Siren Blade

Chapter 49 The Middleman

When I woke up in the siren dream, the person was lying on his side.The air was cold and slightly humid, and my body was lying on the hard and cold grass, but my cheeks were pressed against something warm and soft, and I felt someone slowly stroking my hair.Looking up, he met Siren's immature face and quiet eyes.

It turned out that I was still sleeping on her lap, just like I did when I woke up from this dream last time.An illusion arises spontaneously, as if this is the reality, and the reality is just a fleeting dream I had when I lay on her lap.

I propped up my body and stood up, surrounded by the scenery of the dark mountains and forests, and the silver full moon hung high in the night.

The siren also stood up, she slowly smoothed the folds of the skirt, and then reported to me about the progress of extracting the spirit fragments.

She can devour the spirit fragments of those killed by the Siren Blade, and extract the memories of the deceased from them.The fresher the spirit fragments, the faster and more complete the extraction speed; otherwise, the slower and more incomplete.The memory of the middle man has been extracted, and the memory of the old bone still needs a little time, but it can be resolved before I wake up.

"Then let's look at the memory of the middleman first." I said.

The siren nodded, and stretched out his hand towards the grass.

I saw a shadowy figure like a ghost rising up on the grass, which was obviously a middleman.He stood there without saying a word, and remained motionless, as if he had become a puppet that would not move without order.

"This is the memory mapping body of the middleman." Siren explained, "If you want to know something from him, you can ask him directly, and he will answer all your questions truthfully; you can also directly read his memory itself to get More information."

"What exactly is reading memory itself?"

"Simply put, you experience his life like a dream."

"Sounds more like I should," I said.

It is good that the intermediary will answer all my questions truthfully, but on the other hand, I have to ask questions before I can get answers from him.

And if I want to create a problem, I must first notice the doubt.

In other words, assuming that there are certain doubts objectively, but I fail to perceive them subjectively, then I may miss some important information.

"Questioning" is also an advanced brain game, and my brain power is only at an average level, so let's take the stupid way first.

Just in case, I asked first, "Will reading the memory itself have any side effects? For example... his memory will erode my personality, or something?"

"That's not true. It is true that other warlocks may cause the erosion you mentioned, but I have already processed this memory in advance, and will escort you in the process of reading the memory .Your chance of memory erosion is not even one percent." She said, and then changed the subject, "But... I actually don't recommend you to do this."

"Why?" I asked.

“It can be a bad mood,” she said. “If you’re in a movie theater and you’re watching a bad movie, you’re bound to leave feeling disgruntled. It’s even more so if you’re watching it from an immersive perspective.”

"Other than that?" I pressed, "Aren't there any other risks?"

"No more." She shook her head.

"Then there's no problem." I said, "It's better to use this method than to miss some important clue. As for the mood problem, just use willpower to overcome it."

Having said that, I asked again, "By the way, you said to experience his life...won't it be the whole life from birth to death?"

“When you read his memory, you can start by mentally thinking about your own question,” she said. “That way, you only read memories that relate to that question.”

I nodded and walked up to the middleman, "What should I do now?"

"Touch his body," said the Siren from behind me, "anywhere."

"Okay." I read the question silently while pressing the middle man's forehead.

The question I'm meditating at the moment is why he wants Joan so much.

In the whole process of fighting against the middleman, this question always lingered in my mind, and it was not answered until the end.As a tester, I think this question is just right.

But I may have taken it lightly, and then I realized that this problem is actually related to his original motivation for becoming a psycho killer.And this original motivation has run through most of his life.

Why did he, who used to lead a normal life, become a perverted murderer?

The reason for this was intuitively presented in front of me in a dreamlike form...
-
(The following is the perspective of the middle man)

Since I got married and started a business, I don't have much time for entertainment, and I feel tired after get off work every day.Even though I bought a game console and put it at home, it was difficult to take the whole time to relax. On the contrary, my friend's son played more when he came to visit.

The relationship with my wife was also poor, with a cycle of abuse and cold violence; and because I was always at work, my daughter became closer to her mother and her attitude towards me became increasingly cold.They, especially the former, regarded me as a money-making machine.I have tried to change, but failed several times and finally gave up.In the final analysis, my wife and I are just a makeshift marriage, and there is no love between us.I even have people I have a crush on who, mentally, cannot say how committed they are to the marriage.

