After a year of cold despair, Moira chooses to leave the unforgiving world forever with a picture of his daughter, and Bender, after burying the only picture of his wife and daughter together, has lost his job for a long time and has no choice of occasion - which is in the hands of this wretched wretched creature with a broken heart - because he can justifiably stay in the tavern all day and all night without a job.

Alcohol is a damn thing, but it's second to none when it comes to paralyzing emotions and escapism — even if the sour beer at the "Evil Rat" tavern tastes like stinking dog pee mixed with water, it's good drink, and the owner, Tintin, doesn't take much money from him — and sometimes even graciously gives him a plate of pickled cucumbers or dried meatloaf that's almost nothing but weeds from other customers, all for free, of course.

Bender wandered around the gathering place for several years, but never left the "Evil Rat" tavern more than 100 meters.

He was like a drunken mule, chained to a stained oak barrel by an invisible noose.

Sometimes the occasional ache and pain that flowed from his heart could not be completely suppressed by the alcohol that flowed in his blood—and was as unbearable and abstract as the mess he often spat out of his stomach.

The rest of the story must have been known to the astute reader, and should all be remembered—Bender only regretted that he hadn't used a sharp piece of glass to completely understand the life of Draco's scumbag.

He really didn't expect to see his wife and daughter again.

Bender had only happened to see the two familiar figures in his dreams, and such a good dream would have been enough to make him happy for days—but sadly, the faces of his wife and daughter were inexorably blurring with time.

It was a terrible torment that was so heart-wrenching, and he was really afraid that one day he would suddenly forget their faces completely—then no one in the world would remember Moira and Otilette—how could it be!

"Otillet...... My dear daughter......" Bender's whole vision was blurred by the welling of tears, and his choked throat could barely spit out a single word, and he only opened his arms and embraced his daughter and wife who had come forward into his wide embrace.

"Oh, Daddy." Otillette answered, put his arm around his father's shoulders, and slipped into Bender's arms—just as before.

Two strange beams of light from a great height and a great distance floated on the bodies of Otilette and Moira, and the bizarre scene made the family of three who hugged each other look like actors in a stage play.

"Dad, have you forgotten something?" Otillette blinked at Bender.

"Forgot something?" Bender, who was indulging in happiness, was still a little dizzy and could not react.

"Hey, Daddy's memory is always so bad," the lovely daughter sprinkled in his arms, "Have you really forgotten......"

Without warning, Otillette's countenance collapsed and melted like hot chocolate in the soft white light, and three blind, crazy red rays shot out of her creeping and chilling twisted mouth and eye sockets, and from her already softened throat burst out a very loud and disgusting roar that reverberated in Bender's ears.

"You killed someone! You killed someone! ”

The frightened Bender howled in pain, trying to push his daughter, who had turned into some kind of monster in his arms, out of his arms, but his outstretched hands knocked two large holes in Otillette's chest—he could even see through the two holes into the gloomy darkness behind her!

"Hee-hee...... Ha...... Haha......" Otillette's figure shrank in the white light like her melted features, and quickly sank into the ground, leaving nothing behind—what about his wife? What about Moira?!

Bender panicked and looked around nervously, trying to see anything more—but even the white beam vanished in an instant, leaving him with nothing but endless mysterious darkness.

"No—no——!" Bender's hysterical roar was not answered, and he rounded his legs in the black fog and ran around like a headless fly—and finally he got tired and sat down on the ground in despair, pondering some ultimate question that could never be answered.

"Bender—"

From behind him came the same white beams, the same emotionless female voice—but this time there was a bloody hand on his right shoulder.

"You killed me, did you forget?"

The distracted Bender turned his head suddenly, only to see Mosilel's bloody face.

——————

"Damn it......," said Mosilele, who was a late riser, as he opened the door, rubbing his swollen head and muttering something sweary that he rarely spoke.

She paused, but saw in the hallway the old knife standing at the door of Bender's bedroom, not knowing what to do—the old fellow with a messy explosive head had a rare worried look on his face.

"Hey!" The old knife caught a look at Mosilaire yawning and beckoned to her, "Come on." ”

"What's wrong?" Mosilaire shook his aching head and walked over to the old knife in a daze.

"Bender, this guy didn't know what kind of nerves he had this morning, and locked himself in his room." The old knife lowered his voice, as if he was afraid of alarming something, and mysteriously leaned into Mosilel's ear, "You shouldn't call him, I've been knocking on the door for several minutes." ”

"What?" Mosilaire frowned, and reached out to try to push the door to Bender's bedroom—but it was doomed to be in vain.

"Shit ......" Mosilaire is a little grumpy today.

Normally, this mild-mannered girl seldom spits out vulgar, inappropriate swear words in front of her companions—and the occasional swear words that pop out of her mouth due to gaffes only add some unique charm and playfulness to this gentle young lady.

This probably has something to do with her insomnia and nightmares last night.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?" The old knife stared at his companion with some concern.

"Hmm." Mosilaire rubbed her red eyes, trying to say something, but swallowed them all back—she wasn't quite sure what she had guessed—she just prayed that it wasn't the painful, physically and mentally exhausting of the last time.

"Good morning—" came the voice of Little Red Riding Hood behind Mosilaire—the young lady's body had almost healed after days of conditioning and careful care—but she looked very little energetic this morning.

Yawning Little Red Riding Hood took her sister Anya's little hand and walked towards them, her swollen eyes eye-catching in the hallway light, similar to the thick dark circles under Mosilaire and Old Knife.

"Good morning, dear," Mosilaire leaned against the wall of the hallway and sighed deeply, "Did you and Anya have any unpleasant nightmares last night?" ”

"Ah, how do you know?" Little Red Riding Hood blinked, her face slightly puffy from insomnia in surprise, and she looked at Mosilaire in front of her, as if to wonder if the mysterious companion had any strange mind-reading abilities - Mosilaire did not talk much about her past experiences with her friends, and perhaps at the right time she would sit by the warm fire and tell her a series of legends that would make anyone jaw-dropping.

Oh, and the advanced fringe colonies don't have the outdated stuff of a stove — then an electric heater — no one minds, right?

"Ouch-" Mosileelle, who had already made sure of something in her mind, lazily smoothed her jet-black hair and sighed deeply, "What the." ”