Arriving at his destination, Christian felt a slight wavering in his resolve at first, and while it quickly faded, he still didn't feel comfortable, and for the first time, he wondered if perhaps he had been too sheltered.
Even with his abilities, he couldn't shake the lingering discomfort these kinds of places stirred in him.
Or was that just a normal reaction?
While having some qualms about everything, Christian finally got out of the car, bringing only the small shovel. He walked a little further in, searching for a well hidden spot. After a few moments, he found a patch of ground soft enough for digging, and without hesitation, he knelt and plunged the small shovel into the earth, the sensation of his action confirming his choice.
Fortunately, he was strong, so it shouldn't take too much time, was his first thought. But seeing how it was just a small shovel, not meant for grave digging, he silently prepared himself for the long task ahead.
Some time passed, and breathing a little heavily, Christian paused his work. He looked up at the sky, at the pale glow of the moon casting its light around him, seeming to deepen the shadows rather than lessen them.
After acquiring the Idle System, he always felt like he could achieve anything if he put his mind to it. But standing in this situation, in a place like this, he was strangely reminded of his insignificance against the vastness of the world. As for obtaining it? It now felt more like a distant dream than the vivid fantasy he once had.
Christian also realized he hadn't prepared himself well enough, as the task took even more time than he had anticipated. Worse, he needed to rest for a moment, as his body wasn't the omnipotent one he had made it out to be.
As a wave of exhaustion washed over him, with sweat trickling down his brow. He took a moment to lean against the shovel, closed his eyes, and as his breathing began to stabilize, he gathered himself, reminding himself of why he was here and who was waiting for him at home.
Still, it was a grueling experience for Christian. His clothes were covered in dust and soil, the color visibly changed as the dirt he was digging left clear marks on him, and with sweat making his clothes stick to his skin, it couldn't be worse.
Maybe if he walked through public places looking like this, people might mistake him for someone living primitively in a cave.
Or perhaps not to that extent, but he still dreaded the consequences when he returned home. Would he be able to hide his disheveled appearance from his sister, who could wake up at any moment?
Hopefully, it was one of those rare days when she overslept.
While entertaining some useless thoughts to lighten his mood, Christian took a deep breath, wiped his brow, and then continued, taking some more time, as he finally finished.
Now, climbing out of the hole, he clapped his hands to shake off the dust and set the small shovel, something he felt should be disposed of after this, off to the side.
Then, he finally returned to his car and retrieved the corpse.
Standing near the hole he had put so much effort into digging, Christian didn't simply place the body as it was. Instead, he removed the sheets and the plastic wrap around it, leaving only the assassin in his original clothes.
He took a moment, staring at the corpse lying still in front of him, its pale skin and eyes closed forever. Then, finally, he extended his arms to place it in the freshly dug grave, feeling the signs of rigidity in the body, as if it were a remnant of its final struggle.
After laying the corpse down, he shook himself slightly, feeling the urge to curse from the exhaustion, as just half of the journey was over, and he still had to bury it.
Still, it was better than her noticing his hands - the palms, which were torn from digging for hours, and the wound on the injured one, which now seemed even worse than when he'd first received it from the assassin.
Just, his appearance, caked in dust and dirt, was one thing, but the sight of his injured hand, with blooded bandages, was another, after all.
Perhaps it was his actions that triggered the shift, but his sister, seeing everything, from his behavior to his disheveled appearance and the trash bag at the side, seemed to have a change in her demeanor. Her tone became calm, neutral, almost as if she wasn't fazed by the situation at all. Then, she asked again, this time more firmly.
"Where were you?"
For Christian, it was an interrogative tone, one he had never heard from his sister before, making him a bit surprised.
"It's just that I couldn't sleep."
'Because of the assassin.'
"So, I thought why not go to some place, as a change of pace?"
'Like at some mountain to bury the corpse.'
"Then, when I arrived there, I thought why not play with dirt, try to be a little childish?"
'Maybe because it's something that I have done for the first time, but it really took more time and effort than I had thought - digging holes and burying corpses.'
Like, while he knew that he may get a little dirty from dust and all, but never to this extent.
"Who would have thought that I would get this dirty?"
Christian, saying the excuse he had thought of in the worst-case situation with all the fluency he had, felt like praising himself.
But Annabelle, hearing him, asked again with a cold tone this time.
"Is that so?"
"You wanted to play in dirt suddenly in the middle of the night?"
"And because of your enthusiasm, having done something like that for the first time in your life, you ended up with scratches here and there?"
"Even on your face?!"