【SilverKe/BaizaoKe】Afternoon Tea Party at Doomsday

【银克/白造家x克】末日下午茶会

https://42milk.lofter.com/post/31ed617b_1cc9ac7f5

Warning ⚠️ Weird magic modification mystery AU, a dark and stomach-breaking family drama, please consume with caution

summary: The Son of Man leaves the Garden of Eden, and the snake eats the apple

*

At the end of the story, He will return to the abandoned manor in the suburbs. It will be a hot summer day, the gravel on the road is scorching hot in the midday sun, and the cicadas and nightingales are sleeping in the shade of the privet trees. Sage and nettles have flooded the former garden, and the overgrown creepers have completely covered the walls of the main building. The window frames under the green vines are like the empty eye sockets of a blind man, looking melancholy at Ouroboros who is visiting alone. He will pass by the dry fountain. The stone statue of the angel in the center of the pool has lost half of its head. The roses climbing on it are blooming next to the angel's face that is still smiling, as if wearing a pure crown for it.

He would find the unfinished portrait in the dilapidated study, the frame left next to the desk. Unlike the bookshelves and floors that were ravaged by rain and lightning, the time of the portrait was frozen at the moment when the owner left. More than half a century later, the canvas was as delicate as before, and the bright paint was incompatible with the decaying wallpaper and floor, like amber forgotten by everyone, sealing the memory of yesterday. Ouroboros would stand in front of the portrait and look at the protagonist of the portrait across decades of time. The black-haired young man still maintained a faint smile, a smile that He was familiar with, with good-natured irony, and his dark brown eyes looked over calmly.

On the day when He painted his portrait, the young man sat in the easy chair in the study, looking out the window at the early spring scenery. The arm exposed under his morning robe was reproduced on the canvas by Ouroboros with the whiteness of fresh snow. The study was a rare place in this manor that could make the young man feel at ease, except for the deep garden. He liked to pick a book spine from the giant-like towering bookshelf, then turn a page, sit on the bed and read the story that was accidentally spread out in front of him, immersed in a fictional life.

Ouroboros used pale green and light yellow to depict the side face blurred by the dim light from the garden, the silent shadow. He used deep black to paint the young man's hair, which felt like silk to the touch. The dark hair continued to grow after the owner died, until it covered the sarcophagus. His work was far from finished. The angel who was good at painting rarely hesitated. Was his cheek as rosy as oleander, or as pale as a wandering ghost? Was his lips as red as a cut pomegranate? Ouroboros was not sure whether he should believe in the ambiguous memory, and the only person who could answer it had already left. The time they spent together had long ended with the funny family comedy. Medici once said that Klein Moretti was a liar. He wore ill-fitting costumes, spoke poor lines, and didn't even intend to play his role well. Just like that day, birds flew into the windowsill, purple delphiniums bloomed in the vase, and Crane, who had just woken up from his nap, stood up from his chair, said goodbye to the angel sitting in front of the portrait calmly, and said that he wanted to go out for a walk. Then he walked down the stairs, without taking anything that did not belong to him, and escaped from the story without looking back.

*

Klein Moretti's defection had precedents. His faith was shallow, and his reverence and love for the Lord were superficial. In short, he was a complete hypocrite. In the church's scriptures, this nameless "Angel of Silence" was eventually described as the earliest ascetic who followed the sun god. He was the left hand of the god and a loyal shadow. He walked in the dust of history, spreading the power and glory of the Lord until the stars returned to their correct trajectory, and the Last Judgment and the final atonement came. Regarding this mysterious angel, only the Lord knew the true situation behind the scriptures. The god followed by Ouroboros and Medici had great tolerance and patience for this exile who betrayed Him.

The lambs that climb over the high wall will always return to the herd after wandering. He spoke softly to his burning and constantly restarting children, and his black sheep will always return to Eden.

So they knew the real name of the man who only existed in a few lines of description, Klein, and another obscure unfamiliar syllable, repeating it was like a piece of ice dancing on the teeth. Before the divine enlightenment sprouted in the mind of the Creator, He also came to the world in a human body. In that short life, they were colleagues and friends. But later, when the original Creator's legacy reappeared in the world and brought great power and great disasters to mankind, the other party was immersed in an inexplicable nightmare, abandoned their sacred cause, and left without saying goodbye on a rainy night.

