Chapter 77 Part 2

“See, you can’t make choices for others. And you need to know, if many people are willing to fuse? If—if Hels dies tomorrow, would you gamble on that possibility?”

Hels’s brows shot up, and he scoffed. “Using me as an example? So vicious?”

Ben Yian really did not want to use Hels as an example—it undoubtedly acknowledged Hels’s place in Horne’s heart—but he had no choice. Perhaps this was a curse.

Horne remained silent. He was uncertain. If Hels vanished before his eyes tomorrow, could he still calmly say he did not need xenomorph particles to repair Hels’s life, even for one more day.

Ben Yian’s throat trembled slightly. He said, “Little Horne, I know what you’re thinking, but what you envision is too far ahead. Ordinary people can only see the present, the now—do you understand? The now!”

Who cared about those uncertain futures.

His voice carried thick sorrow and despair. He forced out the words with great effort. “I really, really want to save her. Really, really want to! I-I…”

He choked up.

And now, for Horne, for their friendship, to avoid a guilty conscience, he endured emotional torment. He had to watch Horne and Hels’s intimate interactions, watch Ben Mu fade silently. They had only gone to steal data, but on this trip, he had personally sent his sister to her final guillotine. The moment Hels demanded Wen Yu burn the laboratory, what turned to ashes was not just the lab.

He endured it for a long time, his whole body trembling, his vicious gaze fixed straight on Hels.

It was all because of this man.

He hated him so much that his teeth ground together uncontrollably, unable to close.

Hels noticed it too, but he maintained an indifferent expression, focusing only on whether the pressure he applied while massaging Horne was right, whether it could help Horne relax. In between, he glanced at Ben Yian and said coldly, “Why are you staring at me? This is your business, your choice. It has nothing to do with me, and don’t go crazy here and take it out on Horne.”

Horne’s hand patted Hels’s thigh lightly from below, signaling him not to speak that way.

“I’m going crazy?” Ben Yian’s taut muscles twitched almost uncontrollably.

Why was it always this guy? Why did he have to compete with him for everything?

Ben Yian slowly stood up from the sofa, dragging his heavy steps toward Hels one by one. As he moved, the other three pairs of eyes focused entirely on him.

One step, then another, slowly approaching. If one listened closely, the sound of chains echoed through the living room; with every step he took, the metal chains clanged.

He drew closer and closer—no one knew what he intended to do. Horne straightened his back and said softly, “Relax a bit.”

Those words touched some nerve. Ben Yian suddenly exploded in rage. “How am I supposed to relax? Tell me, how?!” His hatred for Hels turned toward Horne as well. He began breathing heavily, staring fixedly at the two sitting together, then staggered forward another step. His pupils trembled, unable to focus, his hands raised in midair. “The lab was burned down! Burned down, do you know that?! What about Ben Mu? What about me?!”

It was an angry roar, nearly a sob.

Why do things beyond the plan? If he had known the end result would be destruction, he wouldn’t have joined in. He only wanted to copy the data, to leave a path for himself and his friends, not to cut off his own road.

He had never spoken to Horne in such a tone before. For a moment, Horne was speechless, only staring blankly at Ben Yian and his out-of-control state.

Han Ya and Wen Yu exchanged a glance. Han Ya wanted to speak, but Wen Yu shook her head at him.

Hels snorted lightly, his hands never stopping as he said casually, “If it hadn’t been burned, how were you going to escape right then? The bloodstains in the lab would definitely lead back to Horne; the security guards’ deaths could easily be pinned on who did it. Since the aliens agreed to get us out right then, we could escape. Destroying the lab and the bodies to erase the traces was the best way.”

“Security guards? Weren’t you the one who killed them? Wasn’t Horne injured because you’re useless?!” Ben Yian lashed out repeatedly, digging up old grievances without any restraint, his eyes bloodshot. He had reached the sofa where Horne sat, looming over them. “You’ve always caused trouble for Horne. From the day you showed up eight years ago, how many times have you harmed him? Do you even remember? Want me to count for you? How do you have the face to stay by his side?”

No one spoke. Ben Yian roared at him again. “Horne, it’s always about Horne. What about me?! Did you ever give me a choice?!”

After the roar came thick regret. He realized he couldn’t place himself in an important position. For Hels, everything started and ended with Horne. In that moment, no one had considered him at all.

He had always handled the logistics for others, yet no one ever considered his escape route.

The air grew so heavy it was suffocating. Ben Yian struggled to breathe.

After receiving only silence in response, he felt that his ranting and raving really made him look like a madman.

He forced himself to calm down.

Amid this storm of sharp barbs, Hels finally stopped his movements, released Horne, got off the sofa, stood up, and faced Ben Yian directly.

He was a bit taller than Ben Yian, and standing before him, he pressed down even harder, filling the other with shame and anger.

Hels shed his casual home demeanor and switched to the cold, almost inhuman state he used with outsiders. He took a step forward, forcing Ben Yian to retreat. He narrowed his eyes at Ben Yian, then snorted and said, “You’re like a little baby.”

