Watson nodded, it was all part of Lorenzo de' dici's plan, and even though he died seven years ago, his influence continues to affect everyone, as if fate had decreed it; everything was happening according to his expectations.
"So you're saying you've been living in lies, plans, conspiracies, revenge, and rage—all just to fulfill Lorenzo de' dici's ideals."
Watson said indifferently.
"That doesn't sound like sothing you'd say, Watson. You've beco this way because you believe in that beautiful Golden Era, don't you? All your actions are for the Golden Era, but what you said just now might make deviate from your plan." Lorenzo retorted.
"You've regained your mory, no one will deceive you anymore, and your deviation from all these is just a matter of ti, isn't it?"
"Really?"
After a long silence, Watson reached out to take a cigarette from Lorenzo's cigarette case, puffing clouds.
"You can break free from lies now, Lorenzo, shed these damned obligations, and live the life you want."
Lorenzo was slightly stunned, a hint of light flashed in his vacant gaze, then he started to laugh.
"You're hoping I'll escape from this cursed existence, aren't you? Watson, so 016, you're not dead after all; a monster couldn't say such words."
Lorenzo looked extrely pleased.
"It's great, there are still people who care about , although you look like neither a man nor a ghost."
But he shook his head, speaking sowhat wearily.
"Let's talk about sothing else, Watson. I've dealt with too many heavy things this month, let pause, take a break."
"Do you want to vent your grievances?"
"Sort of, since it seems like you're the only one familiar with my past."
Lorenzo raised his hand, holding a half-charred piece of rotten wood, on which words could still be seen.
The remnants of Winchester, one of the reasons he returned to 121A Cork Street; thinking carefully, this seed to be the only thing left that he still cherished.
"Is 047 really dead? I saw him on the Reichenbach, not sure if it was an illusion or sothing."
"You know very well, don't you? You're only asking because you want to confirm it, shatter the little illusions you have." Watson understood Lorenzo's intentions.
"So he's really dead?" Lorenzo asked sowhat helplessly, "Didn't get a proper farewell, huh."
"Two wills intertwined, 047 indeed survived for a period in ghostly form, but with you regaining lost mories, it ans your will has completely occupied this shell, the broken will shall be utterly obliterated."
"So as I rembered everything, he truly t his death, is that it?"
There was no sadness or grief on Lorenzo's face, from beginning to end he showed little emotional fluctuation, like a cold sculpture.
"I always thought death was a very long affair, only when the last person rembering 047 dies, does he truly die. But thinking deeply, death is so short, just a fleeting mont,
no blood-spitting, screaming, vows to fight to the death, nor any heartfelt rembrance or confession; he died just like that, leaving only painful blanks in a mont..."
"You need rest, Lorenzo."
Watson suddenly felt Lorenzo was terrifying, not the prior kind of rage-filled Evil Ghost, but a death-ridden being, thoroughly enveloped in the heavy scent of death.
Lorenzo shook his head again, answering with a hint of smile.
"I'm resting, Watson, see what a rare holiday this is."
The train arrived with its whistle, soon leaving again, travelers carried luggage with joyous conversations, so looking forward to a new life in Old Dunling, others anticipating far horizons beyond Old Dunling.
This was a living world, the two were out of place.
"I've thought a great deal this month, discovered my connections with this world are very interesting. I wanted to vent my rage, avenge my friends, so the world answered , just root out all demons, and so I did.
Killed all the demons I encountered.
But the world then told , this cannot avenge them, no matter how many demons are killed, they would still reappear, I need to destroy their root source.
But what is the root source of demons?"
Lorenzo bowed his head, laughing in self-mockery.
"I feel like a slave, a slave to fate. I can't discern the truth of answers, nor do I know whether doing so will make everything as I anticipated, no one can tell if all this is correct, all I can do is comply with it, it tells to root out demons, so I do, to destroy the root source, then to destroy the root source.
I can't question, no matter how ridiculous and absurd the thod might be, but I can only foolishly believe, stubbornly execute.
Because it's the only answer, I can only believe in it."
Lorenzo slowly raised his head, rubbing his face firmly, relaxing the stiff muscles, forcing out a kindly smile.
"I should leave, Lorenzo. You bear the beacon I left behind as I invaded; we shall et again."
Watson could no longer bear all this, she no longer looked at Lorenzo, closed her eyes, the blazing white at her eyes finally vanished.
The woman opened her eyes again, unsure why she was there. Then she noticed the strange man beside her, even though he was showing a kind smile, the woman still ran away in panic; she couldn't quite understand but didn't want to stay there, as if by instinct.
Again only Lorenzo was left alone, yet he wasn't too emotionally unsettled; he had long prepared for all this, after all, he was a detective. During this month of rest, Lorenzo had just about pieced his past together, everything seed clear before his eyes, only needed soone to validate all of it.
"But you were wrong on one thing, Watson."
Lorenzo suddenly spoke to himself.
"I didn't live in lies, though all this was within your plans, I wasn't controlled by anyone; I acted based on my own true intentions... this is what I wanted."
Lorenzo's expression changed, in his desolate eyes blazed a fiery inferno, which had never extinguished, and in the future would only burn more madly.
"This isn't just your wish, this... is also mine."
For the Golden Era.
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