Chapter 117: You, Are My Male Protagonist (Two-in-One)
“Male protagonist?”
Rast stood at the edge of the cliff alongside the girl, silently gazing at the words being inscribed in the dim sky.
“Yes, male protagonist.”
The queen with ice blue hair nodded vigorously.
“Just like what that fairy tale book says, the boy who dreams of becoming a knight meets the Poison Witch who brings plague—”
“Meeting, getting to know each other…”
“Then, falling in love.”
Her writing speed quickened again, her fingers dancing as if sketching a musical score.
“Actually, at first, I was a bit confused about why Rast you rejected my blessing… why you didn’t want me to use my power to turn you into an eternal form like Anna.”
“But now, I seem to understand a little.”
Helen turned her head, staring at the royal city sprawling on the ground in the distance.
“The outsiders in the royal city, they have never received my blessing.”
“Their lifespans are short, plagued by diseases, and they gradually age until they d*e, just like…”
The ice blue characters in mid-air momentarily paused.
“Just like what?” Rast asked.
“Just like the butterfly under the glass, beautiful, yet fragile and fleeting.”
“Like the morning dew, it vanishes in an instant.”
The butterfly under the glass.
Rast didn’t expect Helen could make such a metaphor.
It had only been a month, yet this queen who disliked communication had seemingly made a qualitative leap in her ability to connect with others.
However, the metaphor was spot on.
Rast couldn’t help but recall his elementary school biology assignment, where chubby silkworms were sent in a box along with mulberry leaves. The students’ task was to observe the changes in the silkworms daily and write them in a diary.
So, in just a month’s time, he recorded in his diary the process of the silkworms growing larger, spinning white silk to wrap themselves in a cocoon, and finally transforming into moths and flying out from the cocoons, resting on the box walls until they died.
To elementary school students, it was trivial, but for the silkworms, that month was their entire life.
And perhaps in the eyes of Helen, the Queen of the Underworld who holds the power of the “God of d*ath” and whose life is nearly eternal… She regarded herself and those unblessed people like Rast and other wayfarers as no different from silkworms and moths, just as likely to d*e if they were not careful.
“But…”
Helen’s writing suddenly wavered.
“On those outsiders’ faces, I saw smiles I had never seen before.”
“On Anna, on those maids and subjects I had blessed, happiness I had never encountered.”
Confusion flickered in her indigo eyes: “Rast, what you said is not wrong.”
“Birth, growth, aging, d*ath… experiencing joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, all are unique beauties of humans, a species that is frail and fleeting.”
“Blessings I once believed to grant the subjects eternal life… were not blessings at all, but curses that strip away this beauty.”
“Turning the living humans into specimens.”
“Outwardly appearing vibrant, yet inside they have long since died, merely a shadow of their former selves.”
“So in the eyes of the world, my existence should be viewed as a mistake.”
“Because the word ‘justice’ and the morals that define it were created solely for humanity.”
“Just like the incarnation of disaster in Chronicles of Silver Wings, the Poison Witch who was born to bring plague and d*ath to the world… is the existence that must be eradicated by the Church of Light representing justice.”
In the evening sun, the girl’s gaze fell slightly, like a cat that had done something wrong.
But soon, Helen raised her head again, staring straight at Rast with her indigo eyes.
“And what you represent, Rast, is justice.”
“Graveminder, right?”
“Though my memory is a bit hazy, I still remember that my mother mentioned this name to me.”
“It is an organization whose sole purpose is the continuation of human civilization, a group of righteous messengers who hunt witches, just like the Church of Light in Chronicles of Silver Wings.”
Seeing the text being inscribed in the air, Rast’s heart momentarily stilled.
He didn’t expect this queen to even discern the existence of the Graveminder squad… and the nature of his existence standing in stark opposition to that of the Graveminder.
Yet even so, the indigo eyes of the girl looking at him remained unchanged from the past month, carrying a faint trust and closeness.
“So, you’re not afraid of me, who comes from the Graveminder?”
Rast asked softly: “Just like in Chronicles of Silver Wings, where the Plague Witch can be harmed by the holy light of the Six-Winged Seraph?”
“No, not afraid.”
Helen shook her head vigorously.
“Because in my heart, Rast, you are not the Six-Winged Seraph of the church, but the boy protagonist who dreams of becoming a knight.”
“And just like what that fairy tale book says, even the knights from the church and the witches hunted by the church must have a way to understand each other.”
The girl’s pupils reflected the bl**d-red sunset against the dim sky.
“So, can you tell me about your story?”
“Rast, your matters, those things belonging to you.”
“Things belonging to me?”
Looking at the ice blue characters dancing before him, and her curious, hopeful gaze directed at him, Rast silently calculated the time in his heart.
Upon realizing there was still a little distance from the expected time point, he gently nodded.
Rast sat at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the city sprawling on the ground, barely visible in the dusk, and began to speak softly.
“Actually, my past is nothing remarkable.”
“Just a story of someone trapped in a predicament, constantly struggling ugly to not lose themselves…”
…
In reality, Tower of Secrets, beside the Era Tombstone.
The image in the transmission light screen flickered like rippling water.
It reflected the two silhouettes sitting side by side on the cliff, conversing in the twilight.
“Didn’t expect Young Xiya to know everything.”
In Mr. Silver’s sub-dimension warehouse, the stock of dried fish was entirely depleted, and with no snacks to eat, he could only focus all his attention on the light screen.
