Chapter 40 Joke
From dawn to late night, Port Maurice is always bustling with activity. Oil-drenched fishermen and dockworkers scurried across the swaying docks, while merchants peddling a myriad of goods jostle with travelers in diverse attire. Occasionally, you'd spot a few nobles in rich attire, their expressions of haughtiness. Local children, with their warm and sly smiles, deftly navigate the throngs. Just slip two copper coins into their dark little hands, and you'll be rewarded with a eloquent, experienced guide.
But at dusk today, the dock at Port Morris rarely opened the isolation zone, and passengers on ships that had already docked were asked to leave quickly, and more ships were separated far away at sea.
"Do you know who our master is? Who gave you the guts to be so rude to a Silver-Blooded noble?"
A noble's attendant, his face flushed with rage, was arguing with the sheriff who was trying to maintain order. However, the sheriff ignored him, simply rolled his eyes, and snorted at a large group of golden-glowing priests waiting at the dock not far away.
The setting sun was blood-red, and in the attendant's eyes, a giant ship slowly approached from within a large red circle. At its prow was a massive and conspicuous statue of a Valkyrie. She held a sword in both hands, her brow lowered, and a holy lily wreath on her head. It was none other than Anguia, the Sword Servant, the legendary most favored of the God of Light.
The fact that the figurehead was Anguia, the Swordsman, proved that the owner was at least a distinguished archbishop. The servant fell silent. While everyone around him was focused on the breathtaking ship, he quietly turned and disappeared into the crowd to apologize and explain to his master.
Nova followed the cardinal, and the lively conversation with Bishop Lagasa came from the front.
"...After receiving your message, I immediately began preparing for the dispatch of the Dawn. Unfortunately, the Dawn is currently undergoing maintenance. Even with the coordination of various parties, it will not be able to put out to sea until tomorrow night at the earliest. This is truly..."
The Cardinal's voice was indifferent and gentle, with no hint of emotion. "Then please allow our distinguished guest to rest here for a day. There is no need to feel guilty. We arrived too suddenly."
Bishop Lagasa seemed relieved and more attentive. He first threw out a long and effusive speech praising the cardinal's kindness and generosity, but when he saw that the cardinal's expression was dull, he immediately changed the subject wisely.
"It just so happens that tomorrow morning is the monthly service. Believers from nearby parishes will gather in the church to listen respectfully to our God's guidance. If you are willing to come and offer some guidance, it would be a great honor for us and all the believers."
The Cardinal seemed somewhat interested in the proposal and nodded in agreement. Seeing the fatigue evident on the faces of the people around him, Bishop Lagasa tactfully shut up and respectfully invited everyone to board the long-awaited carriage and head to the local Church of Light for rest.
"Perhaps I could invite you to join me, Mr. Brody?" Bishop Miller said with a smile, stopping the black-haired young man who was already walking towards another carriage.
So, despite everyone's different looks, Nova calmly climbed onto the most luxurious carriage in the lead.
The carriage was filled with a delicate aroma, and the interior decoration was gorgeous, exquisite, and full of ingenuity. While the professor was dealing with the cardinal's roundabout "chat" in a disjointed manner, he carefully examined the intricately carved reliefs on the window frames with great interest.
"...Mr. Brody."
Miller sighed softly, and then he saw the man who was suspected to be God's chosen one raised his head nonchalantly and gave him a look that asked "what's up?"
Whether it was lineage, status, experience, or even martial prowess, this man possessed nothing in front of him. Yet, when those smoky gray eyes looked at him, Miller instinctively felt a subtle fear of him, as if he were surrounded by a dark, hazy, and silent, strange fog. But when he came to his senses, he found it a bit amusing—when had he fallen to the point of needing to fear an ordinary person?
Although the other party is indeed a young man with rare intelligence and sharpness in life, who would care what is thinking in the mind of an ant that can be crushed to death with a single hand?
"Virgin Etilo came to me because you are interested in me." The other party suddenly spoke without warning.
"She asked me what you told me, and then invited me to have sex with her." The black-haired young man raised his eyes coldly, staring at the other person in the car, and said with a light tone: "You can ask me directly, and I will tell you everything I know."
Bishop Miller laughed at the other party's absurdly straightforward frankness. He felt that he had not seen such a young man for a long time. He was actually a little silly and cute.
"But I am indeed curious. As a distinguished Cardinal, why do you treat me so... differently?" The man said something earth-shattering with a deadpan expression: "Could it be that you also want to have sex with me?"
Bishop Miller was choked and almost started coughing without caring about his image.
