Chapter 658: Each Bearing Their Own Hardship

Thales and Zayen both fell silent. Inside the confessional compartment, there were only two different sounds of breathing.

"She is gone."

Zayen's voice came from the darkness.

"I know," Thales answered gloomily.

Several more seconds passed before Zayen's voice sounded again.

"Now, can we set aside our prejudices and talk properly?"

Thales took a deep breath, adjusted his mood, and nodded.

"So, you did not kill Moss. You only learned of his death in advance, then concealed it?"

"If I truly wanted to kill that wine merchant, I would first release him, then send him a discounted transoceanic ticket," Zayen snorted coldly. "Even Judge Brennan would have nothing to say."

Thales was silent for a while, then sighed, his emotions complicated.

"Before we entered the city on the first day, I told Moss that if he was unwilling, he did not have to do it. I could find some excuse to drive him away, and none of what followed would have happened. At least, he would not have died in prison without explanation."

Zayen snorted disdainfully.

"Can you stop overflowing with kindness and wallowing in sentiment? Instead of hypocritically grieving for scum who does not deserve sympathy, you might as well consider what lies behind his death..."

But Thales coldly interrupted him.

"One phrase, 'scum who does not deserve sympathy,' is not enough to defend us."

"No matter what kind of person Moss was before he died, and no matter what he had done, during these past few days, he was dragged into our struggle and ultimately died because of us. This is something we cannot ignore or avoid."

In the darkness, Thales turned toward Zayen.

"This has nothing to do with what kind of person he was. It has to do with what kind of people we are."

But Zayen also sneered.

"In such struggles, there will always be collateral damage. There will always be sacrifices from bystanders. That is inevitable, and it is normal. If you cannot accept it," the Duke of the Iris Flowers said sarcastically, "then you had best immediately withdraw from the royal family, give up your inheritance rights, and live in seclusion in the mountains from now on. No, to be safer, just kill yourself directly. Then no one else will die because of you, Saint Thales."

Thales took a deep breath.

"I do not blame you."

"What?"

Thales shook his head and gave an indifferent chuckle.

"There are three kinds of people in this world: scum, ordinary people, and saints. And scum always mock ordinary people by saying, 'If you cannot stand scum, why do you not become a saint?'"

When his words fell, this time it was Zayen's turn to be silent.

But he quickly recovered and struck back.

"That wine merchant, Moss. Did you truly tell him, 'If you are unwilling, you may choose not to do it'?"

"Yes."

"Not bad. You gave him a choice," the Duke of South Coast sneered. "But did you think he could still choose?"

Thales frowned.

"I know."

"Most people cannot become saints," Zayen exhaled, seemingly sighing. "Especially when they discover they cannot even become ordinary people."

Thales was silent for several seconds, then snorted softly.

"Say whatever you like."

The confessional fell silent again.

"How is my sister?"

Thales froze.

"Who... oh, you mean Hilley."

Remembering what happened yesterday, Thales immediately felt a headache.

"It is Lady Covendier. Do not call her by name," Zayen warned him coldly.

"Oh, right. Lady Covendier." Thales nodded perfunctorily in the darkness. "She is very good. Not bad. A good girl. Very excellent..."

Zayen abruptly turned his head. His eyes reflected cold light in the darkness.

Thales' words caught.

"I mean, mm, actually she is not good. Not good at all..."

Zayen's eyes slowly narrowed in the darkness, and the cold light was even stronger than before.

Thales stalled again, then helplessly surrendered.

"Fine. I still will not mention whether she is good."

Zayen was silent for a while.

"When did you meet her?"

"Last night."

"Do you think I would believe that?"

"Fine. Actually, several days ago," Thales said helplessly. "I was 'chatting' with the Karabeyan sisters, and your sister dropped down from the sky... mm, and said hello."

"The time you asked me whether Emerald Palace had ghosts?"

Damn it, how does this fellow remember so accurately?

Thales muttered softly,

"Probably."

"The Ceiling Corpse Lady?"

"Oh, so you know... wait, why are you so familiar with it?"

"That is a lifting mechanism. I helped her install it before. What did you talk about?"

Facing Zayen's aggressive questioning and his digging to the bottom of things, Thales had no choice but to sigh at length.