Therefore, when I found out that she was cheating, I was not moved, but in my mind, I recalled the scene of catching a girl who committed suicide.

That was the female classmate I had a crush on when I was a student. I think it was my first love.Later, knowing that first love requires the premise of mutual affection, I couldn't help being ashamed of my ignorance, but I still called it first love in my heart.

The appearance of the first love is quite beautiful, the family is well-off, and the upbringing is well-bred, even in the details of sitting and standing.When she was in class, her buttocks only occupied the front half of the chair, her back was straight, and she was concentrating on the lectures.Her attitude towards her classmates is generous, and her slim figure is as neat and graceful as a book she has carefully wrapped in book wrapping paper.Whenever I hear her speak softly to me, I blush and falter.

But at the same time, I always felt that she was vaguely lacking vitality, as if she was trying to maintain a correct image.Later, it proved that my idea was not wrong. Perhaps it was an unexpected chemical reaction when the family’s overly strict education and the sensitive and changeable mind of adolescence blended. I witnessed her walking from a high place while walking home from school Jump down.Then, I caught her without hesitation.

At that time, the girls' school uniform was black and white tops and long skirts, and she fell in the air like a light butterfly.But no matter how light she looked, she was still a few kilograms of people. If she was a hero to catch her, it was inevitable that she would also be seriously injured.Later, I also saw news on the Internet that some people who fell from the building accidentally killed passers-by, but I was lucky at that time, I was just knocked into a coma, and I was in the hospital after waking up. ambulance.After staying in the hospital for a while, I went back to school intact.

She also fell into a coma when she fell. I thought she fell into a coma with me, but I found out later that she regretted it in mid-air and was so scared that she lost consciousness. Therefore, I am very grateful to rescue her back then. own people.But that's another story.

Now that I have this postscript, it means that I still haven't said anything about saving her.In fact, I also had a lot of imagination in the hospital.Whether it is a dirty urinal-like obscenity, or a beautiful fantasy that is unrealistic, there are many, many... With this life-saving grace, can I take advantage of the opportunity to have a love relationship with her?However, this fantasy was shattered after returning to school next semester.She made a lover during my hospitalization, a boy in a senior year.I saw her happy smile full of vitality when talking with that boy from a distance, and I could no longer put my obscenity and fantasies into practice.

Just be an unsung hero, or, after they break up, I'll sneak in by telling the truth.Probably because of this kind of dark thoughts, I always stay close to her, but dare not really approach her.

However, this calculation also came to nothing, and the two were still inseparable from school to society.On the contrary, I made friends with that boy by accident. Later, when I encountered difficulties in job hunting, it was he who introduced me to a job.This friend and I often get together to drink, chat about all kinds of troubles in the workplace, or share all kinds of interesting things in life.But if you want to talk about everything, it’s not always true. I never said it to him. I still have a strong feeling for my first love until today.

And he often congratulates me on how crucial his first love was to his spiritual support.There were times when he couldn't hold on, and it was his first love that lifted him up from discouragement.

Due to the disparity in family background, the relationship between friends and first love has not been smooth, but those difficulties disappeared as first love resolutely cut off contact with the family.

Years later, the two finally got married, had a son who was the same age as my daughter, and went to the same school we attended.Although he is a son, his appearance is just like his mother's, with milky white skin and a slender figure. Wearing the sportswear-style school uniform that conceals his sexuality, he suddenly feels like seeing his first love back then.

Unlike his mother, he didn't study very well and was more interested in games, but his parents didn't buy them for him.Once a friend and first love brought him to visit, he accidentally saw the game console I bought, and then he often found opportunities to come over.My daughter seems to have a crush on him, and I'm happy to see it happen, and my wife agrees to it; my friends and first love don't object, because I also tutor him when I help my daughter with homework, and I can be regarded as half a tutor.I benefited from it, too, when his presence gave my wife and I a break from the endless diatribe.