Compared to the taciturn Mercury Snake, Medici always liked to get the answer to every question directly: "Lord, he is obviously an unjust coward, why do you still forgive him?" He said angrily, and then grasped the sword eagerly: "If you want, I will set out now and bring you his head."

The Lord gently and seriously rejected the request of the war angel, and the topic was just exposed. After all, they have a lot to do. All the high-ranking people who have climbed to the top of the extraordinary path know the day of judgment. When the barrier left by the original creator completely disappears, the malicious turbidity left by the outer gods will pour down on this blue planet, turning into burning sulfur rain, thunder that tears the continent apart, and stirring up surging magma and tsunamis, turning thousands of countries on the ground into nothingness. And their Lord wants to create an ark before the end of the world to shelter the righteous who have passed the test. These survivors will be the fire of the next era of civilization.

Ouroboros was just following the Lord's will. When He left the Garden of Eden, the snakes passing through the mortal world watched Him coldly with their scarlet eyes. People who crawl on the earth have been struggling to find food, choose mates, mate and reproduce since birth. Most of them cannot listen to the gospel of the Supreme Being until death comes. And those who rely on mystical knowledge and extraordinary characteristics to embark on the road to becoming a god will most likely lose their lives. Only a few are lucky enough to make it to the end. The natural mythological creatures look at humans like giants looking down on insects. The latter are just a small race that does nothing, and an ignorant species trapped in a fragile shell for life. Rather than contempt and disgust, they are more indifferent.

The mercury snake has no more feelings about these straw-like lives, and observation is just a necessary accumulation of imitating "human nature". In order to avoid losing control, they need an anchor point, a humanity that can compete with the original will imprinted in the extraordinary characteristics. But more often than not, He is willing to choose to restart a new cycle and discard the current body cleanly. Human nature is a secret that He cannot dismantle, a redundant that is more difficult to understand than the whisper of fate.

But his Lord felt that his children could make another attempt to make up for the shortcomings caused by skipping childhood. The formation of a warm family began in a secret theater isolated from all audiences. He played the role of father and the angels were brothers and sisters. Family members should love each other, said the golden-haired god, and most importantly, the important roles that bind all family members together are "mother" and "wife".

So the Angel of Destiny, which was about to restart, saw the rebellious lamb. According to the Lord's guidance, the Red Angel found Klein Moretti on the sea. He was in a very bad state, otherwise even Medici could not have captured a high-sequence fortuneteller so easily. Contrary to any of His previous expectations, the human figure tightly wrapped in a pure white straitjacket had no halo hanging above his head, nor did he grow layers of wings on his back. There was no majestic light around Him that symbolized the rank of angel. His limbs were on the verge of losing control and twisted, making Him look more like a demon who was punished by God. Ouroboros looked down at the group of tentacles formed by transparent worms that collapsed on the altar. The pair of eyeballs embedded in the constantly changing face were slowly turning. The false believer's eyes swept over them, and finally stopped at the church dome depicting the scene of doomsday and rebirth. It was just a moment of inspiration. The silver snake suddenly wanted to paint for Him. He was very suitable to be spread on the black velvet and posed in a bound posture.

In the hothouse created by the visionary, extras take the stage and a grotesque family comedy begins.

*

They seldom dream. To them, there are no pure dreams. Dreams of mythical creatures are all signs of disguise. Every image is a hint and a thread that constitutes the direction of fate.

But it was difficult for Ouroboros to extract any valuable information from this dream. First, there was a soothing melody, hummed by someone vaguely. He couldn't hear the lyrics clearly. The song clearly did not contain any extraordinary abilities, but it made him sleepy. Then there was a slow swaying. He lay in a warm and cramped place. The snake closed his eyes and listened to the strange beating. Only then did he realize that it was the heartbeat of another creature, beating steadily in his ears through the soft flesh and blood. Ouroboros thought slowly in the strange embrace. Even if he went back to his childhood, he could not be touched casually. The power of the angels is a deadly fire to the creatures of the mortal world. Their unintentional gazes will destroy the fragile soul and body.

