Chapter 80

Outside the window stretched a suffocating black haze, while the bedside lamp glowed inside. Music drifted slowly from downstairs, mingled with the soothing scent of wooden incense, creating a warm and poetic atmosphere.

Horne was in the bedroom on the second floor, having been on a terminal call for nearly half an hour. Hels did not want to disturb him, so he stayed alone in the living room downstairs. Irritated voices occasionally drifted down from upstairs.

“You think the Military District matters? What is this now? Notifying me… Don’t mention them to me! Even if they were still around, they wouldn’t agree.

“Why can’t I do anything about it? Not that many people truly believe fusion can cure diseases, can grant eternal life.

“What do you mean by the first potentially successful test subject?”

After half an hour of fruitless arguing, Horne only felt a stuffiness in his chest. After finding the information on the Gray Building’s top floor, he knew they had already conducted experiments on a large number of human subjects, but complete particle fusion had not succeeded. Now they had found willing live subjects and were notifying him without restraint—though he did not need to know in the first place. The Ganal government simply believed that, to prevent possible abnormal mutations, the Military District’s higher-ups needed to be informed and remain on alert at all times.

With the Aliens gathering, they were still thinking about their experiments.

Terminal messages kept coming one after another, all about coordinating and deploying for the next large-scale invasion that might occur, with nonstop communication from Bai Yin in the Air Force Zone. Before he could finish handling one side, another call came in.

Horne said in a deep voice, “I know the location of their research institute and the time of the next experiment. They’re demanding the City Defense District maintain security.”

You Wangwang on the other end of the terminal told him to focus on the invasion alerts for the new base. The most important thing right now was preventing a widespread Alien offensive, not wasting effort opposing Ganal.

“Perhaps they want to complete the experiment while we’re busy defending against external enemies and have no attention to spare for them.” Horne voiced his guess directly, then clenched his fist. “This experiment cannot proceed. I won’t let them succeed.”

A frantic pounding on the door came from downstairs. Horne figured it was Hels down there, so he rubbed his temples and ignored it. You Wangwang’s voice continued in his ear, Bai Yin’s messages kept popping up on the terminal, and Ganal’s words echoed in his mind. Voices swirled from all directions, overlapping and replaying, giving him a splitting headache.

At the same time, downstairs, a thick smell of alcohol mixed with cold wind burst in from outside the door.

As soon as Hels opened the door, he saw Ben Yian staggering drunk. Before he could react, a heavy fist slammed into his face, knocking him to the ground. What followed was furious cursing and beating as Ben Yian pounced, pinning him down hard.

Hels instinctively gripped Ben Yian’s wrists tightly, shoving him back, then lifted his leg and kicked him away.

Ben Yian staggered two steps before lunging again, slamming Hels against the wall. He grabbed Hels’s collar, his flushed face pressing close, eyes red like a wild beast’s. Gritting his teeth, he snarled viciously, “What the hell did you do?”

He thought of the words he had heard at the city gate the day before, the surveillance footage Woody had shown him. His hatred would not subside; it could not be quelled at all.

The thick stench of alcohol hit him full force. Hels felt his carotid artery throbbing wildly, blood flow stalled by the chokehold. Not knowing what madness had seized Ben Yian—and not wanting to know—his arm veins bulged as he pried at Ben Yian’s iron grip, barely avoiding suffocation.

Ben Yian might have wanted to kill him.

“What did I do?” Hels squeezed the words out through clenched teeth. He raised his knee, kicking the other man away again, and gasped for air fiercely.

Horne’s voice drifted faintly from upstairs: “If I don’t do it, who will?”

Another brutal punch landed. Hels fought back fiercely without holding back, and the two immediately grappled in a chaotic brawl in the living room.

“You bastard, why? Why?!” Ben Yian threw a punch with almost every word, his drunken state stripping away all reason.

On the roof, the scene of Hels holding Horne had struck him like thunder. Even though the image was blurry, he could see Horne’s eyes closed in complete, unguarded trust. He did not understand—how could Hels?

“Why do you think you can steal him from me? I’m asking you, why?” Ben Yian was on the verge of madness, veins densely crawling up his neck.

Horne’s footsteps paced ceaselessly upstairs, his voice suppressing his emotions: “Because I’m just one person! I don’t represent the military, or the colonel—I’m just one person!”

Blood trickled from Hels’s mouth. He shoved Ben Yian against the door with a bang, then punched him mercilessly in the face.

After being hit and questioned so many times, Hels understood what Ben Yian was on about. He just found this sudden outburst baffling, but he did not want to clash with him over it right now. With venom, he said, “I don’t need to steal him from you. He was never yours to begin with. You’d better never think…”

Before he finished, Ben Yian broke free, turning defense into offense. He pinned Hels to the ground, hands clamping his neck with all his strength.

Hels could barely breathe, his face turning ashen, air draining from his lungs bit by bit. Ben Yian poured every ounce of power into it, utterly irrational, gritting his teeth: “Never think? Wait until you’re dead, then tell me what I’ll never think!”

