AWB Chapter 428 [Empire] Are you still there?
Chapter 428 [Empire] Are you still there?
Nightingale still stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his body slightly hunched, as if unable to support himself. His eyes were unfocused, as if he was staring at something, yet seeing nothing. That deep, empty gaze made my heart sink. The air seemed to freeze, and time stood still at that moment.
I stood by the window, tucked away in a dark corner, my eyes fixed on his every move. There was no sound, save for the occasional whistle of the wind in the distance. Everything seemed eerily still. The nightingale's silhouette gradually faded into the morning light, and the loneliness and exhaustion that enveloped him, like a thin mist, seemed almost palpable.
His hands unconsciously clenched into fists, as if trying to grasp something, yet seemingly unable to grasp anything. After a moment, he slowly raised his head, his gaze vacantly gazing into the distance, as if some unsolved mystery lay hidden there. His expression showed no emotion, only a hint of weariness, as if the entire world weighed heavy on him.
I still stood there, holding my breath and watching. No matter how slight the change was, I didn't want to miss it.
Is there a secret hidden behind all this, a secret I've never known? Perhaps Nightingale isn't completely without weaknesses. Perhaps he's already tired, but no one can see. Why has he been hiding it so deeply, so well, that even I, his "companion" by his side, have never noticed?
Suddenly, Nightingale's shoulders trembled slightly, as if he sighed, and he slowly withdrew his gaze. He stood there for a moment, then turned and went back into the house. The door closed silently, as if the whole world had returned to peace.
But I know that Nightingale's world is no longer peaceful, at least not the cold and ruthless Nightingale I knew. He may have a knot that cannot be untied, and that knot may have always been in his heart, lingering.
I stood there, his image echoing in my mind, unable to calm down for a long time. No one knew his fragility, no one knew his loneliness, and I, perhaps, had never truly understood him.
I remained silent, quietly moving to another window and continuing my observation. He didn't seem to do anything immediately after returning to the room. The dim light in the room cast a few faint rays through the gaps in the curtains. I could still sense the intense loneliness emanating from him, as if the entire world had left him, leaving him all alone.
I felt an inexplicable feeling within me, a desire to approach him, yet a fear of breaking through his hard shell. Nightingale had always been calm and independent, as if he never needed anyone's help. But in this moment, I saw a different Nightingale, one crumbling in the silence of the night. His vulnerability felt like a huge rock falling from my heart, heavy and unbearable.
I couldn't help but ask myself again, why do I continue to observe him? Is it out of curiosity, or some unspoken connection? But when I put this question to heart, the answer seems to become vague. I'm not sure, maybe it's both.
Nightingale stood by the window, still motionless. His gaze darted across the empty room, as if searching for something, or waiting for something. I didn't dare approach him, knowing that if I crossed that line, everything might be different. Perhaps he didn't need my interruption, perhaps he simply needed to be alone, to process his own pain.
Suddenly, Nightingale reached out and gently parted a corner of the curtain, his gaze fixed on a distant point. His eyes remained unfocused, as if drawn away by something. My heart raced, and I could almost sense his utter isolation, almost forgetting to breathe.
He stood there, slightly bent, as if trying to hold on to something, or perhaps giving up something. In that moment, I could see the faint tremor in his shoulders, as if the emotions he had suppressed for so long were finally breaking free. All of this was completely different from the Nightingale I knew.
I stood outside the window, my heartbeat growing increasingly rapid. Should I approach? I could feel an urge deep within me, but reason held me back. Perhaps Nightingale didn't need my intervention; perhaps he simply needed time to face all this alone.
Nightingale lowered his head and turned his back to the window. I heard his soft sigh, which was almost heavy and overflowed from his chest.
I know that this scene may just be a release for him, but for me, it may be a choice that cannot be reversed.
At that moment, my heart felt like it was being pulled by an invisible force. Stay? Go? I stood behind the shelter, my body tense, yet I had nowhere to go. My mind was in a turmoil, and my heartbeat was beating rapidly in my chest like a drum. It seemed that every decision required tremendous courage.
Nightingale still stood by the window, his back to me, silent. His shoulders shook slightly, as if he were bearing some immense pressure, perhaps from within, or perhaps imperceptible to the outside world. At that moment, he seemed so fragile, so fragile that it made my heart soften.
I didn't dare move, only staring at him silently. Even in the darkness, I didn't take my eyes off him, afraid to miss even the slightest change in his movements. The air seemed to freeze, and every breath I took became particularly heavy.
"Why?" I asked myself silently, why I didn't want to leave, why even though I knew I was in a dangerous situation that could be noticed by Nightingale, I still couldn't choose to leave.
But even so, I hesitated to act. Was it fear? Or was it some deep-seated attachment that kept me from fleeing this moment? I couldn't answer.
He slowly turned from the window, and in that moment, I almost forgot to breathe. His eyes were deep and empty, as if he had no awareness of my gaze. He simply paused, turned, and walked to another part of the room.
At that moment, I finally decided that I couldn't stay there any longer.
I quickly took a few steps back, tiptoeing to avoid any possible noise. But then, the light computer on my wrist suddenly vibrated, like a hard slap in the face. It was a message from Nightingale, short and straightforward: "Are you still there?"
Instantly, my heart leaped into my throat.