Hill looked at the man, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind in an instant, as if uncertain whether what was before him was reality or a dream. Foolishly, Hill reached out towards the fire, the scorching flas burning his palm montarily, the intense pain snapping him back to consciousness.
It wasn’t a dream.
That night wasn’t a dream, but absolute reality. On that stormy night, the man truly descended upon him, arriving in a way that Hill could not comprehend.
A visitor in the nightmare.
Hill wanted to say sothing, but there was too much he wished to say, stuck in his throat, only able to utter a aningless whimper, like a wounded beast lanting, or desperate people crying.
The intense grief almost shattered Hill’s sanity; everything he cherished and loved fell apart in the wake of the man’s arrival.
The silence between them lasted a long ti; the man patiently waiting, enjoying it.
The man liked Hill’s current expression, the firelight outlining the muscles and contours of his face, filled with intoxicating madness, along with emotions emanating from Hill’s soul, as fiery as the flas.
Pain, sorrow, despair, hatred...
The man was satisfied with all that Hill displayed, even standing beside Hill, inhaling the emotions-filled air would bring a distorted sense of gratification.
"Oh, my God..."
Hill let out a cry of despair but then, like grasping for a lifeline, looked at the man before him with hatred.
It’s truly infuriating.
Hill clenched his fists, wanting to smash that delicate, beautiful face, but he was still a child, too short; even if he stretched his hand fully, he could barely reach the man’s chest.
"You seem very angry," the man queried, perplexed, "Did I do sothing wrong?"
Hill said, "It was you... You caused all of this."
"?" The man laughed, "I did nothing; at most, I only... gave you so advice."
"Haven’t you realized yet, Hill? The one who truly decided to act was you; I rely pushed you a little."
The man looked at Hill’s hands, continuing, "It was with these hands that you personally strangled him, wasn’t it?"
He intentionally led Hill towards madness, "How does patricide feel?"
Reflected in Hill’s eyes was the firelight, hiding madness; seeing this, the man laughed even louder.
"You’re actually also grateful, Hill; you’re grateful that I genuinely exist, so you can attribute your tragedy to , rather than bla yourself."
The man was too skilled at this; inducing the will of a child to collapse was incredibly simple.
For Hill, this was a mont of despair, but for the man, it was rely a leisurely pasti on his long journey.
The man enjoyed watching others fall from clarity to degradation, within the vast cognitive gap of reality, descending into hysterical insanity.
"Yes, that’s right, that’s human nature. Clearly, it’s your own decisions, yet you don’t have the courage to bear the consequences, instead channeling your hatred onto ."
The man revealed a troubled expression, "Is there anything you want to say, Hill?"
Hill remained silent, the flas quietly burning.
The fire crackle occasionally amidst the night’s shroud; many fires like these burned, the plague having taken too many lives. People erected one fire after another, casting in one corpse after another, as if it were a primitive and frenzied sacrificial ritual.
The cold night wind was driven away, warm air brushed against Hill’s cheeks. He was too close to the fire, sparks occasionally jumping onto his face, bringing a heart-wrenching sting.
But this warmth dissipated with the man’s arrival; the silent cold wind brushed past, the blazing flas swayed violently, the fire collapsing incrent by incrent, raising heaps of ashes.
People passed by Hill and the man, thinking it was just the night wind extinguishing the fire, throwing in more wood, but no matter how hard they tried to save it, the flas still irretrievably headed towards extinction.
The firelight weakened bit by bit, the man’s face sinking into darkness along with it; Hill couldn’t see his face anymore, but Hill knew, he was smiling—a smile as if everyone was a fool, a toy, filled with contempt.
The man’s laughter gradually twisted and distorted, "You see, Hill, you can’t find anything to refute my words, can you?"
Hill gazed directly into the darkness; the man was right, he was only giving advice, the actual action was done by himself. At the thought of this fact, Hill felt a ripping pain, as if his body were about to be torn in two.
"I... I want to kill you."
The voice emanated from Hill’s throat, like a mist filled with venomous resentnt.
"Many people have wanted to kill , but they all failed," the man said, "Do you think you will be the special one?"
Hill didn’t answer, only stared at the man with a near sickly gaze; he couldn’t take in any other words now. There was one thing the man got right; Hill was about to be crushed by his own guilt over this ti.
The man’s arrival seed to bring a hope borne from hatred, allowing Hill to escape from blaming himself.
"Then let’s make a bet."
The man extended a pale palm to Hill, dark capillaries spread beneath the skin; beneath the black robe seed to wrap a decaying corpse.
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