"Nothing. We did not say anything. After that was last night's Strife Banquet. I swear, that was all. She and I had no other interaction. And I did not intentionally hide it from you. It was, you know, for the greater picture, for stability."

At this point, Thales shrugged sarcastically.

"After all, who could guarantee that once you knew I had met your sister, you would not throw some childish temper and do something impulsive? Perhaps you would ruin your banquet and celebration, the one your ancestors had 'never once let go wrong.'"

Zayen was silent for a while.

"Repeating someone else's words for revenge only makes you seem narrow-minded and petty."

"Petty?"

Thales shook his head disdainfully.

"When you drove vampires to hunt me seven years ago, why did you not remember that?"

"What about at the Strife Banquet? What did she say to you there?"

"Nothing. She 'said hello' again."

"You mean you two hid in a corner whispering to each other, and she even had you help fasten the clasps on her back, all for the sake of saying hello?"

Thales' head began hurting again.

"Uh, about that. Last night, she said, said..."

She said she was actually the spy my father sent?

She said she was greeting me on behalf of the kingdom's Secret Intelligence?

She also said I should be a true man?

Feeling Zayen's gaze grow sharper and sharper, Thales had no choice but to speak.

"Fine. She told a whole pile of ghost stories, things like Faceless Kork, the Ceiling Corpse Lady, the Ghost-Hand Princess, Soul-Bone Yark..."

"Yark."

"What?"

"It is Soul-Bone Yark," Zayen said faintly. "That is a nursery-rhyme legend about a demonic man-eating ghost, spread around the East Sea Territory."

Thales sighed helplessly.

"Fine, Yark. She also spoke about the tricks of magic performances, close-up and long-range, attention shifts, misdirection, and so on. I do not really understand..."

"Wait!" Zayen's tone moved, and he suddenly raised his voice.

"What?"

"Misdirection."

Zayen narrowed his eyes, seeming to think of something.

"This makes me think. Why did Moss die? Why did he have to die?"

Why did Moss have to die?

Thales' thoughts stirred, and he began thinking as well.

"Or rather, what could his death lead to?"

Zayen thought for several seconds.

"No, Moss has already been dead for a day. We should say, during this day..."

Thales followed his train of thought and took over.

"What has his death already led to?"

The two fell silent, both thinking.

"Nothing. As of this morning, everything in Jade City was normal." Zayen shook his head.

"And my subordinates also went to the prison to investigate..."

Thales' expression moved. He remembered something.

Both men turned toward each other at the same time and saw faint light flashing in the other's eyes.

"Everything in Jade City was normal," Zayen spoke faster, "because out of worry and caution, I took measures at the Strife Banquet, sealed away the news of Moss' death, and made it into an ordinary suicide or revenge killing."

Thales nodded.

"So when my subordinates discovered doubts in the case, I came to question you so angrily..."

"You mean insult me?"

"That is not important..."

"So, misdirection," Zayen narrowed his eyes. "The point of Moss' death is not the case itself, perhaps not even Moss."

"But us?" Thales followed his words.

The two looked at each other.

"The people who killed Moss understand us," Zayen said.

"Too well." Thales nodded.

Zayen frowned.

"They calculated my caution and your reckless impulsiveness."

Thales raised his brows.

"You mean your suspicion and distrust, and my persistence and warmheartedness?"

The two were silent in the darkness for several seconds.

"Let us skip this topic..."

"I agree..."

Thales took a deep breath and guessed,

"Then that means Moss died, and the more fiercely we clash now..."

"The more it fulfills their wishes. For example, that plate you dropped in front of the altar just now," Zayen said with certainty.

"Misdirection." Thales somewhat understood. "Moss was only an introduction. They need you and me to clash, to oppose each other through one side's pursuit and the other's concealment."

"And preferably until heads are broken and blood flows, until one of us lives and the other dies. Only then can they find an opening and act when the opportunity comes."

"Then, as a response, we need to..."

"See through this, reach consensus," Zayen said in a low voice, "then pretend not to know and maintain the original state."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you have a suggestion?"

Inside the small confessional, each had their own thoughts. Only the sound of their breathing could be heard.

"In that case, I should continue opposing you. For example, I continue investigating Moss' death," Thales said, turning his eyes. "That would be normal, yes?"

Zayen did not answer immediately.