“Never…” Hels choked out, unable to speak.

“Never think you can get past me.” Horne said coldly. He ended the call with You Wangwang, collapsed powerlessly onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut as if a mountain weighed on him. Only after a long time did he take a deep breath, slowly exhaling, then resume communication with Bai Yin.

Bai Yin: [Air Force at one kilometer, A Zone Control Tower in charge.]

Horne: [Mm.]

Bai Yin: [?]

Bai Yin: [Hero Colonel, not a good time to zone out, is it?]

Pa!

Horne had not replied yet, his attention diverted. What was that sound just now? It came from downstairs. He rolled out of bed.

Ben Yian slid down the wall to sit on the floor, chest heaving violently, staring at the man lying motionless a meter away. Beside him lay only the wreckage of a chair.

“Hels?” he called, voice trembling.

The man on the ground did not respond. In that instant, the alcohol cleared from his system, and fear surged through him anew.

This was the scene Horne saw when he came down.

Blood on the floor, chair fragments, messy footprints, clothes torn in disarray.

His breath caught, and he froze on the stairs. Then he rushed down three steps at a time, hurrying to Hels’s side and half-kneeling. Incredulous, he looked at Ben Yian: “What are you doing?”

Ben Yian did not know how to explain, his face flushed, sweat pouring down.

He did not know. He had truly wanted to kill Hels, but if he had really done it, there would be no turning back.

“Hels, Hels?” Horne called urgently and softly. The man on the ground did not react. He pushed Hels lightly and immediately felt warm wetness in his palm. Looking down, it was a hand full of blood.

Ambulance. In near panic, as Horne connected the terminal call, he suddenly felt fingers against his leg twitch—light and quick taps.

— I’m fine.

Horne calmed instantly. He glanced around, his gaze landing on Ben Yian’s face, catching the pervasive smell of alcohol in the air.

He must have drunk a lot. The wreckage everywhere proved the confrontation that had just happened.

Horne’s expression darkened. Coldly, he said, “Go outside and wait for me. I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Ben Yian did not want Horne angry and did not argue. He silently rose from the ground, swaying as he opened the door and went out.

Once the door closed, Hels opened his eyes and sat up on his own, gasping for breath.

Holding his breath had been exhausting.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Horne said with a cold face. Things were already complicated enough; he did not want more unnecessary trouble.

Hels found it annoying too. Frowning, he said lowly, “How should I know? He showed up suddenly. I opened the door, and before I could say a word, he attacked.” Afraid Horne would get mad at him, he added, “It wasn’t me who started it. Don’t be angry.”

If he had not played dead, the fight would have escalated. He did not want to burden Horne further. The other guy was drunk; he was not.

Horne was silent for a moment, then sighed. His gaze flicked over the blood and wounds on Hels’s face, his voice softening: “Does it hurt?”

“Doesn’t hurt. Brother doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“Alright, handle it yourself first. I’ll go talk to him.”

The wind outside chilled like a lake gradually freezing over, thick snow flurries blowing past.

Ben Yian sat on the steps in front of Horne’s house, legs together, arms wrapped around his knees, chin resting on them, staring blankly into the distance.

The daze eventually turned into heartbroken sobbing.

Horne sat beside him, saying nothing, waiting patiently for him to vent, for the crying to stop, for his emotions to be carried away somewhat by the moonlight, turning into dark clouds on the horizon.

“Feeling better?” Horne asked.

Ben Yian took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The cold wind sobered him completely now, filling him with self-reproach. He nodded lightly.

“Then, is there anything you want to say?”

Another heavy silence.

After a long time, Ben Yian collected himself, reined in his emotions, and said slowly, “There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you.”

He had not planned to say it. He could endure for a long time. If this balance could last forever, he was willing to stay a lifelong background supporter. But if his protection ended up pierced by someone else, he did not want to remain such a secure guardian.

Horne turned his head to wait. Before Ben Yian even spoke, he had a rough idea of what was coming.

Hels had mentioned it before, and he had thought Hels was overthinking. But if Hels’s hostility could be explained somehow, he could not fathom Ben Yian having the same reason—unless Hels had been right.

Ben Yian told him that he liked him.

Horne lowered his lashes, staring at the ground, and finally replied with two words: “Thank you.”

Ben Yian let out a long breath, instantly relaxing, as if dumping a secret buried in his heart for ten years—one growing heavier by the day. He lifted his head, looking into the distance: “I just don’t understand. Anyone else would be fine, but why Hels of all people? He’s so much younger than you, extreme in personality, not even fully socialized. Why him? What do you like about him?”

Horne frowned: “You’ve misunderstood.”

“What?”

Horne explained to him: “We’re not in the kind of relationship you think.”

He did not know how to explain it to Ben Yian. No matter how he put it, it would not be clear. He needed Hels—far beyond the so-called “love” passed around by word of mouth. They relied on each other, healed each other, cured one another. It was familial love, friendship, romantic love—all forms of love, a bond etched into their flesh and blood.