"In a sense, you are more of a disaster than an angel." The young man threw two sugar cubes into his teacup and slowly complained while stirring the tea, "So you wear that light just for lighting?"

He really woke up. The three-person tea party was held in the reception room on the first floor. The floor and wallpaper had traces of burns. It must be that when Ouroboros was drowsy, the other two had a deep and frank exchange. The organizer of the tea party poured a cup of hot milk for Him and refilled his own hot tea. Finally, he symbolically pushed a glass of cold water to the Red Angel, who knocked on the table with his knuckles threateningly: "Don't push your luck."

"How could the great Lord of War need the meals of ants?"

"You want me to help you review table manners? Did you forget to put this memory in when you re-twisted your brain?"

"Don't bother with that. Someone who didn't help and burned down the kitchen has no right to speak."

Only the black-haired stranger was enjoying the sandwich on the tray. He was very skilled in making it. The bread slices were cut into neat triangles, and the sandwiches were fried chicken, cheese slices, and pickled lettuce leaves. Each one was fixed with a silver fork. He symbolically asked the angels if they wanted to eat together. After receiving Ouroboros's confused refusal and Medici's disdainful frown, He happily sprinkled a thick layer of chili powder on the sandwich.

The young man sitting next to Ouroboros had an ordinary face, black hair and brown eyes. With his bookish air, he looked more like a young lecturer on a university campus than an angel on earth. He had never seen any Beyonder who had reached the Sequence 2 level who was obsessed with imitating ordinary humans in eating and sleeping. They were used to maintaining humanity in more efficient ways, such as gathering their own believers and consolidating anchor points, but his attempt was a bit of a waste of time.

*

Klein Moretti, this strange angel, after a brief moment of shock after waking up, quickly accepted the fact of being under house arrest, and he did not even comment too much on the restraints on his body. Ouroboros took him to visit the mansion, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the deep corridor. The angel in the picture frame cast a mysterious smile. The servants stood in the shadows and bowed to show their respect. The maids and servants moved humbly, but the human body was supported by the head of a beast, and the golden pupils shone in the darkness. The captive of the Creator wore a leather collar, and the chain extended from the black collar, with rings fixed at the end, firmly wrapped around the ring fingers of the prisoner's hands. It was a shackle and also looked like an exquisite ornament. He calmly passed those dim sights, and his steps were as brisk as walking on the hills in spring.

"I would be more pleased if His aesthetic could be used in other places," commented the Silent Angel.

The mercury snake heard the false believer behind him humming a song, probably a popular folk tune in Bayam. The faceless man's expression management made it difficult for him to see the true feelings behind the gentle mask. But this is the person who will play the role of his parent. Don't question the Lord's intentions. Ouroboros is used to obeying the Lord's orders unconditionally. This is the basic principle of being a fanatic. Since the Lord has arranged this, they should accept it, even if it means that he will hear many rebellious remarks.

"When you live under someone's roof, you have to bow your head." Klein nodded with satisfaction after inspecting the kitchen. "Although there is no essential difference, the comfort level of the cell still has a great impact on the overall experience."

"This is a gift from the Lord, not a punishment."

"I think this kind of blessing will shorten one's life."

The silver-haired angel stood by the door and watched Klein open the cupboard. He picked out the spices and skillfully rolled up his sleeves to wash potatoes. Ouroboros watched him busy, and only asked when Klein cut the potatoes into strips, "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing my best to play house with you guys, so I'll make some fries as a souvenir before you restart."

The snake thought seriously about whether there was an unknown mystical connection between the reboot and French fries. Before he came to a conclusion, Klein had already taken the fried French fries out of the pan and placed them on a porcelain basin to drain the excess oil. The snake sniffed the burnt aroma that filled the kitchen.

Please wash your hands, sit down, and enjoy. Klein held up a colander and directed the silver-haired angel to sit down at the table. Ouroboros just stared at the golden fries in a trance, as if what was placed in front of Him was a non-adjacent path characteristic. Klein sat down opposite Him and put down the plate of ketchup: "...The audience's attentiveness can sometimes make people feel disgusted."