"Yes," the duke said softly after several seconds. "And I must obstruct you, hide things from you, and frustrate you by every means."

"Uh, perhaps do not obstruct too much?"

"Did you not say it before? If one seeks an effect, one should carry it through to the end."

Thales was silent for a moment.

"Do you know that repeating someone else's words for revenge only makes you seem narrow-minded and petty?"

"Do you not find those words somewhat familiar?"

The two silently faced each other in the confessional.

"There is one more thing," Zayen suddenly said. "If they are provoking conflict between us, truly waiting for me to reveal an opening, then..."

Thales' heart sank.

"What is that opening?"

Zayen did not speak. Only after a full ten seconds did he softly open his mouth.

"Listen carefully, Thales."

"Mm?"

"From now on, no matter what we do or what we encounter, no matter how we maneuver back and forth against the king and Secret Intelligence," Zayen's voice was as calm as usual, "no matter merits, faults, fortune, or disaster, promise me this: all of it has nothing to do with Hilley."

Thales was silent.

Do not drag Hilley into it...

Only after the other party urged him several times did he react.

"Uh, yes?"

Zayen continued,

"My sister has been weak and sickly since childhood. She did not grow up like a normal child. Even her education was intermittent, and she could not get along with others her age."

Thales rubbed his brow.

"I deeply sympathize."

"Later, I had no choice but to send her out to study and recuperate," the duke said in a low voice. "Instead, that cultivated her strange temper."

Thales agreed deeply.

"Indeed strange."

But he quickly sensed the other's burning gaze and hesitated before adding,

"Uh, actually... not that strange?"

Zayen glanced at him.

"Therefore, she is likewise inexperienced in the world, ignorant and simple, and understands nothing of political interests or the sinister nature of human hearts."

Inexperienced in the world, ignorant and simple...

Thales narrowed his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Zayen's eyes gouged at him like little knives again.

Thales hurriedly changed his words.

"Oh, that makes sense. She is your sister, so of course you understand her best."

Zayen was silent in the darkness for a long while, then sighed.

"She does not belong here, Thales. She does not belong in our game."

Thales frowned tightly.

"So, no matter what we, no matter what scum like us... do," the duke's voice carried discomfort, as if he were trying hard to suppress it, "do not drag her in."

Do not drag her in...

Thales fell silent. After a long while, he sighed softly.

"But what if she still gets dragged in?"

Zayen's gaze moved.

"I mean," Thales said with some sadness, "if Hilley remains in Jade City..."

"It is Lady Covendier," Zayen said coldly. "Do you not understand manners?"

"Right, Lady Covendier."

Thales had no interest in arguing with him over forms of address.

"But what I mean is, Hill... that is, your sister is already here. Of course we do not want to, and will not, drag her in. But if my father, or the kingdom's Secret Intelligence, also calculates her into this, calculates her into Jade City's power struggle, then what?"

The Duke of South Coast did not speak.

He thought for a while, then said,

"Then, Thales, I need you to do one more thing."

"Understood." Thales had a feeling and nodded in agreement. "I will reduce my contact with her as much as possible, not giving them any excuse..."

"Stay with her."

"All right... what?"

Thales abruptly turned his head, eyes wide.

But unexpectedly, Zayen was very calm at this moment.

"If everything is as we think," he said, clearly after careful consideration, "and Moss' death is only an introduction whose purpose is to make us oppose each other so that they can act when an opportunity comes, then I dare say Hilley is such an 'opportunity,' or at least one of them."

Thales clenched his teeth.

"Her sudden return to Emerald Palace is definitely not a coincidence. It is very likely Secret Intelligence." Zayen corrected himself. "No, not likely. They will definitely drag Hilley into it, and may even use her as the breakthrough point to crush Covendier."

He turned toward Thales. The faint light reflected in his eyes was especially clear in the darkness.

"So I need you to watch her closely. Watch every movement and disturbance around her."

For a full dozen seconds, Thales only stared at him blankly.

"Can you... find someone else?"

"I can, but she would not be happy."

"Then, do you think I would be happy?"

"Do not worry. She knows you and I do not get along," Zayen smiled disdainfully. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Oh, that is good. Wait, what kind of wording is that? What do you mean, nothing will happen to me?"

"In short, watch her closely. I will handle the rest."