“But you were holding each other on the…” Ben Yian still thought of that rooftop scene. He could not understand and did not want to ask for details, stirring up more unwillingness. He mustered courage and asked carefully, “If you’re not, would you consider me?”

Horne fell silent. After a moment, he said, “I haven’t thought about these things.”

Even with Hels, he had not considered what role to define himself in. He just knew he loved this person—cherish him while he was near, let go if he ever left. He wanted things to stay like this forever. No matter if the outside world brought wind, rain, blizzards, or tempests, coming home meant Hels was that lit lamp, the warm campfire, the airtight fortress.

Roles were just labels; they did not define emotional depth. Better to cast them aside and simply love each other purely.

That was all.

Perhaps one day it would evolve into the worldly notion of romance. He did not know, did not expect or reject it. It was just one label among countless possibilities between them.

Anyone else would not do.

Ben Yian clasped his hands together. Horne’s words were a glaring rejection to him. He bowed his head, lips curling in self-mockery. Long ago, he had thought he could be the one.

“I understand,” Ben Yian said, voice hoarse.

Horne changed the subject: “How have you been these past couple of days? Why didn’t you come yesterday?”

“Accompanying Ben Mu,” Ben Yian answered curtly. He did not know how to continue, but mentioning Ben Mu brought a flood of voices surging into his mind from all sides, tearing at him.

— “You can’t fit in with them. Are you content with that?”

“You don’t seriously think we were oblivious to every move you made? It’s just that the matter was too grave, and the handling method was special. But if you turn back in time, we won’t hold you accountable.”

“These are all people who will end up on the battlefield. Dying in war is perfectly normal. As an adjutant, you should know what you can and cannot do.”

Ben Yian clutched his head, trying to shake off all those voices. He said painfully, “You’re all drifting further and further away from me.”

Horne looked at him and saw his struggling expression. He shifted his body closer to Ben Yian’s side and murmured softly with his head lowered, “I’m not drifting further from you. You’re important. You’re all the most important people to me.”

“If I’m so important, why am I in so much pain?”

Horne sighed, endured the pain in his arm, and reached out a hand. He asked, “Do you need a hug?”

It was a warm yet heartbreaking embrace that Ben Yian had longed for a long time. Even though, in the end, this hug didn’t carry the meaning he desired. He could only cup Horne’s head with his hands, his fingers slowly tracing over the spot behind his ear where the Resident Chip’s binding connection should have originally been his. Now, he could only rely on the miniature reader in his hand to make contact.

Ben Yian apologized to Horne and poured out his heart to him. On that cold night, they talked through the long hours, discussing their past, their future, and all the joys and efforts they had shared together.

Only when dawn was about to break did Ben Yian finally let out a long breath. Facing the faint light on the horizon, he raised a long-absent smile, only to let it fade again.

“How’s your injury?” Ben Yian asked.

“Not that fast.”

Horne was also pondering this issue. A severe through-and-through wound would take at least ten days to half a month to recover to its initial state even with a bone reset device. If the Aliens invaded during that time, he probably wouldn’t be able to personally head out the city gates. More likely, Hels would take his place.

At this thought, Horne felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t expected it to trigger so many chain reactions, and with a great enemy at the gates, he was badly injured.

“If you could accept the Xenomorph Particles…” Ben Yian started to say but then shut his mouth. “What I mean is, if you can’t go into battle personally, you could command from the Main Control Tower, operate the control tower and send out orders. Those people below definitely aren’t as familiar with it as you are.”

“Mm.” Horne had considered this option too, and it was currently his plan. It was the worst-case scenario for when the Aliens launched a fast assault.

“There’s one more thing,” Ben Yian rubbed his fingers nervously. He organized his words for a long time before hesitantly saying, “No one knows you’re injured, so they must think you’ll go out personally. Then, amid the chaos of battle…”

“They?” Horne latched onto the key point and quickly realized. He let out a humph of laughter. “Oh, thinking of infighting even at a time like this. But they need me, so if they want to make a move against me, they’ll probably save it for last.”

Ben Yian nodded. “If you don’t go to the Snowfield and stay in the control tower instead, no one will expect that. Even if they make a move, they’ll be stretched thin.”

The control tower had relatively high access privileges, and very few people could enter it.

“You and Hels can both stay in the control tower. You’ll be safer that way.” Ben Yian spoke unwillingly. Even though he hated Hels to the bone, he knew Hels was someone who would protect Horne with his life.

“No need. I’ll be fine alone in the control tower.”

Ben Yian turned to look at Horne, clarity flowing in his eyes once more. He said solemnly, “Little Horne, they’ve even turned me. Do you know how badly they want you gone? You must be careful.”

“I know.”

The morning light grew brighter, the rolling clouds in the distance gradually faded, and beneath the sky, the gray Loch City stood silently.