Chapter 398 Inferiority

"...I understand." The ghost said calmly.

In Greven's eyes, the black-haired young man in front of him did not show any emotion on his face. He looked like a statue cast from glass and steel, revealing a clear, bright, and slightly scratched coldness.

He was looking down at a thick stack of war reports, not saying a word for three minutes, perhaps longer. Graven half-heartedly guessed that he should just turn around and walk away silently, like a qualified messenger, a loyal subordinate.

But he didn't, he just... stood there, not knowing what he was praying for, or just weakly hoping to get something from that person, comfort, guidance, even rebuke or ridicule... anything was fine, those smoky gray eyes were like the only morning star that lit up in the hazy night, even a faint ray of light was enough to comfort all the painful and confused souls in the world.

What's more, he is more than just the Morning Star.

...But he didn't know if it was an illusion, but Greven felt as if he was glimpsing a lingering fatigue and loneliness, which was constantly gnawing at the other person's shadow, so that asking for anything from the person in front of him at this moment would be completely cruel and unfair.

"Mr. Ghost, I don't agree with Ashes."

Nova was stunned for a moment. He instinctively raised his eyes and saw the brown-haired young man step forward, put his hands on his desk, and stared at him with his bloodshot eyes. The complex emotions in his eyes made it difficult for him to distinguish for a moment.

This is a condescending, impolite, and oppressive act.

"He accompanied me through the most difficult times in my life and taught me so much. We once depended on each other." Greven gritted his teeth, his cheeks puffing slightly. He spoke slowly, word by word, emphasizing, "I am indeed deeply hurt by his death. It's very painful, and it may take me a long time to get over it—but that doesn't mean I will agree with his ideals."

Greven Worif probably understood how much danger and oppression he, as a tall and strong adult male warrior, could bring to a fragile ordinary person, so he usually stood farther away from the chief, like a huge but gentle, loyal and silent warhorse.

He is a reserved and reliable subordinate, a steady and handy heavy sword. Apart from his old partner Hui Jin and the cheerful and optimistic Marshilin who can get along with anyone, he rarely talks to other colleagues and does not like socializing. He just does his own thing silently.

The professor understood very well why his past self chose such a person as his confidant. Even now - although this guy sometimes had a bad temper and gave him a headache - he still trusted him. Or rather, when he was sure that the other party had no ability or opportunity to betray him, the ghost would trust all the people he personally selected.

When deciding to execute Ashes, he rationally, even coldly, considered whether this would affect the stance and attitude of Greven, with whom Ashes had a close personal relationship. The answer was yes, but he didn't believe he would betray him or the People's Party. Just as he had believed Ashes wasn't entirely reliable, any choice he made wouldn't lead to irreversible consequences. So, upon spotting signs of betrayal, he immediately and without hesitation chose and secretly pushed for a solution that would minimize harm to the group's interests, with Ashes becoming one of the costs.

But betrayal is a real act, while human emotions are something else entirely, something more elusive. The professor found himself inexplicably reluctant to face the general, whose face was filled with sadness and confusion. A deeply uncomfortable feeling enveloped him.

How could he explain it? His methods were efficient, perfect, and minimized group losses—but they were also overly arbitrary, arrogant, and devoid of any humanity.

"...I know." Finally, the black-haired young man said dryly: "I believe in your loyalty."

"No, that's not what I wanted to hear." Sadness filled Greven's eyes, and his voice gradually dropped. "I just hope you won't show that... expression."

The black-haired young man was obviously stunned for a moment. He subconsciously reached out and touched his face, as if there was really something unexpected there.

"...I don't understand," he frowned and said, "Please wait a moment, I'll get a mirror--"

"A kind of indifference, as if intending to shoulder everything alone, without expecting others to understand," Greven interrupted him, seemingly determined. "...and a kind of weariness and loneliness that feels like 'it's just as it should be.'"

This time the professor was really scared by him.

The black-haired young man slowly opened his eyes, his body suddenly tensed up because of this totally unexpected judgment. He began to feel extremely uneasy and even wanted to run away.

