"So what exactly did you do back then?"
Cohen asked.
"Why have you been keeping it from me all this time—even if you killed a few people, it's fine, I've killed quite a few myself..."
"But—" Herbert dared not look Cohen in the eye.
"Friendly reminder," Cohen reminded him, "I actually hate very few people—besides indiscriminate killers and idiots who want to kill me, the person I dislike the most is the Riddler who keeps dragging his feet on revealing the truth." "
..."
Herbert struggled internally—Cohen didn't understand why he was so resistant to telling the truth. Everything was clear: Herbert's son, "Cohen Burke," had been fully resurrected, and even in the laboratory, "Cohen" had spared Herbert.
No matter how evil the experiment was, at least it succeeded—and Cohen's actions and words showed his low moral standards. So what if Herbert had done a lot of dirty work for this experiment?
Wait...
what could make Herbert refuse to tell—and what seemed to be causing him such immense pain?
Suddenly, Cohen recalled his first meeting with Herbert on Christmas Day, and the first question Herbert asked him about Cohen:
"Are they nice to you?"
Cohen had initially thought it was just Herbert's concern for his long-lost son—but now it seemed it might be another kind of feeling?
The kind of jealousy that Edward and Rose had of Cohen—that he couldn't have…?
At the time, Cohen sensed that Herbert was afraid of something.
But Cohen didn't say it directly, assuming Herbert was only so kind to Cohen because he still believed that part of Cohen's soul was his son…
Now it seemed that Herbert actually knew his son was long dead? He just couldn't accept the fact?
A self-deceiving lie had kept him living with hope until now.
"You knew all along that 'Cohen Burke' was dead, didn't you? Both body and soul," Cohen asked. "So what exactly did you do back then? Why were you so sure 'Cohen's soul was dead'?"
Herbert couldn't hold back any longer—he broke down in tears, covering his eyes, hunching over on the edge of the bed, sobbing like a child.
"I…I'm sorry…I…couldn't save…me—Rose—and…"
"Rose?" Cohen frowned. "What does this have to do with Rose?"
Why the sudden connection to his adoptive mother—didn't she sever ties with the Burke family long ago, when she married Edward?
Herbert shouldn't have any reason to get involved with her anymore…
"Wait a minute—" Cohen suddenly realized a blind spot—Herbert said Rose was his favorite sister, which meant he and Rose had a good relationship.
If he and Rose had a good relationship…why had Rose never brought Cohen to see him while he was in prison? Was Herbert, Cohen's "biological father," just going to live a lonely life like this?
Rose and Edward had never even mentioned Herbert to Cohen, even though they knew about the experiment—and Cohen didn't think they were the kind of people who were possessive and unwilling to let their adopted son meet his biological father.
A married couple who hadn't had a child in ten years, lovingly adopting a dangerous half-Dementor, and Edward's shockingly low soul strength…
Cohen's thoughts instantly became clear.
Rose and Edward didn't adopt Cohen because he was Rose's nephew, or because they were overflowing with maternal and paternal love...
"Rose and Edward... had a child..."
Herbert said with all his might, his eyes red as he looked at Cohen, as if begging for forgiveness.
"What happened to that child?" Cohen asked calmly.
"I...I..."
"Leechence."
Cohen's wand was pointed at him—this time, Cohen didn't care about Herbert's feelings, brutally seizing the memory Herbert was trying to hide deep in his mind.
Last time, he had been too soft-hearted—so he only saw what Herbert wanted Cohen to see.
Rose and Edward did have a child, and Rose happened to name the child "Cohen."
At that time, the experiment was developing in a pessimistic direction—the soul of the little man in the bottle was becoming weaker and weaker, and the curse had failed to trap the complete soul of "Cohen Burke"; it was broken.
Cohen knew why; the little Dementor he kept in his pocket had taken a part of "Cohen Burke's" soul.
The madmen in the lab had a new plan—they needed to find a new soul as a filler—the experiment couldn't afford to fail, even if it meant patching it up a thousand times.
So their target shifted to another suitable soul.
