Chapter 1445: 23: Connection_2
Chapter 1445: Chapter 23: Connection_2
[Are you afraid of the future?]
“I’m not sure, but I feel like I probably won’t fear the future, just like when I came to Old Dunling to start a new life. Once it’s all over, it’ll just be another new beginning.”
Lorenzo’s speech gradually slowed down; his eyes were distant as he found what he feared within that unpredictable future.
“I suppose I am afraid of ’change,’ aren’t I?”
[Change? What kind of change?]
Watson’s voice echoed beside him. It felt strange; Lorenzo could not see her, but he was acutely aware that Watson was right there by his side.
“Probably… it’s the familiar world becoming unrecognizable, isn’t it? Who knows what that golden age was like? Moreover, in such sunny times, would there really be a seat for us?”
[Are you afraid someone will leave you?]
Watson hit the nail on the head.
Lorenzo’s voice faltered; he returned his gaze inside the carriage, glanced at the few people asleep, shook his head with a smile, and then spoke uncertainly.
“Who knows? But I don’t want anyone to die. That kind of experience, once is enough.”
His voice carried a certain gloom, for the reason he became “Lorenzo Holmes” was due to that tragic night, that night when Lorenzo nearly lost everything.
“What about you, Watson?”
Lorenzo suddenly turned the conversation to Watson, this invisible, ghost-like friend.
[What’s wrong?]
Watson didn’t understand why Lorenzo suddenly mentioned her.
“What about you?” Lorenzo continued, “It’s quite strange when you think about it; you always follow me like a spectator watching my life. Did you live well yourself, experience this new life?”
Since the Night of the Holy Arrival, Watson had attached to Lorenzo like a ghost, following him and witnessing him.
Everything about Lorenzo played out like a stage drama before her eyes, but it was all Lorenzo’s and did not belong to Watson, which made Lorenzo very curious.
“A new life is good; you should experience it.”
The conversation fell into silence. After a long time, Watson’s voice slowly came.
[I don’t have a new life, Lorenzo.]
Expected, but hearing it, Lorenzo’s eyes still dimmed a bit.
[I’m not like you; I couldn’t leave. To this day, I am still trapped in that night.]
Watson’s voice was very calm, devoid of any emotion.
“That’s not right, Watson; people always have to look forward… at least you can start by making more friends.”
Lorenzo racked his brains to come up with this.
Watson didn’t have many friends, or perhaps, she only had Lorenzo left. If not for the battle with Roger, Watson might have continued to hide in the dark, even the Purification Mechanism would struggle to know of Watson’s existence.
“Actually, since World’s End, I’ve been afraid of some things.”
Faced with Watson, Lorenzo was extremely relaxed, his chatterbox opened, with bits and pieces tumbling out.
“Forgetting is a really scary thing, so sometimes I wonder, are you just my imagination?”
[Imagination?]
“Yes, a voice only I can hear, a presence only I can feel. You are a ghost belonging solely to me, like the madness of a mental patient’s hallucination, an imagined friend who doesn’t exist.”
Lorenzo wanted to reach out to touch Watson, but grasped nothing; Watson didn’t exist; she was an invisible ghost.
“Look, if one day you suddenly disappeared, I wouldn’t know where to find you, or even talk to others about it; I couldn’t. No one would believe me, believe that a ghost has been haunting me.”
[That’s impossible, Lorenzo.]
Watson couldn’t understand; others already knew of Watson’s existence, moreover, Watson was not his imagination; she was merely… peculiar.
Without substance or form, like an elusive wind; if she wished it, no one could find her.
“I know it’s impossible, just a metaphor, you understand metaphors, right?” Lorenzo’s voice was very light, almost like he was about to sleep.
[What exactly are you trying to say?]
“I mean, your connection to the world is too thin.”
[I don’t understand.]
“It’s normal; I spent a long time understanding it, starting from scratch is genuinely difficult,” Lorenzo looked at the buildings emerging at the horizon’s end, “not to mention there’s little time now… but I believe no matter when you start, it’s not too late.”
“It’s somewhat like… the meaning of existence. Do you have anything in mind after it’s all over? I have a lot; I’ll probably have a long drink with these people, tidy up the office, then like before, take on various commissions. If there’s a holiday, I’ll visit them, chat with them.
What about you, Watson? Is there anything you want to do?”
Lorenzo rambled on, full of anticipation.
[Exterminate Demons.]
“No, no, I mean, after exterminating Demons?” Lorenzo felt a bit sad, “No, right? You haven’t thought about those things; your connection to this world is tenuous.”
[Such things aren’t important to me.]
“Yes, yes, unimportant,” Lorenzo appeared to be observing his former self, “It sounds familiar.”
“I used to have the same mindset, the more connections, the more bindings. Before these messy matters, I could leave as I wished, but now I can’t; I’m bound by countless connections. I initially felt quite panicked, never encountered such things, but over time, I found it nice.
Our distance from the world closed… just… more like a regular person? Neither so cold-blooded nor so frantic, just becoming… fleshy and ordinary.
This sounds somewhat odd, yet I feel it’s really nice. It’s something we never had… or maybe we did, but it was so short, too short for us to notice.”
Lorenzo stopped talking, then sighed.
“How peculiar, something so effortless for ordinary people is distant for us…”
Silence, a long silence ensued, and tentatively, Lorenzo asked.
“Are you still there, Watson?”
No one responded; perhaps she was fed up with Lorenzo’s rambling, or maybe something occurred, and in a moment Lorenzo didn’t notice, she silently left.
Also at that moment, Lorenzo sensed another gaze.
“You’re noisy, eh.”
Red Falcon turned his head, looking sleepily at Lorenzo.
“What are you mumbling to yourself?”
“Nothing… nothing.”
Red Falcon glanced at Lorenzo a few more times, he wanted to ask more, but sleepiness conquered him; he twisted his body and drifted back into slumber, leaving Lorenzo alone awake.
Lorenzo’s eyes appeared somewhat vacant, and he sighed helplessly.
As he said, without those prerequisites, Watson to Lorenzo was like an elusive fantasy, an endlessly echoing ghost.
He wasn’t sure what it would ultimately become, only waiting with anticipation and anxious uncertainty for it all to end.
Yet Lorenzo didn’t notice the reflection in the carriage window, beside his reflected image, another blurred figure sat on the vacant chair next to him.
She was like a ghost, silent, only watching Lorenzo, her gaze complex, with unknown thoughts.
And just like that, the scene seemed frozen, maintaining that moment as if striving for eternity, until the piercing train whistle shattered and broke the false permanence.