Chapter 290 A Nightmare, A Nightmare Without You
"Isidore?"
A familiar voice drifted faintly from the boundless darkness. He could not see anything, and in the chaos, he followed involuntarily.
"Isidore?"
He liked the sound of the voice, the ending tone when the voice called out the name.
"Isidore."
It was so dark that even he couldn't see anything, but a tiny point of light lit up his eyes.
All his attention was drawn to the tiny, dim light that seemed to be extinguished at any moment. It had an extreme attraction to him, and he couldn't help but take a step forward.
The man in the darkness stretched out his hand and kept running, running, as if trying to catch the light in his hand. The more he ran, the brighter the light became, and the farther it moved away from him.
Why does the light get brighter? Why does the light keep moving? Why doesn't the light slow down and wait for him?
He never doubted.
Light is inherently dazzling, light is inherently free, and it will run to wherever it is.
The moving light suddenly stopped, illuminating his eyes and slowing down his steps. He finally came in front of the light, but when he was about to touch it, he withdrew his hand.
He blinked, and the light became blurry. He blinked again, and the light became hazy. He blinked again, and the light became shaky.
He stretched out his hand in panic, but stumbled for some reason. He quickly steadied himself and raised his head.
The crimson eyes reflected him clearly.
He just stood there in a daze, staring, as the scalding liquid just flowed down.
Vifiya, who was squatting in front of Isidore, saw his dazed expression and before she could ask any questions, she was blocked by his tears.
He didn't move, just looked at her, crying silently.
There was something in those silver eyes, as if he saw her without reacting, like... the same look he had when they first met in the back garden of Alsayin Academy...
But at this moment, there is something more profound in it.
Vifiya lowered her eyes. It was his hand that was stretched out towards her, trembling, and when it was about to touch her, it curled up and hesitantly withdrew.
After a moment's thought, she decisively grabbed him and forcibly led Isidore away from the wall of the Simparai ruins room. She leaned directly towards his face and stared into his eyes: "What's wrong with you?"
There was her warmth in his palm, perhaps because the early spring night was still a little chilly, the temperature of her breath came with the air, lightly blowing on his face.
He still didn't seem to react.
Isidore looked at her almost greedily, without blinking, as if he wanted to see through something and engrave the name of a person named Jiang Suian deeply into his soul.
He must not forget, must not forget what she looks like.
Perhaps the warmth of his palm gave him some courage. He stretched out his hand and walked over carefully.
His fingertips touched lightly, not daring to use too much force as he moved them upwards little by little until his entire palm was stained with her warmth and her delicacy.
He blinked in disbelief.
Not... a portrait...
It's...she...
Complete...she...
She who is alive...
Vifiya did not avoid it.
His eyes were too sad.
This kind of Isidore was rare and abnormal. He rarely touched her without her consent. When he was cursed and scared before, even if he wanted to get close to her, he would ask in advance.
She had chatted with Fei Yi for a while and wanted to talk to him about what happened on St. Fagus Island. She had never concealed the fact that she had Xiao Hui's memories, but she was too busy to talk about personal matters.
But looking at Isidore's current appearance, it doesn't seem appropriate to tell him.
Vifiya let go of his hand. Although it was not hot, it startled him back to his senses.
"Wei..." His voice was unusually hoarse and filled with uneasiness, "Vifiya."
"Well, I'm here."
Her eyes blinked normally, her eyelashes brushed against his fingertips, and the slight itch made his heart itch. At this moment, he suddenly realized what he was doing. The temperature of his palm against her face seemed abnormally hot, and Isidore pulled away in an instant.
He looked at her to make sure she was not angry at his disrespect.
Vifiya's eyes did not leave his body. When he looked over, he could meet her eyes, which were calm eyes.
"Sorry." He lowered his head.
Noticing that the person opposite him stood up and turned around, he suddenly grabbed her fluttering skirt in panic.
"I'm not leaving." She turned back. "I'll pour you a glass of water."
After confirming again and again, Isidore finally let go, his eyes following her all the time until she squatted in front of him again with two glasses of water.
He handed him a cup, which he slowly poured onto his handkerchief, wetting a corner of the fabric, and placed the cup on the ground.
Then, with a natural expression, she put one hand on his shoulder. Vifia could feel the sudden stiffness of the man in front of her.
Vifiya didn't care. She picked up the wet part of the handkerchief with her other hand and wiped the tears from his face.
Isidore held the glass of water in both hands and obediently allowed her to do what she wanted.
"Why are you apologizing?" she asked. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Before he could speak, Vifiya said again: "If something really happened, you can tell me. Only if you tell me will I know."
She paused, her eyes moving to his: "I can't always guess what you want to say."
There are always chances of wrong guesses, and she didn't want to miss his true thoughts because of a wrong guess.
