The snowstorm outside the window had stopped.
Lilian was like a gecko, flipping silently through the window sill.
The hem of her skirt was soaked with snowmelt, clinging to her legs in a disheveled state.
Bell was curled up in a corner of the wall, clutching the crystal bottle tightly in his arms.
His eyes were hollow.
Like a dried-up well.
Lilian approached cautiously and extended a finger, poking Bell’s pale face.
It was icy.
There was no warmth of a living person.
“Master...”
Lilian’s voice was trembling.
It was guilt.
Last night, she had fled.
As a slave, as a guard, when her master needed her most, she had been terrified by that demon and jumped from the third floor.
Leaving Bell alone in hell.
Bell’s eyeballs moved.
It was an extremely slow rotation, like rusted gears.
He looked at Lilian.
There was no anger.
There was no blame.
Only a heart-stopping indifference.
“Get out.”
A single word.
It was so raspy it sounded as if he had swallowed a handful of sand.
Lilian froze, and tears instantly welled up.
“Master... I...”
“Get lost.”
Bell closed his eyes.
He hugged the bottle in his arms even tighter.
His knuckles were white.
That was all he had left.
“If I’d known you were this useless...”
Bell’s voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.
“...I wouldn’t have placed any hope in you.”
Trash.
All of them were trash.
He was trash, and Lilian was trash.
Before that lunatic, they didn’t even have the right to resist.
Lilian bit her lip until she tasted blood.
She wanted to explain.
She wanted to say that the fear from the depths of her soul was impossible to resist.
She wanted to say she didn’t want to run away either.
But looking at Bell’s state.
All the words were stuck in her throat.
Saying anything was useless now.
The person was already dead.
Lilian stood up and walked to the window.
The wind poured in, ruffling her silver hair.
“Take care.”
She left those two words behind.
She turned and jumped into the vast snowy plains.
Bell was left alone in the room once again.
Deathly silence.
Only the faint light in the bottle flickered occasionally.
A long time passed.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
A knock sounded at the door.
It was light and rhythmic.
“Young Master Bell, Miss Tia.”
A maid’s voice came through the door, carrying the vitality unique to the morning.
“It is time to wake up for breakfast.”
“The Duchess specifically ordered the kitchen to make the cream of mushroom soup Miss Tia wanted.”
No one responded.
Bell leaned against the wall, lacking even the strength to move a finger.
The two sentences he had just said to Lilian had drained the last of his energy and spirit.
Why get up?
Why eat?
The person who loved mushroom soup was no longer here.
Who would he be drinking it for?
The maid outside waited for a while.
“Young Master?”
“Young Master, are you awake?”
There was still a deathly silence.
The maid began to panic.
The sound of footsteps faded away.
Then, another set of hurried footsteps approached.
These were heavier.
More urgent.
“Bell! Bell!”
It was Elisk Lucas’s loud voice.
He hammered on the door.
The force was so great that dust fell from the doorframe.
“You brat! The sun is already high!”
“Open the door! Your mother is waiting for you to offer tea!”
Bell opened his eyes.
He looked at the trembling wooden door.
Offer tea?
To whom?
To a dead person?
“If you don’t open it, I’m kicking it in!”
Elisk was getting anxious.
There was no movement inside, which was too abnormal.
“Bang!”
A loud crash.
The heavy oak door was kicked open.
Wood chips flew everywhere.
Elisk rushed in.
Eleanor followed behind with a face full of anxiety.
“Bell!”
Eleanor immediately saw her son huddled in the corner.
The room was a mess.
Broken furniture.
And a scent of blood that wouldn’t dissipate.
Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat.
She rushed over and pulled Bell into her arms.
She felt him all over.
“What happened?! What’s going on?!”
“Where are you hurt?!”
After confirming Bell wasn’t missing any limbs, Eleanor breathed a slight sigh of relief.
But then.
She realized something was wrong.
Only Bell was in the room.
“Where is Tia?”
Eleanor turned her head and looked around.
“Where did that child go?”
“Didn’t we say we were going to pick out jewelry today?”
Bell’s body was as stiff as a stone.
He kept his head down.