Rose's child.
"I tried to stop..." Herbert's tears streamed into his beard, "I couldn't...save you—"
"That's not the point," Cohen frowned. "You're too stubborn. It's making me think you've become a human trafficker."
"I could have stopped it… I just had to be ruthless and destroy that unfinished jar, and it would all be over…" Herbert still couldn't forgive himself. "But I hesitated, for a second or two—I was holding my wand—they noticed my movement—they locked me up—I couldn't…"
Cohen didn't listen to Herbert's intermittent regrets any longer, continuing to sift through his memories.
The researchers stole Rose's child, broke Herbert's leg, and locked him in a secret room because Herbert tried to destroy the experiment to protect his sister's child, but they didn't kill Herbert—Cohen guessed it was because "the father's blood and soul" could handle unexpected situations during the experiment.
The experiment succeeded, but it wasn't entirely successful.
Having survived with a new soul, "Cohen," driven by instinct, killed all the wizards and Muggle test subjects in the manor (all dying, having been used to study the relationship between Dementors and souls). He released the creatures he felt a connection to: Ariel, the unnamed giant snake, another behemoth, and Herbert.
Herbert knew better than anyone that "Cohen" spared him not because of lingering memories or familial bonds, but simply because of the familiarity of the physical body.
His son had died long ago; his body died in 1980, and his soul in 1981.
What lived in that body then was Rose and Edward's son, "Cohen Norton," perhaps only a small part of him.
It was all "Cohen," yet not entirely Cohen.
Like a cruel joke of fate, it was very "magical."
"This research is probably no different from the previous 'Bottle Man' experiment," Cohen said. "The key lies with Rose and Edward."
"After you destroyed the entire manor, Rose and Edward came too…"
Herbert murmured, his voice matching the scene Cohen saw in his memory—it looked like a movie with narration.
"You were very unstable then, like a stitched-together rag doll, the blood of your soul flowing from the stitches… I told them that their child had been stolen by those researchers—but the soul was still alive… still alive in this new experimental subject…"
"They held you and cried—you were dying, I knew my Cohen had already left this world… but I still wanted to save you…"
Herbert's voice lowered.
"How did you save me?" Cohen asked, the scene of the memory transmitting from the tip of the wand into Cohen's mind.
"A spell—an evil spell that harms one's own soul—I wanted to mend you up…" Herbert stared blankly at Cohen, as if looking at his former child. "One mistake always leads to more mistakes… I tore my own soul apart—to mend you, but it wasn't enough—far from enough… You…"
"Too badly shattered," Cohen said in a deep voice. "You told Edward and Rose about that spell, didn't you?"
"…"
Herbert nodded, as if he had used up all his strength.
"I didn't tell Rose the truth—I felt I deserved it, if I had refused to hand over your body… if I hadn't helped them complete the previous experiments… if I had been ruthless enough not to hesitate before they planned to harm Rose's child…"
Everything made sense now.
Why were there so many fragments of souls on the ruins of Burke Manor? Why was Edward's soul strength only ten points? Why did Rose and Edward love Cohen so much? Why had they never brought Cohen to see Herbert all these years…?
A mended soul will eventually scatter, just as a shattered mirror can never be perfectly pieced back together.
The soul that Edward and Rose pieced together shattered last year, which is why the current Cohen—this transmigrated stowaway—had to take it in.
While the soul from another world wasn't powerful enough, it was stable, which allowed "Cohen" to survive.
Nicolas Flamel was wrong; "love" didn't keep the little man in the bottle alive.
But he was also right; "love" allowed the little man in the bottle to live to eleven years old; otherwise, "Cohen" would have died before the transmigrator came to take him in.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in Cohen's mind—it was "his own" voice, but he was certain he hadn't said these words.
[I feel like I'm going to die…]
[I know I'm an evil monster—]
[Fairy tales say evil monsters always die…but I'm not afraid…]
[But Mom and Dad love me…I don't want them to see me die…If possible, I hope another soul can take my place and stay with them…]
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(End of Chapter)