Dramatic Poet

"And so another sad little girl is added to the world." A light drizzle ran down the stone steps. Neon signs from storefronts along the street dyed the water in shimmering ribbons of color, sparkling droplets splashing around the maid's calves. Neither carried an umbrella, yet the raindrops naturally steered clear of them. Vichy followed Yaxiu step for step, leaning forward with her head tilted to gaze at him. Her ample, soft chest swayed in a mesmerizing curve as she smiled radiantly. "I really think this sort of behavior should be explicitly banned by law. Otherwise, the girls who tumble into your trash bin are just too pitiable." Yaxiu retorted crossly, "I didn't, I haven't, stop talking nonsense." "Don't tell me you didn't see it. At this point, not even the Witch would buy your innocent routine," Vichy said, casting him a sideways glance. "Nowadays, you know exactly what they're hinting at the second they bat an eyelash. Besides, you looked pretty pleased with yourself. If I hadn't been there, would you have taken the chance to enjoy a midnight snack?" "Isn't it only natural to feel pleased?" Yaxiu smiled. "If someone fancied you, wouldn't you feel happy?" "Of course not." Vichy scoffed as if she had just heard the greatest joke in the world. "I'm not a trash bin like you. Why would something like that make me happy? Now, if people were terrified of me, that would be more like it." Yaxiu glanced at her. "In any case, she'll forget about us soon enough. Feelings like that come fast and fade just as quickly. Life isn't a play. Who falls for someone they met once and pines for years?" Vichy studied him closely for a moment. Once she was sure he wasn't joking, she turned her head away and murmured softly, "This Lalafell really doesn't seem to have a shred of self-awareness..." "What did you say?" Vichy gave him a thumbs-up. "I said, what profound insight, Master." "That reminds me—I haven't settled my score with you yet," Yaxiu said. "You promised me you wouldn't slaughter the innocent, yet you had the nerve to pull an entrapment scheme?" "You called it entrapment yourself, so how could that count as slaughtering the innocent?" Vichy argued back. "You never said I couldn't bait anyone back then, and besides, you shut me down before I even hooked anything!" "You knew perfectly well I'd never allow it." "How was I supposed to know if you didn't say so?!" "Because you're the Spectre Prophet! You obviously know what I'm thinking!" Yaxiu declared imperiously. "And look at your attitude—daring to talk back, showing no remorse whatsoever. That's an aggravated offense!" Vichy shook her head in sheer marvel. "Yaxiu, you and the Sword Princess really are a match made in heaven." "Flattery won't get you anywhere." "No, I mean you're both equally double-standard, shameless, and unreasonable." "Thank you." Yaxiu accepted the assessment with utter righteousness, then held out an open palm toward Vichy. "Give me your hand." Looking bewildered, Vichy placed her hand in his. Yaxiu brought his palm down with a crisp slap. The two stared at each other for a moment before Vichy blinked, her eyes asking: *That's it?* If the punishment for testing his boundaries was just a slap on the hand, to Vichy, it was practically punitive encouragement. Forget a slap on the hand—even if he struck her in far fleshier places, she wouldn't flinch in the slightest. Yet Yaxiu turned his hand over, took hers in his grip, and pulled her along toward their stronghold. After a few steps, the maid realized what was happening and struggled fiercely to yank her hand back. "Let go of me!" "What are you so nervous about?" "What if they see us? They'll misunderstand!" Yaxiu couldn't resist retorting, "They've even seen you bite me! What room could possibly be left for misunderstandings?" "That's completely different!" Vichy held back angrily, trying to dig her heels in like she was in a tug-of-war as she attempted to wrench her hand free. "Anything goes during a transaction, but this isn't part of the deal! Let go of me!" Watching the Spectre Prophet become so flustered, Yaxiu blinked, feeling as though he had baited out her entire ultimate arsenal with a simple basic attack. Over the past couple of days, he had suddenly realized that he and Vichy had checked off almost every intimate milestone imaginable—yet, oddly enough, they had never once held hands. So he had tried testing the waters tonight, never expecting such a vehement reaction from Vichy. His curiosity was thoroughly piqued. "You and I have blended flesh and soul before, so why do you care so much about holding hands?" Vichy pressed her lips tightly together, then blurted out, "I admit I was wrong, all right? I won't bait anyone anymore!" Yaxiu's eyes instantly lit up, and he shook his head. "Still not enough." "...Whenever there's something you might not permit, I'll ask for your permission first before doing it. Will that do?! Let go of me!" "Still not enough." "What else do you want?!" Overcome with exasperation, Vichy yanked his arm over and bit down on it, whining aggrievedly, "During our deals I let you bully me however you please, and now you insist on humiliating me over something so petty?!" Looking at the venomous viper angrily gnawing on his arm, Yaxiu let out a light laugh. "I also want you to hold my hand the entire way back, all the way to our doorstep before letting go. How about that?" Vichy eyed him warily for a moment, then released her bite and asked, "You'll really let go once we reach the door?" "Really." "No lies?" "How would I dare lie to the Spectre Prophet?" Grudgingly giving up her struggle, Vichy took the initiative to pull him forward. "Then let's get back quickly." As they crossed near the bar district, Yaxiu suddenly understood why Vichy had resisted holding hands so fiercely. Even though they had cloaked themselves with a miracle so that no mortal could possibly notice them, walking through the scattered crowds outside the bars left both of their palms slick with sweat. Holding hands was the most fundamental and visible form of intimacy. One could not embrace or kiss indefinitely, but one could hold a lover's hand through winding streets, across alleys, to the very ends of the earth. Nothing proclaimed to strangers that two people were lovers more clearly than clasping hands. An embrace might stem from friendship, a kiss might be polite courtesy, but fingers intertwined could only mean *I like you*. No wonder Vichy had fought it so hard. She could brush off everything else she did with Yaxiu as superficial deception, but holding hands left no room for any other excuse. Yaxiu had originally thought holding hands was no big deal, but seeing how