Chapter 34

When he came out of the game room again, Horne was already asleep. Hels carried him on his back as they passed through the momentarily silent Red Light District. The madmen didn’t dare speak and simply made way for them.

Hels placed Horne on the bed in the bedroom, drew the curtains to block out the sunlight from outside, and turned on the aromatherapy machine, allowing the woody scent to slowly diffuse.

Horne slept soundly, his chest rising and falling slowly. Perhaps he could have a peaceful dream this time.

Hels squatted by the bedside, his gaze slowly tracing Horne’s features.

A hundred years later, this was the first time he had seen him so unguarded, so familiar.

Hels squatted there for a long time, until his legs went numb. He then half-knelt, rested his crossed arms on the edge of the bed, and placed his chin on them, simply watching. Even in the dim light, even though the sleeping man’s face was blurred.

It was too quiet, so quiet that he could hear their intertwined heartbeats and entangled breaths.

Hels tilted his head, reached out a hand, wanting to touch Horne’s face. His fingertip paused just one millimeter away, unable to advance further, only feeling the alternating cool and warm breezes brushing over his skin. He feared that this touch would disturb the other’s good dream. His fingertip hovered in the air for just a few seconds before slowly curling back and withdrawing.

The most tragic outcast only possessed some memories or illusions. He just hoped this time it wouldn’t turn into a memory, nor remain an illusion.

A long time later, Hels stood up, tucked in the blanket for him, gently closed the door, and left.

In the darkness, Horne opened his eyes.

He had never paid attention to the positioning function in the terminal’s private channel before. Now, when he opened it, he discovered he could clearly see Hels’s location—the red dot kept moving on the map.

In the time that followed, Hels’s position hardly changed— the northern slum.

When he went to Hels’s room, although he was quite drunk, his basic bodily functions were still intact. When he leaned into the other’s arms, he seemed unsteady on his feet, but at that moment, he was deliberately observing the room.

There were few daily necessities. Apart from the essential sofa and table, there were no decorative items. Even the potted plant he had noticed last time was an everlasting one that required no care. The most valuable item on the table was that photo frame, which Hels had explained last time was of his mother.

He couldn’t see the bathroom, but he could see the bedroom. The bedding was new, and the half-open wardrobe was empty. If there were clothes hanging in his blind spot, there probably weren’t many.

Hels didn’t live here. He had only come to stay temporarily after Horne arrived.

He had another regular place.

If the Tower detected that Hels had gone outside the city, combined with what Han Ya had said, there must be some place outside the city that he frequented. He was just too vigilant and had only been caught by the Tower once over a long period, but once was enough.

Now, the other had a place he went to for an entire afternoon, which was very likely somewhere he visited often. Either it was where he usually lived, or it was related to the matter the Tower was investigating.

But after confirming the position of that red dot several times, Horne believed it was a location related to the matter the Tower was investigating.

It was obvious that Hels couldn’t possibly live in the slum, but he and Wang Wudao should know each other, and their relationship was not shallow.

If that was the case, then when Wang Wudao first brought him to the Red Light District, the purpose was to lead him to Hels, not to earn those five thousand bucks.

Speaking of five thousand…

Horne’s train of thought was interrupted as he stood straight in the alley, facing the person intercepting him again, his face as cold as frost.

“What method did you use to attract Hels so quickly?” Ais smiled brightly. “The night before last, I saw him carrying you on his back. Wow, after so many years, it was also the first time I’d seen such a scene. It was rare; the humans nearby were all stunned.”

Horne said coldly, “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, oh, of course it has nothing to do with me. I only care about the progress.” Ais clapped his hands, applauding Horne.

Horne’s face remained expressionless. “He might trust me somewhat, but whether he truly trusts me, I can’t guarantee. I only know roughly what to do to make him happy. I just had a lead. If you weren’t blocking me right now, my progress would be faster.”

Ais’s gaze followed several recon drones drifting by until they were far away, landing on the people across the street who had started arguing for some reason. He watched the spectacle for two seconds like it was a show, sneered, and then turned his gaze back to Horne.

“Since you brought this up, I’m not here to block you. I’m here to make you speed up.” As he spoke, he pulled out a small ball from his clothes, opened it, and inside was something blurry and bundled.

He gently took it out and unfolded it in front of Horne, smiling as he said, “What do you think this is?”

The moment Horne looked over, his scalp exploded. He held his breath, feeling suffocated.

It was a not-too-large piece of human skin, bloody and mangled.

Ais said, “The back was the place where I could find the most intact section. But don’t worry, I’m doing well. I found a doctor to apply medicine for her. After all, I don’t want her to actually die. Though saying that makes me think—cutting off a piece of skin probably wouldn’t kill her, right?”

Horne’s face turned ashen. His clenched fist nearly swung out.

“Don’t push your luck,” Horne said through gritted teeth.

Ais felt it was no big deal and shrugged indifferently. “I told you that day what I would do. No problem, it’s just a superficial wound. It’ll heal after some rest. Tomorrow… oh, tomorrow it might not be just that.”

Horne’s hand trembled, his muscles spasming—he was exerting extreme self-restraint.

“The kind Horne—is it that you’re suddenly regretting saving me back then? Or do you want to rush to the Tower right now to rescue that little girl? What to do? You can’t. The Tower has thousands upon thousands of aliens. With just one command from me, you’d be torn to shreds in an instant. You can only obediently continue your mission.”

