Epilogue to Chapter 113 (Part 7): A Chieftain Fished from the River
The idea of digging up a corpse that's already buried and turning it into a controllable superhuman entity sounds rather despicable.
But when it comes to digging up graves, Ye Yihe is doing it twice, without any psychological burden.
He's dug up graves in church cemeteries, so why would he be afraid of a mere old man's grave?
After listening to Ye Yihe's explanation of the whole story, Lanbo nodded in agreement without any hesitation, "Okay."
During his years as a French intelligence agent, he had manipulated countless corpses, including many powerful superhumans.
This is precisely the superpower effect of the [Painting Collection] – it can not only manipulate subspace cubes, but also absorb corpses encased in subspace, transforming them into superpowered life forms under its control.
Furthermore, Rimbaud could even transform the personality and memories of a corpse into a "form" and incorporate it into the supernatural life form he controlled, making it almost indistinguishable from the living person it was in life.
The only limitation is that you can only control one supernatural life form at a time. If you want to absorb a new supernatural life form, you must abandon the previous one.
Since his failed attempt to read the medium back then, which led to the explosion in Leibo Street, Rimbaud has not absorbed any new supernatural life forms.
Right now, this vacant spot is perfect for manipulating the organization's leader who has long since died.
Seeing that Rimbaud and Yeyhe were having a pleasant conversation, Verlaine leaned against the wall and listened, his expression showing several times as if he wanted to say something but then stopped.
"What's wrong, Paul?"
Noticing this, Rimbaud asked gently, "Do you have something to say?"
Having learned from the previous argument, Rimbaud now pays close attention to Verlaine's thoughts and even deliberately guides them appropriately—a basic and essential lesson for intelligence agents who need to use various means to extract information during missions.
However, he was still on a mission at the time and was slightly negligent about Verlaine's mental state. He also did not expect that Huang Batu's identity was so sensitive, which eventually became the fuse for the conflict between the two.
“I was just thinking,” Verlaine pursed his lips, but still spoke up, “if in another world he really was raised by that deceased leader, then the leader must hold a very important place in his heart. Wouldn’t your actions actually…”
Did it backfire?
“What you said makes some sense,” Ye Yihe sighed softly, “but what could I do? I was the one who wiped him and his organization out of the ground.”
Ye Yihe had no regrets whatsoever about killing that kind of villain.
Moreover, judging from the physical condition of that younger version of Dazai, his lifestyle within the organization had reached an extremely unhealthy level.
In particular, when Oda Sakunosuke was changing his clothes, he discovered that the body was not only thin and pale, but also had a shocking number of scars caused by sharp blades and bullets.
Just one glance at the young Dazai, whose brow was furrowed and face was etched with exhaustion even in his feverish slumber, made Ye Yihe unable to resist cursing him—"Do you even know how to raise a child? If you can't, don't raise one!"
"So I plan to use that old man to first make that Grand Chancellor lower his guard against us,"
Ye Yihe explained his plan to Verlaine, "and then, depending on the content of the conversation, we'll stage the [Heartwarming Reunion Version], the [Strict Father Apologizing Version], and the [Feijia Intervening Version]..."
“…” Verlaine repeated, still puzzled, “【Feija’s version】?”
“He seemed hostile to Fedia, and mistook Fedia for me.”
Ye Yihe shrugged. "So, if he actually harbors deep hatred for that tyrannical old man, I plan to take matters into my own hands, beat the old man up, and then kill him in front of him to vent my anger."
“I will not allow that leader to retaliate and injure Ikh,” Rimbaud added.
Ye Yihe nodded, "In this way, I can successfully regain some favor with that Grand Tutor and lay the foundation for our future interactions..."
Verlaine: "…………"
It's a bit... impossible to refute.
Moreover, I had a strange feeling that the last item was the one the other party really wanted to do.
Having successfully enlisted Rimbaud's help, Ye Yihe acted swiftly and decisively. After calling the farming officer to ask for the location of the grave where they had buried their leader, he and Rimbaud set off with shovels.
As for the "Rats in the House of the Dead" storyline, Verlaine will have to temporarily fill in for the agent plot.
The old man who was the leader of the Port Mafia had been dead for several years, and his body was nothing more than a handful of bones stuck together with tattered cloth.
Fortunately, Rimbaud's "Painting Collection" only requires reading information from the corpse and using "Forms" to generate a supernatural life form indistinguishable from a real person, rather than actually manipulating the corpse.
Within the vast subspace constructed by Rimbaud, the body generated by supernatural abilities was gradually taking shape.
“I have given him his memories and personality from his lifetime,”
Rimbaud emphasized to Ye Yihe, "But in the end, he is still just a collection of [intelligence], an integration, retrieval, and access to information, not the real leader. Some reactions may be different from what you expect."
"Don't worry," Ye Yihe nodded.
"This can only be considered... how should I put it, making use of waste."
…………
Dazai Osamu stared at the ceiling, his brain still experiencing intermittent dizziness and more pronounced throbbing pain.
But what follows is a sense of satisfaction that arises in the mind after a long and sufficient sleep, a kind of comfort that comes from lying in the sun doing nothing.
