Chapter 110 Sad

The snow was falling steadily, almost crushing his eyelashes. Nova closed his eyes, feeling a bit overwhelmed, and suddenly began to question why he asked questions in such a strange place.

"...I want to know how you understand 'hate' and 'love'?"

The other man's voice was so soft that he had to move closer to him - but soon the other man grabbed his hand and led him through the wind and snow, continuing forward along the vague shape of the street.

"Hatred is the world's most indispensable and universal product," the professor replied succinctly. "The differences between individuals, races, nations, systems, and even beliefs are perpetuated by hatred, and that's why we call it history."

"As for love."

He was silent for a moment, as if considering something serious.

"We all know that our worth ultimately comes down to our ability to benefit others, and that this ability will eventually become impoverished."

As he spoke, white mist rose from his mouth, blurring his silver-gray eyes. "Lions will abandon and expel old and injured companions, bird parents will refuse to feed weak chicks, and female insects will eat males who have completed their reproductive mission... But our calculating genes are undoubtedly extremely intelligent, having taken out an insurance policy called 'love' for the future."

"This is love," he concluded calmly amidst the heavy snow. "It comes from fear, from aging, and from sorrow."

Until they returned to Baita University, the other person never spoke, but just held his hand tightly all the way.

Nova untied his scarf and coat and began to take off his shoes. The buckles of his cold boots slipped slightly under his gloves, and he tutted impatiently. The next second, he suddenly lost his balance and fell into the soft chair that had appeared behind him.

The professor gripped the armrest, a bit dazed. Another man knelt on one knee in front of him, unbuckled his boots for him, and let him step on his knees.

Between the socks and trouser legs, the black-haired young man revealed a very pale ankle, with light blue veins climbing up like thorny thorns.

Azuka gripped it gently, his warm palm touching a fragile, icy chill. The man flinched subconsciously, but this only made him feel the pulsating arteries beneath the thin skin more clearly.

"...Are you cold?" He paused and asked in a low voice.

Although magic had been used to block the wind and snow, the man's skin still looked wet and cold, like a corpse that had died in a glacier.

The other party seemed a little annoyed: "Where's your mysophobia?"

"I didn't bend down to kiss the toe of your boot," Azuka replied coldly.

He stood up and unceremoniously placed his hands on the armrests. The soft chair shook violently, and the other person, completely enveloped by him, looked up at him in a daze, his body instinctively shrinking back into the chair.

Obviously, the other party was frightened by his sudden approach.

"Please answer my question directly."

Without the protection of his coat, his nemesis looked so thin that it was almost heartbreaking. Azuka lowered his eyes calmly and asked gently, "First question, are you cold now?"

...There's something obviously wrong with this guy right now.

Behind him was the back of a chair and in front of him was another person's chest. The professor glanced to the left and right with his peripheral vision, and found that there was no space to escape at all. After a moment's silence, he finally decided to be cautious and temporarily obey the other party.

“…I feel very cold.”

The next second after he opened his mouth, the savior leaned down towards him, and some of his cold golden hair fell into his collar, causing him to tremble subconsciously.

The other person's palm touched the back of his neck at some point, and his lips seemed to brush against the tip of his ear unintentionally, but before the professor could cover his ears and glare at him angrily, the guy had already withdrawn his hand and resumed his previous condescending attitude.

There seems to be something extra on my neck.

Nova lowered his head and saw a silver chain appearing around his neck. The dark red diamond-shaped gem hanging from it was still swaying gently, kissing his chest again and again.

I don't know what the other party did, but as the gem trembled slightly, a wonderful, gorgeous and extremely exquisite magic pattern suddenly appeared on it, and a comfortable warmth suddenly began to spread from the chest to the limbs.

"A two-way magic tool. I've roughly modified it." The Savior showed him another gem that looked identical, only cyan in color, and explained softly, "Three taps for spatial storage, two for automatic heating, and one for two-way communication. The connection is with me."

Nova didn't care about the other party's offense for a moment, his eyes suddenly lit up surprisingly - everything else was fine, but you have to know that this is an era of declining magic, space magic has long been lost, and the existing magic tools and scrolls related to space magic are almost all handed down from the last century or even the first century, and they are all treasures of major forces.

But before he could ask further questions, his right hand was pulled up again and held in the palm of another person.

"Your birthday is coming soon, and I originally wanted to wait until then to give it to you."

The savior lowered his eyes and pried open the buckle on the wrist of his glove. Two bony fingers slowly squeezed in and slowly penetrated along the slight depression in the center of the wrist.

His thumb was gently pressing on the gracefully raised radius, which was hard, fragile, and trembling slightly unconsciously - but he quickly pulled the glove off, and the other man's fingers were even curled up nervously.

"It's a pity that winter is so long." Azuka sighed softly, raised his eyes, and looked quietly into the slightly widened gray eyes: "Second question, when the knife cuts the palm of your hand, does it hurt?"