Men's preference for men is actually privately praised by many aristocrats because of its long history and contempt for women - of course, offspring is another matter - but Miller himself does not consider himself a fan.
But the other person's attitude was so frank that he didn't even feel offended. He could only explain awkwardly that he was not interested in men, not realizing that the other person had written down all his subconscious reactions.
Embarrassment is the emotion that is most likely to reveal one's true reaction. Nova lowered his eyes. Although he did not quite understand why some people would be embarrassed by such things, while others could express it in public calmly - but as long as it works, it's fine.
After arriving at their destination, the chaotic confrontation ended temporarily. The professor returned to his assigned monastery room, closed the door, and calmly announced his conclusion to the air.
"Bishop Miller will confirm my identity at the service tomorrow morning. They can't wait. It seems I'm still a hot commodity."
He didn't seem to be at all flustered or worried about being exposed. He just tapped his arm thoughtfully. "What's the difference between Graybridge Port and Morris Port? Why does it have to be here? Is it the time, the location, or the number of believers?"
A voice suddenly emerged from the quiet room. The God-Favored One, standing beside him, asked gently, noncommittally, "What are you going to do?"
The black-haired young man didn't answer, and a rare look of annoyance and hesitation appeared on his face.
"...I have a guess," he whispered. The other man narrowed his eyes calmly, staring at the gray figure before him.
Something gloomy, dark, and lifeless emerged from the enemy's shadow, like a rotten anemone floating on the surface of the sea, wrapped around the man's ankle, wet and cold.
Azuka didn't say anything. He closed the wooden window that creaked in the night wind, turned up the coal lamp a little brighter, found a soft cushion to put in the armchair, and stuffed himself in.
After doing all this, he reached out and touched the forehead of his old enemy who was nestled comfortably in the cushion - perhaps the medicine had taken effect, because despite being blown by the sea breeze all the way, he still didn't feel hot, but just a little cold.
"Perhaps you would like to share some with me?" The voice of the God-favored One was very soft, steady and gentle, which instinctively made people trust him.
The other party was silent for a while, frowned and emphasized: "It's just a guess."
"Okay, I understand." The savior's voice sounded as if he was afraid of scaring something.
"When the Sea Temple confronted the High Priest, and before the Etilo Virgin escaped, I saw... something, like a ghost. I don't know what it was."
The black-haired young man lowered his voice. His smoky grey eyes, always so sharp and frightening, were now unfocused and misty. He huddled quietly in his chair, which made him look strangely... vulnerable?
"I can't confirm whether it was just an illusion." The professor lowered his eyes gloomily, and the fingers on his lips twitched unconsciously.
Familiar screams and laughter, familiar distorted shadows. The doctor looked at him worriedly as he was tied to the restraint bed, exhausted and sweating profusely, and told him that what he was fighting with all his strength was actually an illusion, a common symptom after the tumor compressed the brain tissue.
The cold instrument pressed against his bare scalp, accompanied by a monotonous humming and an increasingly familiar ache deep in his brain. He saw the stains on the ceiling, which he had long seen and memorized, swirling and twisting like a galaxy. In his ears were the nurses' whispers, which they thought he could not hear, and their pitying eyes fell on him from time to time.
"It's really pitiful, and he's still so young..."
"I heard he was a university professor. He collapsed and was sent here just a few days after joining the job. And yet, his family hasn't come to see him in such a long time... Alas, excessive wisdom can lead to harm, and fate can be so fickle..."
"--professor."
There was a warm feeling on the forehead, coming from human body temperature.
Nova raised his eyes in a daze, and met a pair of blue eyes as clear and deep as the ocean. There was a circle of bright and fine gold around the pupils, just like the slow-motion documentary playing on the TV on the wall of the ward, with bright sunlight shining through the transparent waves.
...It looks familiar. Where have I seen it before?
"Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Azuka frowned, thinking that he shouldn't have accompanied others in such a reckless manner, enjoying the sea breeze at the beach until nightfall - even though the pure childlike happiness displayed by the other party was truly fascinating.
The black-haired young man looked at him blankly for a moment, his look actually arousing some pity - then he slowly reached out and pressed his face, pushing him away.
"No, I'm fine." The other person blinked and said lightly, as if the hopeless fatigue just now had never appeared in him.
"Don't get so close." As if to cover up his strangeness, he made his usual weird joke with a deadpan expression: "Do you want to have sex with me too?"
The author has something to say:
It borrows some ideas from the ancient Greeks about gay relationships. They believed that the love between adult men and boys was the highest level. If you are interested, you can check out the relevant historical materials. It is outrageous.
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