(Finally, there's one... who seems approachable?)
Black Herta approached slowly, holding a sliver of hope in her heart.
She gently paced around Hyacine, observing her.
The other party was frozen like a statue, completely unresponsive to her arrival, with even the rise and fall of her breath too faint to notice.
"Hyacine?" Black Herta called out tentatively, her voice especially clear on the empty Cloud Sea Platform.
There was no response.
"Can you hear me?"
Still silence.
"I came to..." Black Herta changed her approach, adopting a subtly guiding tone.
Hyacine maintained her praying posture, her bowed head showing no sign of lifting, as if her consciousness had long since sunk into another dimension, merging with the dim, yellow sky.
Black Herta sighed softly in frustration, a flicker of disappointment in her purple-black eyes.
Yet another existence immersed in their own world, unable to respond to external stimuli.
The "wounds" of these Golden Descendants were far deeper and more complex than she had anticipated.
She took one last look at the kneeling figure, who seemed to bear endless sorrow and prayers, before turning and leaving. Her form gradually faded and disappeared from the high-altitude platform.
However, shortly after Black Herta left, Hyacine, who had been still as a stone carving, suddenly changed.
She slowly raised her head.
But what was revealed was not her original emerald-like eyes.
Instead, it was a swirling vortex formed by countless layers of various bizarre colors stacked upon one another!
Like a kaleidoscope, yet imbued with a chilling, inhuman quality.
They held no focus, merely gazing blankly at the dim, eerie sky above.
[Aglaea Space]
When Madam Herta stepped out of the teleportation gate and felt the soft fine sand beneath her feet, she found herself on a gray, misty beach.
The sky was piled high with heavy, lead-gray clouds, pressing down low, as if cold rain could fall at any moment.
Dark blue waves roared dully, repeatedly washing the coastline, leaving behind white foam before quickly retreating, repeating endlessly with a sense of oppressive eternity.
Her gaze was quickly drawn to a solitary figure on the beach.
It was a woman with dazzling golden hair, sitting in a wheelchair.
The wheelchair was antique in style, but above the backrest hovered a complex, fan-shaped symbol emitting a faint green light, rotating slowly. It was completely out of place against the grim seascape, hinting at a sense of mystery.
(Aglaea...? Why is she in a wheelchair?)
A question arose in Black Herta's mind.
What concerned her more was that although the other party did not seem as violent as Anaxa, nor as completely withdrawn as Haiseyin, her intuition told her that the aura emanating from this Chrysos Heir carried a hidden depth that could not be underestimated—even giving off a "don't mess with me" vibe.
She calmed her mind and approached cautiously, her high heels leaving shallow prints in the sand.
She walked to Aglaea's side and carefully observed her face—fortunately, her features were delicate and her complexion normal; she wasn't the twisted monster Black Herta had imagined, which allowed Black Herta to secretly breathe a sigh of relief.
Aglaea seemed completely unaware of Black Herta's arrival. Her emerald eyes were vacant and lifeless, fixedly staring at the horizon where the sea met the sky, as if waiting for something, or perhaps having already seen through everything.
Her lips trembled slightly, as if she were silently speaking of something.
Black Herta leaned in to listen, but the sound of the waves was too disruptive; she could only catch some indistinct syllables.
She couldn't help but lean closer and quietly ask, "What are you saying?"
Aglaea's eyes slowly rotated, and her vacant gaze finally focused, landing on Black Herta.
Black Herta was slightly startled.
(A reaction!)
This was a major breakthrough!
The few she had visited before had either disappeared, fallen asleep, or completely ignored her.
Aglaea repeated clearly, in a voice that was utterly flat yet possessed a strange penetrating power: "I said... life is as fragile as a thread."
Her voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced the din of the waves like a cold needle.
After saying this, she cast her gaze back toward the distant sea, returning to her previous posture, as if the moment of eye contact had never happened.
