Chapter 116: The Fallen Icarus
“Take it back?”
Leon did not understand the meaning of that sentence for a moment and instinctively asked.
But this time, the Earl merely smiled without explaining, continuing on his own, “Knowing what you want is more important than possessing something. Desire is like a pair of fragile wings—they can shatter at any moment. The higher you fly, the more miserable the fall. That is the lesson I learned.”
Hearing the metaphor, Leon suddenly recalled a famous myth from his previous life and nodded in agreement.
“The sun will destroy those wings.”
“What?” This time, it was the Earl who was confused.
“It was a fable I once came across in an old book. It said that a master artisan, in order to escape an isolated island with his son, crafted two pairs of wings that could fly. The two of them crossed the sea with those wings. The father warned his son not to fly too low, or the seawater would dampen the feathers—but also not to fly too high, or the sun would destroy the wings.But the son, young and impetuous, lost himself in exhilaration and flew high into the sky. In the end, the scorching sun melted the sealing wax and burned away the feathers on the wings, and the son fell into the sea just like that.” Leon explained briefly.
It was the story from Greek mythology about the master artisan Daedalus, who built the Labyrinth that imprisoned the Minotaur, escaping Crete with his son Icarus.
It happened to coincide perfectly with the Earl’s metaphor, and Leon had naturally made the connection.