He heard a hint of annoyance in the other person's tone, just like discovering a tiny crack in the glaze of porcelain. The prisoner, who faced reality with impeccable calmness, poked at the sauce and said, "Well, sir, would you like some fries?"

He lowered his eyes to look at the food on the plate. The roots of plants were full of oil and had a crisp texture. A little force would break them, leaving dark yellow oil stains on his linen robe. The snake was a tool used by the fragile tribe crawling in the dust to fill their stomachs. It did not need to be full or sleep. Since waking up in the Garden of Eden, it had been isolated from trivial desires. In Ouroboros's opinion, Klein was too obsessed with acting, which would corrode his will and shake the foundation of his faith.

"What are your plans for the future?" the snake asked the returning lamb, "The Lord has given you the opportunity to convert."

"Order some fries."

"What?"

"I'm going to go to the dock and get some chips."

The beautiful angel frowned. He needed to repent. Ouroboros thought silently. The untamed lamb refused to listen to the gospel. He should kneel down in front of the Lord's statue, dig his throat with his fingers until he vomited out the fresh and pulsating internal organs and coagulated blood clots. He should pray to the merciful Lord with tears and ask for forgiveness. He should whip his back with a nailed iron chain until his flesh and blood were blurred, exposing the white bone fragments. Dedicate yourself to the gods you believe in, completely surrender to the power of God, and return to the right path, instead of relying on His tolerance and looking at His gifts with arrogant eyes.

"Didn't your Lord tell you? I'm an atheist. According to your standards, this is a crime that is worthy of being hanged." Klein shrugged, interrupting His thoughts. In His blank gaze, he calmly pulled the plate towards himself: "If you don't want it, give it to me. Didn't your Lord teach you not to waste food?"

*

Those eyes would occasionally appear particularly deep in the shade of the trees, like the dark scorched earth after a fire, or like the stellar core that the Lord had told them about after a star burned out and disappeared. In contrast to his sometimes indifferent eyes, there were those warm hands. Whether it was cooking or taking care of his cohabitants, Klein's movements were very skillful. When asked, he would only smile and casually explain that he had played the role of a nurse many times in order to digest the potion.

They walked along the winding path in the garden behind the villa. The lush branches and leaves of holly and honeysuckle held up a thick green canopy. There had been abundant rains recently, and the sunlight between showers was not scorching. Klein pushed the wheelchair and took the restarted Mercury Snake for a walk. The gardeners with owl faces left at the right time. Klein claimed that not being able to see the golden pupils of the servants was beneficial to his health. Ouroboros guessed that this was just a subtle sarcasm towards the gods who had caused his current situation. Klein's sarcasm was different from that of the hunters. If Medici's provocation was a declaration of war to provoke a dispute, then Klein's sarcasm was mostly just a cunning joke that brushed past his ears. It was like a soft thorn piercing the skin, not fatal, but when the affected area was touched again when it was on the verge of forgetting, the subtle sting would make people quite concerned.

"It's not that interesting if it's overly pretentious. This look is not bad."

Klein pointed to a half-trimmed bush. The gardeners stopped working and left behind a round shape that looked like a funny giant egg. The snake decided to remain silent to avoid falling into his language trap. In terms of eloquence, he was no match for the fortune teller who could anger the hunter.

Klein told the story of his work as a nurse in a mental hospital in Bayam. The island near the equator was hot all year round, but most of the patients came from the northern continent. In the fifth era of medical progress, mental illness was still an incurable disease that everyone was afraid of, just like leprosy. The sanatorium would receive patients from distant countries every year. There were very few family members who would come to visit. They only had to pay the fees on time and let their crazy relatives "recuperate" in the hospital on the island under the warm sunshine. Klein worked in the sanatorium for three months. Except for some aggressive manic patients, the rest of the patients were silent sleepwalkers, a group of ghosts wandering aimlessly in the shadows in striped hospital gowns. Madmen were heretics expelled by normal people, and beasts would also eliminate abnormal ones. They no longer followed rational instructions, but instead immersed themselves in a set of self-operating internal logic. Klein felt that in a sense, mental patients and out-of-control extraordinary people were very similar. They were both unfortunate people who deviated from the track of reason.

"In your Lord's eyes, I am probably positioned like this, an excellent observation sample for communication."

