You're Really Something, Watcher

The White Queen's silhouette gradually dissipated, leaving only the Black Witch alone upon the bed. She spread her arms and fell back, closing her red, swollen eyes. Swallowing the cries in her throat back into her chest, what replaced them was a different kind of trembling. “Heh... heh...” “Hehehe... hahaha...” “Hahahaha!” “She agreed! She agreed! But what's the point? She can't protect anything, we can't protect anything! Nothing will change. The princess on the high tower is doomed to fall. Tonight is the turning point of everything... Tonight...” By the end, the Black Witch couldn't suppress the laughter rising from the deepest folds of her soul. Her whole body convulsed and shook; she even pounded the mattress violently. Tears of laughter streamed from her tightly shut eyes, and mocking drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. Several times she laughed until she was breathless, yet she kept on laughing, until all strength drained from her limbs and she slumped like a pile of mud. Just like a madwoman. “It's rare to see you so happy. Have any amusing stories to share?” The palace quietly dissolved. She opened her eyes to find that she had returned to the initial dreamscape. The Witch stood beside her head, looking down at her with keen interest. “...Nothing amusing.” “Is that so? Then hurry back,” the Witch said. “The brief, pleasant game is about to end.” *Clap.* A hand seized the Witch's ankle. The Witch turned her head and saw the girl in the black dress still sprawled on the ground, reaching out to grasp her foot. When the black-dressed girl lifted her head, the Witch saw a look in her eyes that was both familiar and strange. Pitch-black, clear, and bright. No bleeding darkness, and certainly no murky madness. “...Black?” A trace of disbelief tinged the Witch's voice. “You're awake?” Black didn't speak; she simply met the Witch's eyes. This was the most frustrating thing about sisters—even without a single word, mere eye contact was enough to say everything. The only way she expressed her stance was by holding tight to the Witch's ankle, humble yet unyielding. Yet the Witch didn't look at her, shifting her gaze toward the other side instead. It was rush hour now, and the White Witch had clocked out as well. Dressed in a pure white formal gown she hadn't worn in ages, she lay limp upon the ground, weightless and airy, like a stray snowflake. “Did every single one of you play until you were completely drained?” the Witch said. “Looking at it this way, does that make me the restrained one instead?” Hearing the Witch's voice, the pure white maiden opened her eyes as well. Straining with effort, she crawled to the Witch's feet and caught hold of her other ankle. She didn't speak either, merely gazing up at the Witch in silence as pleading tears welled in her pure eyes. “Black is awake, and White is back?” The Witch crouched down and looked at the two of them with utter bewilderment, like a child discovering that a long-lost toy had suddenly reappeared on the desk. Soon, realization dawned on her, and she clapped her hands. “So that's it!” “No wonder the Watcher was so generous this time, allowing us to deeply meddle with reality!” “There was no way he couldn't foresee how chaotic our actions would be. Given his cautious style, we wouldn't have been qualified to take on this assignment at all. Earlier, I thought he just wanted to exploit our advantage in numbers, combined with Yaxiu recently obtaining the Secret Incarnation, working both angles to turn Yaxiu into an invincible super-scumbag.” “Now it seems his goal wasn't the Gospel at all, but us!” “Or rather, you two!” “He predicted the dreamscape's effect on you, which is why he deliberately let us out. You two are his harvest. Odds of two in eighteen, and he actually won the gamble.” The Witch marveled at the Watcher's schemes, then looked down at the sisters prostrate on the ground. “However, he lost his bet as well.” “Even if you're willing to sacrifice yourselves,” the Witch said, enunciating every word, “it doesn't mean I will allow it.” “I'm not like Sword Princess. She can stand by and watch Sonia live a better life, but when I see Lisdia gaining happiness I never had, it only makes me sick to my stomach with sour bile.” “I actually wanted to like her too. After all, she's me from the past. But when I see Yaxiu treating her so well, see her breezing comfortably through every crisis, see her smiling at every moment... my heart is left with nothing but fury and jealousy.” “It's as if countless voices are interrogating me in my mind—” “‘Why her? Why wasn't it me?’” “‘Why does she get to escape suffering? Why did I have to endure everything?’” “‘What did she do right to have it all? Just how wretched am I to end up with nothing?’” The Witch tilted her head, staring at the two of them. “Come to think of it, were those voices truly my own thoughts, or were they your whispers?” “I want nothing more than for her to suffer twice the fate I endured, to be ravaged, tortured, and twisted into a monster uglier and more pathetic than me.” Cruel malice washed over the Witch's beautiful face. “Only then would I feel a shred of comfort.” “I can barely wait to ruin her as it is. How could I possibly help her?” Boiling malice surged through their skin straight into Black and White's hearts, but they knew what they were touching was merely the froth rising to the surface. Beneath it lay a bottomless, pitch-black abyss, holding vast, murky, unevaporable despair. And even this was the result after being shared among seventeen sisters. It was precisely because the Witch bore the brunt of the despair that she wielded the greatest authority—even though it had never been by her choice. “S-sor...” “I'm sorry.” Both the Witch and Black froze. They looked at White, as if searching for any sign that she was joking. “Though it's a bit late... perhaps very late, still... I'm sorry.” White tried her best to hold back the sobs in her voice, but failed completely. Choked weeping repeatedly broke her words. “So, I hope... that I can at least do something for...” “Do you think that after so much time has passed, I'd still care about a belated apology from you?” The Witch stood up. “Yes, I care.” *Smack!* The Witch kicked White square in the abdomen, sending her flying over ten meters away. The spectating white mist scattered in a panic, clearing a runway for her rolling tumble. Then the Witch bent down and hoisted Black up by the collar. “What about you? Do you have anything you want to say to me?” “No,” Black said calmly. “I have never wronged you.” “You certainly have nerve...” The Witch sneered. “But why? White aside, you're hardly the self-sacrificing type, Black. I thought you were just like me—the sort who can't stand seeing others do well.” She cast a glance at White, who was struggling to get up in the distance. “No matter how much you give, the one you're protecting isn't your Queen. Your past won't change in the slightest, nor will your suffering diminish by even a fraction.” “In the end, terms like 'making up for regrets' are no different from 'self-consolation'—they're all self-deceptive tricks. Things like erasing past suffering by making up for old regrets... have never existed!” “Black, be good and go back to sleep.” The Witch gazed into Black's eyes, her voice sweet, melodious, and bewitching. “You've already freed yourself from reality. Don't come back again.” Black shook her head. “But right now, I'm dreaming.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a genuine smile. “So, don't let me wake up this time. Let me drown in the dream, alright?” The Witch faltered slightly, then relaxed her grip, letting Black sink onto the ground. The pitch-black butler wrapped her arms around the Witch's waist, like a koala clinging to its mother, or a younger sister acting spoiled with her older sister. “You're really something, Watcher.”