But the purpose of his coming here is to play games. Whenever he finishes his homework, he has to play a lot of games.I also play games with him sometimes, probably because of this I left an image of a big friend in his heart. He also has the courage to tease me frequently, as if he wants to treat me as a toy. That face is similar to that of first love. It made me lose my mind many times.And in front of my daughter and wife, he will quickly return to seriousness, and the feeling of sharing a secret is even more wonderful.I occasionally joked with him that if he changed into girls' clothes, he would be no different from her mother when she was a girl, and I also tried to picture him like that in my heart.

But what the hell was I thinking?Looking for traces of first love in a friend's son, no matter how you think about it, it is an abnormal act.However, this also shows from the side how indelible my love for my first love is. Every time I get hurt from my wife, and then go to talk with my friends and my first love, I will feel from my first love the many beautiful qualities she has inherited from her student days to the present.

Sometimes when I see the sincere and happy smiles of my friends and my first love, and hear my friends tell about my first love’s innumerable supports for him, I feel shameless that the person standing beside my first love is not my friend, but myself.But that kind of fantasy made me both obscene and a betrayal of my friends.To cover up those dirty, dark thoughts, I always try to act as if I'm as good as they are married to them.

Perhaps what really makes me unable to forget my first love is not her herself, but the present that is completely opposite to her in my heart.

Performance is performance after all, and my wife's endless greed for assets finally made me unbearable, and the conflict between us ushered in an unprecedented outbreak.

After an extremely intense quarrel and verbal abuse, I slammed the door and asked friends out to drink away my worries.

My wife also seems to have the idea of ​​finding a "friend" to relieve her worries. My colleague took a picture of her walking into the hotel holding the arm of a strange man outside.And when I found out that she was cheating, I was not moved, but in my mind, I recalled the scene of catching a girl who committed suicide.

If I had said it back then...

That night, I got very drunk with my friends.He asked me if I had quarreled with my wife and daughter, and I habitually acted happily married even when I was drunk.And he was also convinced after hearing it, and through his drunkenness, he told a piece of the past that shocked me to the extreme.

"...I know you caught her back then because I was the one who witnessed the call for the ambulance," he said to me. "After she woke up, I lied to her that I saved her. Her. She said that she regretted it when she jumped down, and she fainted in the air from fright, so she is very grateful to those who saved her."

I just feel dizzy, "Does she... know about this?"

"I confessed to her soon after you were discharged from the hospital, and she forgave me and said she was still willing to be my girlfriend."

"Then...why did she..."

"I begged her not to tell you. Because I was afraid that she would disappear from me in the end." He said, "But I knew that I had done something wrong, so I took the initiative to make friends with you, and then tried my best to make friends with you." Help you. And now that you are also happily married, it would be great, and I can confess to you with confidence..."

What happened after that, I don't remember very clearly.It wasn't just alcohol or rage that dazzled me, but also more muddy emotions that I couldn't distinguish clearly.

I beat him over and over again, and when I came back, he was unconscious.

I returned to my home like a walking dead, and my friend's son came to visit my home again at some point.When I opened the bedroom door dejectedly, he was playing games inside.Seeing me come back, his lovely face burst into a smile, and then stood up to meet me.And the moment I saw him clearly, my muddled mind suddenly turned into a blank sheet of paper.

He was actually wearing the nostalgic black and white skirt and school uniform that his mother wore when she was a student, and he also specially wore a shoulder-length wig.That slim figure was as neat and graceful as a book she had carefully wrapped in book wrapping paper.In a trance, I seem to have returned to a long time ago, when I was a teenager.

"How about it, last time you said that I must be similar to my mother when I changed my skirt, so I secretly took out her old school uniform and changed it on." He said with a smile as he approached me.

I backed away unconsciously, exiting the bedroom in a panic, hitting my back against the hallway wall.And he pressed on every step of the way, approaching me with a puzzled face.Suddenly, as if he realized something, he tapped his soft lips with his index finger, then slowly extended it, and finally landed on my cheek.Reflexively, I blushed and faltered.

He stared at me and reacted as if he had found a very interesting toy, showing a happy smile like a fairy obsessed with mischief.

And that was the beginning of my life going on a crazy trajectory.

(End of this chapter)