much weight Vichy placed on it made even him feel a little bashful. Thinking carefully, it really was bizarre: one was an experienced trash bin, the other an infamous Spectre Prophet steeped in sin, yet a novice-level gesture of intimacy like holding hands had turned both of them bashfully innocent... With heads lowered, the two hurriedly made their way through the bar street. Once past the crowd, they both let out an involuntary breath of relief, looked up at each other, and burst into laughter. After that, they were in no hurry to rush back. Yaxiu kept hold of her hand and picked a secluded route. Vichy raised no objection. Taking a slight detour, the two quietly strolled into the drizzling summer night. Would Vichy truly accept remaining under someone else's control forever? Could Yaxiu truly keep her suppressed indefinitely? Perhaps neither of them had the answer. Yet at least for now, both were willing to let this road stretch a little longer, allowing this fleeting moment of serenity to linger just a bit more. Until the end, until eternity. "You cheated!" In front of a twenty-four-hour convenience store ahead, three children crouched on the ground, playing cards with a young man. The man wore a remarkably conspicuous top hat and a flashy black-and-gold suit, with a walking cane tucked under his arm and gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit like an itinerant street magician. Facing the child's accusation, he wagged his finger and made an exceedingly infuriating clicking sound with his tongue. "Calling someone a cheater just because you can't win—do that, and nobody will want to play with you. I'll let it slide this time, but watch yourself next time." "But you really did cheat!" another child piped up. "There's no card like this in Weaving Cards at all! You made this card yourself!" "Where's your proof? Slandering someone without evidence is against the law, you know!" "The ink on it isn't even dry yet!" The third child, a little girl, picked up the card and wiped it. "It smeared the moment I touched it!" The young man immediately snatched the card back. "Did not! Don't you go ruining my rare collector's edition Weaving Card! If you're a sore loser, just say so. As a grown adult, would I really bully a bunch of little brats like you?!" Furious, the three children ignored the disparity in size and charged straight at him, raining blows upon him. Yaxiu knew the Weaving Cards game they were playing was a tabletop game unique to the Gospel Realm. He had played it before with Banjie and Lisi, but because the card descriptions were vague and left immense room for fast-talking nonsense, it had ended with him cheating so frequently that no one was willing to play with him anymore. He had assumed a tabletop game like this would eventually die out, never expecting that a year later it would be thriving to the point where kids stayed out late into the night just to play. "All right, all right! How about this: if you admit I won, I'll give each of you a rare collector's card, deal?" His hat had been knocked off in the scuffle, forcing the young man to compromise. The children exchanged looks, ultimately unable to resist the allure of "rare collector's cards." "Fine." The young man instantly stuffed all the yogurt and beef jerky laid out on the ground into his satchel, casually tore open a tub of ice cream, and began eating. It seemed they had actually been playing for stakes. Then, sitting down on the steps, he took out a box of Weaving Cards and spread them flat on the ground. "Pick one each. Only one per person, mind you." The boy on the far left flipped over a card depicting a white wolf. The young man said, "Drawing this card means that in the future, a miracle might turn your hair white, after which you'll join a sorcerer group that slays monsters and demons. You will be infertile for life and adopt only one noble daughter. Though you'll know many female sorcerers, in the end, only a bard will stay by your side." The boy in the middle drew a dragon card. The young man remarked, "Oh, you'll become an inheritor of an ancient sound school, the Dragon Shout school. You'll join four special sorcerer groups in succession—warrior, thief, assassin, and sorcery—and then slay several formidable dragons." The little girl on the right drew a burning candle. The young man said, "Your life will be magnificent. You'll explore many mysterious ancient tombs and unravel riddles left by ancient sorcerers. Though you'll face countless perils along the way, you'll always turn danger into safety, and you'll grow more and more beautiful." The three children looked at one another, then charged forward again, kicking and punching. "How are we supposed to play with cards like this?!" "None of the things you said are written on it!" "You drew all of these yourself! Even my drawings look better than yours! Give me back my yogurt!" Thick-skinned and shameless, the young man let the children beat him without any intention of returning their stakes, even speeding up as he wolfed down the beef jerky and yogurt. Driven to tears of frustration, the children rubbed their eyes and headed home sniffling—meaning that on this night, three more children would be soundly thrashed for staying out late to play cards. Yaxiu and Vichy watched from the side, amused. At that moment, the young man straightened his hat and clothes, took a hearty bite of beef jerky, and turned to look at the two of them. Noticing their clasped hands, he couldn't help letting out a whistle. "Good evening, Observer of the End, Spectre Prophet," he said with a smile. "Fancy a game of cards?" Vichy froze, her pupils instantly shrinking—the two of them were veiled beneath a miracle; even a legendary sorcerer might not necessarily detect their presence! Just as she was about to lash out, Yaxiu stepped in front of her. He glanced at her and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Vichy reined in her hostility and stood quietly behind him. "Though I anticipated it, seeing such an obedient Spectre Prophet still makes one marvel. Live long enough, and you truly will see everything," the young man remarked with a chuckle. "Who are you?" Yaxiu asked. "I have no name. It's not that I'm deliberately hiding anything; I lost my name long ago, as you both know," the young man replied smilingly. "But you surely know who I am." *We all know...* *Strength above a demigod...* *Not swallowed along with the Six Hells...* *Neither a divine lord nor an angel, yet capable of appearing freely in reality...* *More importantly, he lost his name.* A figure known by reputation to every sorcerer surfaced simultaneously in the minds of Yaxiu and Vichy. The Dramatic Poet!