Found Out!

They said it was a walk, and it really was just a walk. The two strolled along in silence. There was a noticeable temperature difference on Dark Moon Island after nightfall compared to the daytime. Ophelia tucked her hands into the front pouch of her clothes. Today she wore the traditional local attire of Dark Moon Island, a distinctive feature of the women's version being a front pocket akin to a kangaroo pouch. In the early days, when living conditions on Dark Moon Island were harsh and there were no other industries, the men generally went out to sea to fish while the women processed the catch. Due to the island's unique geography, however, fishing often yielded special small pebbles. These stones came in many varieties and were frequently ingested by fish. When cleaning and gutting the fish for curing, whenever women found these pebbles inside, they would take them out and slip them into the pouches on their chests. In reality, these stones weren't worth very much—they were fairly ordinary spellcraft materials—yet to the women of Dark Moon Island back then, they represented an extra income that couldn't be overlooked. Nowadays, this sort of labor was typically handled by mermen and workers brought in from outer islands; local women rarely engaged in it anymore. But so-called traditional attire often preserved the hallmarks of bygone ways of life, so this design had endured to this day. "Are you cold?" The one asking wasn't Karen, but Ophelia. "Not cold." The two continued forward, bypassing the hot springs area and stepping out through a side back gate. The hotel itself was situated midway up the mountain. After circling around to the other side, a bustling, lively street came into view. It was hard to imagine that such a grand, magnificent hotel sat so close to a commoner street teeming with everyday life. However, when they stepped out earlier, they had noticed quite a few guards along that road, likely stationed there to create a deliberate separation. Of course, ordinary people wouldn't pass through the hotel to get here anyway; they could simply come straight up from the other side of the mountain. "This is the old street of Dark Moon Island. Locals usually come here to relax and eat. The area down by the docks mainly caters to sailors and that sort." "Meaning that down there is where they fleece out-of-towners, while this is where you locals actually like to go?" Ophelia nodded with a smile. "In the past, the distinction was very strict, though the boundaries are much blurrier now. Still, if you want truly delicious food, you have to look here. Next time you have the chance to bring your fiancée to Dark Moon Island, you can take her straight here to taste the local flavor." Karen looked at her. Because she walked ahead of him, the lights from the street ahead mingled with the night, casting a hazily textured glow across the side of her face. "Actually, we only just finished eating not long ago." Though Wien cuisine wasn't delicious, their hosts had warmly prepared a lavish table, and having slept for so long, Karen had indeed been ravenous enough to eat quite a bit. Ophelia said, "I'm hungry." Only then did Karen recall that Ophelia hadn't eaten much at all, and she had an enormous appetite. "You choose, then." "Shouldn't the host choose?" "The guest chooses." "Then this one." Karen pointed toward a restaurant with a sign that read "Taste of Longing." He chose it not because of anything special about the name, but because he noticed barbecue grills set outside every other shop except this one. Karen had never been particularly interested in barbecue. In his past life, his poor digestion had kept him away from grilled and shell-on foods, and whenever group dinners made it unavoidable, he would only take a tiny nibble. That habit had persisted to this day. The steps at the restaurant entrance led downward. The interior had been hollowed out from the mountainside, carrying the feel of a cave dwelling. The space inside was narrow and long, not very large, but the atmosphere was pleasant. A middle-aged owner handled the cooking, assisted by a young waitress; with their somewhat similar features, they were likely father and daughter. "Welcome, it's been a while!" the owner greeted warmly. "Big Sister, you're here!" the girl also greeted Ophelia. They clearly knew each other, though neither seemed aware of Ophelia's true identity. Ophelia ordered, and she ordered a lot. Karen noticed the owner flip the page in his little notepad three times as he took down the dishes, yet he never once asked whether she could finish it or if it was too much. Clearly, the owner was experienced. In business, customers with an exceptionally high average bill always left a deep impression. After ordering, Ophelia and Karen chose a seat in the farthest corner. Ophelia faced inward while Karen faced outward; clearly, she didn't want anyone who might recognize her to interrupt the quiet of their meal. "Do you eat here often?" Karen asked. "Fairly often. The owners of half the restaurants on this street know me," Ophelia admitted candidly. "Always eating at the same place gets embarrassing." The first things brought out were two glasses of a bright red beverage, each topped with a piece of fish skin. This... Karen couldn't tell for a moment whether it was a drink or a soup. Ophelia picked up her glass, took a sip, and let out a soft exclamation of deep satisfaction. Hesitating, Karen raised his glass, blew the fish