The young man casually threw out his conclusion. He squatted in front of Ouroboros and massaged the boy's stiff calves. The Mercury Snake had never experienced the fragile and inconvenient body of a child. In the past, He would skip unnecessary childhood when He was restarted, so that He could not walk skillfully now. Klein asked Him if He needed his help, then held the boy's arm, patiently waited for Him to stand up from the wheelchair, and helped Him walk slowly on the gravel path.

Being trapped in such a weak body was a novel experience for Ouroboros. Using the mythical form directly was a more convenient option, but Klein did not agree with "His" cheating with the snake's tail.

Ouroboros still remembers the sleepy fortune teller's expression when he saw a huge silver snake coiled in the living room. After a few seconds of silence, Klein silently returned to the second floor: "Maybe there is something wrong with the way I got up."

Are angels afraid of snakes? Ouroboros was slightly curious. The Lord taught them what humility and tolerance are, but these virtues are not applicable to hunters. When he was painting on the canvas, Medici and Klein, who did not know that they were models, were talking frankly. Their chat usually started with the aggressive sarcasm of the red angel and the seemingly docile but actually sarcastic response of the fortune teller. Before Ouroboros noticed, Klein had already figured out a set of tricks to get along with the angels and implemented them. That is, he is more unpredictable than them. When he is in a good mood, he will be happy to play the role of the hostess arranged by the Creator. When he is immersed in the state of sleepwalking, he will be more indifferent than the stone statue of the judge covered with cold moss outside the confessional.

But the hunter just happens to prefer difficult prey. Trophies that are too easy to obtain cannot satisfy His desire for conquest. Medici enjoys provoking Klein tirelessly, usually driven by the instinct rooted in his blood, and half of it is a rare whim.

"I hope He can bring me more pleasure than trampling on the heads of emperors. Aren't you curious about what expression our guest will have after that pretentious face is shattered?"

A certain conspirator who was creating disputes said that calling Klein "Him" was a new way of provocation discovered by the Red Angels, and Klein would show a subtle look of disgust when he heard this title. For some kind of emphasis on human nature that they could not understand - which was harshly described by Medici as "hypocrisy" and "stupid" - Klein always insisted on acting from a human perspective.

The Mercury Snake did not comment on this. He was more curious about what kind of dreams the distinguished guest who was forced to stay by the Creator would have. He knew that Klein often walked in the garden or locked himself in the study. He would not really succumb to the God's preference and stay in this quiet birdcage. He vaguely sensed that the fortune teller was making some attempts, but the Lord had ordered them not to interfere, so the snake would also maintain this precarious illusion of peace.

*

"I want to paint a portrait of him, and the background should be by the window where he often stayed."

He silently thought about how to invite Klein. He had already drawn many sketches of him before. A good painter would always try his best to capture the charm that words could not describe. At least before this fake family drama came to an end, He wanted to keep Klein on the canvas.

A lucky premonition made Ouroboros choose a seat near the window. This wise decision prevented his draft from being soaked by the tea. Halfway through afternoon tea, Klein and Medici argued again about the war of gods. The Red Angel's remarks about refugees and sacrifices angered the fortune teller. Even though he was stranded in this otherworldly realm, Klein knew what was happening in the outside world. The end of the world was approaching, and the gods were starting wars among nations in order to plunder more power and believers.

In fact, even the provocateur might not understand how the description of "necessary sacrifice" touched the tense string in Klein's mind. The young man who had been drinking sweet iced tea in silence sneered: "That's enough. The lucky ones who are not put on the gambling table as chips should stop laughing at others."

"What's wrong, the most moral saint among us? Can you empathize with the plight of those ants?"

"In this world, you never know who will be the next person to go to the guillotine, whoever is applauding."

"I have only witnessed that the Lord's vision is being realized. His gospel has recruited as many believers as grains of sand. The great existence we follow is the only truth. He has generously pointed out the right direction for everyone."

"He" spoke in a cheerful tone, lowered his head and moved closer to Klein, his movements were so intimate that it seemed as if he was going to kiss his cheek. In fact, the fortune teller saw malice surging in the red angel's eyes.

