

Horne suddenly turned his head and said softly, “Thanks.”

“Hm?”

They reached the resident level, and the crowd gradually dispersed until the two finally stepped out from the back. They walked side by side, extremely close.

“I’ve always wanted to say it to you, but only now had the chance,” Horne spoke very slowly, his voice so soft in the crowded hall that Hels had to listen carefully to hear it. “Back then, I was very guarded. I didn’t know where this was, who was around, what had happened, or why so much time had passed. I knew nothing, not even the reason why I was so guarded against others.”

Horne said, “Thanks for making me believe in you.”

If he couldn’t find anyone else to trust, then trust the one who believed in him. Now, as Horne recalled those words, ripples spread across his heart like on a lake surface. In this entirely unfamiliar world, he had indeed been afraid.

“Oh, you taught me that,” Hels said nonchalantly, as if doing such things was innate to him. He turned and walked backward a few steps, winking at Horne as he enunciated each word, “Stay pure.”

“But actually, I regretted it too.” He turned back around to walk side by side with Horne again.

“Regretted what?”

“In the past few months, when I realized you couldn’t remember things from before, I thought it might be a relief for you, so I wanted to stop you from remembering. The more I tried to control it, the more it spiraled out of control.” Thinking back, Hels felt helpless. “I had my own selfish reasons. I was too immature. When I saw that you weren’t as unable to bear it as I thought, I realized I’d seen you as too fragile.”

The doors opened, light strips unfurled, and a new platform appeared. The two stepped onto it, the cabin sealed shut, and the sound of wind gradually rose.

“No, you were fine,” Horne said flatly, the content gentle, but then he pivoted sharply, “Except when you were arguing with Han Ya—you were childish.”

Hels: “…”

Hels said, “We were having a nice chat. Why bring him up?”

“You see.” Horne smiled imperceptibly.

Hels snorted and decided to skip the topic. He said, “Over these years, I’ve learned some things too. Want to hear?”

His voice echoed in the dark ascending cabin. At that moment, they were heading from the Thunder Pavilion back to the holographic game room.

“Mm.”

With his permission, Hels began, “I remember you all used to say to hold onto one’s own heart, but I think the heart isn’t meant to be guarded—it’s meant to be trusted. You have to hold firm to your trust, not waver or overturn it the moment something terrible happens or you meet bad people. That’s not trust; that’s taking a shortcut. But true faith has no shortcuts. Even if you pushed me away, I was certain I wouldn’t take another path.”

Hels spoke lightly and slowly. In the black, enclosed space, amid the mechanical hum, each word hammered heavily into Horne’s ears.

He didn’t care if Horne had amnesia, if he acknowledged it, or if he agreed. He only knew that once he had conviction, he would follow it unswervingly, never looking back.

“I know,” Horne said, his head slightly lowered as he thought of those years and the people he had trusted back then. “Vigilance doesn’t reduce harm. What it reduces is the love in one’s heart. But at that time…” His last few words came out a bit rushed.

He couldn’t accept that betrayal. It felt like all his convictions were destroyed. No one could save him—not even himself.

“Please lie down within the cabin area. Please lie down within the cabin area.” The overhead machinery issued a reminder—they were almost there. The two lay down, pressed tightly together.

Skin touched, breaths intertwined. Horne went rigid all over, not daring to move. In the darkness, Hels lightly tapped Horne’s skin with his fingertip. “I’ve always been here.”

Were you there back then too? Horne closed his eyes. In his ears rang his own screams from back then, along with the sound of smashing glass inside the Control Tower.

If he had been there, had he witnessed everything that day?

The space gradually compressed, the mechanical sounds lost their echo, drawing closer to the ground. The air grew heavier.

The time with sealed senses stretched infinitely. Horne thought of many things. Finally, he suppressed the lump in his throat and asked, “What happened to him later?”

He didn’t say the name, couldn’t even utter it. Hels answered directly, “He died. I killed him.”

The past wasn’t revisited. Familiar green gas surged, then dissipated. The transparent glass slowly rose, and they stepped out of the Game Pod. The space suddenly expanded.

Moist air hit their faces, humid and stuffy, like soil about to overflow with water, mixed with the sweet, rotten scent of decaying leaves.

It was about to rain. Loch City had been like this for days, ever since they escaped the illusion. This smothered feeling on skin and breath was uncomfortable.

They had finally returned to this familiar place, but this time as they emerged, the outside was extremely noisy.

“No more deducting my money! If you deduct anymore, I’ll kill you all!” a man bellowed near-madly.

“Me too!”

The two had just stepped out when they ran into chaos. A man held a gun, pointing it at everyone around in turn. “Why do I always lose? Let me win! Let me win!” Beside him were six or seven others, huddled together, dissatisfied at losing again in the holographic game.

Security hadn’t arrived yet, and the staff didn’t dare move, only trying to explain, “This is based on…”

“Thud!” A table was smashed hard, and a gun pressed against the staff member’s forehead.

“Operate it now and cancel our penalties! Or else—”

His bloodshot eyes glared viciously at the people before him, finger on the trigger, nerves stretched to the limit, as if he’d pull it any second.

Anger mixed with distant rust, dust, or the acrid smell before a hot water pipe burst.

“Why do we always lose in a game? Change our data from the backend so we won’t lose anymore!”