When he saw Queen Helen unreservedly exposing those coincidences, not just Rast… even Mr. Silver and Ophelia watching the live stream beyond the world boundary couldn’t help but feel a jolt.
Fearing that the originally sweet and cozy atmosphere between the two might abruptly shift to a scene where the Queen of the Underworld unleashed a massacre upon the heartless betrayers in a tale reminiscent of “Paradise”.
But ultimately, the development of events exceeded what a single person and ferret had anticipated.
“But how strange, this queen, knowing everything is a false construct arranged by others, has she still not felt a hint of resistance?”
Mr. Silver wagged his fluffy tail: “If it were me, knowing someone had the audacity to script my life, I would definitely turn the table and create chaos.”
“With the way you look as a lazy ferret right now, saying such things has no persuasive power at all, you know,” Ophelia’s cold voice came from nearby.
“Actually, this is not strange.” She gazed at the girl with ice blue hair in the light screen: “The Queen of the Underworld Helen and Akshia are in fact the same person, only her memories are suppressed by the Night World, temporarily forgotten.”
“However, even so, the subconscious in Akshia wanting to help Rast in the Night World remains, preventing her from harboring thoughts to harm him.”
“Moreover—leaving all that aside, why would the Queen of the Underworld resist?”
Ophelia’s wine-red eyes shimmered with a glint:
“Even knowing it’s insincere flattery, the praise from a young and beautiful person still brings joy to the elderly noblewomen… no matter how cheesy the compliments, they can still capture the hearts of those longing for love.”
“For a queen who has never seen the outside world, this journey is a pink, dreamlike experience. In this brief month, it has become filled with so many firsts for her, deeply imprinted in her soul, irreplaceable memories no matter what storms she faces.”
“Just like how many rich merchants and nobles, upon achieving success, still cherish those serendipitous encounters from their youth.”
“Such a thing as a moonlight shines irresistibly.”
The Second Princess’s words paused slightly: “Although it’s just a falsehood, no one can deny the beauty of this journey.”
“This is a memory that no matter what happens in the future, neither fate nor deities can snatch away—it will never fade.”
“All they need is this… and it is enough.”
Mr. Silver glanced at Ophelia beside him.
Clearly, he was merely a juvenile cricket, yet he was so skilled at manipulating people’s hearts…
It’s no wonder that the grand nobles of the imperial capital regard this Second Princess with such trepidation.
If this trend continues, when she comes of age, even the offspring of those nobles might have to call her name to cease their night crying.
This is why Mr. Silver feels a bit intimidated by Ophelia.
So young, yet her thoughts are extraordinarily profound—nothing like her sister’s innocence.
“By the way, Young Tina’s little sister, aren’t you the least bit worried?”
Mr. Silver wagged his tail: “The words Young Xiya just wrote clearly name him to be the male protagonist in her story… this is a confession, alright!”
“This is a confession from a woman who is nearly of legendary caliber, a queen of a nation.”
“Knowing your purpose and origin are dubious, knowing everything about each other is a farce, yet still confessing to you.”
“Add to that the perfect match of their identities in that fairy tale from Chronicles of Silver Wings, a male and female protagonist indistinguishable from each other as if fated by destiny.”
“In this case, any normal man should feel moved, right?”
Mr. Silver craned his neck to peek at Ophelia, carefully assessing her expression: “I feel more and more that… Young Tina’s head might be tinged with green.”
However, somewhat to Mr. Silver’s surprise.
This Second Princess, who was always an ultimate sister complex in his impression, showed no signs of emotion with her wine-red eyes at that moment.
She remained calm as she gazed at the scene in the light screen: “It’s alright, I trust my brother-in-law’s character.”
“He is like a machine, moving towards his predetermined target, ignoring any obstacles, and will never be distracted by the scenery along the way.”
“So, was this not what you said yourself back then, Young Ferret? How come you’re not confident now?”
“I…”
Mr. Silver was taken aback, clearly not expecting Ophelia to pose such a counterquestion.
After a while, he came back to his senses: “But as long as it’s beautiful enough, then when a lie is repeated ten thousand times, that lie will become the truth…”
Even the coldest of individuals should melt before such beauty… shouldn’t it be so?
“No, that’s not correct, Young Ferret.”
Ophelia shook her head, interrupting Mr. Silver’s assertion.
“A lie repeated ten thousand times will never become truth.”
“And those who can be deceived by a lie repeated that many times… ultimately, it’s because they have been confused from the start, never firmly believing it and willing to fight for it throughout their lives.”
She gazed at the black-haired boy leaning against the cliff in the light screen.
A hint of unnatural blush suddenly appeared on his exquisite porcelain-like face.
“I should have realized it earlier.”
“Someone like my sister, who remains unshaken by any external doubts and can stay true to herself throughout…”
“How could someone chosen by her, who brings about transformation, be so simple as just being good-looking and smooth-talking?”
“If Rast really were the ordinary mediocre person you described, then he wouldn’t qualify to be my brother-in-law.”
Ophelia took a deep breath, and the blush on her fair face gradually faded.
Her gaze directed at the light screen slowly calmed down.
“More than that, what truly piques my curiosity is what they refer to as—’Graveminder’.”
“Rast’s internal codename, a secret organization in the Sixth Epoch aiming for the continuation of human civilization, the existence that defines the word ‘justice’…”
“What connections might there be between the ‘Graveminders’ and ‘Graveminders’?”
“What fate ultimately lies ahead for the Graveminders?”
“Is it buried with the end of the Sixth Epoch in the mist of history?”
“Or… does it continue to this day?”
(End of chapter)