"So I don't understand what you are running away from. The Lord is willing to forgive your betrayal, but you don't cherish the opportunity. I didn't even know that the Fortune Teller's Potion would corrode people's brains. The end of the world is coming. How can you, a Sequence 2 angel, survive the catastrophe without boarding the Ark? Relying on your little tricks of playing puppets and divination? In the end, you will only be part of the price."

Silence. During the silence, Ouroboros thought about whether to put down the charcoal pencil. The Lord would not be happy to see His child and old friend continue to slander each other. But the mercury snake had never done the job of mediating a fight. He was used to solving the problem directly from the source of the accident. Ouroboros now looked like a boy of more than ten years old. He habitually showed his tail when thinking, and the snake's tail hesitantly beat the rhythm on the floor. Fortunately, at this time, Klein calmly picked up the lemon cake. He was able to maintain a gentle and restrained tone even when he was angry.

"No matter how this dream develops, I hope you can continue to have faith that luck will last forever. After all, I am more familiar with war angels that are as dim as embers."

He stared at Medici with his dead eyes. This time Ouroboros could confirm that he looked at them with disgust and pity. "May you always win and not be used as a bargaining chip with a little value. And I remember that in order to prevent me from doing anything, your Lord suppressed all the extraordinary abilities in this room to the minimum. In theory, the people who enter here are not much different from ordinary people, right?"

Mercury Snake nodded subconsciously at the sudden question. After thanking him, Klein slapped the cake firmly on the Red Angel's handsome face, which had never had any rot scars in this timeline.

As the two men kicked over the table and started to wrestle, Ouroboros thought for a moment, decided to sit farther away, and continued sketching on paper.*

Unexpectedly, Klein readily agreed to Ouroboros's request and sat in the study for two hours every afternoon to be his model. The finalization of the sketch took longer than he expected, and he always spent more time thinking when facing Klein, whether it was the composition of the portrait or the content of the conversation.

Fortunately, Ouroboros never said anything that would cause Klein to waste food in retaliation, so when the latter was in a good mood, it was reasonable for him to be willing to tell him more about his past. Klein mentioned the dream that entangled him, which subtly overlapped with reality, but deviated at certain points of fate and finally went in the opposite direction. Klein stood between the two, like standing on two incense sticks lit at the same time. Sooner or later, the ashes of history will fall, burying every god or person fairly.

"I didn't expect that I could be in the same room with you peacefully without being hunted. Yes, in my dreams, we have always been enemies with opposing positions."

Klein leaned on the soft pillow, the green shade of the tree covered the windowsill, his favorite place. Snake guessed that it might be because there was not only a view of the courtyard, but also the mountains in the distance. Klein could imagine another life he hoped for. Whether it was a history teacher, an antique appraiser, or a chef at a gourmet restaurant, any identity was better than being mixed up with enemies in an unclear way. Living with strangers who had never reconciled, he was silent for longer than he looked at them. Snake could feel the heavy weight of thoughts piled on Klein's shoulders.

Ouroboros knew some of the strange abilities of the Seer Path. Compared to other Beyonders, Seers were the darlings of prophecy and history. He didn't know how much he had seen in Klein's strange "dream". His spiritual intuition prevented him from asking questions. For example, in Klein's vague description, about the fate of Medici, his own future, the end of the world and the gods, and the existence they followed... Ouroboros had a hunch that he would not want to know the answers to these questions.

Many things are better left unclear. When "He" changed a piece of paper, Klein stretched. He looked listless today, and even gave up his gentlemanly demeanor and lazily sank deep into the cushion.

"After all, this is a fucked-up world where even the laws of nature can be deceived, and freedom like self-will is a joke. Your Lord is very smart. After I remembered those things, He didn't rush to test me. After all, I'm not sure how much He knows now. It's the basic operation of a dreamer. For you, that feast of betrayal will not happen, although they have defected one after another... The guy who would lose control if he spoke nicely did not become a necessary sacrifice... The list of the Outer Gods circling around the barrier is also a little different... Not to mention other historical processes that are far superior to personal struggle, so why let me go through it again? Some kind of bad taste when defining destiny in the beginning?"