Thales rolled his eyes.

"But are you not worried that your sister and I..."

"You cannot marry her," Zayen said decisively. "And she would not look at you."

So direct?

Thales lowered his head awkwardly.

"You know, I thought you were always on guard against me coming into contact with Hill... mm, with your sister."

"Indeed. But..."

Zayen nodded and admitted it.

"But since you could disregard your own safety and stand up for that Western Wasteland assassin at the royal banquet, even at the cost of tearing all face with me..."

Zayen sighed.

"Yes, I cannot stand the way you try to be a saint," he said faintly. "But at least you are not scum."

Thales was silent.

"Then what if I fail?"

Thales raised his head, his mood complicated.

"What if they still... still drag her in?"

Zayen's figure paused in the darkness.

"Then I swear, in the name of Covendier, no matter who does that, I will make them wish they were..."

"Good! Stop!"

Thales hurriedly raised his hand and interrupted.

"That is enough. You do not need to throw out the rest of the vicious oath. Thank you."

Sensing the other's strange gaze, Thales shrugged.

"You know, now that I am older, I cannot bear hearing vows and curses."

Zayen laughed.

"That only means you are not old enough, Thales," the Duke of South Coast said, his tone meaningful. "You have not encountered enough despair. Enough despair to long for curses to be real."

Thales also snorted softly.

"Not necessarily, Zayen. Not necessarily."

Zayen said no more. He opened the compartment door, leaned into the light, and prepared to leave.

"Also, Thales." Zayen's steps paused. "Although the One-Eyed Dragon may have mentioned it at the royal banquet..."

He turned back and winked at Thales, who sat in the darkness.

"The Rising Star proposal remains effective."

The Rising Star proposal...

Thales frowned.

"Not only that. There is also what I said last night. I am waiting, Thales."

Zayen straightened his clothes, his eyes sharp.

"Waiting for you to offer a suitable price."

With that, he strode out of the confessional.

Only Thales remained, sitting alone in the darkness, lost in thought.

Zayen walked out of the confessional, greeting the guests along the way with elegance and warmth, until Steward Ashford quietly appeared behind him.

"You still have to inspect the public and listen to sermons later," the old steward said respectfully. "Do you need to rest?"

But Zayen did not answer. He merely looked at the enormous statue of the Sunset Goddess behind the altar and smiled mysteriously.

"You know, I only discovered today," Zayen said, smiling happily, "that boy is actually rather decent."

"Oh?"

In the next second, Zayen put away his smile.

"A decent liar."

Ashford nodded.

"I just confirmed it. He may not know it himself, but the way he pretends to be innocent is truly laughable," Zayen said coldly.

Ashford's expression did not move as he offered the cloak.

"Then what you confirmed is?"

"This prince is a trap from Renaissance Palace."

The Duke of South Coast turned and accepted the cloak, calm as usual.

"He and His Majesty the King..."

"Are on the same side."

----

On the other side, Thales walked out of the confessional, exhausted. He ignored Priest Chadvey's mysterious and wicked smile and went all the way to find his personal guard captain.

"Tor, do you know what the hardest thing in this world is?"

"You asked before. It is lying. Oh, apologies. It is lying with half-truths," Mallos said, having just finished greeting several guests. He turned back to look at him.

"Correct. But I just discovered something even harder."

"Making confession together with an enemy, then coming out smelling of smoke?"

Thales' smile stiffened.

Mallos immediately coughed.

"My apologies. Please continue."

Only then did Thales snort softly, unconsciously patting his clothes and sniffing the smell on them.

"Something harder than that is pretending to believe a lie. That is much harder than lying."

"I see. So difficult a thing, under all heaven, only Your Highness can do it."

Thales shook his head, lacking any intention to strike back at his sarcasm.

"Regarding collecting information on Moss, who did you send?"

"Komuto. He has connections."

"Not enough. Send more people. Dig deeper." Thales' expression gradually became grave. "Trust me. Moss is the key."

Mallos' gaze moved.

"May I ask why?"

Thales was silent for a while, then turned to look at the statue of the Sunset Goddess, and beneath it, the Duke of South Coast, who was preparing to leave for his inspection.

"Because I just discovered..."

The prince narrowed his eyes, his gaze landing on Zayen and revealing some coldness.

