Chapter 3 There is always a past in the story

"Clang-bell!" A piercing metal crash pierced the quiet morning, and also made Richelieu, who was originally a little confused, suddenly regain her mind from the chaos, she raised her head to look at the other side, and the face that had been firmly engraved in her memory appeared there with the mist of the early morning.

"Let's get here today. The man said this, holding in his hand something that was not so much a broadsword as a sword embryo, just in the shape of a sword, but despite this, he naturally put the sword back into its sheath, and then leaned down to pick up the long sword that he had just shot down to the ground, "Your heart is not here now, and it is harmful to continue to practice." He walked in front of Richelieu and handed over his sword, "No need to argue, anyone can sense your absent-mindedness from your current state - something must be haunting your thoughts." ”

Richelieu looked at all this with a bit of a dullness, everything was so familiar, whether it was the morning mist, or the wild fox at the edge of the forest in the distance, or even the long sword stained with morning dew in front of him, all of these things were so memorable. It was just another waking dream, and she soon realized that she was not human, and she would remain somewhat awake even in her sleep, as she did now, and would often "wake up" in her dreams. But what was in front of her now was not the result of her own daytime whims, she remembered all the details of the place, and spread it out in her mind as if it had been set up on a table—and she even remembered her next move.

"Sir......" She lowered her head and stared at the griffin inscribed on the hilt of the sword, as if it would give her strength, but she didn't even have the courage to reach out and take it. She spoke, her voice like that of a tired bobcat, and there was no brightness in her exhausted voice, just the tiredness of not being able to find her prey, "I've been dreaming of them lately......"

“…… They?" As in his memory, the gentleman asked with some confusion at first, but without waiting for her answer, he immediately understood who they were referring to, and he continued with a little understanding and a little doubt: "You mean...... Those robbers?"

Richelieu shook her head up and down, as if the terrible weight was still pressing on her nerves, and even the slight shaking made her miserable, "I...... I can understand why you killed them, and I can understand why the villagers handed me over to them, but I ......" she said this, suddenly choked up, and the palpitations that every night in the dark night seemed to repeat itself at this moment, and she stood in front of the only person who could give her a sense of security in this era, as if it were a battleship that had finally returned to the port," But I still dream of them, standing around me covered in blood, the flames scorching their mutilated bodies, but they still approach me step by step, muttering those terrible words all the time, even if I push them away and cut them down, they will still get up and continue to move towards me. I ......" At some point, she had clenched her fists, but her trembling body seemed to be out of control, so she clenched her teeth and drove the fear away from her heart, only to find that tears had slowly slid down her cheeks...... I don't know what's wrong, sir......" she ended the sentence in a hoarse voice.

It was as if Richelieu had drained all the strength of her body at that time, and she still remembered the tiredness and powerlessness she felt after saying all this, as if everything had left her, but even this exhaustion could not hide the last feeling that welled up in her heart at that time—the relaxation and guilt she felt for her husband after vomiting. So she closed her eyes and stood there, and everything seemed to disappear, even the morning breeze and the birds of the woods were gone, and she waited in this dark and lonely place, waiting for all that might come—but after stepping over the terrible wait, all she heard was a short sigh.

"Ah, that's right. ”

So she opened her eyes nervously, only to find that the long sword had returned to the scabbard at her waist for some time, and her body had been draped with a cloak that had just been baked by the fire, and the slight temperature that she had not noticed on a daily basis had become a source of strength into her body at this moment, she raised her head, and her husband was still there, with the same calm and gentle expression, and handed her a pack of tissues, "Wipe your tears, otherwise it won't be beautiful." ”

"Sir!" Richelieu gave a rare look of a little girl, and with some shame snatched the tissue and wiped her cheek indiscriminately. So in the next second, the gentleman's laughter echoed over the clearing.

"Don't worry, don't worry, few people will accept that they are a murderer, let alone for you, things are just so cruel in front of you. He waited for Richelieu to wipe away his tears and slowly adjust his state of mind before he spoke, "Richelieu, in fact, I am very relieved that you feel guilty about all this, and this is not a shameful thing, let alone a matter of self-reproach. ”

"But sir, if you hadn't killed them......" Richelieu frowned heavily, contradictions filling her heart, guilt and trust in the man in front of her were in a dense confrontation.

"The necessity of killing them and the guilt of taking their lives are two completely different things, and we must stop them from doing any more evil, and the blood debt of their hands must be paid, but this does not prevent us from being afraid of taking the lives of our kindred, for it is our cherishing of the lives of others that distinguishes us from wild beasts. The gentleman watched Richelieu ponder silently for a moment, and then continued, "Well, what do you think of the saying, 'Weakness is the original sin of the weak'." You don't have to think too deeply, just tell me how you feel. ”

"This ......," Richelieu thought as he stood a little dumbfounded, "I don't know, but I don't think that's right." ”

"Well, you're right. This is the excuse that the guys who follow the so-called law of the jungle have found for what they have done, survival of the fittest, natural selection. So they don't care about ordinary people, and even wanton life and death, but even people like them feel fear and relief at the end of their lives, so you don't have to force yourself to overcome this feeling. The gentleman paused, then stared at Richelieu and said, "Well, I would never want you to forget this feeling, for that is the only line between good and evil." ”

Richelieu felt a little heavy and nodded silently.

"Do you believe me?" Seeing that Richelieu was still concerned about the matter, the gentleman stretched out his right hand and laid it out in front of Richelieu.

"Of course I believe you. Richelieu looked at the hand in front of her with some confusion, but she said it with certainty.

"Give me your hand, then. So Richelieu honestly put his right hand on top of his, he held it with his backhand, and then looked into Richelieu's eyes and said the words that she would never forget, and she silently watched this memory and said this sentence at the same time in her heart, "I will never hurt you." As she spoke, she slowly closed her eyes outside the dream, she knew what was going to happen next, and the blood at that time seemed to be dripping in front of her eyes now.

The gentleman's left hand jerked up, and a sharp dagger appeared in his hand, and he swung it down in front of Richelieu, stabbing straight into the two right hands that were still connected.

Surprised, Richelieu struggled to withdraw her hand, but she didn't have the strength to do so, so she closed her eyes in vain and waited for the moment when she was hurt—and then she felt something warm fill her right hand. She opened her eyes, and the dagger had pierced through their right hands, but she didn't feel any pain, she jerked her arm blankly, only to find that the blood was dripping down.

Mr. pulled out the dagger, the back of her hand was still intact, but on the contrary, there were two penetrating wounds on Mr.'s right hand, and the blood was flowing out of the wound unstoppably, she reached out in a panic to try to cover the wound, but was held again with her backhand, so she looked up puzzled, Mr. was looking at her with a serious face, and then said righteously: "You are not wrong." ”

This is the end of the dream.