skin aside with his lips, and took a sip. There wasn't the slightest fishy smell; instead, it was sweet and mellow. It wasn't the cloying sweetness of sugar, but a lingering aftertaste—refreshing in every sense. "Delicious. What's it made of?" "It's a kind of fruit wine, but while brewing, a special variety of fish lives inside it. You can't drink this anywhere else." "Doesn't taste like alcohol." "Because you can choose the alcohol content. I chose low." "Ah, so that's it." The owner served the food quickly. Unlike the meal Karen had shared with Laure and the others, the dishes here didn't come on huge platters; each dish was delicate, bringing out the original flavors of the ingredients as much as possible. "The food here should suit your taste." "It does." Karen took another sip of the fruit wine. "Even though I usually enjoy stronger flavors, that's only for a change of pace once in a while." "How do you eat back in Wien?" "Usually outside. Work keeps me busy, so when it comes to meals, I just make do." Ophelia smiled without speaking. Karen was full soon enough, but Ophelia seemed to have only just started. She didn't wolf her food down, but once she started, she hardly paused, methodically peeling, shelling, deboning, and chewing in a steady rhythm—never hurried, yet never slow. Karen ordered another jug of the fruit wine, thinking that when he returned, it would be best if he could take a whole crate back. He wondered whether the Church of Order's teleportation array charged overweight baggage fees. At that moment, a young man walked into the shop wearing the clerical robes of the Church of Samsara. The instant he entered, he spotted Karen sitting in the corner—or more precisely, Karen's Church of Order robes. The man sat down, and the young waitress immediately hurried over to sit across from him. The two began chatting happily, clearly having known each other for a while, and the waitress's body language made it obvious she fancied the man. Their voices weren't loud, but with so few people in the shop, their conversation came through clearly. The girl asked him about interesting happenings in the outside world, while the man regaled her without end. Between the lines of their chatter lingered the implication of what the two of them would do together in the future. By the look of it, he intended to take the girl with him when he left. This fellow moved fast. Karen glanced back and saw the owner sitting behind the counter, wiping glasses, looking somewhat dejected. Before long, the girl slipped into the back room, changed into different clothes, and happily walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand with the man from the Church of Samsara, presumably headed for a date. From beginning to end, the man hadn't uttered a single word to the owner, even as he led the man's daughter away right before his eyes. Karen picked up the jug, walked over to the counter, and said, "Owner, fill it up again and seal it for me, please. I'd like to take it back for a friend to try." "Oh, of course." The owner broke into a smile, poured the fruit wine for Karen, and carefully sealed the mouth of the jug before asking, "Do you need glasses to take with it?" "No need." "All set, take care. It seems you really like this." "Yes, it's very delicious." "My Laima loves it too, but I'm afraid it won't be easy for her to drink it anymore." "Is that young lady your daughter?" "Yes, she's my daughter. She fell in love with an esteemed guest from the church, and that noble gentleman wants to take her away with him. She's thrilled, and I... I'm happy for her too. I just hope she'll be happy." A profound reluctance to part laced the owner's voice. Yet for the island's residents, particularly the young, material comfort was secondary. The owner's household wasn't wealthy by island standards, but they certainly lived well. Young people, however, driven by love and curiosity about the world outside, often threw caution to the wind. If given the chance, they wished they could sprout wings and fly away immediately. In that regard, Karen himself was no exception—otherwise, why had he been unwilling to stay in the family's funeral parlor? "I wish her happiness." "Thank you. But I'll prepare enough money for her return ferry ticket, and I have some point coupons saved up that I'll have her take along as well. Truth be told, my heart aches to let her leave, but I have no right to hold her back. Can you understand?" "I can." At that point, Ophelia finished eating. She placed a few gold coins on the table, stood up, glanced at Karen, and walked toward the exit. Karen followed her out. Ophelia waited for him on the entrance steps, and the two set off on the walk back. "Is it always this lively here every day?" Karen asked. "No. Because of what happened a few days ago, many people were terrified out of their wits. That's why places for spending money have been exceptionally lively these past few days—everyone's willing to spend." "Ah, I see." When they reached the hotel's side entrance, a carriage was already waiting there for Ophelia. Karen stood where he was, waiting for Ophelia to board. Ophelia was in no rush to get into the carriage. Instead, she turned around, tilting her head slightly, and looked at Karen. For a long time. Then, Ophelia smiled. Karen found it somewhat baffling. "Are you cold?" This was the second time today Ophelia had asked him that same question. "Not cold." "I don't want to go back just yet. Sit with me a