Keep Up the Good Work

The Dramatic Poet pulled back his smile, looked at the two of them, and shook his head helplessly. He retrieved a box of cards from his satchel and said, "Rules are rules, and even I cannot break them. You cannot get something for nothing from me; a price must be paid. "You will draw a prophecy card, which can reduce the difficulty of your trial to a certain extent. But be warned: the more the difficulty is reduced, the more cruel the prophecy card's contents will be. The prophecy might crush your spirit completely. Sometimes, humanity's inability to see the future is actually a form of protection. "You possess the yearning authority of the Princess of Resplendent Fireflies, so you can influence the result of the draw to some degree. The prophecy card will respond to your thoughts." The Dramatic Poet placed the prophecy cards before Yaxiu. "Come on. Whichever one you draw doesn't matter." Yet just as Yaxiu reached out to turn over the top card, the Dramatic Poet pressed his thumb against the edge of the deck and said gravely, "I hope you won't draw. The prophecy faction possesses a deeply fascinating characteristic known as the 'self-fulfilling prophecy.' That is, if you do not know the prophecy, your future remains unknown. But once you learn of it, your future will collapse toward the prophecy, and even your subconscious actions will become foreshadowing that brings it to pass." Yaxiu looked at the Dramatic Poet and gave a soft smile. "Thank you." He turned over the top prophecy card. On its face, a figure plummeted toward a sea of fire. The Dramatic Poet picked up the card between his fingers, faint ripples stirring in his lake-clear eyes. "If your overall difficulty is forty points of damage, then this card can offset five points," he said. "This is also the limit of how far I can interfere with the Void Realm's trial." Yaxiu asked, "Then what did the card prophesy?" The Dramatic Poet returned the card to the deck and said calmly, "The person you love will sacrifice themselves before your eyes." Vichy froze, turning her head to look at Yaxiu. Yaxiu lowered his head in thought and fell silent for a moment. After a brief hesitation, Vichy gently laced her fingers through his. "Are you regretting flipping the prophecy card now?" The Dramatic Poet sighed. "I truly didn't want you to be affected by a prophecy card. A splendid play shouldn't have a preordained script." "No, I was actually pondering a question," Yaxiu said with mixed emotions. "'The person I love will sacrifice themselves before my eyes'... Which one is that supposed to be, exactly?" The Dramatic Poet: "..." Vichy: "..." "Don't worry. If I resigned myself to fate, I'd probably still be living out my days in Shattered Lake—or feeding the fishes by now." Yaxiu shrugged. "Is what the prophecy card predicts a fate that is certain to happen?" "Generally, yes," the Dramatic Poet said. "However, miracles that change destiny are also possible." "Then I can put my mind at ease," Yaxiu laughed. "After all, my life up to this point has been one continuous miracle after another." He extended his hand toward the Dramatic Poet. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Dramatic Poet. And by the way, my name isn't Observer of the End. I am Yaxiu Heath." The Dramatic Poet was caught off guard, then broke into a radiant smile, reaching out to clasp his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Yaxiu Heath." He winked at Yaxiu. "Even though this is our first meeting, for some reason I feel like old friends at first sight, as if we were brothers born of different fathers and different mothers, our dearest kin, our closest friend..." Yaxiu immediately held out an open palm. "Give me something practical, then." "No problem! Let me see what else I can do to help you two... Hey, Divine Lord of Stars, you actually showed up!?" Startled, Yaxiu and Vichy immediately looked back in the direction the Dramatic Poet was pointing, only to spot an orange cat sheltering from the rain beneath the eaves not far away. What, the Divine Lord of Stars actually descended to the mortal realm as a cat... Wait, no! Turning back around, sure enough, the Dramatic Poet had vanished, as if he had never been there at all. If not for the snack wrappers he had left behind on the ground, Yaxiu wouldn't even be sure whether the conversation just now had been a hallucination—the Dramatic Poet even littered. Yaxiu flicked a breeze to sweep the litter on the ground into the trash can beside the convenience store entrance, then asked, "How are you feeling?" "Nothing out of the ordinary for now." Vichy carefully inspected her soul body. "I just don't know how the trial will unfold... Why didn't you ask him about the trial's specific contents?" "I asked for help several times, but he never took the initiative to mention the details of the trial. Clearly, he had no intention of telling us," Yaxiu said. "I don't know if it's just my imagination, but I always get the feeling he is remarkably fond of sorcerers. He set up so many special