He, who was being chased by time, hadn't experienced this kind of emotion for a very, very long time.
Although, he was knocked unconscious by that Oda Sakunosuke.
Recalling what happened before he fell into a coma, a faint look of despair appeared in Dazai Osamu's eyes.
Even the bandages wrapped around his body were stripped off completely, leaving nothing behind.
At this moment, the figure with copper-colored hair was sitting on the carpet in front of the sofa, his back to him, seemingly performing gun maintenance, with a pile of parts on the coffee table.
Are you keeping an eye on him because you're so close...?
Using the blanket as cover, Dazai Osamu slowly ran his fingertips over the sofa beneath him.
The linen fabric, with what appeared to be down filling, made him feel as if he were trapped in an exceptionally soft snare—just like when the other person had picked him up earlier.
"You're awake."
As a former top assassin, Oda Sakunosuke has extremely sensitive hearing; no slightest movement can escape his perception.
The living room has been cleared out. Dazai, Chuuya, and Pushkin all went to help at the House of the Dead. Only he stayed here to take care of Dazai, whom he had knocked unconscious.
Oda Sakunosuke turned his body to the side and casually reached out to touch Dazai Osamu's forehead.
Dazai Osamu tried to tilt his head to dodge, but there was no way he could avoid the professional assassin's moves.
As a result, his body stiffened again, even more completely than when he was lifted up horizontally last time.
Because at this moment his mind was clear enough, even to the point that he subconsciously felt it was absurd.
Don't call me Odasaku; there's no reason for the enemy to call me that.
And what is this now, mercy from the enemy?
"There's still a little bit left, but it's much better than this morning."
Oda Sakunosuke withdrew his hand and continued speaking as if he were treating him like Dazai Osamu from his own side.
"Would you like something to eat? But Fei Jia said your stomach is too weak, so you can only have some vegetable porridge for now."
Because Ye Yihe acknowledged the name Fyodor in front of Dazai, Oda Sakunosuke also switched back to the name [Fyodor].
Only Dazai Osamu murmured, "...Feijia?"
"It's Fyodor."
Thinking that he was unaware of the difference between a nickname and a given name, Oda Sakunosuke explained it to him, and then got up to go to the kitchen to get some porridge.
In the past, Ye Yihe used it to make soup for Fyodor to nourish his body, but now there is a young man named Dazai whose body is even worse than Fyodor's.
Osamu Dazai: “…………”
He certainly knew that Feda was Fyodor's nickname, but the question was why Oda Sakunosuke addressed Fyodor that way...
"Oda Saku".
Dazai Osamu suddenly spoke, but his voice was like the misty fog under the morning light, with a slight tremor that even he himself could hardly perceive.
"Um."
Oda Sakunosuke responded.
"Oda Saku".
"Um."
"Oda Saku".
"I'm here."
Oda Sakunosuke, who brought over the vegetable porridge, indulged Dazai Osamu's repeated requests, showing no sign of impatience.
But for Dazai Osamu, this situation was already extremely abnormal.
Even the building itself, and the interior decoration and furnishings of the room, were completely unfamiliar.
A guess popped into his mind, but he still needed evidence.
"...Speaking of which, Oda Sakunosuke's novel won the Newcomer Award."
Dazai Osamu stared at the porridge spoon that had been placed in front of him, trying to change the subject.
"Since I'm here, I wonder if I'll have the honor of seeing that novel."
As he said this, dozens of contingency plans for responding to Oda had already run through his mind, including how to calmly gloss over the refusal and then quickly move on to the next step.
But Dazai Osamu never expected that this would be the last thing he heard.
"Newcomer Award?"
Upon hearing the other party's request, Oda Sakunosuke's expression revealed obvious confusion. "What is the Newcomer Award?"
"...Huh?"
"I have never written a novel, nor have I ever received a newcomer award."
"...Huh!?"
Dazai Osamu's expression almost froze in horror. "Liar!"
Oda Sakunosuke: "…………"
“I’m not lying to you,” he thought for a moment, “If we’re talking about literary creation, Pushkin seems to be writing poetry lately. Would you like me to show it to you?”
It seems that it was Ikh who requested it, saying that a great man like Pushkin—he didn't understand why he was called "a great man like Pushkin"—couldn't write poetry, but the result was that Pushkin could only start studying the writing techniques of various poetry collections with a bitter face.
Even Pushkin was writing poetry, yet Oda Sakunosuke wasn't writing novels. Dazai Osamu found this hard to believe, "...So what are you doing now?"
"Working for the [House of the Dead]".
Oda Sakunosuke answered honestly, which struck Dazai Osamu like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Osamu Dazai: “………………”
Dazai Osamu: "And what about Chuuya?"
Oda Sakunosuke: "Same as me."
Osamu Dazai: "...Akutagawa?"
Oda Sakunosuke: "Just like me."
A deathly silence slowly descended upon the air.
Dazai Osamu's feverish brain suddenly became unusually clear and his nerves were highly active.
He spoke calmly, his voice clear and firm.
"Yes, I am indeed dead."
Oda Sakunosuke, who was once again hallucinating, remained silent for a moment.
I've decided to feed this Dazai some porridge first.
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There will be another chapter later, you can go to sleep now~
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