452 Ugly

Late at night, there was no sound other than the dripping of water from the faucet in the silent bathroom. Hot steam hung in the air, thick and suffocating. However, some type of power had caused the steam to seal the entire room without anyone realizing. The detailed and complex music theory formed a system that melted into the steam. There were no ripples and sat between existence and nonexistence. It was practically imperceptible.

Charles soaked in the bathtub languidly. He seemed to be relaxing but his eyes studied the ceiling as if there was something very interesting here. His skin had already turned white from the water. After a long while, a faint voice suddenly appeared in his ear.

"The Dragon of Destruction?" The ancient voice sighed. "I see." This was one of the current main leaders of the Silent Authority, one of the saints—Handel.

If it wasn't something as important as the Dragon of Destruction, Charles probably would not have been able to contact him. Even Handel had fallen silent after hearing the report and verified it many times.

He had been pretty sure but hearing the acknowledgement from Handel, Charles could not help but let out a sigh of relief. Intense exhaustion besieged him. He really wanted to pass out. After experiencing so much, he had finally found out the Revolutionaries' plot. His mission was finally complete.

He could finally be free.

Charles just wanted to sleep now. After regaining his freedom, he would find a good tavern and drink to his fill with his teacher and junior.

"You've worked hard." Handel's voice had a rare gentleness to it. "We will prepare well."

Silence.

Charles waited silence. Finally, his brows furrowed. "And then?" For some reason, he had a bad feeling.

Hearing his question, Handel was confused as well. "Is there something else you need to report?"

"When can I back out?" Charles pushed himself up in the tub and asked quietly, "When will you come pick me up? I can leave at any time, as long as you—"

"Charles, your mission isn't over," Handel interrupted, his voice serious. "It's not time for you to leave yet."

Charles froze. "You—" He felt his vision dim and the panic thicken. He could barely breathe. "You…aren't planning for me to continue being a spy, right?"

Handel did not reply but Charles raised his voice. "Didn't you say you'd free me once I figure out what Gaius will do to the Sacred City? Do you know how many times they've suspected me already? Do you know how many people outside this building have their eyes on me? Do you know how much I'm risking to send you this message?!"

"Charles, I know this is very hard for you but we must think of the big picture," Handel said quietly. "Only you can do this. Your line of information is too precious. We cannot just end it now."

"Then you do it!" Charles roared quietly. "You come be this f*cking spy! Don't you have other people? Isn't that bearded Mind musician yours too? F*ck the big picture! I'm done!"

"Charles, face reality!" Handel lost his patience. "Do you know how horrible the consequences will be if the Dragon of Disaster is released? What use is it if we only know what they plan to do? Do we not have our eyes on the Dragon already? But who knows what else the Revolutionaries have planned? Only knowing this is useless! You think you can compensate for your crime with this?"

Charles was silent. He glared at the steam before him as if trying to find Handel inside it.

The sudden burst of panic made his organs tremble. Subtle pain spread from the bottom of his brain. It felt like his head was about to split. He held his forehead but could not suppress the urge to go crazy.

The anger was like iron and fire. It wanted to beat down on his consciousness and spirit, to tear apart his body, and burn his soul to ashes. His body shook from the painful torment. He wanted to cry and sob.

"How can you do this?" he murmured. Snot and tears rolled down pathetically, falling into the water that had become cloudy and cold. He stared at the steam, choking.

"This…isn't what you said before. Please, just let me go. Why does everyone have to be like this? I really am just a failure. People like me can't be spies, really. I never did anything right in my life, and now I'm not even a musician. I already ran away but why do you have to force me?

"Mr. Handel, you're a saint, you're an important figure. I know that if you want, you can do anything. I'm begging you, let me go…please…"

"Charles, you must do it," Handel said. "Only you can."

"It's useless even if I stay," Charles pleaded. "Mr. Constantine is already being excluded. I can't get anything from him."

"Then change to someone else," Handel said coldly. "Change to someone who can truly give you information."

Charles blanched. For some reason, he felt a terrifying coldness from the marrow of his bones. It swallowed him, making him unable to speak.

"…You…what do you mean?"

"Listen, Charles. Constantine is useless now. You must change your track." Handel's voice was gentle. "I will secretly arrange for you to meet with Gaius's man tomorrow. At that time, you'll tell them Constantine's plan. After he's removed by Gaius, you'll naturally enter their true core in the Sacred City."

"Impossible!" Charles yelped. Sensing the coldness from the other end of the connection, he tried to explain, "Even if I betray Constantine, they still won't trust me."

"You don't have to worry about that. The Silent Authority will help you gain their trust." Handel seemed to be confident but his voice had turned cold. "However, you must understand that you don't have much time left. Charles, if you fail, you will not be the only one dying. Your teacher will also be sent to hell for his past relationship with Gaius.

"Without the Sacred City, no one will be able to save you. I hope you will not hesitate anymore and promptly make the correct choice."

The connection cut off. In the silence, there was only the sound of icy droplets falling into the tub from the ceiling. Charles sat dumbly in the water as if he was frozen. He stared at the water vapor and opened his mouth to speak but he did not know how to continue speaking with Handel.

He just felt his vision darkening. His headache was getting worse as if it wanted to tear him apart and knock him unconscious. In his daze, he felt the icy droplets fall onto his face. They were blood-red.

Blood dropped from the ceiling into the tub, dying the water red. The entire world seemed to decay as if thousands of years had passed. Grime covered the bathroom, cobwebs appeared, and everything was dilapidated. Demons stared into this world from the broken mirror.

"Again." Charles held his almost-shattering forehead. Bearing the pain of his sanity cracking apart, he heaved. "F*cking…again…" His fingers trembled. With difficulty, he felt around on the stand. Finding the packet, he yanked it down. There was a new glass syringe, a small vial of salt water, and an average packet inside.

"It gotta work…it gotta work…" He tore the packet apart with shaking fingers. He carefully dumped the powder into the salt water. A lot fell onto the ground but most dissolved in the water. He lowered the syringe into the salt water, sucking up the murky liquid. Finally, he raised it before his eyes.

Charles stared dumbly at the sharp needle for a while before laughing emptily. Without hesitating anymore, he pierced the vein in his wrist and injected himself.

The drug's effect came quickly.

The world was no longer terrifying. Even the blood and demons became heartwarming. The faraway shadows held hands and danced with Charles, singing softly and laughing innocently like children. Flashes of color and light appeared before his eyes. They were as dazzling as a dream. In the dream, a blurry figure caressed his cheeks. Strands of long hair fell from her shoulders to Charles's face. The dark red hair was so beautiful, like burning embers.

"Mom…" Charles lay in the icy water, embracing her, allowing the empty warmth and happiness to envelop him.

He fell asleep.

-

"Charles."

A voice called to him as the carriage shook. Charles opened his eyes blearily and saw Constantine looking at him.

"Did you not sleep well?" he asked, pointing at Charles's face.

Blanching, Charles touched his face. He suddenly felt like laughing. He had asked Constantine something similar yesterday. Today, the situation was reversed. He knew without looking that his pallor was horrible. He managed a smile but did not dare to look at Constantine's eyes.

This morning, the Silent Authority had used a secret channel to contact him. Everything was ready. Tonight, he would meet Gaius' right-hand man through a middle man.

And then…

Charles subconsciously put a hand over his heart, trying to feel his heartbeat.

And then he would betray Constantine…

Constantine would die. He would step on Constantine's corpse and enter the core, finding the classified information of the Revolutionaries.

So ugly, Charles. So ugly.

He lowered his head.