installations in the fourth level of the Void Realm to help young sorcerers, and he guides demigods with secret realms to advance into God-Leaders..." "Isn't that normal?" Vichy replied. "The Prime Angel was willing to stand dry vigil over Ruby Mountain for tens of millions of years. Strange entities like them can't be judged by our values." "No, I just feel that generally speaking, fondness is directed toward individuals, or at worst a specific group, and there are usually screening conditions. For example, I have a favorable impression of you, or I have a favorable impression of elves who are good-looking, gentle, and cherish life—that's normal thinking." Yaxiu said, "But the impression the Dramatic Poet gives me is that whether it's a Lalafell sorcerer or an ogre sorcerer, whether good or evil, as long as someone is a sorcerer, he seems to love them. It's like... unconditional, universal love?" "At least it's a good thing for us," Vichy said. "And I advise you not to count on subtle conditioning to work. That's a trick I've exhausted long ago. A Spectre Prophet who cherishes life doesn't exist on any timeline. But a gentle maid is something you can forcibly demand with an order." Having his little motive seen through, Yaxiu's expression didn't waver. "Let's head back." "Mm." Vichy took the initiative to hold Yaxiu's hand, effortlessly slipping his miracle bracelet off with a tug. Then she swiftly opened the photo gallery and tapped away. By the time Yaxiu got it back, only one eye-searing photo remained in the gallery—a picture of the necromancer in skeleton warpaint garb. How could one describe it? Through his coordination of clothing alone, he had constructed an aesthetic masterpiece of necromancy on par with maggots swarming a sea of corpses. If the Mountain of Corpses and Sea of Blood still existed, Harvey would definitely be its most fitting master. "Didn't you want to see the necromancer's three-out-of-ten photo? Here, I helped you delete the extra ones. No need to thank me." The maid stepped briskly into the curtain of rain, her hands clasped behind her waist. She tilted her head and glanced back at him. "Did you really think I didn't notice the eye contact between you and the Dramatic Poet?" Yaxiu followed behind gloomily. "Was such tight security really necessary? I was just a little curious about your old photos..." "There's nothing worth looking at." "It's not a matter of whether it's worth looking at or not. It's just like how I want to see childhood photos of the Sword Princess and the Witch," Yaxiu said. "It gives a sense of participation, like bridging time and space to witness your past lives." "Then I'll find a way to track down a few pictures of me slaugh—" Vichy trailed off mid-sentence and stopped abruptly. Yet Yaxiu picked up where she left off: "I'd like to see photos of you slaughtering mortals to refine souls too. I'm not foolish enough to ignore your past. In fact, you've almost made me forget what kind of person you really are. Your blood-soaked resume is precisely what I need to reinforce a proper understanding of you." "Fine," Vichy said calmly. "I'll dig them up for you to see. I guarantee it'll be an eye-opener." Yaxiu walked beside her, casting a teasing glance her way. "Still, the fact that you stopped mid-sentence because you realized it would upset me is progress I can appreciate. Not easy at all—you finally know to consider my feelings... Keep up the good work!" Vichy's face flushed crimson at his words, the corners of her mouth twitching. She glared fiercely at Yaxiu and gritted her teeth. "I will definitely make you see me at my most ruthless." Yaxiu paid it no mind. After walking for a stretch, Vichy suddenly asked, "Do you really want to see it that badly?" "You saved it?" "No." Vichy looked away. "But I still remember the cut and tailoring of that dress. If there's time..." For the Spectre Prophet, dropping hints this far was already her limit. Yaxiu teased her no further, holding the maid's hand as they walked through the final stretch of the rain curtain. "I thought you'd ask why I didn't make a move earlier, even though I already had the Dramatic Poet by the wrist." "Then why didn't you?" "I had zero confidence. I felt like what I was holding wasn't a hand, but an entire world." "If you were confident, would you have made a move?" Yaxiu hesitated, not answering right away. Vichy let out a snicker and mocked him, "Toward an existence that showed up and did everything he could to help you, you're actually hesitating over whether to strike him down without mercy? Tsk-tsk, Yaxiu Heath, you've gone bad." "Who do you think I learned it from?" Yaxiu grumbled petulantly. Feeling that he really was being rather shameless and blinded by greed, he lowered his head to engage in self-examination and purify his soul. Vichy blinked, a trace of coquettish charm dancing across her brows as a smile curled at the corner of her lips. "Still, that tiny bit of hesitation just now—I can really appreciate that progress of yours... Keep up the good work!"