Chapter 72 Chapter 72 It started when I felt guilty...
While Leopold disagreed with the idea of a "secret relationship," Elio was right about one thing: their acquaintance and contact had to be kept strictly secret. An Assassin and a Templar? The only public "contact" between them would be to attack each other, unless one of them was determined to join the other.
But that was impossible. Although Leo and Elio never talked about it - it was absolutely impossible.
Elio would never submit to the rule of the Templars because they ruthlessly destroyed his family and his life, and this evil was just the lightest black feather among the many evil deeds committed by the Templars; Leopold would never join the Assassin Order for the same reason - because the Assassins destroyed his family and his life.
Even though his friend was still there, doing his best to prevent this.
But the war between the Assassins and Templars inevitably spiraled toward death. That was it. No matter how hard Elio, still his friend, tried to stop it, Elio, his enemy, still pushed it all the way.
Their "friendship" was like a precarious spider's thread tied to the crater of a volcano, relying entirely on their own ignorance, pretending not to see the dark abyss beneath the thread, nor to feel the blazing flames beneath it...
Today, under their common tacit understanding, the volcano has not yet erupted.
"You can stay as long as you want," Leopold said loudly. "I told the others to continue their vacation. No one will bother you."
The young Templar, missing his friend, walked through the corridors, searching for the Assassin, who had disappeared after the night. He hadn't found Elio upon waking, but Elio wasn't the type to leave without saying goodbye, so Leopold assumed that Elio was still on this floor, but he didn't know where he had gone.
Elio had this trait from a long time ago. He only made sure to command everyone's attention when he felt like speaking. The rest of the time, he was like a silent black cat, quietly lurking in the shadows, content with the status quo.
After becoming an assassin, he was even more outstanding in this respect.
"Well," Leopold couldn't help but smile. He whispered to himself, "I'll find him like I always did before."
After knocking on the door, Leopold checked the bathroom. It was empty, so he washed and washed himself before leaving. He patiently searched every small sofa tucked into the corner of the study, the empty dining room, the living room and the banqueting room, where leaves and sunlight bathed the room, but he couldn't find Elio. Only then did Leopold's suspicious gaze turn to the half-open prayer room.
The people of Gotham have no faith, Elio once said this half-jokingly and half-seriously.
That's why he'd passed by the door several times. But when Leopold pushed it open and tiptoed into the prayer room, he found Elio, indeed, slumped in the first row, closest to the statue, his head resting on the back of the chair, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell gently, as if he were sleeping, while the statue above him lowered its gaze in pity, gently watching over this ungodly believer.
For some unknown reason, Leopold did not wake him up immediately.
Instead, the Templar quietly took his place beside the Assassin and closed his eyes. He folded his hands over his forehead and bowed his head in reverence.
'God,' Leopold prayed silently, 'please protect him.'
He suddenly heard the assassin's breathing, which suddenly became heavier and heavier. When Leopold finished praying and opened his eyes, he found that Elio had just hurriedly adjusted his sitting posture and was sitting there properly (even his hands were folded neatly on his knees), but his face was still a little embarrassed.
"I was supposed to be confessing," Elio whispered, "but somehow I closed my eyes and fell asleep."
"I'm sure He would be happy to see you sleeping so soundly," Leopold replied calmly.
He crossed himself. Elio followed his example and made a more realistic cross. This surprised Leopold, as he didn't recall Elio doing this before.
"When did you start..." Leopold raised an eyebrow, "getting interested in these things?"
"Perhaps," Elio looked at him, "it started when I felt guilty."
Leopold stared at him intently. The summer morning air gently drifted into the prayer room, and the rare sunlight streamed in through the window, shimmering and swaying around the brown bench where they sat. If the time and place had been changed, and if all the unforeseen events that had befallen them had been erased, Leopold was sure he would have been dazzled by it all.
“…My driver will be here in half an hour,” Leopold said.
His words seemed to break through some mysterious barrier.
"Oh, uh," Elliot stood up from the bench quickly, one hand on his waist, the other combing his hair, his eyes darting around busily, "so..."
"So we have to hurry," Leopold said, standing up as well, pretending not to be a little amused by Elio's awkward reaction. "If you still want to have breakfast with me."
Since the huge manor was empty except for the two of them, Elio took the initiative to go into the kitchen and simply fried a few eggs and sprinkled some white pepper on them. Leopold followed him into the kitchen, skillfully opened the refrigerator to get some milk, and successfully heated up some toast in the microwave.
They finished their breakfast while chatting in the kitchen.
"You can stay here as long as you want, Elio," Leopold said from behind Elio. "I told the others to go on vacation."