little longer." "It's getting late." Ophelia raised her fist, waved it before Karen's eyes, and asked, "Going or not?" Karen said nothing. Ophelia turned and walked toward an unpaved slope on the other side, leading into the mountain woods. Karen hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he followed. Ophelia walked ahead while Karen trailed behind. After venturing deep into the woods, Ophelia sat down on a stone, patted the empty space beside her, and Karen sat down as well, placing the fruit wine he had brought at his feet. For a long while afterward, neither of them spoke. Ophelia merely tilted her head up to gaze at the imperfect dark moon in the sky, while Karen looked at the fallen leaves beneath his feet. "Are you cold?" "The robes have the function of maintaining body temperature." Karen was somewhat puzzled; this was the third time she had asked him that question since they met. Ophelia leaned forward, resting her cheek in her hand, and looked at Karen. Karen said, "You're being a bit strange today." "Mm, you finally noticed?" "Is it because too many things have been happening on the island lately?" Ophelia nodded, then shook her head. "Not just things on the island, but between you and me. Things other girls might not encounter once in a lifetime seem to happen between us every other day." "Perhaps it's just a coincidence?" "Normally speaking, it ought to be called an arrangement of fate. You deliberately avoided using that word. I've noticed you're always like this when you're with me, as if we're sparring and you're constantly holding back on purpose. "I really dislike that feeling. "Can you tell me why you've always been this way?" Karen pursed his lips. The objective reason was that behind this series of coincidences, a man named Neo had been pulling the strings, and the secrets involved simply could not be spoken aloud. Yet in any situation, beside objective factors, there were bound to be subjective ones. Seeing Karen fall silent, Ophelia continued, "My father has many women, and many illegitimate children. I've never felt angry about that—perhaps because I grew up in such an environment. You're different. You have a fiancée, so you've always maintained your principles, haven't you?" "It's not just that." "Oh? Not just that? What else is there, then?" Ophelia asked. Karen decided to speak the genuine thoughts in his heart: "Because when someone of the opposite sex expresses affection toward you, there's always a feeling of joy and enjoyment inside. I'm sorry, but that's unavoidable." "Because of that?" "Mm." "So deep down, you still have some feelings for me, right?" Karen replied candidly, "Yes, I do." "All right, I understand. Upholding your principles while enjoying the feeling of me liking you." Ophelia extended both hands forward. "It's like warming yourself by a fire. You like the warmth the fire brings, yet you neither will nor dare to actually reach your hand into the flames, because you know it will burn you. How do you like my metaphor?" "Very apt." Ophelia raised her fist again, waving it in front of Karen. "I just ate my fill, so I have plenty of strength right now." "What do you plan to do?" "Nothing at all. Hmm..." Ophelia rested her chin on one hand. "I've always loved the stories of Ancestor Bernard, as well as the poems and essays he left behind. I've loved them since childhood. Nearly every native of Dark Moon Island grew up listening to the stories of Ancestor Bernard." "I know." "In our eyes, Ancestor Bernard was pure and flawless. His life, his feelings, everything was like that." "Mm." "But because of Mr. Philias, I saw another side of our ancestor. Besides, I recently spent time reading through both Mr. Philias's and Ancestor Bernard's diaries. "The image of our ancestor changed for me. From the heavens, he fell to the earth, covered in quite a bit of dust. "Before you came to the island this time, I tried projecting the relationship between you and me onto the relationship between our ancestor and Miss Purr. Both separated by vast distances... I felt as though what lay between us was a replica of that love story." "And then?" "And then, once our ancestor's image was no longer so flawless in my eyes, I looked back at the love stories he wrote about him and Miss Purr, and I felt a sense of... discordance. "Like a line stretched across each of those love stories, tearing them apart. "Do you know, I even began to wonder... whether there ever truly was anything between Miss Purr and our ancestor..." Ophelia bit her lip, then released it. "I always projected myself as Ancestor Bernard, and I always projected you as Miss Purr. And then, there was this feeling, hard to describe. Yesterday I spent the entire day turning our ancestor's love stories over in my mind, trying to unravel the thread that felt so discordant. "In the end, I felt... felt... Heh. "I felt that I really am just like our ancestor. I understood him. In every story, the first half was the real development of events, and the second half was an imagined beauty." Karen was stunned. He hadn't expected Ophelia's final conclusion to be this. "Sigh... It all happened over a century ago, so there's no need to nitpick anymore. Perhaps it wasn't a record of events, but simply a depiction of love, right?" Ophelia looked pointedly at Karen, seemingly wanting an answer from him. She repeated, "Right?" Karen's palms began to sweat slightly, because he understood what Ophelia meant. She had pierced through the fog and "seen through" the romantic lie Bernard had woven for himself. But the problem now was: if the story between Bernard and Miss Purr was a lie, then what was his own identity? If Bernard and Miss Purr had never ended up together, how had he, a supposed descendant of Purr, come to be? Taking it a step further: without bloodline ties, how had he managed to use the Dark Moon Blade? Who on earth was he? Expanding further: what about Miss Purr's tombstone at Allen Manor, and that touching inscription beneath it? Finally, this could even extend to the entire chain of events that had recently occurred on the island, serving as the foundation for a whole conspiracy theory. Karen rested his palms on his knees, thinking to himself: *Damn it, Captain, you really played me into a corner...