"...I'm sorry, maybe I'm not in the right to say this to you." Greven slowly withdrew his hands from the table with a bit of disappointment, and stared deeply at the thin and frail young man in front of him.

At this moment, this person was like a ball of panicked fire. He wanted to protect him, but he always felt that even if he just took a step forward, the raised wind would make him dodge desperately in the opposite direction.

"I feel inferior in front of you." Greven had never imagined he would be so frank in blurting out the things that had tormented him for so long. "In terms of strength, ability, or qualifications, I'm not the best among those around you. I'm even insignificant. I've reached my current position largely due to my brute force and unwillingness to admit defeat, and even more so, my unwillingness to return to the past. And the trust and opportunities you've given me, far more than I deserve."

His voice was faintly choked. "I often find myself so dull, unable to follow your train of thought, unable to comprehend your plans. I'm afraid... Perhaps one day, I'll be like Ashes... Because of my inability to understand, my shortsightedness and narrow-mindedness, I'll make choices that disappoint you and even damage everything we've worked so hard to gain..."

"...You won't, Graven." The professor frowned, his body stiff as a rock. He subconsciously shrunk back in his chair, panicking for once, desperately wanting to summon a savior to save him—but even he knew, at that moment, that to simply and crudely toss the heart of someone he had sincerely opened before him to another was deeply insulting.

——What's more, this is his subordinate, his general, and he is responsible for him.

"Since I've chosen you, even if you don't trust yourself, you should trust my judgment." The black-haired young man forced himself to stand up straight and solemnly stared at the brown-haired young man in front of him. He answered word by word, "Do you think I'm someone who would act recklessly and irresponsibly to entrust you with such an important task?"

It was a very professorial answer, arrogant, rational, and with a strange and frank sense of self-righteousness.

"... Damn it, I'm really not good at comforting people." The professor calmed down a bit and tried to comfort people a little awkwardly. "I can only say that all of these are worthwhile choices. We are all moving forward through constant trial and error. No one is born with the right path, not even you, not even me—but this is the eternal law of the development of things."

"As for me, you have never disappointed me so far. You need to give yourself some time to develop." He paused, as if organizing his words, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rough pages of the battle report.

"...And I made a mistake this time too," the black-haired young man raised his head, gazing intently at the general's gradually reddening eyes. "When I discovered something was wrong with Ashes, I should have proactively communicated with you in advance, rather than simply 'notifying' you directly, arrogantly assuming you wouldn't understand... This is my fault."

"No, how could this be your fault!" Greven subconsciously took a step forward and eagerly defended him: "Ashes is my friend, and even I didn't—"

"Okay, I've exhausted all my emotional intelligence so far," the professor interrupted him expressionlessly, glancing at him coldly. "If you continue with this topic, are you going to make us both cry?"

Greven was stunned for a moment, and a complex expression of helplessness mixed with a hint of shyness and shock appeared on his face, but he did look much calmer and more relaxed.

The brown-haired young man suddenly said, "Mr. Ghost, I can..."

But before the professor could look at him in confusion, he changed his words, as if he had swallowed something: "No, nothing."

——For a moment, he suddenly wanted to go forward and hug that person tightly.

...But he knew he couldn't.

…

After Greven left, the professor breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back into his chair, his neck numb. Being a psychiatrist mediator was more tiring than fighting a war.

Someone pinched the back of his neck. The black-haired young man subconsciously turned his head to look. Before he saw the face of the person, he was pinched under the ribs and pulled up from the chair, and then hugged him in his arms.

"...What are you doing?" Nova muttered in dissatisfaction. However, he adjusted his posture naturally, resting his chin comfortably on the man's shoulder, letting the man gently pat his back as if to soothe him.

"You performed very well just now." The savior's voice sounded gently in his ears: "I thought you would need me to save the situation, but you can already handle it on your own in this situation."

"When did you come?" The professor was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously wanted to push the person away to see the person's expression - but ended up having his head pressed into the person's shoulder again.

"When that guy said 'I don't have a position,'" the other man said slowly, his palm still gently patting his back again and again, as if soothing a frightened cat that gradually relaxed its guard in someone's arms. "I saw that you handled it well, so I didn't interrupt you."