Chapter 78 The Fruit of Greed (11)

Quiet, extremely quiet.

Her body was sinking, and she could only hear her regular heartbeat and breathing. The deep blue that filled her eyes almost suffocated her, as if she was left with only intense helplessness and fear. The sound of the flowing sea water gently caressed her, and the shadows wrapped her up so that she was not affected by anything.

Time slowed down, and Dorota moved her eyes slightly. She saw a black cocoon hidden underneath.

It would appear when night fell.

There were faint cracks on the surface of the black cocoon, as if something was about to break free. Dorota finally came in front of it, raised her hand and touched the outer membrane wall. The palm of her hand felt cold and sticky, and the movement of her hand became timid and tentative.

It seemed to sense a strange breath from her body, and the pressure made it instinctively obey, using pleasing obedience to survive. Cunning monster.

Dorota certainly would not show mercy, and her sympathy would not be used on weird things. The shadow quickly swallowed up the black cocoon completely.

It sensed Dorota's hatred, and the silent giant cocoon suddenly became agitated. The monster inside tried desperately to escape from the cage that was no longer safe, but it was too late.

Dorota was relieved when she confirmed that the special agent inside was completely quiet and had fallen asleep again. She planned to pass on the message and the Procuratorate would control it.

She used her ability to return directly to the beach. The moon was particularly bright tonight. She could reach out and hold it in her hand, but it was also out of reach. At that moment, Dorota didn't know what she remembered. She seemed to feel very sad suddenly.

"Nana."

Her chaotic thoughts were forcibly pulled back. She turned around and saw the night watchman walking towards here. Next to him was the chief inspector of the Procuratorate. Dorota had only met him briefly a few times.

"Brother, why are you here?"

"I'm here to pick you up. I've already told them. Just go back."

Dorota glanced at Cecil again. The chief was not free to care about her affairs. He must have sensed the existence of the special class, so he came here.

"The breath of the special class has disappeared." Cecil's sight shifted from the direction of the sea he was looking at to the person in front of him. He slowly recalled who she was, "How did you know?"

After all, the special class was too special. Except for this kind of predator who focused on perception, other people would hardly know the birth of the special class. Cecil himself came here because of the return notice.

Dorota's appearance was too abrupt. It was obvious that it was also because of the special class. His expression changed instantly.

"Didn't my brother tell you?" Dorota looked at Shouye in confusion, and the latter naturally took over her blame, and he said that it was indeed the case.

Cecil probably knew that he couldn't get anything out of the brother and sister who had reached an agreement. He took a last glance at Dorota and disappeared on the spot. He was going to observe the situation of the special fish.

The end of the line of sight was still the junction of the sky and the sea. The fog above the sea surface gradually became thicker. The special fish did not appear, and the black cocoon would not appear again tonight. This illusion has always bothered her recently, and Dorota looked up at the sky involuntarily.

The turbid vertical pupils that should not exist in reality, it seems that this world will become disordered and chaotic.

She lowered her eyes and stared at her wrist.

"Mom and Dad are still waiting at home. We should go back."

Shouye turned to leave, but Dorota did not keep up with him. She lowered her voice and said, "I'm not going back."

Shouye did not ask her why. He turned sideways and looked at her calmly, as if he had known everything earlier. Silence was like a receding tide that overwhelmed each other.

But why was he so calm and so determined? Why did he know all that?

What kind of identity does "he" exist as?

Her family, her brother.

Or another her.

"You remembered." Shouye finally showed a real smile, and the curve of his lips seemed to be expecting her next question, and he would provide all the patience and tolerance.

Dorota suddenly reached out and held his wrist, and Vigilante let her do what she wanted. As she expected, he and she had the same supernatural identity, which she had been unable to see before.

"Who are you?" She just asked.

"Me? You should answer this question."

Those deep red eyes seemed like a bottomless abyss that could eat people. He was approaching, staring at her, as if he wanted to pull her into the same dark swamp. "You stripped me from your consciousness just to wake yourself up."

"I am the 'you' who stays awake in your subconscious." He finally answered slowly, "Of course, I also have those memories of yours."

"After all, I am still you."

He leaned closer, his pupils reflected another figure. No one would know everything about her better than him. He could be cold and arrogant, or greedy. He could even replace her.

Being of the same essence, Dorota sensed the fleeting dangerous thought, and she instead developed a new excitement, "It's interesting that you would want to replace me."