Ouroboros didn't quite understand this dreamlike speech, but the implicit information in it was enough to cause low-sequence beings below the level of demigods to lose control. His body had grown a little bit, so Klein insisted on picking a shirt and shorts for Him: "It's a rare opportunity to experience childhood, so don't wear the clothes of an ascetic. I'll feel like I'm abusing a minor."

He sketched the young man's profile on the canvas, using soft strokes to outline his black hair, which rested on his forehead. He only sketched the outlines of his eyes and lips. He hoped to capture the young man's gentler and more relaxed smile, rather than his sarcastic and gloomy expression. Ouroboros had a hunch that this would be a difficult work to complete, and he couldn't really use his brush to keep his soul in the frame.

"I thought you would think like a mythical creature, hunting your target and then devouring the trophy, but we are not in adjacent routes, and eating me would probably cause you indigestion."

"So can human nature also be digested by the swallowing characteristic?"

"Hmm? No, your enlightenment education has a big problem." Klein paused as he reached for his sweet iced tea. "Don't expect me to tutor you. At most, I can find some classic works for you to experience."

So in the following time, Crane told Ouroboros the story of the Happy Prince. When the angel heard that the swallow was willing to pay the price of freezing to death to stay next to the prince's statue, he showed a genuine expression of confusion. This confusion reached its peak when Crane told the story of the little mermaid abandoning the opportunity to return to the ocean and turning into foam: "Humans admire love, but in your description, love is often harmful."

"This is difficult to explain. It's beyond my scope," Klein replied calmly. "Although this is very general, people are very complicated. Sometimes we just want something that may hurt ourselves, and we pay a high price for disproportionate results. In short, you have to get used to it."

The snake shook the tip of its tail and was stunned for a moment: "It's hard to understand."

"Then just listen to it as a bedtime reading. For an ascetic, completely obeying someone like you and entrusting the decision-making power and your will to others is a happy way of life. Well, although I don't agree with it."

Thus, in the imagination of the Mercury Serpent, the abstract word "love" has a corresponding texture and shape - love is harmful and will stab the hand that picks it; it is also a sweet poisonous fruit, as tempting as the forbidden fruit; it is also a sharp weapon with a sharp shell. To love means to hold the blade in one's own hands and hand over the handle of this weapon - that is, the privilege of stabbing oneself - to others. He drew the bright red fruit, the flower with long thorns like a porcupine, the dangerous blade, and the monster with huge compound eyes like a fly born from the broken heart on the blank space one by one, and showed them to Klein for inspection.

"... Very good. You have a unique perspective on love." Klein commented calmly.

When the agreed time came, he politely said goodbye to Ouroboros. Researching the possibility of escape had consumed too much of Klein's spiritual energy, and he needed to go back to his bedroom to catch up on some sleep. The Mercury Snake sat in the quiet study, staring at the draft for a long time.

After a while, he picked up the pen and added a halo to the person on the paper.

*

The snake roaming in the early morning had seen a one-act play with only two actors.

The silver snake silently slithered in the corridor of the villa under the crimson moonlight. Its eyes, always staring at the spindle of fate, did not desire sleep. It followed the guidance of lucky inspiration and came to the reception room. The door was ajar, and the sound of chatter leaked from behind the gap, like a seat reserved for latecomers. It peeked with its scarlet eyes. From its perspective, it could only see Klein's profile. He was wearing a nightgown. The blond priest sat opposite him, holding the cross on his chest with a gentle smile.

"How long do you want to play this game?"

He heard Klein ask calmly, as if this was just an ordinary night talk between old friends who had not seen each other for a long time. The roses and rose vines outside the French window were depicted in the bright milky white light. The sleeping flowers perched on the branches under the pure silver light, casting dancing shadows on the carpet. The two protagonists of the family comedy were in the hazy light and shadow, accompanied by the strong fragrance of flowers and the distant birdsong in the deep courtyard. It was like stopping in an obscure old dream. All languages ​​were covered with warm illusions because of this quiet dream. The silver snake quietly moved in the shadows of flowers and leaves. When it was illuminated by the strange light, He remembered that this seemed to be the silver moonlight that the Lord had mentioned and existed only in the long-term imagination.

"So have you found peace of mind? Obviously, running away didn't help you find the answer."

