The figure of the White Queen gradually faded, leaving only the Black Witch on the bed.
She spread her arms, lay down, closed her swollen eyes, swallowed the cries in her throat, and replaced them with a different kind of tremor.
"She agreed, she agreed! But what’s the use, she can’t protect anything, we can’t protect anything! Nothing will change, the princess in the tower is bound to fall, tonight is the turning point... tonight..."
Towards the end, the Black Witch could no longer suppress the laughter that erupted from the depths of her soul; her whole body convulsed and shook intensely, she even slammed the mattress forcefully, tears of laughter streamed from her closed eyes, derisive saliva traced her lips, several times she laughed until she was breathless, continuing until her body collapsed into a shapeless mess.
Just like a madwoman.
"How rare to see you so happy, any interesting stories to share?"
The palace quietly disappeared, and she opened her eyes to find herself back in the original dream.
The Witch stood by her head, looking down at her with interest.
"...Nothing interesting."
"Is that so, then you better go back," said the Witch, "The brief, delightful game is ending."
A hand grabbed the Witch’s ankle.
The Witch turned her head and saw the girl in the black dress still sprawled on the ground, but she had reached out and grabbed her foot.
When the girl in the black dress lifted her head, the Witch saw a familiar yet unfamiliar look in her pupils.
No blurriness from blood ink, no muddy madness.
"...Black?" The Witch’s voice carried a touch of disbelief, "Are you awake?"
Black didn’t speak; she just made eye contact with the Witch. The thing the sisters hated most was this; even without any words, just the contact of their eyes was enough to complete all communication.
The only way she showed her stance was by grabbing the Witch’s ankle, humble yet firm.
However, the Witch didn’t look at her, but turned her gaze elsewhere.
It was now the peak of the hustle, even the White Witch had departed.
She wore a pure white gown, not worn for a long time, lying weakly on the ground, light and weightless like a lost snowflake.
"Are you all playing until you’re completely dried up?" asked the Witch, "It seems, then, that I am comparatively reserved?"
Hearing the Witch’s voice, the pure white girl also opened her eyes and struggled to crawl to the Witch’s feet, grasping her other ankle. She didn’t speak either, just quietly watched the Witch, her pure eyes brimming with pleading tears.
"Black is awake, White has also returned?"
The Witch squatted down, her face full of confusion as she looked at the two of them, like a child who discovers old toys suddenly appearing on a desk.
She quickly clapped her hands as if she had an epiphany.
"No wonder the Observer was so generous this time, allowing us to deeply interfere with reality!"
"He couldn’t possibly have failed to foresee the chaos of our actions, given his cautious style, we really didn’t qualify for this task. I initially thought he wanted to leverage our numerical advantage, especially since Ash had recently obtained the Secret Avatar, combined we could shape Ash into a super invincible scumbag."
"But now it seems, his target isn’t the Gospel, but us!"
"Or rather, you two!"
"He predicted the impact dreams would have on you, so he deliberately let us out. You two are his product, a one in nine chance, and he won that bet."
The Witch marveled at the Observer’s scheming, looking down at the sisters lying on the ground: "However, he also lost the bet."
"Even if you’re willing to sacrifice yourselves," the Witch said deliberately, "I might not allow it."
"I’m different from the Sword Maiden, she can watch Sonia live a better life, but seeing Lissdia obtain the happiness I never had makes me feel so sick to my stomach."
"I actually wanted to like her, after all, she is the me from the past. But seeing how well Ash treats her, seeing her comfortably overcome every difficulty, seeing her smile all the time... my heart fills with anger and jealousy."
"It’s like there are countless voices in my mind questioning me—"
"Why is it her? Why not me?"
"Why can she avoid suffering? Why must I endure everything?"
"What did she do right to have everything? How terrible am I that I end up with nothing?"
The Witch tilted her head, staring at the two of them: "Speaking of which, those voices, are they my own thoughts, or your murmurs?"
"I wish she could doubly enjoy the fate I went through, and then be destroyed, tortured, and twisted into an even uglier, more unbearable monster," the beautiful Witch said venomously: "Only then can I find some comfort."
"I don’t even have time to harm her, how could I possibly help her?"
The boiling malice passed through their skin into the hearts of Black and White, but they knew they were only touching the bubbles that surfaced after boiling; beneath was a pitch-black abyss, containing vast, murky, non-evaporating despair.
And this was already the result after being shared by seventeen sisters.
It was because the Witch bore the most despair that she also held the greatest authority— although it wasn’t her choice.
Both the Witch and Black were stunned, they looked towards White as if searching for signs of a joke.
"Although it’s a bit late... maybe much too late, but sorry," White said, trying to suppress the sob in her voice, but she completely failed, her words frequently interrupted by choking sobs: "So, I hope that I could at least make up for..."
"You think after so much time, I would care about your belated apology?"
The Witch stood up: "Yes, I care."
The Witch kicked White in the stomach, sending her flying ten meters away, and the watching mist scattered, making way for her tumbling retreat.
Then the Witch bent down and grasped Black: "How about you? Do you have anything you want to say to me?"
"Nothing," Black said calmly: "I have never wronged you."
"You really dare say that..." the Witch sneered coldly: "But why? Forget White, Black, you’re not the kind of person who sacrifices for others; I thought you were like me, the type who can’t stand to see others happy."
She glanced at White struggling to stand up far away: "No matter how much you give, you’re not protecting your queen, your past won’t change a bit, your suffering won’t decrease at all."
"In the end, the term ’making up for regrets’ isn’t different from ’self-consolation’; they’re both deceiving oneself. Like making up for past regrets, as if past suffering can just be erased... that’s just not true!"
"Black, dear, keep sleeping," the Witch looked into Black’s eyes, her voice melodious and enticing: "You’ve already escaped from reality, don’t come back."
Black shook her head.
"But I am dreaming right now."
She curved the corners of her mouth, showing a sincere smile: "So, don’t let me wake up this time, just let me drown in my dreams, okay?"
The Witch hesitated slightly, then let go, allowing Black to sit on the ground.
The dark Deacon hugged the Witch’s waist, like a koala clinging to its mother, or a little sister acting spoiled with her older sister.
"You really have a way, Observer."