The staff member shrank back a step, still trying to explain, “This is the Red Light District. If…”

“Boom—” A muffled thunder exploded outside, accompanied by a “bang” of a gunshot. Silence fell instantly.

Hels emerged from the shadows of the game room, leisurely holstering his gun. Horne followed behind, expressionless.

The people outside saw this completely unexpected figure appear and immediately fell silent in fear.

“Mr. Hels.” The staff member kept his head lowered as he spoke, then cautiously glanced at Horne.

Hels’s shoes stepped through the blood, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. He passed by these people as if merely happening by.

One of them trembled and raised his hand, hurriedly distancing himself. “Mr. Hels, it, it was this guy who wanted us to do it together.”

He pointed at the man writhing in agony on the ground.

Hels said nothing and didn’t even glance at them.

Horne calmly followed him out, leaving the blood and fear behind.

The wind outside howled like cries. Gloomy clouds hung at the treetops, watching the city’s every move, but they couldn’t drown out the wild joy and sorrow blaring from the Red Light District. Multicolored lights flowed, blood-red walls shifted hues, people laughed or raged.

The elevator doors closed, sealing away the suffocation. The elevator ascended steadily. This little interlude interrupted their conversation, and for a while, no one spoke.

A long time later, Hels’s voice finally sounded in the enclosed space. “Are you thinking I shouldn’t have fired?”

The elevator reached the top floor, footsteps swiftly vanishing into the thick carpet. The two still walked side by side.

Horne didn’t speak.

Hels didn’t think much of it. “Colonel, this is where we differ. You used to say to leave some leeway for comrades. I don’t think so.”

The events of that year were still etched in his mind. Recalling how Horne had subdued him back then—leaving him speechless and unable to meet his eyes—Hels remembered the feeling well. But those ideas from back then, Hels had long overturned and rebuilt, forging his own path.

Horne nodded. “So what do you think?”

Hels spoke, his voice low and gentle. “I think you’re too kind. At root, it’s a lack of trust—not trusting that being ruthless to those who deserve it is part of true kindness. Self-proclaimed kindness can make the world more chaotic. As for who deserves what, it depends on whether you yourself are clear-headed. What do you think?”

Horne reached the door. The Resident Chip scanned to unlock it. The moment the door opened, a woody scent wafted out. His hand gripped the handle, coolness transmitting from his fingertips. Horne pushed the door open, stepped inside two paces, then stopped—unable to go further or retreat.

After a long moment, he turned his back to Hels and replied with one word. “Mm.”

He quickly added, “I’m not questioning you. I know you didn’t intend to kill him.”

The bullet had pierced the man’s calf. From the arc of the bullet’s path, it had just grazed half his skin—a mere warning.

He didn’t question Hels’s actions or thoughts. He was just used to this man speaking to him gently and couldn’t imagine how ruthless his current coldness carried. He had forgotten that this person was never truly meek.

“Alright, Colonel. Thanks for understanding.”

The hallway was quiet. Hels leaned against the wall, eyes always holding a smile. He stood there at the doorway, letting the corridor’s cold light fall on him, half his expression shrouded in shadow.

Seeing no follow-up from Horne for a long time, he pointed inside the room. “Not going in? What are you waiting for?”

At those words, Horne’s brows furrowed slightly, his hand unconsciously clenching.

Ever since he woke up a few months ago, they had never had such unguarded, relaxed time together. Though this ease was merely the thick clouds before a storm—fleeting and laced with blood.

Where the future lay, he didn’t know. Nor did he know when this “reality” illusion would dissipate. When Hels vanished from before his eyes, he had truly thought it better if it were himself who disappeared instead. But reality didn’t allow it.

Now this man finally stood before him again, unscathed.

He wanted to get closer. Closer still.

“What do you think I’m waiting for?” Horne said flatly.

Hels pretended not to understand, feigning distress along Horne’s words. “The Colonel’s thoughts—I have to guess carefully…”

“Hels.” Horne cut off his teasing. He turned to face Hels, tilting his head up slightly to reveal his icy gaze.

“Mm?”

“Come closer.”

Hels complied, taking just one step forward. Before he steadied himself, Horne grabbed his collar and shoved him back two steps with his elbow. “Bang!” His back hit the door.

Hels was completely undefended, the impact hurting his back. Surprise flashed across his face. He couldn’t hold back two coughs, then laughed. Lowering his lashes, in the extremely close gap, his tone blended gentleness and ferocity. “Wow, Colonel, too fierce, huh? I suggest, next time you want to attack me…”

He didn’t finish. His breath stopped entirely.

It was nine o’clock at night. The Red Light District buzzed at its peak. Lights from the top floor filtered through the long corridor, drawing hot emotions into the deep night.

Horne leaned up, extremely light and shallow, landing on the corner of his lips. A kiss.

Just half a second.

“Thump!” His heartbeat struck like a heavy hammer, smashing into the black hole of fate.

By the time Hels reacted, he had been pushed into the corridor. He stood stunned for nearly ten minutes, staring fixedly at the door that had already closed tightly before him.

Horne leaned against the door from the inside, hair falling to obscure his expression. One hand clutched his chest, waiting for the frantic heartbeat to subside.

“Thump thump, thump thump.”