Looking at the bottle in his arms.
That was Tia.
That was his wife who had yet to cross the threshold.
Now.
Only a ball of light remained.
How could he say it?
Should he say that your precious daughter, the well behaved and sensible Cecilia Lucas, chopped her to pieces with a knife last night?
Should he say she stabbed Tia in the stomach while laughing?
Should he say she threatened to kill you all too if I dared to tell?
He couldn’t say it.
To speak was to die.
The whole family would die.
That lunatic was truly capable of it.
Bell took a deep breath.
His lungs felt as if they were being cut by blades.
“Mom.”
Bell looked up.
Those eyes were bloodshot, so dry that not a single tear could fall.
“Tia is dead.”
Eleanor froze.
Elisk, who was checking the window, stopped as well.
The entire room instantly froze in place.
“What... did you say?”
Eleanor’s voice was trembling.
She thought she had misheard.
Everything was fine yesterday.
They had sat together and eaten yesterday, laughing about how delicious the cream of mushroom soup was.
How could she be dead?
“Last night.”
Bell’s voice was flat.
So flat there was no inflection at all.
Like he was reading someone else’s eulogy.
“Something came in.”
“It was a... shadow monster.”
“It wanted to kill me.”
Bell’s fingers lightly stroked the bottle.
“Tia... blocked it for me.”
A lie.
A clumsy lie.
The Astane Estate was heavily guarded; how could a monster silently infiltrate the bedroom?
But Bell could only say this.
He had to shift the blame to a non-existent entity.
“Where is the body?”
Elisk walked over.
His face was terrifyingly grim.
It was the calm before the storm.
To dare kill his daughter-in-law on his territory.
This was slapping the face of the Blood Duke.
This was seeking death.
“It was swallowed.”
Bell pointed to the bloodstain on the floor.
That was the small trace left after the body had been dealt with last night.
“That kind of monster... devours flesh.”
“At the last moment...”
Bell held up the bottle in his hand.
The small ball of white light looked exceptionally desolate in the morning light.
“She asked me... to extract her soul.”
“She said.”
“Even if she becomes a ghost.”
“She wants to stay with me.”
Bell’s voice choked up.
This wasn’t acting.
This was real.
Those were Tia’s final words before she died.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Tears burst from her eyes.
She looked at the bottle.
The girl who was calling her Auntie just yesterday, who was blushing with embarrassment.
Now.
This was all that was left?
“Investigate!”
Elisk smashed his fist into the wall.
The entire wall collapsed.
Debris tumbled down.
“Investigate for me!”
“Whether it’s a monster or a person!”
“Even if you have to dig three feet into the ground!”
“I will find it!”
“And tear it into ten thousand pieces!”
A violent killing intent swept through the entire estate.
It was the Duke’s wrath.
Bell kept his head down.
He didn’t speak.
They wouldn’t find anything.
Cecilia Lucas had long since cleared all traces.
Except for that memory.
Except for that bone deep hatred.
Nothing would be left.
Eleanor cried as she held Bell tight.
“My son...”
“Why is your life so bitter...”
Bell leaned into his mother’s embrace.
He smelled the familiar perfume.
But his heart was cold.
Mom.
If you knew the killer was the girl you love most.
What would happen to you?
Would you collapse?
Would you go mad?
Bell closed his eyes.
All the pain, all the hatred, all the secrets.
He chewed them all up.
And swallowed them into his stomach.
The sun set in the west.
The blood-red afterglow filtered through the broken window frame, splashing onto the floor like rotten orange juice.
Bell maintained that curled-up posture.
Motionless.
From dawn until dusk.
Twelve whole hours.
His breathing was so light it was almost inaudible.
Like a corpse that had already grown cold.
Only the crystal bottle in his arms was kept warm by his body temperature.
The light sphere inside the bottle was still vibrating slightly.
As if it were breathing.
Or as if it were calling for help.
Bell’s eyes finally moved.
Dry.
Aching.
His vision focused on the light sphere.
This was Tia.
This was the girl who would blush, who would bring him potions, who would hide her love in every glance.
She was dead.
But she was still here.
Right here.
