“You've probably all noticed by now that the symptoms of their disease are almost identical to ours.”
Once certain they had left the fortress, Lynch no longer lowered his voice:
“If my guess is right, and Mordiggian's disease has turned into an infectious plague in our era, it's very likely to have this exact effect. What will become of our Fifth Age in the future, then? Perhaps the four of us will soon find out. Their today is our tomorrow.”
The female officer's expression stiffened at his words. Feeling her throat go dry, she rasped, “Why do you look like you've already seen this before?”
Seen it? He had seen it far too many times—XX crisis, walking dead, world war. What would happen in the future was something Lynch could guess with his eyes closed. But this was his greatest secret; he couldn't share it even with those he trusted most. He could only shake his head and say, “I just have a vivid imagination. I hope my guess—”
Before he could finish, he felt a tug on his clothes. Turning his head, he saw Judy staring at him and pointing in another direction.
In Miss Diana's direction.
Lynch and Natalie finally realized that after he spoke, Diana had abruptly stopped, touching her wrist in a daze.
Officer Natalie only just remembered that her rival had been bitten a few days ago. Not just her—many people from the Church of Suffering had been bitten. Lynch had been exceptionally tense back then, and everyone thought he was overreacting at the time. Now it seemed he had seen far ahead of everyone else. Which meant she... In the officer's mind, the image of that madman from earlier transformed into Miss Diana—her beautiful face covered in blood, her gentle expression twisted and hideous as she tore madly into the flesh and blood of the living.
For some reason, Natalie only felt a sharp pang of sorrow in her chest, entirely unable to feel any joy.
Lynch had already rushed back to Diana's side, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the threshing floor without looking back:
“Silly girl, what are you thinking? Afraid of infecting us and planning to self-isolate? When you were bitten, it wasn't contagious yet. It was just a bite that didn't even leave a scar. You think that's enough to ride on the coattails of the noble King of Ghouls? Keep dreaming—the camp of madmen doesn't want a foolish woman like you anyway.”
Miss Diana sighed and offered no resistance. Feeling the warmth of Lynch's hand, her nose suddenly stung with emotion. Biting her lip, she asked, “Are you truly sure? That only happened after the third Divine Authority broke out. Are you truly certain it isn't contagious right now, rather than it simply having not manifested yet because the time hasn't come?”
Lynch fell silent, dragging her forward without a word. For a time, no one was in the mood to speak. Only after several minutes of silence did Lynch suddenly snap, shouting:
“I'm damn well not sure! Why else do you think I buried myself in the church the day after the ball, and threw myself in here to risk my life against mystery relics on the third day? I'm not an idiot—do you think I wouldn't have liked to kick back and enjoy being knighted for a while? What the hell do I care if other people got bitten? But you... what if something happened to you? That's why I came here, isn't it? As long as we research a cure, everything will be fine. There's no reason for you to be nervous at all!”
As a transmigrator, Lynch understood all too well how terrifying the destructive power of this condition would be once it became contagious—being bitten was an inescapable death sentence. That was why, ever since discovering Diana had been bitten, he had been under immense mental pressure.
Humans were inherently selfish. No matter how many unrelated people were bitten, Lynch would at most feel a sense of pity. He knew very well he was no Saint Nightingale; doing something for the world was one thing, but self-sacrifice was another. Yet ever since Diana was bitten, he knew he had no way out. He could never stand by and watch Diana become one of those crazed, walking corpses. Even if it was just to prepare for the worst, he had to find a solution as quickly as possible. For that, never mind exhausting toil—he would even willingly fight Mordiggian all over again.
Yet he had never dared tell these worries to anyone.
In many ways, he was quite traditional. No matter how enormous the trouble, he would rather keep it buried inside and shoulder it alone than speak of it to worry the two ladies—especially Diana. Perhaps only on the day the crisis was completely resolved would he casually bring up this story as if telling a joke.
Yet having witnessed the effects of the disease with his own eyes just now, his conjecture was confirmed. Furthermore, with just a few words, he had decided the fate of those infected soldiers.
Those were merely NPCs in a memory, truly unworthy of mention, yet before and after, all Lynch could think of was Miss Diana. To him, the words he had spoken felt as though they were deciding Miss Diana's fate, every single syllable twisting a knife in his heart.
That was why he couldn't bear to witness the tragic scene that followed. He feared he would associate it with Diana again and lose his composure on the spot, which was why he had fled in such haste. While seemingly calm and composed on the surface as he left, his mind had long descended into chaos. In the end, he had inadvertently exposed his speculations and made Miss Diana realize her situation, which finally ignited his deeply buried emotions and caused him to unconsciously pour out his heart.
Damn it, I let it slip.
The moment the words left his mouth, Lynch regretted them. His face burned as he quickly released the small hand in his palm and quickened his pace. Yet the moment he let go, his hand was tightly clasped in return, followed by a soft sigh from behind:
“I'm sorry. I never imagined that you were worrying about me this whole time. Knowing this makes me truly happy. Please rest assured, with your support, I won't be nervous anymore. Because I know that no matter how great the difficulty we face in the future, you will face it with me, just like right now.”
‘Neighbor, neighbor, save me! Quickly, help me think—what's the right response at a time like this? Waiting online, urgent!’
【Mm-hmm?】
‘Hey, hey! Don't just sit there enjoying the show at a time like this!’
Lynch felt his face flushing a deep purple, yet he couldn't shake off the small hand holding his. Just as his brain was on the verge of burning out, a cold hmph suddenly rang out beside them.
“Hmph. Are we still going to the threshing floor to check on the situation or not? Or would the two of you like to hold hands and parade around the entire city first?”
Only then did the two realize there were still two spectators beside them—one watching with great relish, while the other's eyes were practically spitting fire.
With a soft gasp, Miss Diana instinctively pulled her hand away from Lynch's grasp. For the first time, she lost her composure, her face blushing bright crimson. Lynch, on the other hand, calmed down. Coughing dryly with a serious expression, he said solemnly, “We're going, of course we're going. Cough, cough. This is our best opportunity to understand this plague ahead of time. I still don't know what factor caused the plot here to change, but I think we really ought to thank whatever gave us this chance. We must make the most of it.”
As the three ladies nodded in agreement, a shout drifted over on the breeze.
“The undead scourge has descended! The plague is upon us, and none of us will escape...!”
They had arrived at the threshing floor.
Rate on N.U.