He would always disregard his own wishes because of her.
Isidore was indeed honest with her, but whenever his opinion conflicted with hers, he would give in and carry out her wishes.
She knows everything.
She owed him something, so, within the appropriate range, she didn't mind giving him a little more patience.
Isidore looked at her and stammered a few times, as if he had made up his mind, but still hesitated and said, "I had a nightmare."
A nightmare without you, a nightmare of losing you again.
He knew it wasn't a dream.
Because the pain in my heart is so real, and the wait is so long...
Just reading about her death again and again in his memory made him feel extremely uncomfortable.
Is “he” him?
“His” memories, “his” despair, “his” obsession with her, “everything he” did for her, “his” jealousy…it was densely packed and pervasive.
The piece of rotten flesh called heart of "him" has long been unrecognizable.
Now, his heart is also rotting. As long as he wants, he can read every moment and every detail of "him" and her together in his memory.
Why could he be so comfortable with her approaching him? Why could he remain indifferent when seeing her get hurt because of him again and again?
This part is clearly in his memory, but he still distinguishes it.
Isidore had to admit that this emotion that burned his throat and gnawed at his bones was jealousy.
He was jealous, jealous of everything "he" could do for her. He could do nothing and could only watch her leave. The memory seemed to be mocking his incompetence.
He couldn't help but recall all the parts about her in "his" memory. Every time he recalled them, his jealousy grew stronger, but he was addicted, drinking one cup after another and couldn't stop.
He couldn't help thinking that he had many more memories with her, more than "him", and this alone made him feel despicable and secretly happy.
The fusion of the two memories brought about an extreme desire, whether it was due to "his" overly agonizing wait, or his long-suppressed desire to get closer...
It screamed like crazy, wanting all her attention, wanting her to look only at him, wanting her to get closer to him, wanting to touch her...
He didn't know which memory took over first, but the overflowing longing urged him to move closer to breathe.
He put shackles on it.
Isidore's eyes curved into a smile, and he rubbed her fingertips tenderly through the thin handkerchief. He didn't know what to say. There were so many words, but when they came out of his mouth, only simple words remained.
"I miss you so much."
What kind of answer did he want? What kind of answer did he want from her? He already understood emotions and knew that he was no different from a bug hiding in the dark. He was also very clear about the secret expectation that came from a despicable source at this moment.
He wanted her answer to be more in line with him, just a little bit.
Vifiya stopped wiping, and for the first time, the emotions in her silver eyes were completely exposed and laid bare in front of her.
It's all her.
Vifiya wanted to speak but stopped herself. Something was stuck in her throat and she couldn't speak for a while.
Finally, she smiled calmly and said, "We just met at dinner time."
His eyelashes fluttered, and he didn't expect a response.
The fused memories were so strong that he had forgotten that in her memory, it had not even been half the night since they last met at dinner.
He himself did not expect that what arrived earlier than the sun the next day was a memory from the past.
Memories span across distant time and finally catch up with the moving destiny.
While it's still possible, while she's still here, while her wish can still come true.
"Yeah," he agreed, lowering his eyes.
But, it has been a long time... a long time...
"Have you been waiting for me long?"
Isidore's head shot up.
The girl took back the handkerchief she had wiped her face with, her eyes softening: "Thank you for sticking with me until now."
His pupils shrank slightly.
Looking at his appearance, Vifiya knew that her guess was correct.
The current Isidore has the memory of the sixteenth life. It is not difficult to guess how she came to the seventeenth life. She is most familiar with this state.
She had no intention of exploring how he did it, but he didn't look like he was doing well.
"You have fulfilled the agreement between us well." Weifeiya smiled, "I am very happy."
"Sorry, it's me..."
Isidore knelt over and grabbed her hand, stopping her from apologizing any further.
That's enough, he thought, that's enough.
The heart is filled with cotton, soft and extremely warm.
Originally, everything is due to one’s own persistence.
He was also very happy that she could smile, and the memory that had been completely integrated brought him double joy.
The impact of pleasure hit his soul hard, and he suddenly understood that "he" was him.
They are exactly the same. They can understand the intention of everything the other does. Even the moments of jealousy and joy are so similar.
It's not that they are similar, it's because they are the same person.
At the beginning, they both had the same memory, but when she was no longer in the world, Blank's fate would go into two completely different paths.
However, the purpose is the same.
If he didn't wait for her this time, Isidore was sure that he would keep waiting until the day when the "future" she mentioned came.
Even though we don’t know when the “future” will come.
"He" is no different from him. No matter what period he is in, his desire for her has never changed.
He felt her warmth under his palm, and this time, he did not let go.
"It's okay, you're already in front of me."
You are already in front of me, so no matter what happened in the past, it no longer matters.
Because you are right here, right in front of me.
I finally came to the "future" with you.
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