Chapter 67
"Don't admit your mistake, Xia Zuo."
Xia Zuo was silent for a long time this time.
He lowered his head, revealing only the top of his dark brown hair, and said nothing.
The comic will murmured, "...He cried."
Even when his best friend died in front of him, he only shed a few tears; even when people repeatedly opened the scar of "César is dead", he did not let these crystal clear tears fall out of his eyes.
But now he suddenly couldn't control the emotions that he had been suppressing for a long time.
The brown-haired teenager's body was trembling slightly. He pursed his lips tightly to prevent himself from making any sound. He only felt a great absurdity and dizziness.
Both of his friends left him, and one of them never came back.
He felt immensely lonely.
"You made the protagonist of a boys' comic cry twice... Have some conscience?" The comic will said reluctantly.
The black-haired prophet seemed a little reluctant.
He sighed again and said, "Don't you have anything you want to ask me?"
"...If I still hear a bad result, then what difference does it make whether I ask or not?" The brown-haired boy exhaled. When he raised his head again, his eyes were almost deadly calm. "And if I ask you, will you tell me the truth? Christian Crest."
He wanted to escape from it all.
Like a wild beast licking its wounds alone.
"...I treat you as a friend, Christine." Finally, he couldn't help but speak. The boy's eyes were filled with a sense of vulnerability and confusion. "Xize is one of your people...but what role do you play? I don't know, Christine."
“…Don’t lie to me.”
Don't... lie to me.
Instead, the dark-haired prophet gazed at him calmly.
"Are you begging me?"
pray?
Xia Zuo was slightly stunned.
Then the brown-haired boy uttered a "ha" with some unknown emotion in his voice, which was low and light, mixed with a faint smile, and said sadly:
"Yes...I beg you."
“…”
The black-haired boy didn't say anything.
During the devil's hour, the sky changes color very quickly. The blood-red setting sun quickly fades, the red becomes lighter, and the warm orange begins to dominate the sky.
The two stood in front of the window, one on the left and one on the right. The downward twilight shone on them, giving the scene a somewhat trance-like softness.
The black-haired prophet moved at this moment.
First, the gauze on his eyes moved slightly, as if his eyelashes trembled; then he bent down, and stretched out his hand as if sighing faintly.
His black hair fell down, his eyes were focused, as if the god was taking pity on his believers.
"I'm sorry, Freeman." His address changed back; he was still as caring as ever for all those under his wing.
"Go to the Eastwood Prison for the Insane. Perhaps you can find a way out there."
Xia Zuo raised his head.
He keenly sensed that something in the other person seemed to have changed.
At the same time, his eyes gradually lit up.
"What did you say..." the brown-haired boy repeated his words: "Go to the Eastwood Insane Prison..."
His tone even became a little excited: "You...is this what I thought you meant?"
"Maybe, maybe not." The black-haired prophet stood up again and said, "But you should know that I shouldn't have told you in the first place."
Xia Zuo blinked: "I knew Kristen would be soft-hearted."
"But I didn't lie to you just now. I am really sad, Kristen."
The sadness is real, the despair is real, and trying hard to stay calm and break the situation is also real.
Christine: “…”
Soft-hearted?
He smiled and said, "Maybe."
——God should not be soft-hearted.
He swallowed the words back.
Xia Zuo paused and asked again: "...If Caesar's affairs cannot be revealed no matter what, then what about your affairs? Why are you here? Are you tired of living?"
"Collecting faith is actually your ability as an agent?"
Christine didn't answer the first two questions. Instead, she said calmly, "I want you to know that even so, I can't convert you. We are equals."
Xia Zuo's expression, which had originally relaxed, stiffened again.
"I'm telling you..." he whispered, "Can't you just let me be happy for a little while longer?"
"Feel sorry."
The black-haired prophet pursed his lips, wondering what he was thinking.
"I don't want to see his death either."
He noticed that the color in the brown-haired boy seemed to fade away step by step when this topic was brought up, but he still continued, "He is the person closest to me in this world. Through him, I got to know you."
Xia Zuo was stunned: "Xize has mentioned me to you?"
He suddenly remembered what the black-haired prophet had said before, "You've changed a lot, Xia Zuo," and suddenly felt a little at a loss: "I... I don't want to be like this either. Do you think I'm suspicious and cold? When Xi Ze was here, I could do whatever I wanted because he could predict everything. After he... left, I can only try to do these things on my own."
Xia Zuo madly patched: "Xize is very powerful, I don't mean to say that Xi Ze is bad!!"
