Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

Chapter 242 The Regretful Gift

Raindrops struck the colorful stained glass of the small church, and amidst the incessant sound of the rain, two people, half a century apart in age, continued their conversation.

Shard pondered the direction of the topic and then spoke,

"Speaking of which, I'm curious why Mr. Worsent wasn't buried with the rest of the Worsent family, but instead by you..."

Shard paused appropriately.

"Back then, he wanted to marry me, but everyone in the family opposed it. When we got married, Earl Old Watsont said that my husband would never set foot in the Worsent family cemetery. It was as hot that summer as this year, he was the son of the Earl, and I was just a girl from the poor slums of Tobesk. So many years have passed..."

The old woman's eyes widened, her rims slightly moist. Mr. Watson the Ghost had no expression on his face, leaving Shard uncertain whether it was due to a lack of soul resulting in emotional deficiency, or intentional restraint.

That nearly half-century-old love story, occurring between a young man and woman, was probably more thrilling than the murders that followed. However, no matter how sweet, love eventually deteriorates with time. Perhaps some can maintain it, but the elderly woman before him had not managed to do so.

The world of strangers truly holds countless stories, everything seen this afternoon to an outsider was merely a glimpse into the world. He could not witness all the stories, nor could he judge this romance—it belonged to others.

"Do you dream of him?"

The outsider asked softly, the old woman engrossed in her memories and past lightly nodded:

"Countless times, dreaming of our encounter on the summer streets, dreaming of our decent wedding, dreaming of him taking his savings to start a factory with me, dreaming of... that rainy night."

Shard, Mr. Mason the Ghost, and Mr. Watson the Ghost all looked at the old woman; she stopped talking, and the two ghosts then turned to Shard, who quietly said:

"Sorry, that rainy night?"

His voice was very soft, leaning slightly to show he was listening intently. His eyes looked into the cloudy eyes of the old woman, believing that Mrs. Worsent could see her own aged face within his gaze. This was actually a hypnosis technique; Shard had seen something similar when he first acquired Dr. Schneider's notebook, the doctor seemed proficient at this.

Though Shard was only a First Ring Circle Sorcerer and his so-called hypnosis more like mental suggestion, the technique was highly effective when conversing with an old, frail person with significant emotional fluctuations.

"Yes, that rainy night, that liquor, that argument..."

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply.

While the murder was not mentioned, this was enough proof that she had not forgotten what happened that night.

Even as an outsider, Shard felt melancholic over this love and hatred spanning over thirty years. He turned again to the two ghosts, Mr. Mason the Ghost with eyes closed shaking his head like a sister, while Mr. Watson the Ghost, who was murdered by his wife, showed a gentle smile:

"Over thirty years, she kept this secret, living alone in that house, it must have been hard for her. She's old now and knows she doesn't have many years left, so she finally managed to get me out from behind the basement wall. I've been freed, and for her, it's also a release."

These words, Mrs. Worsent couldn't hear, only the outsider Shard could.

But to Shard, none of the three could truly be freed—Mr. Worsent was killed for his infidelity, Mrs. Worsent watched her brother go to prison and kept the secret alone for thirty years, and Mr. Mason was the most innocent, likely the least capable of accepting the truth.@@@@

Thinking this, Shard glanced at the church they were in. If Mr. Mason the Ghost, because of his great emotional upheaval, dared to turn into an evil spirit here, he wouldn't even need Shard to intervene; he would naturally experience what is the power of the True God.

Fortunately, the spirit that deeply loved the old woman before him ultimately did not change. It opened its eyes, looked at its sister for a few seconds, shook its head, and turned to walk toward the church door.

Shard sighed and stood up:

"Then I shall take my leave for now, Mrs. Worsent. I will remember nothing of this conversation."

The old woman, with her eyes closed and tears remaining, paid him no heed. Shard did not look back at her again but instead put his hands in his pockets and joined Mr. Worsent's ghost to walk towards the church door, catching up to Mr. Mason's ghost.

Mrs. Worsent's servant had also prepared an umbrella for Shard and asked if he wanted to return to the city with them. However, Shard declined their kind offer, holding the umbrella and walking with the two ghosts into the cemetery's rain.

The winding stone path, lying between the graves like a trickling stream, saw Mr. Worsent and Mr. Mason's spirits fading, about to depart.

"What are you thinking now?"

Shard asked curiously. To him, this was merely someone else's story, but for the two ghosts, it was their lifetimes.

Walking along the stone path towards Zone Three, in the rainy weather, the cemetery was deserted, but Shard truly enjoyed the sound of the rain.

"Back then, for what I believed was the best outcome, I willingly gave up my original life. Now that the story has really come to an end, I want to know what it would have been like if I hadn't given up."

The ghost of Mr. Worsent, who had burst his points, said nothing, Shard shook his head, drew the next card, "Carsonrick Folklore: Moon Dance Festival," Sunflower 4.

18+4=22 points, he glanced at the card at the bottom of the deck, it wasn't of the Moon suit. Therefore, since Mr. Mason's cards contained only Moon 7, it indeed didn't exceed 7 points. Per the special rule, his total points were adjusted to 1.

Mr. Mason won, even though he had already won.

"Have you ever regretted it?"

Looking at the Moon Dance Festival card in Shard's hands, which originally belonged to him, Mr. Worsent's ghost inquired probing his companion.

Mr. Mason gently shook his head, also looking at Mr. Worsent:

"I think, it doesn't matter anymore."

The bodies of the ghosts rapidly lost color, and the chilly sensation emanating from them also dispersed.

Under this old tree, in this rain, they waved to Shard together:

"Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, wish you peace throughout your life."

"Thank you for everything in the end, wish you always draw the cards you want."

Shard blinked, and they quietly disappeared.

The wind was still blowing, and the rain was still falling. Shard held the playing cards in his hand, silently watching the rain over the graveyard. For a long while, he didn't speak:

"This story... tell Miss Luisa to judge it."

"Perhaps you should take a look down." Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

So he looked down at the deck, the "Carsonrick Folklore: Moon Dance Festival" card emitted a faint white light, then gradually subsided.

"What is this?"

"You can understand it as, this is a gift to you from two ghosts. As they are too weak, it's not of much use, but when you add this card to your deck, whenever you want, you can always draw this card from the top, limited to only this card. The duration is approximately one year, after all, they are too weak."

Shard stared at the card in his hands:

"Not a Circle Sorcerer, they also have special powers?"

"Souls that linger in the world after death must have a special reason. As for the power, haven't you said it yourself? It's a mortal's notion that can influence the real world."

Shard did not know what to say, standing under the tree shuffling the cards, then he looked up into the seemingly unending rain. After a while, he stopped shuffling, his right hand holding the deck, his left hand on the first card:

"I want the Moon Dance Festival."

He reinforced this wish in his mind, then turned over the first card—

At the top of the card were three round moons, and beneath the moon on the grass, people surrounded a bonfire, striking various bizarre poses.

"Carsonrick Folklore: Moon Dance Festival," Sunflower 4.

Shaking his head, he put the playing cards back into his pocket, bent down to pick up the umbrella, and returned to the small path.

He didn't look back; his figure grew more distant in the rain.

In this world, Shard had not yet faced a situation like those two ghosts, where he would think of regret before death. Similarly, he hoped he never would. The ruins he was destined to visit tomorrow, he did not want to regret his withdrawal postmortem.

"Others' stories have ended."

"Outlander, your story is still very long."

The drizzling rain fell from the sky, landing on the leaves, splashing onto the green grass on the ground, then sliding down the leaves to the soil. In the distance, the figure of Shard receded, blurring until completely disappearing.