Just as Black Herta wanted to strike while the iron was hot, continuing to press or attempt communication, she heard Aglaea look at the sea and add plainly, with a hint of subtle sarcasm:
"Are you deaf?"
Black Herta: "..."
Her purple-black eyes widened slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitched uncontrollably.
(Good heavens... not only does this one react, but she also curses?)
She composed herself, deciding not to argue with someone whose mental state was (perhaps) unstable.
She tried asking a few more questions, such as "Do you know where you are?" and "Do you need help?" but Aglaea was like an old monk in meditation, offering no further response, completely treating her as air.
(Fine, at least I got one line of communication... even if it wasn't pleasant.)
Black Herta shook her head helplessly, giving up on making any further progress here. Her figure slowly dissipated on the gray beach.
[Cipher Space]
Carrying the frustration of her previous failed visits, Black Herta stepped into the space marked "Cipher."
The light suddenly became bright and warm, causing her to instinctively squint.
Before her was a scene full of vitality.
The sun was bright, the grass was lush, a clear stream babbled, and unknown wildflowers bloomed on the banks. The air was filled with the fragrance of grass and soil.
This was a world of difference compared to the oppressive grayness of the previous spaces.
(The art style here... is a bit off, isn't it?)
Black Herta muttered internally.
Her gaze quickly locked onto a figure sitting on a small stool by the stream, holding a fishing rod.
It was a girl who looked full of life, completely focused on the water's surface, humming an off-key tune.
Black Herta cautiously stepped forward and greeted her, "Hello?"
Cipher turned her head at the sound, revealing a face with bright, clear eyes, and responded naturally, "Oh, hello there!"
Her tone was relaxed and cheerful.
Black Herta was surprised again.
(Not only can she communicate, but her attitude is so normal?)
Among the Golden Descendants, who were either mad or silent, she was truly a breath of fresh air.
"Do you know me?" Black Herta asked tentatively.
Cipher tilted her head and looked her over, shaking her head decisively: "No, I don't. Who are you?"
Black Herta tried chatting with Cipher for a while, the topics being nothing more than everyday small talk like "The weather is really nice today" and "Have you eaten yet?"
Cipher answered smoothly, her tone lively. She even complained that the sun was a bit strong, radiating an aura of vibrant energy.
(Everyone else is suffering, yet this one is here enjoying a pastoral idyll?)
Black Herta complained internally, finding the situation quite miraculous.
"What are you doing here?" Black Herta asked the key question, looking at her fishing rod.
Cipher gave her a "Duh, why ask?" look and retorted crossly, "Fishing! Isn't that obvious?"
Black Herta's gaze fell on her rod—the thin pole extended toward the water, but the end... was completely empty. There was no fishing line... (So, Schrödinger's fish?)
Black Herta strongly suppressed the urge to rub her forehead, choosing not to expose the obvious absurdity on the spot.
She found Cipher's state increasingly intriguing.
"Why are you fishing?" Black Herta continued, playing along.
"To eat, of course!" Cipher answered matter-of-factly, then a hint of concern appeared on her face. "My grandma isn't feeling well, so I need to catch some fresh fish to nourish her."
As she spoke, she impatiently waved her hand at Black Herta, "Ugh, don't bother me here, you're scaring the fish away! Go on, shoo!"
Black Herta watched her serious "fishing" posture and the natural expression when she mentioned her grandmother, feeling a mix of emotions.
The "confinement" of this Chrysos Heir seemed to manifest in a uniquely different way. She wasn't enduring direct suffering, but rather living in a self-deceptive, seemingly normal yet illusory daily life.
(From the looks of it, her condition is stable, perhaps even... 'good'?)
Black Herta felt that Cipher was worth further observation; perhaps her "normalcy" was itself a breakthrough point.
"Alright, I won't disturb you then." Black Herta readily complied, saying with a smile, "I wish you... good luck catching a big fish."
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