Chapter Thirty-Eight: Elusive Memories

Bang—
A sharp pain shot through the speaker's temple, and a shattered glass lay at his feet.
Blood, mingled with wine, trickled slowly from his brow, stinging as it went.
Beneath the brim of a black hat, rose-colored lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable.
"Get out and keep searching."
The words, cold and merciless, drifted from beneath the hat’s shadow, sending an inexplicable shiver through the man in black.
He retreated at once, vanishing as silently as he had arrived, like a phantom melting into the darkness.
The young master in black stood by the window. White curtains fluttered around him, as if he were about to ride the wind and disappear from the world.
His tall, slender figure remained motionless for a long time by the window. Hidden eyes gleamed with a strange light as they gazed into the blackness of night outside.
The hands at his sides slowly clenched into fists.
Where are you?

Lakeheart Lake

Yingyue sat idly by the window, arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes dull and lifeless.
The violet curtains brushed softly, silently against her cheek.

She looked out at the tranquil, boundless surface of the lake and could not help but sigh.
So many days had passed. In these days, she had wandered every corner of this place. Though every facility was flawless, a world of one’s own was nothing but lonely, even desolate.
Yet, there was one thing that soothed her soul, the only thing: in the seventh-floor bedroom wing, she had found her beloved shade of violet. From the decorations to the lights, everywhere her eyes fell was awash in violet hues.
Oh, and her clothes—from underwear to outerwear—were all the same shade of lavender. In the monotony of days, this at least was a small pleasure.
As she gazed at the endless lake, her thoughts drifted far away.
Yu and Xi must be so worried… Ah, to think she was grown and yet unable to care for herself, even managing to lose her own way!
She shook her head helplessly at the thought.
But her movement stilled, her thoughts turning vague as a sudden ache throbbed in her head.
And him—where was he?
Had he looked for her since she’d vanished? Had he worried, even once?
Or… did he not even know she was missing?
Perhaps, right now, he was sweetly courting his fiancée, the perfect match chosen for him.
At this thought, her eyes burned and her chest stung as if pricked by needles.

Why? Why was it, that just imagining he didn’t care, didn’t mind, left her heart numb and aching?
Wasn’t she supposed to hate him?
She pressed her small hands to her chest.
When had it started, this pain whenever she thought of him, his coldness, his indifference? When had it become hard even to breathe at the thought? Was it when the news first spoke of his approaching marriage? Had her moods been tied to his ever since? Or was it even earlier?
When, truly, had it begun?
Fragments of memory flashed through her mind, too quickly to grasp.
Clutching her head, she wondered—why did her mind feel so empty? As if a patch of blankness existed, and what was missing from it was something terribly important to her.
Beads of sweat formed on her pale forehead, and her hands trembled.
“No, no, I don’t want it!” Yingyue moaned softly in pain, forcing herself not to remember, not to think.
It hurt, it hurt so much. Since she had chosen to forget, then let it be forgotten. If the price of remembering was pain, then let her never remember again.