"Dagori Moss, that wine merchant..."

"He was killed by him."

Hearing this, Mallos frowned and fell into thought.

Several seconds later, a familiar figure came from afar and grabbed Thales' arm.

"Come with me!"

The round-faced girl expressionlessly dragged Thales' hand and strode forward.

"Hey, no, wait. No, no, you cannot..."

Seeing who had come, Thales' face filled with terror.

Hilley Covendier's steps paused. She remembered something, suddenly turned back, and circled Thales once.

"Oh, right. You are his nanny." Hilley leaned close to Mallos, whose brows were tightly furrowed, and narrowed her eyes. "We are going on a date. You do not mind, right?"

Nanny...

Mallos' brows twitched, but he still smiled politely.

"Of course not. It is just..."

But before Mallos could finish, Hilley turned back, pulled the terrified Thales, and vanished around the corner.

"The hardest thing in the world, Your Highness..."

Mallos looked at the place where they disappeared, sighed, spoke to himself, and stepped after them.

"You truly do not know."

----

My dearest, dearest, dearest, dearest little Thales:

As my fiance in name, have you been eating properly, growing tall and strong, and becoming a mighty, lovable young man?

Are you still as mellow and delicious as before, so pitifully lovable?

Have the tooth marks on your neck and wrists, near your blood vessels, faded yet? Do they hurt on rainy days?

For six or seven years, you must have remained in the North, tormented by those northerners until you were half dead, yes?

Hahaha, excellent. Without blood, sweat, and wasted years, without steel and tempering, how could one become a pillar in the current and overturn rivers and seas?

Only a joke. Do not be angry, and do not tear up the letter.

I know what you think of me, but you have to admit at least one thing.

Without me, you would have fallen into the hands of the Black Prophet, or even the Covendiers, or into the mouth of that bloody, disgusting monster. Who knows how they would have flattened, kneaded, crushed, and digested you?

No need to thank me!

No need to thank me!

No need to thank me!

Besides, precisely because you grew up under my painstaking blows and tempering, you could casually press down King Nuin and half of Dragon Clouds City with a finger, then seduce the Archduchess and half of Eckstedt with a wink. What a fickle man.

In the end, you even abandoned them after beginning the chaos, stirred up a war that swept the Golden Corridor, paid with endless corpses, and found every possible way to kill your way back to the Stars. Ah, that is the way. If you had remained meek, mediocre, and cowardly, how boring would that be? I would not even have the interest to come find you.

But I have also heard that after returning home, your recent days have not gone very well. Your father fears you, and the Imperial Conference ministers reject you?

To be honest, I am not surprised. I know your temperament. Sometimes you are as soft as my lips, and sometimes you are as hard as my claws. That is also good. A prey that changes unpredictably is more challenging to hunt.

It is fine. I understand your current situation very well, and I am very willing to give you some advice. After all, who does not have a father who is irreconcilably opposed to you and dreams of killing him, along with a group of sanctimonious subjects who think all day about pushing you off the throne?

I swear in my mother's name, Thales, that when writing this letter, I hesitated for a long time, changing and deleting things again and again.

I was very troubled. What tone should I use? Should I make peace with you? Should I lower myself and beg forgiveness? Should I clarify interests and seek cooperation? Should I move you into reconciliation through time and persistence? Or should I speak with a heart full of affection about grievance and longing?

No. Later, I thought it through. That would not do.

In any case, you treacherous as a ghost, heartless as a vampire little bastard would not believe it.

So to hell with it. I will not hide anything, and I will speak honestly.

I miss you, Thales!

So much!

I miss you to death. I miss you to madness. I miss you to frenzy!

I miss you so much that every day and every night, every hour and every moment, every minute and every second, in every instant of setback and pain, I accumulate rage and hatred so full that I wish I could strip, peel, bite, tear, and rip every hair, every piece of skin, every drop of blood, every muscle, and every inch of bone from your shameless little bastard body while you are still alive and bleeding, watching you tremble, scream, roar, and weep in endless torment and agony, regret and fear, unable to live and unable to die!

Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I miss you? Down to my bones, into my veins, into my soul!

You cannot even imagine, little bastard, cannot imagine what I have experienced these years.

Damn it, more than everything I experienced in the past several hundred years. Much more. Far, far, far more!

