Shirley was twirling a strand of her own hair. Victor pushed open the hospital room door, she was listlessly twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.
When she saw him enter, she bounced up from the pillow like a lit candle. She leaned against the pillow, her face still a bit pale, but her eyes had already regained that familiar sparkling light.
“Victor!”
She smiled and waved at him, but the movement was too big and pulled at her wound. She winced in pain, but quickly recovered her smile.
“Why did you take so long? I was almost bored to death!”
“The elders won’t let me get out of bed, the Knights Order won’t let me help, even the attending servant won’t let me touch the holy scripture, saying I need quiet rest. Am I really that fragile!”
As she said that, she pouted, her finger drawing circles on the sheet.
“You don’t know, they even watch me when I turn over, as if I’m some fragile item.”
“If I read a book, they say it strains my eyes; if I write a letter, they say it drains my energy; even if I sit up, they worry it might tear my wound!”
As she spoke, she laughed first, her shoulders shaking, and pulled at her injury again, letting out a hiss of pain, but the smile on her face didn’t diminish one bit.
Victor looked at her like that and suddenly felt his throat tighten.
The more she acted like that, the less he could speak.
She almost died. In front of the Platinum-rank Vampire, she alone took the backlash of all the dark magic, shielding all the knights, and now she was only complaining about being bored.
He opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue felt tied.
He remembered the moment she fell, her whole body hitting the ground, the golden holy light spilling out of her like shattered stars. At that time, he almost thought she was going to die.
Then he noticed her gaze. She stared at him for a while, looking from his hair to his shoulders, from his shoulders to his stance, then tilted her head, her eyes bright as if she had discovered some amazing secret.
“Victor, have you changed somehow?”
She tilted her head, looking him up and down, her expression as serious as if she were studying a precious artifact.
He froze for a moment, rubbed the back of his head, and responded with his usual smile, saying he had changed into new clothes and had been training.
He spoke casually, but inside he was a bit flustered.
She was too perceptive, always had been since they were young.
But she shook her head vigorously, saying no, it wasn’t the clothes.
“It’s a feeling. You seem more handsome, and more confident.”
“The old Victor was good too, but today you’re especially good.”
“Hee hee, I really like it.”
As she said that, her fingertip still twirled a strand of hair, and she smiled sweetly.
Victor’s ears burned instantly. He subconsciously turned his face away, covering it with his usual tone.
“Now that you’re a holy saint, saying things like this—aren’t you afraid the elders will hear and make you recite the holy scripture as punishment?”
He coughed, pretending to look out the window.
She wasn’t fooled at all. She laughed, eyes narrowing.
“But I’m a patient—the elders wouldn’t bear to punish me.”
“Let me touch you—I feel that today’s Victor will definitely bring good luck.”
Then she reached her hand out from under the covers, smiling, and extended it toward him.
The moment her fingertips touched his cheek, he felt an extremely faint, needle-like sting piercing his skin.
Immediately after, her body shuddered violently—
Her holy light burst open in front of him.
It wasn’t an attack. It was a loss of control, a more primal instinctual reaction.
Her source of holy light was wildly running amok, as if warning her of something.
She bent over and spat a mouthful of blood onto the sheets.
“Shirley!”
He instinctively reached out to support her, but before his fingers even touched her shoulder, golden holy light surged out from her body like flames, violently knocking his hand back.
He staggered back half a step, looking down at the red marks burned into his palm.
In that instant, his mind buzzed, his heart felt like it was being gripped tightly, hurting so much he could barely breathe.
She was still spitting blood. Her holy light was rejecting him. The dark, heavy power inside him churned, like a disturbed beast growling low in his chest.
Shirley wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, startled herself, but when she saw Victor’s panicked and pained expression as he was thrown back, she actually spoke to comfort him first.
“Looks like I really need to rest properly.”
She sighed with a smile, saying that the magic power inside her was still unstable, probably because she had gotten too excited.
“When I’m better, I’ll definitely give you a big hug.”
He stood there, looking at his still trembling fingers.
It wasn’t her fault. It was his fault. She took all the blame on herself, and was still talking about hugging him.
It was that damn power inside him that had hurt her.
He took a deep breath, forcing down the self-loathing that was about to burst from his chest, steadied his voice, walked to the bedside to tuck her sheets in, and gently said he wouldn’t disturb her now, and asked if she wanted some honey cake from the kitchen—he would go and call for it.
She nodded vigorously, her eyes lighting up again.
“Thank you, Victor. I told you today you’re especially good.”
He didn’t look back when he reached the door, gently closing it behind him.
Then he walked through the afternoon sunlight and past the medicine trays held by nuns, turned a corner, and once he confirmed no one was around, he broke into a sprint.
He didn’t remember how he had burst through the prison gates, only that the two knights on duty were knocked off balance by the door panels he shoved open.
Someone behind him shouted, “Lord Victor,” but he didn’t answer.
He rushed to the deepest cell, grabbed the iron bars with both hands, his knuckles white.
“Why—why can’t I touch Shirley?”
“Does my dark magic automatically repel the holy light in her body?”
“Will it hurt her?”
“Do you have any way to fix this—!”
His voice was trembling. It wasn’t suppression, it was a breakdown he could no longer hold back.
The image of Shirley spitting blood was still seared into his mind, and the spot on his hand burned by the holy light still stung fiercely.
But more painful than that was the helplessness that threatened to tear his heart apart when she smiled and said she would take the blame.
He remembered the moment she fell, the faint smile still on her lips as she lost consciousness—like a needle stuck in his heart that he couldn’t pull out.
The old man in the black robe slowly raised his eyelids, his ghostfire-like pupils staring straight at Victor.
“Young man, the dark magic inside you and her source of holy light are inherently repulsive to each other.”
“Light and dark have never been compatible.”
“If you touch her, her source will attack you; if she touches you, your magic will backfire on her.”
“This is the law of nature, and no one can change it.”
“Your magic will repel her and also devour her.”
“If you force prolonged contact with her, your magic will erode her source bit by bit like a slow poison.”
“Conversely, her holy light will constantly and instinctively repel and attack you.”
“You are like ice and fire. If you force a fusion, you will only consume and destroy each other.”
Victor’s knuckles, gripping the iron bars, were already white and stiff.
He asked, word by word:
“Then Shirley and I can never be close again?”
“If I touch her, she gets hurt; if she touches me, I hurt her.”
“Then we…”
The old man closed his eyes.
“When you become strong enough to freely contain all your overflowing magic power without harming her, and if she does not use holy light to examine your body, she naturally won’t discover it.”
“But you’d better pray that day comes soon, because until you can contain all dark elements, every touch you make drains her life force.”
Victor was silent for a long time, then released the iron bars, turned his back to the cell.
“I understand.”
“I won’t touch her anymore.”
“Until I learn to contain all my dark magic, I won’t let her get hurt because of me.”
“From now on, I can continue to take care of her as a Holy Acolyte, without physical contact.”
“I’ll find other ways to make her happy—cake, holy scripture, practicing swords with her.”
“As long as she doesn’t find out, as long as I can control myself, I can still stand by her side.”
The old man didn’t answer, only that familiar eerie laughter slowly spread in the darkness.
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