* Because she genuinely liked Karen, she had been able to truly project herself into Ancestor Bernard, and thereby "understand" that long series of love stories left behind by him... Yet because of that, she had seen a secret—or rather, a truth. It took only a tiny breach for all the pretenses to be pried wide open. And Karen's disguise always seemed to lose its power before those who were genuinely close to him. "I don't know." In the end, Karen offered this reply, carrying a tone of "whatever, then." He couldn't possibly silence Ophelia by killing her here. He couldn't and wouldn't do such a thing; the thought didn't even cross his mind. Ophelia stood up, smoothing her skirt as she spoke: "Karen, do you know? You should be grateful that Mr. Philias ultimately gave up on revenge, and you should be grateful for what you just told me—that you have feelings for me and enjoy the sensation. "You should be even more grateful that I like you. "Yet I really can't figure out why, the first time in my life I've fallen for someone, I have to suffer this kind of grievance. I truly resent it. "So I really wanted to give you a beating, but suddenly it feels meaningless. Most importantly, heh, you've been very obedient today." Karen remained silent. So that was what she had meant earlier. Every time she raised her fist before, she was genuinely looking for an excuse to beat him? "I will still go to the Church of Order for training, but I won't choose York City. I'll choose one of the church's other dioceses. "Because I enjoy the feeling of liking you, but just as you have your fiancée and your principles, I have my Dark Moon, and it is my principle. "As for my family, I need you to help me keep up appearances to spare me the trouble of arranged marriages in the future. "Finally, apologize to your captain for me." "Captain?" The captain had been exposed too? "If I had gone to York City, he would have assigned people from his own squad to help me form a unit, and by doing so, he could have been promoted to a squadron leader overseeing three squads. Now, he won't get his promotion." Karen: "..." Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself and said softly, "I'm cold." Karen stood up. Before he could say or do anything, Ophelia said, "Walk me back to the carriage." "Okay." The two continued walking one behind the other, but this time, Karen walked in front and Ophelia followed behind. The light of the dark moon filtered through the leaves onto Karen, casting a dappled shadow that outlined his retreating steps. The atmosphere between them grew increasingly stifling. Just then, the ragged gasps of a man and a woman intertwined in the leaf pile beside them shattered the silence. They had probably set up a concealment array, but it only masked sounds at a distance; up close, it had no effect. Of course, perhaps they felt that a completely silent environment would sap too much of their pleasure and needed each other's voices for accompaniment. Karen intended to walk away, but the people inside were already finished. A man stepped out while buttoning his clothes. Looking at Karen and Ophelia, whose figure was completely hidden behind Karen, he chuckled: "Friend, that was pretty quick." Karen remembered this man. He was the Church of Samsara member who had entered the restaurant earlier, and the robes he was currently straightening belonged to the Church of Samsara. The woman who stood up behind him waved a hand, dispelling the simple ward she had cast earlier, and came over to link arms with the man. "Let's go, let's go. I'm hungry. I want to taste some local specialties of Dark Moon Island." "Mm, sure, I'll take you right now." The man waved at Karen. "See ya, haha." With that, he took the woman's hand and turned to walk out of the woods. Karen noticed that the woman was none other than Laima, the restaurant owner's daughter. "Wait," Karen called out. The man stopped, looked back at Karen, and smiled. "What, can't people from Order take a joke?" Karen pointed at the girl. "You swapped her soul." Hearing this, the man's gaze hardened slightly. "I don't think there's any reason for us to squabble here over a Dark Moon Island peasant, is there?" Hearing those words, Ophelia was about to step forward, but Karen grabbed her wrist tightly. Even if the victim was from Dark Moon Island, the Dark Moon was not in a position to act. Anyone capable of using a soul contract was certainly no ordinary member of the Church of Samsara. If a conflict had to occur, it was best kept between the two churches. Karen took two steps forward, shielding Ophelia completely behind him, and said, "There is a reason." "Oh? What reason?" "Her father's cooking was delicious."