You wretched thing. You caused me to lose my foundation and go into exile for thousands of miles. Along the way, I had to seek blood meals, avoid sunlight, search for shadows and places to sleep, and maneuver back and forth with all kinds of ambitious people. All the hardship, blood, pain, and humiliation along this road are debts you owe me! You will repay them with everything that belongs to you and everything that does not!

Damn it!

Fine. I apologize. I became excited and lost composure.

But the meaning is correct.

You are mine.

You cannot escape.

Mm, I have been to Jade City. That is right, the year I was destined to meet you. I came ashore at Archsea City. Unfortunately, the Iris Flower family was so obedient back then. They took the bait with a curl of the finger. Now, they are much harder to tame.

So you need not hold back. Go ahead and destroy his whole family, and use them to lay the foundation and pave the road for your throne.

Only then can you be ready to welcome me when I return to find you.

I have gone off topic again. It is like this. I heard that my weepy little sister also sent an envoy to Jade City. Perhaps she will even bring you a letter, just like me?

If not, forget it. If there is, heh heh, let me guess. If the crybaby properly addresses you at the beginning as "my friend, the respected Prince Thales," ah, do not doubt it. Run quickly. She is about to kill someone in the next moment. You are not the first, and you will not be the last.

And if the crybaby calls you "my dear brother," like one monarch addressing another, and first sends a pile of flattery, haha, do not doubt it. Her rule must have encountered difficulties. You and I both contributed to that. Two supreme vampires are an irreparable loss.

I strongly suggest you take the opportunity to open your mouth like a lion. No matter how much meat she has, heartlessly bite off three times the amount. If only twice the amount, do not say you are my fiance. If it is less than twice, I think you have no hope of coronation in this life. If it is less than once, I will go back and bite you to death myself, so you do not disgrace my past education.

Then, if the crybaby gets straight to the point and directly says something like "I want that head of yours" or "I want the other head below," oh, terrible. She has enough chips and disdains extra words. But that is fine. At least she puts everything on the surface and does not hide it.

But if she is kind and considerate, warm and soft-spoken, puts herself in your place, and benevolently explains the interests for you and offers plans, oh-ho, congratulations, little Thales. She has truly reached a dead end, with nowhere left to go!

Hahahahaha. Presumably, in the Night Kingdom, the six great families beneath the Corleones are all suspecting the disappearance of the Nightwing King. Guess why they suspect it? They oppose her and scheme against her openly and secretly, intending to overturn her rule, perhaps even tear apart her heart and blood vessels. She stands alone and unsupported, frantic and busy searching all over the world for help and allies!

Then the crybaby will certainly begin humbly asking you, most handsome Prince of the Stars, do you happen to have time recently? If you have time, could you bring your thick, large, hard... purse and visit this humble little woman's poor home? Ah, one spring night together, any position is fine. I went off topic. In short, she wants money, food, people, and face. She wants everything.

In order to maintain her throne, aside from her dead old father's grave, which she would never bear to dig up even if she died, with the crybaby's teeth-clenched stubbornness, she could sell even her own mother... mm, even herself!

Then I guess, no matter what she says, the crybaby will definitely tell you two things.

First, I am a bitch.

I indeed am, and I am destined to be the kind you fear most in this life, yet also cannot forget. Hahahaha!

Second, she is on the same side as you.

Hahahahaha, truly laughable. What situation is she in now? A fallen queen, a monkey wearing a crown, her rule shaking and about to collapse. And she thinks she deserves to be on the same side as you?

But, but if she does not lower herself, if she looks aloof, if the little woman is not selling herself, eeh, then that is bad. Very bad.

It means she must be brewing something, planning something. Most likely, she has found a way out and has the confidence to stabilize domestic rule. Damn it, the time for me to return will have to be pushed back again.

Ah, I forgot to say this. You must see who comes to Jade City to deliver the letter and handle negotiations with the Iris Flowers about restoring relations. Pay special attention to whether there is an old Far Easterner named Li.

If he is there, it means my premonition has come true. The crybaby really does have a new trump card. Damn it, she found a way, so Li can leave the country and represent the Blood Fangs and the Night Kingdom as the person closest to her father.

