Chapter 259
"Have you lost your mind?"
Black Swan's ears weren't playing tricks on her.
"Watch how you talk to your direct superior."
Leon told her to show a little decorum. He was currently the strictest father figure the Memokeepers had ever had.
Memokeepers: The Garden of Recollection is absolutely cooked!!!
"No, I mean — it's just a bit sudden. I mean that genuinely."
Zero-frame startup again. Completely unprepared, as always.
"It was a whim. Of course it's sudden."
Leon didn't deny it.
"What on earth possessed you?"
He didn't answer that. Instead, he said something cryptic:
"You'll understand eventually."
"What is that supposed to mean."
Black Swan genuinely didn't get it.
"Uh... then I like you too?"
She offered tentatively.
"I'm serious."
Leon's expression was completely straight-faced. "Be serious yourself. Don't embarrass the Path of Remembrance."
Black Swan fell silent at that.
Did she like him?
Honestly? In all her life, she had never quite experienced this particular emotion before.
Black Swan had never really thought about finding a partner.
But to say she felt absolutely nothing toward him would also be a lie.
There was something there. An affection of sorts.
The kind where, if she ever did decide to find a partner, she imagined it would naturally be him. The kind where the feeling was simply: there's no one else.
But even with that affection, it had never reached the point where she would take the initiative to confess. Not quite.
"What would you use to remember me?"
Black Swan thought for a moment, then asked him a strangely offbeat question.
"With Remembrance."
Leon answered without hesitation.
"Life is a winding labyrinth. Without memory, we have nothing."
Those were the words Black Swan had heard most often from her mother's lips.
To her, that sentence embodied the very philosophy that had led her to become a Memokeeper.
Black Swan's mother had suffered from amnesia.
She had lost the ability to recognize her own family. She could no longer recall what had happened even moments before. Black Swan had stayed by her side all the way to the end, accompanying her to the very threshold of life.
And in that moment, she understood.
From the day her mother's memories began to fragment, her mother's sense of self had grown increasingly faint. If one day her memories shattered entirely — then her mother would be truly gone. Not the body, but the person.
She had realized then: memory is the very thing that determines who someone is.
And so, Black Swan had chosen to become a Memokeeper. A vessel for Remembrance.
She had thought that, in doing so, she could achieve a kind of immortality.
But then came Iron Tomb. The Swarm Disaster. The God War. Crisis after crisis had driven home just how small she truly was.
The identity of a Meme might let her look down on most of the world. But in the face of a true cosmic catastrophe, it counted for very little.
The senior Memokeeper who had guided Black Swan onto the Path of Remembrance had asked her a question, right at the very beginning:
"If the day comes when you cease to exist — what will you leave behind for the world?"
At the time, Black Swan had answered:
"My memories. Within them are the seeds of the past. They will be reborn in the future."
But countless Memories had already been lost to the Memory Zone — scattered, unretrieved. Who could guarantee that their own memories would truly be carried all the way to the end of time?
Black Swan looked at Leon.
There was no doubt. Fuli could do it.
In all the world, he was the only one.
"Perhaps... we could give it a try?"
By any measure, aside from his mouth running away with him sometimes, Leon was an irreproachable candidate in every other respect.
Most importantly, Black Swan didn't dislike him.
[Quest Progress: 7/24]
"Deal."
Leon gave her a thumbs up, and the moment he had his answer, he immediately stood to his feet.
"Love you, Goose. See you tomorrow."
He strode out and headed straight for Room Nine.
[Quest Progress: 8/24]
Not long after Leon had left Room Eight, the quest counter ticked up again on its own.
Apparently, Acheron had also found her answer.
Not bad at all.
——
Room Nine.
Leon strongly suspected he was being set up.
He had no proof, though.
How is this woman actually here AND paired up with another one I know?
"Did you know your best friend is also here?"
Facing the woman seated before him — whose eyes practically had hearts floating in them — Leon kept a perfectly straight face as he asked.
"Best friend? Whatever do you mean?"
Constance drew out a long, melodic hum, pressing her white-gloved left hand to her cheek in a show of thoughtful deliberation.
"How is it that you don't even recognize your own best friend?"
Leon knew she was playing dumb.
"Darling, I think you're mistaken."
Constance chuckled — a polite non-answer.
