Chapter 43
Chapter 43: Facing Oneself
The old man stood leaning on his cane by the railing.
Clouds brushed past his sharp, black formal wear, and his blade-sharp eyes reflected the tiny Blackwater District below. That great fire was just a small red dot. The air above the clouds was always thin and cold.
Another round of steam erupted, and the Black City’s view was obscured by misty vapor.
“Mr. Joseph, I can assure you that standing there will definitely catch cold.” A girl with flaxen hair in a water-blue Gothic dress approached from behind, carrying a blanket.
The girl wore beautiful brown boots, and her healthy, graceful calves showed beneath her skirt.
“Oh? Want to make a bet then, Miss Olivia?” The old man chuckled as he turned around.
His age was hard to determine, but those familiar with Gray Cloud Fortress’s history knew this former Count was now over sixty. Yet his smile and spirit remained vigorous, dignified without losing grace—like a young lion.
His silver-gray hair was neatly combed, wrinkles carved like knife marks, rugged and hard.
Joseph Carroll, the nominal master of Gray Cloud Fortress.
He had driven away his traditional, rigid siblings with merchants and gangs, then transferred governing power to a council formed by merchants and gangs, while he alone lived in the high fortress enjoying leisure.
But everyone knew this lion-fierce man Joseph had never truly left the center of power. The increasing wrinkles on his skin hadn’t diminished the expanding ambition in his heart.
Like a fire still burning, ready to consume everything when the time was right.
Both the mutually incompatible Temperance House and Black Rose Society were brought in by him, bypassing the four major gangs with support from citizens and merchants. The uncertain factors determining Gray Cloud Fortress’s future grew daily, while Joseph secretly controlled it all.
A helmsman in the storm, advancing against the waves.
“You might as well move to the casino in Georgetown District. Then I could go straight back to complain to Ms. Cecilia. You disappear in the blink of an eye—being your secretary is really a thankless job.” Olivia sighed.
“That won’t do! Girls like you who handle things efficiently are rare these days. Ms. Cecilia has taught you too well—I definitely couldn’t get used to anyone else.” Joseph became serious. He accepted the blanket the girl offered and draped it over himself. “Speaking of which, do you have any girls in your society with silver hair?”
“Silver hair? That’s too many.” Olivia paused, counting on her fingers. “Kay, Marcia, Melody… Does slightly gray count? Sarina has that silver-gray color, all shiny in the sunlight…”
“Uh, I mean that crystal-clear silver, like crystal… Oh, damn, what a ridiculous description… Did whoever said this never see a woman before?” Joseph held his forehead.
Olivia tilted her head. “That description really is quite exaggerated. I’ve been away from the society working for you for quite a while, only occasionally going back to visit the sisters. Crystal-clear like crystal… I don’t have any deep impression. If I’d really seen someone like that, I’d definitely remember very clearly.”
“A strange witch has appeared in Gray Cloud Fortress? Where did you hear this rumor? The underground auction house in Georgetown District, the mechanical exhibition in Gear Tower District, or your informants in the gangs? If needed, I can help you find related materials.” Olivia took out her notebook and pen from her handbag, preparing to record.
Joseph scratched his head and smiled awkwardly. “Forget it. If you actually found her, Ms. Cecilia would definitely be unhappy.”
Olivia didn’t quite understand. The serious, meticulous girl blinked her emerald green eyes.
The old man’s aged but resolute face gradually lost its smile as he turned around again. The blanket fluttered in the wind, and after the vapor cleared, the Black City view appeared once more.
Dawn was breaking.
That conspicuous red dot still burned bright—the fire continued.
Gears turned, transmission rods stretched with harsh scraping sounds. The high-pressure cylinders of the aerial fortress reached their limit again. The next round of pressure release was coming.
“She’s made a clever move. I’ll have to catch it properly.” Joseph said quietly.
Olivia couldn’t hear.
The deafening roar of steam eruption drowned out everything.
Cecilia drained the last drop of wine.
She set down her goblet.
The wind was strong on the Golden Rose’s deck. An unrestrained strand of dark hair danced beside her cheek, her dress hem rippled in circles, and her slender legs in black stockings were elegantly positioned.
The fire in Blackwater District had burned all night. Even at dawn, the distant flames were still visible.
Cecilia had sat here watching for a long time, from calm tranquility to complete destruction, from beginning to end.
She couldn’t sleep.
“Why are you still worried? Your plan was very successful, wasn’t it?” A voice drifted softly from behind.
Cecilia didn’t answer.
Nor did she turn around.
Draped in a black robe, that shadow came to Cecilia’s side. The hood obscured the face, but the voice was a gentle girl’s tone. “You were the one who sent the report to the Temperance House, bringing that stubborn blonde girl. Isn’t this exactly the outcome you wanted?”
Was this the outcome she wanted?
Cecilia trembled involuntarily at these words. Only when she came to her senses did she realize with shock that she was shaking.
“Now you realize what an absurd, foolish thing you’ve done to escape fate?” That shadow laughed mockingly, leaning close to Cecilia sitting in the chair. “But you should also know you can never separate yourself from fate. The prophesied vision will come to pass. That girl is indispensable, and you will inevitably become a sacrifice on her path to godhood.”
Cecilia looked at her own hands.
Her slender fingers trembled uncontrollably beneath the lace gloves.
In dreams, amid echoing whispers, she had seen that future vision countless times—
A silver-haired girl stood on a steel throne forged of blood and fire, holding high the Blade of Judgment. Many wings surrounded her in song, and behind her, through opened gates, hell’s flames and demons poured into the mortal realm.
Golden eyes cold and stern—the gaze of a god, solitary and merciless.
The prophecy would be fulfilled.
Cecilia both worked to realize the prophecy and struggled to break it.
The girl shouldn’t become such a cold, frigid thing. She shouldn’t be the catalyst for judgment’s descent. All of this should be preventable before it happened.
But prophecies were never wrong.
She knew this all too well.
“Guess what happens next? What will really happen?” That shadow circled around Cecilia, humming some light melody as she paced and asked.
“Hey! I actually know the answer! And you know it too!” The shadow suddenly jumped in front of Cecilia.
The hood was blown off by wind, dark hair flowing freely.
The girl under the cloak looked exactly like Cecilia—or rather, she was another Cecilia, her duplicate.
“Can you really resist not looking for her? Can you really resist not killing that blonde girl yourself? There’s actually someone else she still cares about in this world… Can you really control your possessiveness?”
“Enough! Shut up!”
Cecilia suddenly stood and smashed her goblet to the ground.
She roared.
Such loss of composure was unprecedented.
The other Cecilia in robes wasn’t angry. Instead, she became gentle and calm, approaching to softly take Cecilia’s hand. “Why are you angry at me? You know I am you… Our true self was never here. She’s still trapped in Vatica.”
“Just facing yourself. What’s the big deal?” she said calmly.
“Facing yourself?” she asked.
“That’s right. Listen,” she said.
Find her.
Go find her.
Find Funis.
Bring Funis back.
Kill that blonde woman.
Kill that woman named Charlotte.
Destroy everything that might prevent us from being together.
Behind the glass floor-to-ceiling windows, bloody hands pressed against the surface. Beautiful but cold faces pressed close—all of them Cecilia’s duplicates, all of them Cecilia.
They cried, shouted, screamed.
They said over and over what she wanted to say, those true thoughts of hers. Just facing herself.
“Go find her.”
Finally.
She said.