If Li did not come, then it means she has not found it! Li must remain in the country to hold down those restless vassals! Hahaha, with the schemes of the Castigan and Sullivan families, and perhaps a little bit of intelligence help from me thousands of miles away, she is dead!

No more jokes, little Thales. In your heart, you know with absolute clarity that compared with her, you and I are the same kind!

Do not rush to deny it. Yes, that is right. We have at least one thing, or rather, the most important thing, in common.

We are survivors!

I am, and so are you. Yes, perhaps we become lost, perhaps we waver, perhaps we hesitate. But no matter how few our chips, how terrible our circumstances, how strong our opponents, or how bad our luck, even when facing situations more terrifying, more vile, and more desperate than anything else, in the end, we are still ourselves!

We will not give up. We do not believe in failure. We will not retreat even half a step. We will still clench our teeth, shed tears, swallow blood, and drag our battered bodies and broken arms. We will scrape our nails bloody, bite our teeth to pieces, and roar our throats raw, crawling back inch by inch from even the deepest depths of hell to demand payment from this world!

Because we have only ourselves!

I do!

So do you!

As for that crybaby, what can she do?

Seven years ago, when we stood in the snow, using all our wisdom and schemes, betting everything, nervously confronting each other and playing against each other to determine victory and defeat, and incidentally life and death, that useless little girl was still lying limbless in the snow, pouting, drooling, and talking in her sleep!

But little Thales, ah, little Thales, if you want to walk farther on the road of power, you must learn to deal with different dangerous people. Learn to play games with them, exchange chips with them, and make deals with them, including me.

Then, you must also learn to be ruthless, learn to be cold-blooded, and learn to become something inhuman.

Trust me, especially on the last point. It is very useful, especially when I face my father.

So I look forward very much to meeting you again, trading with you, and allying with you.

Do not dislike hearing it. To say something unpleasant, if you cannot face me, if you are afraid to face me, then even if you sit on the supreme throne of the Stars, you will only be a lump of dead flesh and a walking corpse. Sooner or later, someone will peel you down with skin and bone together, beat you into bloody foam, roast you into ash and charcoal, grind you into dust, then sell you cheaply as unwanted trash.

But are you willing to accept that?

Are you willing?

Can you bear it?

Are you angry?

Do you hate it?

Do you want it?

If so, clench your teeth, tighten your fists, and walk on through blood and tears!

The stars are lonely, and the deep night is bitterly cold. They were never meant to intersect. They only met by chance and brushed past each other in haste.

But each bears its own hardship, each carries its own madness. Both clench their teeth, shed blood, and hold tears in their mouths, biting onto the final thread and final inch of faith, believing that as long as they endure to the end, they can win the future.

I hope that when that time comes, I can still see you, little Thales.

For that, you must fight with all your life. Do not get killed halfway.

Oh, you must miss me very much, right?

Haha, no need to be ashamed to admit it. Presumably, you will never forget me in this life, and you will never escape me either!

Because I am thinking of you too, you shameless little bastard who deserves to be put on a rack and stretched a thousand times.

No hurry. No hurry.

We will meet. Sooner or later.

We will have the chance to settle debts and end grudges, perhaps even exhaust love and hatred.

Starting from the letter paper tonight.

Until the last breath of your life.

I believe you have already met the person who delivered this letter to you. He is a councilor of Feast Fief, a noble young master from the Holier family, the beloved adopted son of "Ghost Lady" Anna Holier. Young and promising, with excellent prospects, except his brain is broken and he is terribly annoying.

Or perhaps it is not broken. Perhaps he only hides it deeply, and is actually just as gloomy, vicious, bloody, and terrifying as his old mother?

Oh, I forgot to say, before he became a vampire, he was already a homosexual, especially fond of handsome young men. Is that not a broken brain?

You must protect yourself.

May you dream every night, and may I be in those dreams, because there we will meet teeth to skin and bloodline to bloodline, until one side's blood runs dry and they die in pain!

The Stars still remain, but can your bloodline truly rule forever?

----

The one who loves you to madness and frenzy, who wants to hear you scream again and again, then tear you apart inch by inch, eat you bite by bite, and turn all the blood in your body into the nourishment of her life,

Your dearest,

Selina L. A. von Corleone,

From every nightmare of yours.

A dark red lip print with a faint smell of blood.

Postscript: I hope you feel the same.