"The one you're referring to and I are nothing more than dance partners who have crossed paths a handful of times. That's the extent of it."
A plastic friendship at most. Though if anything, the two of them were more like frenemies.
"Still — she's actually here too?"
Black Swan had received an invitation just like her. Constance genuinely hadn't expected that.
Not that she knew where "here" even was.
But for Constance, who had now stepped onto the Path of The Hunt — her instincts had told her from the very first moment that this was no ordinary place.
One glance: high-tier arena.
What else could be said — the woman who always made her moves never played in low-stakes games.
"Surprised?"
Leon couldn't be bothered to concern himself with other people's relationships. Whatever she said, that was that.
Constance nodded.
"Actually — compared to her."
He chuckled. "You're the one whose presence here surprises me far more."
"Oh? And why is that?"
Constance's curiosity was piqued. She leaned in slightly.
"Do you know where this place is?"
Constance shook her head.
"I don't either."
"?"
She had expected him to have an answer for her. Instead, she got the thunderous revelation that he also had no idea.
"I genuinely couldn't tell you where this is."
Leon was an honest man — if he didn't know, he didn't know.
"But everyone who received an invitation and ended up here shares one common prerequisite."
He looked at Constance, genuinely baffled as to how this particular woman had managed to find her way in.
Constance listened quietly, her expression one of attentive curiosity.
"That prerequisite is: having some degree of intimate connection with me."
Leon put deliberate emphasis on the word intimate.
"Do you think you qualify?"
Honestly — didn't Constance consider him her enemy? So what was she doing here?
After all, when Constance had first stepped onto the Path of The Hunt because of him — he had been right there to witness it.
That step onto The Hunt had been absolutely genuine. No faking it. Which meant, by all conventional logic, she truly did harbor hatred toward him.
So if she hated him — why had she accepted the invitation and shown up today?
Hatred didn't exactly count as intimacy.
Does this make sense? Am I missing something here, bro?
...Is she actually an M?
At his words, the corner of Constance's lips curled — inexplicably, involuntarily.
"I think I do."
Her answer carried not a shred of falsehood, as though she truly believed it with all her heart.
"You're sure?"
Leon's tone was the verbal equivalent of: Are you sure you're a professional player?
"I'm sure."
Constance smiled and gave a small nod.
"But — don't you hate me?"
Seeing her answer come so swiftly, Leon cut straight to it.
"I've heard that Xianzhou culture is rich and vast," Constance said, her tone carrying an unmistakable undertone. "Full of proverbs and poetry that come naturally to the tongue."
"So?"
What did that have to do with anything they were discussing?
Is she about to tell me 'the wise adapt to circumstances'?
"After our last parting," Constance continued at an unhurried pace, "I became fascinated by this particular brand of 'hatred' — the kind directed at the Xianzhou Alliance, at The Hunt — and I began studying the culture that had accumulated across the Xianzhou over thousands of years."
Leon waited quietly for her to continue.
"And ultimately, I discovered that love and hatred are not two roads pointing in opposite directions."
"?" Leon tilted his head.
Oh, what have you gone and enlightened yourself about now?
Love and hate again — damn, and Amphoreus is still chasing me.
"Anger born from love," Constance said softly, "carries the same force as hatred."
"In my view, there are many lines of poetry in Xianzhou culture where, even if you swapped the meaning of 'love' and 'hate,' the emotion being conveyed would not change in the slightest."
Constance looked at him — watching him with those eyes of hers, as though posing a silent question: What does the new Aeon of The Hunt think of that?
"Just don't let any blood splash on me," Leon said, waving a hand. "Go on."
He'd be running the moment things got physical. Xunzheng, I'm counting on you again today.
"It seems you don't agree with my view."
Constance's voice held a smile. She didn't seem the least bit bothered.
Well — obviously.
Are you saying the people of the Xianzhou love Yaoshi?
Though in all fairness, Leon privately admitted it wasn't entirely without logic. After all, there was an old saying on the Xianzhou: Love must come first, before hatred can follow.
Could he really say that the Xianzhou people who had sought immortality — before they ever received The Abundance's blessing — had never, not even once, loved Yaoshi? Loved that legendary dream of eternal life?
Impossible.
Before they attained immortality, every single one of them must have loved it. It was only after receiving it that this love had formally curdled into hatred.
This hatred, with no end in sight.