Only a little baby unconditionally demands from its mother and is allowed to. But some people carry that state through their whole lives, demanding from others, thinking it’s natural for others to consider them and follow their logic.

Ben Yian’s face paled, sweat dripping from his temple, his fists clenched and ready to fly.

Hels crossed his arms over his chest, his expression cold. “The choices were all your own.”

“Did I have a choice?” Ben Yian lowered his voice.

“Why not?” Hels wanted to laugh but couldn’t be bothered to at Ben Yian. “Tell me, what is the essence of choice?”

It was seeking benefit and avoiding harm, meeting the greatest immediate or future need. Ben Yian didn’t voice the answer in his heart.

Hels didn’t wait for Ben Yian’s response anyway. He said directly, “The essence is trade-offs…”

“No, more precisely, the essence of choice is abandonment.” He added, then took another step forward, forcing Ben Yian back toward the corner. “People need the courage to abandon things. People can only restrain themselves to what they can achieve. Wanting everything leads to getting nothing.”

“Hels!” Horne frowned and called out, his eyes signaling toward the stairs. “Go upstairs!”

Hels stepped back, finally giving some space to the brewing storm. He shrugged, then smirked. “See? I wanted to keep going, but Horne’s stopping me. I want to listen to him, so I have to abandon attacking you.”

With that, he sat back on the arm of Horne’s sofa, leaning lazily, no longer targeting Ben Yian but not going upstairs either.

Ben Yian stood in the corner, his back soaked with sweat.

Han Ya immediately stepped forward, pulled him to the sofa, and sat him down. “Calm down, calm down. Don’t listen to his nonsense. I’ll help you sort out that brat later.” He glared at Hels as he finished.

To ease the atmosphere, Wen Yu thought for a moment and said mildly, “You went to see Woody today. Did he say anything?”

Mentioning Woody gave Ben Yian a lifeline amid the chaos. He nodded slightly.

When he learned the government still had backup plans for the lab, he had rushed to find Woody almost immediately. They were still in a meeting. It was possible—very possible—they had a second plan. Maybe the experiment could continue, and Ben Mu could still be saved.

As Hels had said, he was greedy, wanting a perfect solution that satisfied everyone.

His sister could come back to life, without betraying Horne. And even—Horne could be pulled from Hels’s arms. After all, he was the one who had come first.

Ben Yian bit his lip, his face turning deathly pale. No one would understand his feelings. He was on the verge of collapse.

Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2 in E-flat major looped through the record’s grooves, its nineteenth-century poetry dancing to the living room’s silence, leaping to the center of the coffee table amid the moonlight spilling in from the window, slowly twirling and soaring.

Three hundred years ago, when Chopin composed this piano piece, did that era also hold unspeakable despair?

After a long while, Horne said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Ben Yian felt a fierce fire burn in his heart.

He was different from Horne. Horne was a light himself, destined to clash with darkness. But he sought breath in the darkness by burning himself out completely, paying with his life.

“You don’t need to say sorry to me,” Ben Yian took a deep breath, his voice hoarse. “It’s not your fault. I know—you had no choice either.”

Ben Yian glanced at the time again, swallowed the unwillingness stuck in his throat, and stood up. “I don’t know if the government side has any word. I’m going to find Woody now. If there’s any news, I’ll let you know.”

With that, he walked straight to the door. When it opened, biting cold wind surged in, the curtains billowed, and his powerless silhouette stood in the doorway. His voice carried in on the wind.

“Hels, I’ll remember what you said today.”

The nocturne turned into a waltz, its lively melody swirling with the momentary gust, drifting out the door, rising into the air, heading toward distant years.

The door closed, and everything returned to calm.

Horne asked Han Ya when they would return to the new base tomorrow.

Wen Yu said first thing in the morning—they needed to check personally what the disturbance at the Obelisk was about, worried it was related to their Gray Building operation this time.

Horne thought for a moment and said gravely, “Mm, stay in touch.”

The conversation ended there.

Horne felt tired, his wound throbbing uncontrollably, as if someone were plucking at his nerves. After the others left, he leaned back, sinking deep into the sofa, enveloped in soft blackness, closed his eyes, and didn’t want to move anymore.

The temperature had been a bit high earlier, but with the cooling atmosphere, it finally settled to a comfortable level. A warm lamp hung there, the music still played, and time kept rewinding.

The two sat silently in the living room for a long time.

“If…” Horne suddenly spoke, eyes still closed, letting imagined scenes run wild in his mind. “If we could go back to Earth a hundred years ago, that would be good. Even if it was fake.”

He had heard that in that world, people only needed to think about what to eat tonight, what movie to watch tomorrow, what book to read next, how to handle exams, what tasks the boss assigned, who got together or broke up…

Daytime crowds bustling to and fro, neon lights flashing through the night.

Verdant mountains and rivers, flowers, insects, birds, beasts, stars in brilliant array.

But now, Horne opened his eyes, peering through the hanging curtains, through the closed windows, seeing only the eternal snowfield outside.

All colors gradually faded into pure white, humanity’s vibrant life force turning into solitary silhouettes in the flow of time.

“I’m sorry,” Hels apologized.

“Hm?”