In this damned bottle.
Bell’s brain—that machine that had crashed from overload—emitted a soft “click” as the light sphere pulsed.
It began to function again.
Gears engaged.
Sparks flew.
Leovet Victor had said: the soul is the core, the body is the vessel.
Antinoia Milia had said: as long as the Anchor is stable, the soul can remain in this world.
What if.
What if he found a new vessel for this soul?
Bell’s pupils constricted violently.
A cluster of eerie green ghost-fire ignited in his originally dead eyes.
Resurrection.
Not the kind of miracle spoken of by charlatans.
Construction.
Recomposition.
Since the flesh had been destroyed.
He would build a new one.
Even if it wasn’t a body of flesh and blood.
Even if it was stone.
Metal.
Dirt.
As long as it could move.
As long as it could speak.
As long as she was Tia.
Bell sat up abruptly.
His spine made a series of popping sounds.
The long period of stiffness made his muscles incredibly sore.
But he couldn’t feel it.
Adrenaline was secreting frantically.
That poison called “hope” flowed through his veins and into his entire body.
Antinoia Milia.
That woman.
The senior who treated soul research like eating and drinking.
She must know what to do.
The book she gave him before, 《Soul Construction》.
There was a chapter in it.
At the time, Bell thought it was the ravings of a madman.
Now.
It was a life-saving straw.
Bell grabbed his coat from the floor and threw it on haphazardly.
His movements were rough.
He didn’t care that he buttoned it wrong.
He still needed materials.
Ordinary dirt puppets wouldn’t do.
Too fragile.
They couldn’t withstand the weight of a complete human soul.
The soul of that shadow wolf before had exploded the dirt puppet into powder.
Tia’s soul was more complex and heavier than a monster’s.
He needed a more solid mana-conducting material.
One that could carry a soul circuit.
One that could self-repair.
And have enough toughness.
Mithril.
That word popped into Bell’s mind.
The thing he had once worked himself to death on missions to save up for.
The thing Tia said she would save up to give to him.
Was this fate?
After going in a huge circle.
In the end, he had to return to the starting point.
Only this time.
It wasn’t to become stronger.
It was to bring her back.
Bell reached into his coat.
He felt the cold metal.
The command token.
The highest mobilization order of the Duke’s estate.
It could mobilize the three thousand heavy armored troops.
It could call upon all resources under the Duke’s name.
Money?
Right now, money was the thing he lacked least.
Bell stood up.
His legs were a bit weak.
But he stood firm.
Like a nail driven deep into the ground.
He walked to the desk.
He picked up a pen and paper.
His hand shook slightly.
But the words he wrote were so forceful they pierced through the back of the paper.
Tearing the sheet.
“The list.”
Bell muttered in a low voice.
His voice was raspy, with a hint of neurotic trembling.
“High-purity Mithril, thirty kilograms.”
“Deep Sea Silver, ten kilograms.”
“Mana crystals, highest grade, thirty pieces.”
“And...”
His pen tip paused.
“The key to Antinoia’s laboratory.”
Or.
He could just kidnap that woman.
As long as he could save Tia.
Forget kidnapping.
He would even commit murder and arson.
Bell folded the list and tucked it into an envelope.
Then.
He picked up the crystal bottle.
Carefully.
As if he were holding the entire world.
He kissed the mouth of the bottle.
It was icy.
Hard.
Without warmth.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Bell looked at the light sphere in the bottle.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
It was stiff.
Distorted.
Yet it radiated a bone-chilling determination.
“I’m taking you home.”
“Even if I have to punch a hole in this world.”
“I will piece you back together.”
“Piece by piece.”
“I’ll bring you back.”
Bell pushed open the door.
The hallway outside was empty.
The sunset had completely sunk away.
Darkness enveloped the estate.
Bell walked into the darkness.
His footsteps echoed on the marble floor.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Every step.
Felt like he was stepping on the faces of those wronged souls who died for so-called “justice” and “ethics.”
To hell with ethics.
To hell with taboos.
As long as she can move.
As long as she can call my name.
Even if she is a monster.
She will be my monster.
Rate on N.U.