"I have read that inaccurate bible. Peaceful disbanding and defection cannot be equated. This is slander."

Ouroboros hid in the shadow of a lush branch. His actions could not be hidden from the two people present, but the actors just continued their dialogue on the stage professionally. The snake coiled its body into a perfect circle and watched quietly.

"I don't think our connection ended at that time." The priest-like God smiled. Their shadows moved and touched on the ground. He held Klein's hand. "From the beginning to the end, there was no fundamental contradiction between us, right?"

"Even if we can never agree with each other?"

The snake raised its head hesitantly in the silence. He could only see their figures disappearing into the night, their clasped hands exposed to the moonlight like fragile chains, their skin gleaming pale. After a moment, his Lord sighed tolerantly.

"Even we won't compromise."

The pale bridge was broken, and their eyes were focused on encircling each other. Both sides understood that this time it would also end in a stalemate.

"You're going through all this trouble just to improve the parent-child relationship, right?"

"The end is coming. As far as I know, you have not accepted any invitation from the true gods."

"You are very well informed."

"Time is running out. Any creature remaining on the surface will not survive. You are pushing away every chance of rescue."

He saw Klein tilt his head, as if studying the pattern on the carpet. His voice was full of smiles, but also carried an unshakable indifference that came from careful consideration.

"Isn't that better?"

*

The absurd play came to an abrupt end after the protagonist escaped. Ouroboros stopped praying on a quiet morning, and his intuition led him into the bedroom where Klein was lying. He sat down beside the bed, and after a long time, he reached out and touched the face he had repeatedly drawn.

The magician of miracles finally managed to escape, presenting an exquisite performance, leaving the audience with only a body without a heartbeat. He knew that the truly valuable soul was no longer in this room, and the person lying on the bed was just an empty shell that could no longer echo. He knelt down beside the bed and began to pray to the Lord. If Klein was here, he could imagine what he would say, in that familiar, slightly mocking and gentle tone: "At least you can still pray now, right?"

Klein's funeral was held in the same manner as a saint. His body was sealed in the underground tomb of the Kingdom of God Church, and believers dressed him in a gorgeous crown made of pure gold and gemstones. The sarcophagus did not have the owner's name engraved on it, like a blank expectation. Ouroboros felt that it was a slim hope that before the end of the world, the escaped people would return and be resurrected from the tomb.

He expects this too.

Mythical creatures do not need to satisfy the desires of mortals. Unlike those races that crawl in the dust and struggle to survive, they are driven by fire, thunder, and an inexhaustible madness. The Mercury Snake did not look back when he left the manor. He will always be loyal to his beliefs, just like Klein described, a tireless steel machine. So even if he has a premonition that the smart prey will not step into the same trap twice, he will still defend the Lord's will and continue to search for the traces of the miracle worker's destiny.

Facing this preserved portrait, he could still recall those long afternoons when Klein sat by the bed and read endless stories while he painted on the canvas. When the prisoners were in a good mood, they would be willing to tell him some stories. He never had any extravagant hopes of influencing them, so he had no disappointment. It was just that at certain moments, they came out of their respective shells and exchanged the fire of their hearts, but it was only a very short-lived warmth, and they didn't even have time to confirm it, and they returned to the heavy shells before anything happened.

Soon the planet's barrier will completely disappear, and a foul torrent will pour out from the starry sky. Just like any prophecy of doomsday, it will be destroyed first and then rebuilt. Only God's chosen people can survive. He still remembers Klein walking tiredly through the kitchen, carrying the brewed tea; he always kept his nerves tense and his body movements in resistance in front of them; he always refused, refused God's mercy, refused to board the Ark. At the end of the story, only this deserted stage was left, the weeds covered the path, and only this portrait was left in the dilapidated house.

What's the point? It's just another kind of futility.

Just like that day, the birds flew into the windowsill, the purple delphiniums bloomed in the vase, and the young man woke up from his nap, opened his eyes, and stood up from his chair. He said goodbye to the angel sitting in front of the portrait calmly, saying that he wanted to go out for a walk. He didn't take anything with him, including the handle of the knife that the scarlet-eyed snake handed him, the only weapon that could stab Him.

END