The more Ais spoke, the more Horne shifted from uncontrollable to numb, gradually calming down.

Inferior species were like this.

As for regretting the past—it was regret, but he regretted not protecting the important people well, not that he regretted once having a kind heart.

Horne took slow, deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. His icy eyes glanced at Ais, and he said indifferently, “Provoking me is useless. I’ll still proceed according to plan. Now you can get lost and stop blocking me.”

Ais smiled and made way for him.

Horne brushed past him. After two steps, he stopped and said coldly, “I’ve made an appointment with Hels to go handle some business tomorrow. I don’t want to alert him prematurely. The day after tomorrow—he said he has to go out then and wouldn’t tell me where. I’ll follow him then. If that still doesn’t work, I’ll find an opportunity to kill him. Before that, if you touch Ains again, even if I die, I’ll take you with me.”

With that, he left.

The slum was the same as last time—filthy and degenerate.

Horne stood on the yellow earth, frowning slightly. That sour stench had never dissipated. It was impossible to tell if it came from these ragged-clothed people or if the air here was thoroughly tainted.

Wang Wudao wasn’t there.

Horne looked around. There were two more tents than last time. Even from a distance, he could see the bugs clinging to some of them. Nearby, there were a few flower beds with foul-smelling flowers and rotten benches.

Several dilapidated two- or three-story buildings surrounded the open space, their outer walls peeling and mottled. Some had wooden boards nailed over the windows, blocking the view inside; others had no windows at all, revealing the pitch-black decay within.

They were all shaky, empty abandoned buildings on the verge of collapse.

A group of vagrants had gathered together, shouting something. Soon, they started fighting, with screams and cheers erupting simultaneously.

Horne took a few steps back, not wanting to breathe in the air here.

He opened the terminal. Hels’s positioning red dot was still here, but he didn’t see anyone.

Horne sent a message: [Where are you? What are you doing?]

He stood for a moment, then turned and leaned gently against a flower bed, his gaze still sweeping back and forth over this small area.

It was very open here, all visible at a glance. If he expanded the scope of suspicion…

Two hundred meters away was the North City Gate. That gate was the same as in his memories, the same as in the game—towering high, blocking any view of the outside, even the sky.

They were like giant frogs at the bottom of a well.

Horne turned his head away, not looking at it. It would bring back many painful memories, but he couldn’t sink into that sorrow and pain now.

The reply came quickly.

Hels: [Checking up on me?]

Horne: ……

Horne replied expressionlessly with “No.”

He was used to it. It would be strange if Hels answered properly.

A burst of manic laughter came from the other side, the sound tearing at his throat. Horne looked up.

A vagrant was laughing miserably. He clutched something in his arms and dashed madly from one end of the tents to the other, shouting all the while, “It’s mine now! All mine!”

Behind him, a limping vagrant cried out in a sobbing voice, “Give it back! Please give it back! That’s my last memento!”

“No way! I’m gonna sell it! Buy some food, hahaha!”

His rasping voice sounded like it had a venomous snake stuck in it.

The pursuing vagrant was disabled and couldn’t catch up. The thief would run a stretch, stop to wait for him, then bolt again just as he neared. They circled the open space twice, mockery and sobs echoing.

Horne frowned and stood up.

Hels’s message arrived: [Since it’s not, then I can choose not to answer.]

Horne: ……

How could someone force others to check up on him?

Horne: [I think the phrasing ‘checking up’ might offend you.]

Hels: [So you want to check up on me?]

Horne: [……Yeah.]

The disabled vagrant began to wail. Horne closed the terminal and walked over expressionlessly.

The vagrant sat in the center of the open space, howling loudly. His fists pounded the ground with heavy thuds, kicking up dirt. After hammering the ground, he started pounding his own leg, filled with intense hatred and unwillingness.

The other vagrants watched, snickering a few words before going about their own business. The culprit sat not far away, inspecting his stolen item.

“Give it back! That’s our family’s last photo together,” the vagrant shouted.

It was a pocket watch, seemingly passed down through generations. The thief held it in his palm, looking at it repeatedly with dark glee. He wiped the copper surface with his filthy clothes, only making it dirtier.

Footsteps gradually approached. A shadow covered the sunlight shining on him. Horne’s boot kicked up some mud as he expressionlessly kicked the man and said coldly, “Give it back to him.”

He breathed as little as possible, but the sour stench still made him frown slightly. Perhaps everyone here bathed only once every few months or even a year; the smell was too overpowering to ignore.

The kicked man looked up blankly, saw an unfamiliar face, and became even more puzzled. After a moment, he came to his senses, climbed up from the ground, patted the dirt off himself, and shook off a pile of yellow-black stains.

He circled Horne curiously, smirking as he said, “This is fresh. Someone’s actually meddling in our affairs.”

He tossed the pocket watch into the air and caught it, treating it like a worthless toy. He snorted through his nostrils and tilted his head up. “I can give it back, but what will you trade for it?”

“What do you want?” Horne asked.

“Me? Well…” The vagrant thought for a moment, stroking his chin. His gaze roamed Horne from head to toe again. As if suddenly remembering something, his eyes lit up, and he asked doubtfully, “Hey? I think I’ve seen you before…”