Chapter 74: He finally found her
On the other hand, Roger had already entered another street, different from the one he was in, attempting to escape that street which had witnessed that strange and troubling hallucination.
Roger could not understand: how had that man vanished from before him the moment he turned his back and walked away with such simple ease? Shouldn’t he—if he were indeed a fragment of an illusion planted by his exhausted mind—have followed him and intensified the hysterical torrent of nonsense he was spouting?
But Roger shook the thought from his head, merely repeating to himself with insistence: "It is nothing but hallucinations... it is impossible to be anything other than the fantasies of a burning mind." The words uttered by that lookalike were complete rubbish, and the entire matter seemed absurd enough to be ignored.
He was in dire need of searching for his mistress, rather than continuing to waste his meager strength thinking about useless things. Wasn’t it better to focus entirely on his objective now?
Yet, it was as if the words of that illusion had stirred something deep within him, leaving a strange echo in his soul that suggested they possessed another dimension, far more dangerous than mere passing nonsense.
But he rejected this feeling; he was certainly not a fool. In the end, that man and his own mind were undoubtedly the same person, and both embodied the very same issues and fears.
Surely, every illogical word uttered by that mirage was a distorted personification of both his fears and his deepest desires combined.
For instance, his mistress dying again—this undoubtedly sat upon the throne of his eternal fears. As for the man’s words about living for thousands of years to save her, they were the stark manifestation of his terror of living for an eternity without ever getting the chance to apologize to her.
Everything was a complex blend of desires and fears... but why did his subconscious refer to his mistress as his "wife"?
Roger’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and indignation at the thought; he certainly harbored no vile desire to marry his mistress! He was nothing but a loyal follower who would never covet his magnificent mentor; all he wanted was to remain her faithful shadow.
Roger tried repeatedly to interpret that strange term his mind had conjured, concluding that his subconscious had perhaps used the word "wife" as an extreme, metaphorical expression of the utmost degree of connection and loyalty; because he only wanted to be by her side, apologize to her, and never disappoint her again. He wanted to protect her from the betrayal and the Organization, and to be her fortified shield to prove to her that he was a dutiful disciple... yes, this had to be the only explanation.
Overthinking carried him so far that he did not rouse from the trance of his thoughts until he found himself standing in completely unfamiliar surroundings.
"Where am I...?"
He had walked vast distances amidst the interlocking streets, to the point that he no longer knew where his feet were leading him, nor did he even realize how he had arrived here without paying attention.
Strangest of all, how had he managed to walk all this distance without any of the passersby discovering that he was Minister Roger? But what truly aroused his suspicion was that he had not collapsed to the ground from sheer exhaustion by now, even though someone in his condition, who had burned his magical core, should have fainted before taking a few steps!
He did not understand what was happening to his body.
"Excuse me... where are we here?"
Roger randomly asked a passerby, and the man took a step back in panic and shock the moment his eyes fell upon Roger.
"We are in the eastern district... specifically on Esquez Street."
Roger’s eyes widened in bewilderment; when had he reached the eastern district of the capital?! All along, he had thought he was still circling and searching in the northern district of the capital, Homer!
Didn’t this mean he had to return immediately to the northern district to resume the search? But wouldn’t that waste what remained of his precious time, and he might never reach her then?
Suddenly, and without warning, those words cast upon him by that mysterious man leapt to the forefront of his consciousness... those words telling him of the necessity of going to "Mayres." A shiver ran through his body; there was a suspicious alignment in the directions!
"Can... can you tell me where Mayres Street is located?"
The passing man was terrified by Roger’s bizarre appearance; his facial features seemed illogical, as if there were a magical distortion and fog covering parts of his face, in addition to his torn and tattered clothes that made him look like a pitiful vagrant. The man was surprised that this "beggar" did not know such a famous street.
"Well... it is straight ahead... you can reach it after the next turn."
Roger’s puzzled expression shifted into utter astonishment. How had his feet dragged him to this specific place without his knowledge? If this had any meaning, what was it? Could it be pure coincidence? But how could a coincidence be this precise?
Well, he certainly had nothing to lose if he went there.
Suddenly and with unusual swiftness, Roger’s slouched back straightened, and he began to walk with straight, rapid strides for the first time in hours. He was jogging at the maximum speed his battered body possessed, trying to convince himself it was a fluke... but his mind was screaming that a coincidence of this shape could definitely not be this simple. There was something, some thread waiting for him there!
He did not know; moments ago he was mocking those words and calling them rubbish, and now he was following them with all his being, as if they were the only absolute truth in the universe.
And finally... Roger reached the end of the bend.
"Wow! This ice cream is so delicious!"
"I want more! And I want to watch the magic show again!"
There was a group of children eating ice cream with innocence, laughing and playing with loud, overwhelming happiness.
Roger’s eyes, which had been foggy and blurred all night—he suddenly felt as though the shroud had been lifted from them, his visual acuity returning to a perfect twenty-twenty.
He saw her...
At a distance far enough to avoid immediate detection, there was a little girl, gently yet stubbornly refusing a cup of ice cream offered to her by another child.
His mistress... it was his mistress herself... his magnificent mentor whose soul was burning within this tiny vessel!
He approached with stumbling steps like someone in a daze, until he stood beneath the dim streetlamp, his distorted and torn face nearly splitting from the sheer force of joy and relief.
And unexpectedly... she turned as well, looking directly at him.
Roger’s trembling lips parted at last, and his collapsing body could only bring forth those whispered, weeping words in a shaking voice:
"My Master... I have finally found you..."
Yet... he could not take a single step further to draw closer to her.
Thud!
The last strength propping up his body vanished, and Roger fell violently on his face, losing consciousness, his broken body collapsing beneath the shadows of the lamp...