"Though I have no intention of debating the Dao with you, regardless," Constance continued. "You are the Aeon of The Hunt today — the definition of this Path is yours to decide."
Everything Constance had said ultimately boiled down to a single point she wanted to make.
"What I've been trying to express is simply this: hatred can become love."
Constance looked at him, smiling.
"Am I not the living proof, standing right before you?"
She unconsciously ran her tongue over her dry lips.
"As the current Aeon of The Hunt, you should be able to feel it clearly — that I have, without question, genuinely stepped onto the Path of The Hunt."
Constance's gaze was fervent. The way she looked at him was almost the way one would look at a priceless, one-of-a-kind treasure.
"And yet, I have never — not truly, not at the core — hated you. I bore no real grudge. That so-called 'hatred' was nothing more than a joke, a throwaway line."
The implication of what Constance was saying had become unmistakable.
"And yet, despite all that, I still successfully and smoothly stepped onto this Path — the Path that you now govern."
When it came to the question of love and hate, Constance herself was the finest example.
What she called 'hatred' was simply passion dressed up in different clothes.
Hating you with love. Loving you with hate.
Was that not the most enduring confession of all?
"Alright. I'll acknowledge your purity."
Holy — now that's a tightly-wound devotion. Pure as they come, sister.
"Then."
This actually saved Leon the trouble of explaining himself.
"What if I gave you a chance to hate me for the rest of your life — would you take it?"
He held her gaze, waiting for her answer.
"If you bore me — then I truly might hate you, you know."
Constance smiled.
Her answer was already self-evident.
[Quest Progress: 9/24]
"You know the rules."
Leon rose to his feet and turned to leave.
"If you want it, come and take it yourself."
He gave a casual wave of his hand.
With this room's task complete, he moved without pause to Room Ten.
He pushed open the tenth door and stepped inside.
——
Room Ten.
Haha, tenth pull guaranteed, boys.
Turns out the ancients were right — there really is something to that ten-pull pity.
Finally. Someone he actually recognized.
And her being here — Leon wasn't surprised in the slightest.
"Lord Leon."
It was Castorice.
He didn't even need to look. He could tell just from that form of address.
Butterfly.
Leon gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment and took his seat.
If nothing went sideways, all of the Golden Progeny should appear here — the female ones, at any rate.
No boys allowed, thanks.
With the Golden Progeny, confessions weren't really necessary. The bond between them had long since transcended the realm of lovers — there was no room for doubt. It was a life-and-death companionship that simply was.
Each of them was an irreplaceable part of the other. A community of shared destiny, tacitly committed to facing the rest of their lives together.
Beyond the Golden Progeny, Leon had a rough idea of who else would be showing up. They would likely all be familiar faces.
"I received an invitation a little while ago, clicked accept, and then found myself here for no apparent reason," Castorice said, her face wearing an adorably puzzled expression. "Was this your doing, Lord Leon?"
"It was," Leon confirmed.
"I see." Castorice let out a breath of relief and gave a reassured nod.
"I was worried I'd caused you trouble somehow. I didn't expect it to be the Navigator himself who arranged this — now I don't have to worry at all."
"Castorice, I've said it before — nothing the Golden Progeny do could ever be called trouble to me."
Leon shook his head, gently correcting what she had said.
"That is simply the responsibility I was always meant to carry."
Castorice didn't argue with that. She simply blinked at him.
"Then, Lord Leon — what did you invite me here for?"
Those violet eyes of hers were filled to the brim with curiosity.
"Castorice."
Leon called her nickname softly.
"I'm here."
"Would you be willing to become my Little Healer?"
As he spoke, he reached out both hands and gently enclosed her right hand in his.
This confession line — Leon had actually prepared it in advance. If he were ever going to confess to Castorice specifically, he felt these three words were the only ones that could possibly fit.
"Little Healer...?"
Confusion flickered in Castorice's eyes. "What is that?"
She was willing. Absolutely willing.
If Leon had spoken, then nothing could be out of the question.
But could someone please tell her what a 'Little Healer' actually was?
Castorice had heard him say those three words before — when he had accidentally revealed the novel he was serializing online, he had said something like: "Do you want to be my Little Healer?"
But what exactly was a 'Little Healer'?
She had looked it up afterward — and still couldn't find a clear answer.
____
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