This time the other person answered much more quickly: "It hurts."

...So good.

The savior gently but firmly stretched out those stiff fingers, forcing his old enemy to expose his palm. Then he lowered his head and gently kissed the new narrow white scar, like a cold blessing.

The slightly cool, soft and moist touch disappeared as soon as it touched him. Nova was stunned for a moment. After a very chaotic brain search, he finally got the answer from the mother and son in the same bed.

He slowly frowned: "...Are you treating me like a five-year-old?"

——Something seems wrong.

"A kiss is just a psychological placebo. It has little actual pain-relieving effect," he quickly retorted expressionlessly, "Besides, I'm not in any pain right now."

——He is not a cub who expects to be licked by his mother.

The man didn't answer, but simply cupped Nova's face, forcing him to drown in the clear, brilliant blue ocean. His shadow was completely submerged in the huge shadow cast by the other person. "One last question."

"If I tell you that all my tenderness and indulgence towards you is just a disguise to cover up my hatred..."

Azuka keenly noticed that the other's pupils shrank, which softened his gaze and made his voice even softer, as if he was afraid of startling something. "So, are you sad about this?"

"……I do not understand."

"You'll understand." He loosened his hand and instead grasped the back of the chair, gently resting his forehead against the other's, gently and coldly rejecting the almost powerless resistance: "It's like experiencing the cold and pain."

"My childhood dream was to become a witch doctor, and then to join a Natalin hunting party." Azuka's tone was calm, as if she were telling someone else's story. "But then, time and again, I lost those ordinary, stable, yet seemingly boring possibilities."

"Conspiracy and hatred are endless. After countless dangerous and fatal hasty escapes, I was in a state of panic and exhaustion. So I began to weakly wonder, who should I blame? Who should I hate?"

"Later, they called me the 'Savior of the Empire.' I was surrounded by companions and supporters. Amidst countless cheers, some sincere and some hypocritical, I felt smug and high-spirited. Then, I couldn't help but wonder, who should I praise? Who should I be grateful to?"

His voice was soft, and the world was silent, with only the wooden structure beneath the leather creaking under the weak pressure of his fingertips.

"If my life is just a script, all that hatred and love, all that poverty and glory... whether I'm a beggar on the street or a hero of an empire, it's all just a product of the gods' amusement—then, whether I like it or hate it, has it lost all meaning?"

The storm seemed very far away from that person. The desperate roars coming from the ocean, the snow-capped mountains and the depths of the wilderness were all blocked by a layer of transparent, thin, clear and beautiful blue glass.

The professor frowned slowly. "You shouldn't think like that, and you wouldn't think like that."

A man who vowed to take revenge on the gods, a man who could cooperate with his former enemy, was definitely not a prisoner trapped in past memories, running desperately and kicking and punching.

The other man stared at him quietly for a moment, then suddenly began to laugh slowly: "Yeah, so I wouldn't think that way."

A wanton and proud look once again appeared on the face of the great hero who had gone through countless hardships and dangers.

"Why should I be trapped in a so-called 'script', living my whole life in fear that one day I will lose what I have at the hands of the author's pen?"

"I once killed a god. Why should I deny everything I have, until I destroy myself, because of the evil consequences caused by the gods?"

The hero has a very wonderful ability, it is something warm, hot and majestic, making him appear particularly gentle, bright and colorful at this moment, enough to calmly face the cruel torture from fate - gentleness is also a powerful force, and dangerous and crazy enough.

"I want to love who I should love, hate who I should hate, and use my own emotions and rationality without restraint." He distanced himself slightly, looking into the other person's eyes gently and sincerely: "So please answer me."

"—will you be saddened by my hatred?"

Just when Azuka thought that the other party would still maintain a rational and cruel silence, he heard the black-haired young man suddenly whisper: "...I still don't understand, but I should be sad."

Yes, even though his rationality told him that the true feelings of another person would not have a fatal impact on his plan, he did feel a faint pain and coldness deep in his chest before his brain could judge because of that unclear possibility - very faint, but impossible to ignore, like a lump in his throat.

“…Good boy.”

His Moon understands the grand destinies of the world, but knows nothing about individual likes and dislikes—but that’s okay.

Azuka sighed, leaned forward and gently kissed the man's frowning brow: "I will be by your side. You can need me anytime and anywhere, until you understand everything completely, even if it means the end of the world."

“…So don’t be sad.”

Please keep thinking and don't be sad.

I love you.

The author has something to say:

The professor's opinion comes from here:

Love is either instinctive or calculated. Generally speaking, it's a bit of both. We know that our true worth depends solely on our ability to work, to benefit those around us and society. We also know that this ability can't remain constant. That's why we buy ourselves an insurance policy—love, born out of fear, out of pain, out of sorrow.

—Sergei Lukyanenko, "Stars Are Cold Toys"