So what? Is it not your fault that you failed to take good care of him?
Although he disliked these fools, he assumed the Little Princess would not like them either; however, since they were people he had already grown accustomed to using, he hoped the Little Princess would not despise them.
If he is dissatisfied, it doesn't matter.. he will send more people down.
More, more people.
He reached out and lightly caressed the cheek of the silver-haired girl in his arms, his gaze lingering with deep affection, his eyes swirling with a burning, frantic, obsessive fire.
The girl had perfect features, a perfect body, a perfect personality.
He was in the prime of his youth, at the most beautiful age of all, an age that allowed his beauty to be displayed without restraint—and she would remain at this age forever.
Heaven.. must have been particularly fond of her.
That was why he was unwilling to see her grow old, unwilling to see wrinkles crawling around the corners of her eyes, unwilling to see her skin become saggy, unwilling to see her figure become sluggish.
The Silver-haired girl would stay in this age forever, forever.
He thought about it with near-obsessive fixation.
The more he thought, the more his body trembled.
He was very close to that sleeping Silver-haired girl, so close that if he just lowered his head, he could bury it in her full breasts—however, he did not.
Just as when he had reached out to touch the girl before, even when he was infinitely close, he still never touched him.
He was not yet worthy.
This was his own sentence, his confession, his atonement—because he had failed to protect her, after he had sent all the 'sinners' to meet God.. before his death..
"I will always protect you.." he said.
It was like an eternal vow.
This is the vow of a young child to the girl who saved him.
It is also the vow of a middle-aged man to a sleeping Beauty.
The middle-aged man had gained a more composed temperament, more sharp skills, more ingenious schemes; his appearance could still be described as handsome, when he was full of deep affection, he was as bright and dazzling as Apollo bathing in the morning sunlight under the Light.
Daphne lay upon the velvet, cold as ice, seemingly indifferent to the gazes of his pursuers—and he indeed had the capital to be so indifferent.
He chuckled softly, with infatuation, with stubbornness, with indulgence.
Under the orange-yellow Light, everything was draped in a unique layer of tenderness.
..
Inside the gold-inlaid coffin, the cold female corpse lay unconscious and deathly still.
Even in the face of the most intense deep affection or the most pathological obsession, she could not offer even the slightest response.
..
He could not touch the Silver-haired girl.
For a long time, he was in a daze, his eyes filled with devastation, bordering on madness.
He walked through the streets and alleys, where the laughter and joy from the bustling crowds felt like sharp blades, mercilessly gouging at his heart. They pierced his blood vessels and severed his nerves, peeling a bloody chunk of red, rotting flesh from his chest, which still throbbed with pulsing veins.
Blood dripped from his Palm, pitter-pattering down.
A little brat running home came over, looking curiously at his Palm, then looking fearfully at his expression, under the gaze of his cold, dark eyes, fled away in a trembling rush.
A few groups of Students walked along the roadside, carrying their schoolbags and whispering about recent matches, each of them looking animated and full of excitement.
Sparrows chirped meaninglessly on the branches, a chilling evening breeze swept through the dim streets, while the wildflowers by the roadside went unnoticed. Ants crawled sluggishly on the ground, the scent of blood drifted slowly through the air; evil seeped from human hearts, sprouting from seeds that were planted, germinating, growing, finally blooming into a bright red rose.
This rose is stained with blood, the blood is laced with poison.
The poison of the human heart, the flower of white bones.
In the distance, a young man sang an ambiguous folk song, smiling as he showed off to the girl beside him.
“Baa—baa—
Black sheep, oh black sheep, do you have any Wool on you?
Yes, yes, there are three bags,
One bag for Master, one bag for Wife,
The last bag is for the Little young master crying by the roadside.
The Girl clapped his hands and laughed loudly, singing as she laughed:
"Liz Burton picked up the axe,
chopped Father forty times.
When she realized what she had done,
"She slashed her Mother forty-one times." (2)
They heard footsteps and turned their heads in unison.
The man with a distorted face and the girl with his clothes torn open to reveal large patches of fair skin, their hands both covered in dripping, eye-catching bright red blood.
Drip—drip—
At their feet lay the corpse of a strong man.
Lying on his back, eyes wide open and mouth agape, he seemed to be silently pleading for something.
Drip—drip—
Blood dripped from the girl's hands onto the corpse's eyes.
Drip—Drip—
The man with the facial deformity let out a piercing laugh.
Drip—Drip—
The man raised the knife in his hand.
Drip—Drip—
He tilted his head to look at the young man and woman, revealing an equally twisted smile.
..
Sparrows continued to chirp meaninglessly on the branches, a chilling evening wind still blew through the dark streets, while the wild grass by the roadside remained ignored. Ants crawled sluggishly on the ground, the scent of blood drifted slowly through the air, as evil seeped from human hearts, sprouting seeds that germinated, grew, finally bloomed into a bright red Rose.
This rose is stained with blood, the blood is laced with poison.
The poison of the human heart, the flower of Skeleton.
He stepped on the man's chest, moving his foot with malice, listening with satisfaction as the person beneath his feet let out screams of pain.
The girl in front of him was trembling.
He twirled the murder weapon he had confiscated in his right hand, blood still lingering on the sharp knife, the stench of blood drifted through the alleyway.
Blood slowly dripped from the dagger, falling onto the pitch-black, muddy ground. The crimson color immediately merged with the dirt, spreading into a small stain.
A dark alley, an abyss of evil, flowers blooming upon the Skeleton.
Look, human hearts are so filthy and the world is so ugly; only you are unique, the most flawless snowflake.
Snowflake vanished.
I am not happy.
So I want others to be just as unhappy as I am.
The man beneath his feet groaned, his eyes still burning with a heavy, venomous fire; his left hand had been severed by him, rolling to the side with a thud as blood flowed in a steady stream.
The blood from the corpse's neck mixed with the blood in a pool, indistinguishable from one another.
He burst into laughter.
Then he asked, "Do you want to live?"
If you want to live, let the lives of others be exchanged for yours!
He declared.
..
This was the initial formation of the Black Organization, more and more people joined later.
More and more.
But he was still not happy.
He sat quietly beside the Silver-haired girl's corpse; special treatment had left his appearance exactly as it was when she was alive. His calm gaze lingered upon him, as he covered his eyes, he felt his heart let out a painful cry.
He ordered others to settle the Silver-haired girl, then he killed everyone who had touched him.
He did his utmost to decorate the Secret Room where the Girl stayed, striving to make everything perfect.
But he was still unhappy.
He began reading books to the girl,
All kinds of books.
Amidst the endless madness and pain, only by her side could he feel a long-awaited tranquility.
and sanity.
Even if he never touched her.
..
When he first saw the young girl sent by his Subordinate to be used in the auction, he immediately took a liking to one of the most beautiful girls among them.
That girl had beautiful eyes, beautiful lips, a slender waist, rounded earlobes.
And he only cared about her straight nose.
His nose bore an eighty percent resemblance to the Silver-haired girl's.
He gently stroked the girl's nose bridge, his gaze as tender as water.
In the Girl's slightly relaxed gaze, he calmly, without a single tremor, cut off his nose.