Christine: “…”
The black-haired prophet's expression seemed unusually subtle.
Xia Zuo's eyelids twitched violently, and he racked his brains to organize his words, trying to save the situation.
Then he heard the black-haired prophet say, "Now that you are here, you can do whatever you want."
Before Xia Zuo could react, he changed the subject: "Improving your strength is your short-term goal. Awakening the gods is your lifelong mission. What you need now is not faith, but ability."
"Picket towers and federations are great training tools."
After saying this, the black-haired prophet seemed to have sensed the call of his believers and disappeared directly in front of Xia Zuo.
Xia Zuo was stunned for a moment, and then he smiled bitterly as if mumbling in his sleep.
"Sure enough...completely different from Caesar."
…
…
The comic said with determination, "You just softened your heart. Your conscience hurts!"
The black-haired boy was sitting on a branch, his white-gold vestments drooping. He tossed a fruit in his hand and said calmly, "What's so strange about this? Of course I have a conscience."
"But you've only ever felt a slight pang of conscience." The comic's will seemed to have thought of something and blurted out, "You are truly becoming worldly, Cesar."
The black-haired boy stopped tossing the fruit, raised his eyebrows slightly, and chuckled, "Since this is a comic book world, everything is fake, so how can we enter the world?"
He slowly drew out his voice: "Unless in your eyes, this world is real."
The comic will suddenly shut up.
It suddenly recalled how it was afraid of this young man at the beginning.
How come after being together for a while, you feel like you can just hang out with your friends?
It abruptly changed the subject: "I thought you were going to throw out the script."
"If it's real, of course it's possible," the black-haired boy said calmly, "but if it's to be drawn into a comic, we have to consider the rhythm and performance, right?"
Comic Will: "...You are right."
Damn, totally irrefutable.
"Contradictions, conflicts, and suspense will only increase the discussion among comic readers, so why should I let Christine lose her mystery so early?" Xizel continued, "Besides, as the male protagonist of a shonen manga, Xia Zuo needs to improve his strength, not continue to fight internal battles."
"Let's go back to the real world."
The black-haired boy's voice seemed flat.
"I want to take a break for a while."
…
…
"They are brothers!"
"They're half-bodies!"
Two girls on the subway were arguing quietly, but when they saw the cosplayer with long black hair holding a book, their eyes suddenly lit up and they pushed each other to get closer.
"Hello?" a bolder girl whispered, "Are you the cosplayer of César Crest?"
The black-haired boy tilted his head.
Another girl couldn't help but retort, "Look at this outfit, it's obviously His Majesty's cosplayer, but he just hasn't had time to change into his cosplay costume yet!"
"He's holding a book. Ze Shen's standard equipment is books!"
"My Lord also loves reading—"
Black-haired cosplayer: “…”
He reflected on it and realized that his temperament was indeed a bit immersed in the role, so he manually adjusted himself to make himself less universal.
So when the girl who said she looked like Christine turned around, her eyes were filled with confusion: "...Why do you look like César now?"
Another girl laughed and said, "I just said they were half-bodies."
"...We were guessing the plot of the comics from a cosplayer, wondering if there was something seriously wrong."
“…”
They all immediately bowed and apologized to the black-haired coser, saying they were sorry for disturbing her.
The black-haired cosplayer laughed and said, "It's okay, you guys were quiet and didn't disturb me."
"And," he smiled and blinked his misty blue eyes, "I'm not cosplaying either."
After receiving another pupil earthquake x2, he declined the request for a photo and got off the subway at Riverside Park.
Because he had been sick since childhood, he seldom went out, and he had not even been to this famous park in the city many times.
He just remembered that many years ago, when he suddenly felt unwell and fell on the gravel road there, an old man who fed pigeons helped him up and sent him to the hospital.
Afterwards he gave the old man a large sum of money, but he did not take a cent.
He suddenly wanted to meet the other person.
The comic will said, "Do you have any purpose in doing this?"
Xizel smiled and said, "People don't have to have a practical purpose for everything they do."
"perhaps……"
A tall, black-haired young man stood by the roadside, looking at an old man not far away, wearing worn but neat clothes, sitting with difficulty on a bench under the shade of a tree, holding wheat to feed pigeons in his left hand and holding an equally old dog in his right hand.
The dog followed him quietly, taking every step the old man took.
The black-haired boy seemed to be smiling a genuine smile.
"...Perhaps, after playing the role of saving others too many times, sometimes I will seek to be saved by others."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