"Thanks, Leo, but forget it." Elio shoved the plate under the faucet. "The master is not home, so there is no need for me to stay any longer."
"You didn't seem to sleep well last night," Leopold said.
Elio put the clean dishes aside, turned, glanced at Leopold, and took away the glass of milk in front of him that he had just finished drinking.
“Text me if you miss me,” Elio said without turning around. “I’ll probably be in London for a while.”
It was a polite refusal in Elio's style. Leopold didn't insist, partly because the driver had just arrived at the door, and partly because he realized that Elio was most likely in London "for work."
If folding cards could be considered work.
Now, this incident had surpassed Elio's pursuit of the Templars and topped the list of things the Assassin had to deal with. As Elio was packing his clothes, he finally noticed a green card in his pocket—an exact replica of the previous one. The Assassin stared at the golden heart in silence, as if it would pop out and bite someone.
"John, it's about that card." Elio called Constantine helplessly as soon as he left the house. "Have you...?"
"I did," Constantine replied vaguely. In the background, there seemed to be a woman's humming as she turned over. "Let me find it... uh, wait, I think I dropped it on the floor."
Elio waited, hopeful. Naked, Constantine picked up his scattered clothes from the floor and dug his wrinkled tie from his bedmate's underwear, but he couldn't find the card. Even when he crawled under the bed and shone a light inside, he couldn't find it.
"Strange," Constantine finally sobered up a little, "where did that card go? Wait a moment, I'll look carefully."
"...Actually, I found another card here." Elio refused to give up. "The one with the heart on it. Green. Do you think it's possible that you broke that card and I just happened to draw the next one that's exactly the same?"
Constantine was silent for a moment, understanding the situation. "Oh, it seems that others can't fold the card."
"John."
"Alright, alright," Constantine rolled up his tie and stuffed it into his pocket. "Don't worry, kid. Listen to me. You still have a few days to figure this out. Just follow the instructions within seven days of drawing this card."
"Seven days?" Elio quickly calculated, "That leaves five days."
"There's plenty of time anyway," Constantine said, "at least I think so. Seven days. Remember, I can't guarantee what will happen after that. But I have to tell you, there was once an unlucky player who received this set of twenty-eight cards from his monarch. That was the deadline his monarch set for him: one card every seven days, or he would be executed. It is said that his ghost cursed the game. The book calls it the 'Minister's Curse', so..."
"Will he curse me to death?" Elio muttered. "Well, we really need to find a way to destroy it once and for all."
"I suggest you find a bedmate first," Constantine pointed out. "You only have five days left. Finding someone to sleep with is easy, but breaking a curse? That's too rushed."
"It's not easy at all," Elio muttered.
He was going to give this card to someone else to try. What if the card he had just drawn was a duplicate of the previous one? With five days left, he could definitely find someone else to try it out—one he wouldn't be involved with.
But before he hung up, Elio had one more question for Constantine.
"How did you, uh, discover you were bisexual?"
Constantine was completely sober now. He chuckled, "That's how I found out. So, you finally realized you're not straight anymore?"
"I'm straight," Elio emphasized immediately. "I couldn't be straighter. I'm just—I'm just curious."
As he spoke, he was walking down the street. A brown-haired man passing by glanced at him sympathetically, but Elio was so focused on the phone call that he didn't notice the brown-haired man or the tall, long-faced man beside him.
"It's simple," Constantine said, "I slept with someone of the same sex."
"That's really clear at a glance."
"Of course." Constantine tilted his head and tucked his phone onto his shoulder. He freed one hand to open the refrigerator door and picked out a piece of bacon with the other. "This is the easiest way, always. You think you're interested in someone? Just sleep with them and you'll find out."
Elio couldn't agree more. Just as Constantine was about to fry the bacon for breakfast, he noticed his bedmate from last night was standing behind him with his arms folded, staring at him sternly.
"Uh, hi," Constantine racked his brains, "I was just about to make you some breakfast. Do you like bacon? ...Luna?"
"It's Nora," she angrily threw the trench coat at Constantine's face, "you faggot!"
Then Elio heard a loud door slam. Even though he wasn't there, he could probably imagine what happened. "Uh," he said, quickly pulling the phone away from his ear. "Anyway, thanks for the advice."
Before Constantine could say anything, Elio hung up. It was a bit awkward. But after the awkwardness wore off, Elio realized he was the one with a big problem to deal with.
"Okay," Elio said to himself, holding the card with the lovers' heart. "Let me think of someone else who can help."
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Author's note: Although, Bobo (the cute nickname that appeared in the previous chapter's commentary) and Oreo didn't do anything that could be used to fold a card, please interpret the rest of the details of this chapter as you like (?
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