She smiled, "My original idea was obviously indifference, I didn't add any other ambitions to you."

"Because I am the variable you created before falling into this illusion, in order to prevent yourself from really not waking up." "

But because I am a derived consciousness, even if it is based on your existence, I am an independent individual. It is certainly not difficult for me to have a self-consciousness that is out of control." Watchman smiled unchanged, "But I still prefer the you who would call me brother."

Dorota didn't have time to deal with his teasing-like bad words, she asked instead: "I can't seem to sense the outside world, do you know what the situation is outside now?"

"It's nothing. Shu and the other nuns just helped you complete the full body baptism. The ceremony hasn't started yet."

The tone of the night watchman sounded nonchalant, as if it was good to be alive and it didn't matter if you died. His nonchalant attitude made Dorota look sideways slightly.

He noticed Dorota's gaze and said casually, "Isn't it good here? What's worth staying in the world outside that is so rotten that you can't see the future? You must go back?"

"And you like it here very much." The night watchman continued slowly, "You want to stay in this world."

"Then why do you reject it?"

Really, does she want to integrate into this place?

Maybe.

But she hadn't finished what she wanted to do. Those people could still enjoy all the benefits brought by power. Why? Even if she really stayed, the premise was that they were dead.

"Don't you understand why I want to leave?" Dorota looked at him. There was no need to avoid anything. The person who knew her best would only be him, another self. "Then why did you persuade me to stay? Are you afraid?"

"If it was fear, it would only make me feel ridiculous, but you are not. You are indeed tired of it." "

But I'm still looking forward to it."

She wanted to kill the people she hated with her own hands.

"So how to leave here? You should know the way, right?"

Watchman did not deny it. He closed his eyes and stared at her for a long time. This was the first time he saw her, and it would be the last time.

"Kill me." He suddenly spoke, maintaining his original indifference and calmness, "This is the way."

He personally placed the dagger in her palm.

Dorota lowered her head. The pure white dagger was so familiar to her that her hands trembled slightly. The black-haired woman carved on the blade hurt her eyes. She couldn't remain indifferent.

"Don't blink."

The sound of a sharp object piercing flesh and blood reached her ears along the tip of the knife. Her eardrums bulged, and an unknown liquid moistened her palm. Dorota subconsciously wanted to throw away the dagger, but the person in front of her stopped her action.

"No need to go easy on me." Before she could no longer bear it and was about to open her eyes, the warm touch had already covered her eyeballs, a warmth that was completely different from his cold temperament. "I am different from everyone else. Death will only bring me back to you."

His long eyelashes fluttered gently, and the slight itching spread to his heart and turned sour. One of his hands was bleeding, so he covered her eyes with the other clean hand.

He was thinking, he actually didn't know what kind of existence he was, and what kind of feelings he had for her.

A derivative of her consciousness, an incomplete her, an independent individual, should he replace her or love her.

"So you don't have to regret it."

When Dorota opened her eyes again, the familiar figure had long disappeared. The surrounding scene began to fall apart, turning into pieces of colored paper that peeled off from their original places. Dorota stretched out her hand, and the colored paper turned into ashes and scattered the moment it touched her fingertips.

The colors faded away until only endless dark black remained. She stood in the almost unrecognizable darkness and looked at the dagger in her hand. She understood what he meant.

This illusion was wrong from the beginning. The two "her" caused chaos in the core.

If one of them disappeared and the error was forcibly corrected, it would cause more chaos and collapse.

That's why he asked her to kill him.

And this dagger is the key for her to leave here. She can use it to break the illusion.

The black-haired woman with the blade was sleeping peacefully and would never wake up again. Even in this false world, she could not see her again. They should not have any intersection.

Dorota closed her eyes, pointed the tip of the knife at her wrist, and cut a closed blood line.

The torn seam opened and closed, the strange single eye was dyed scarlet, and the pain gnawed at her reason.

Dorota laughed. The warmer this illusion became, the more bitter the reality seemed. But it was too beautiful, so beautiful that it made people realize how fake it was.

Like a glass of wine with a bitter aftertaste.

She drank the wine, and tasted another kind of stable life without so many twists and turns. The final aftertaste was empty and lonely. Was she integrated or drifting away?

But the answer was irrelevant, at least for now, it was not very important.

Because she really should wake up.