Chapter 1643 Dissipating Sentiments <TOC> Chapter 1645 Psychological State
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Translator: SumTLMan
Cherie’s matter had been taken care of, fulfilling Canter’s entrusted task.
With Antonio around, emotional turmoil was unlikely to spread. However, regarding the issue of emotions within the circle of fragrance alchemists, that would have to wait until tomorrow when Canter and Sanye discuss compensation. Only then could they see if the alchemists specializing in fragrance studies would accept the terms.
With matters temporarily resolved on this end, Angel returned to the estate. The first thing he did upon his return was to venture into the Wilderness of Dreams.
Previously, he had surreptitiously used the Dream Conch to pull the House of Hearts into this dreamy expanse. Now was the time to put it to the test.
Secluded within an enigmatic room on the upper floor of his Sin Laboratory, Angel gazed intently at the House of Hearts laid out on the table before him.
The appearance of this particular House of Hearts was identical to the one he had previously observed in Sanye’s possession, and it too was imbued with a subtle aura of illusion. Even without conducting any tests, Angel was convinced that the House of Hearts would serve some purpose.
However, while the House of Hearts could potentially be beneficial, whether it could specifically assist Toby remained an unanswered question.
Angel felt the need to personally explore it for a conclusive answer.
Without hesitation, Angel activated the House of Hearts. Bathed in a soft red light, he felt a momentary sensation of weightlessness. When he regained his focus from that transient daze, he found himself standing before the House of Hearts.
As before, at the end of a winding path lay the House of Hearts.
Even before approaching, he was already greeted by the powerful scent of flowers. This kind of fragrance had the ability to alleviate one’s emotional tension, but since Angel himself wasn’t tense, the floral scent had no effect on him.
He leisurely followed the dark, serpentine path that flanked both sides, walking towards the House of Hearts which stood solemnly amidst the shadowy chaos.
As he moved along the narrow path, the darkness on either side seemed to be tinged by his halo of light, gradually shedding its dull veneer to reveal faint, nebulous outlines.
“The illusions are quite natural, almost excessive,” Angel observed softly, looking at the blurry silhouettes surrounding him.
Then, Angel continued to walk forward. He hadn’t gone far when his steps faltered once more.
Again, he saw a fleeting shadow pass across the window of the wooden house.
“Could this be the obsession in my heart?” Angel wondered to himself, curiosity piqued as he proceeded forward. As Angel drew closer to the House of Hearts, the indistinct outlines around him began to take form.
The moment Angel stood in front of the entrance to the House of Hearts, his surroundings changed entirely.
He was no longer standing at the doorway of that wooden house but before an exquisitely crafted wooden door.
The place he was in was no longer a winding, narrow path… Angel looked back; he was in a lavishly decorated corridor. It was as if, in a blink of an eye, he had transitioned from outdoors to indoors.
A glimmer of mysterious light flashed through Angel’s eyes.
He was actually quite familiar with this corridor. It was the second-floor hallway of Pat Manor, and the door before him was the one to his room when he resided there.
“Did the House of Hearts simulate my room?” Angel reached out to feel the intricate design on the door. “Is this tactile realism due to some emotional illusion deceiving my innermost memories? Or has it extracted those memories from the depths of my heart?”
Angel didn’t dwell too much on this issue, as it wasn’t the focal point of his concerns for the day. With a slight push, he effortlessly swung the door open.
As the door yielded, Angel had expected to see the embodiment of his own preoccupations sitting inside, yet found nothing of the sort.
The room was barren, devoid of anyone.
Walking in, Angel noted that the format of the space mirrored his own room exactly.
It felt as if he had truly returned home. First, he sat at his desk, leafing through the books of yesteryear. Then, he ambled around the room for a moment before finally arriving at the bedroom.
The bedroom was still empty, yet a certain disquiet emanated from one spot: the mirror beside the bed.
At first glance, the freestanding mirror seemed innocuous. However, as Angel observed from a distance, he realized that it didn’t reflect the bed before it. Instead, it was an impenetrable darkness, as if it were a gateway to some shadowy realm.
Staring at this mirror, Angel seemed to be reminded of something, his expression subtly turning grave.
“Could it be him?” Angel murmured softly to himself, slowly approaching the mirror.
Just as he was about to make contact with the glass, a voice resonated from behind him: “Are you certain you wish to proceed?”
The voice had a somber undertone, yet it was a timbre all too familiar to Angel. He paused in his tracks, turning to look back. Unbeknownst to him, someone had appeared at the doorway of his bedroom.
The figure before him was a man dressed in burgundy formal attire, tall and slender with fair skin, crowned by a halo of golden hair, and eyes as blue as an oceanic expanse.
Handsome, noble, and elegant.
However, when Angel looked at him, it felt as though he was gazing into a mirror. The person opposite him was a spitting image of himself, with the only differences being their attire and the look in their eyes. His own reflection had eyes that were far more inscrutable, as if echoing a dark, cosmic abyss.
“Who are you?” Angel hesitated for a moment, “Are you a manifestation of my obsessions? Or, are you a demon that haunts me?”
“You could think of me that way. Didn’t you come here to meet me?” The Red-Clad Angel replied calmly.
“What is that, then?” Angel pointed towards the mirror in the bedroom.
“You should have an inkling of the answer, shouldn’t you? That is also you, but a different version of you,” the red-clad Angel took a step back and sat down on the sofa, “Are you sure you want to confront him now? You should know that he has already transcended certain boundaries; he may very well turn his attention towards you.”
“Rather than venturing into the unknown, why not have a chat with me?” The red-clad Angel paused, then pointed a finger toward the front door, “Of course, you can leave at any time if you wish.”
Witnessing this, Angel felt a subtle revelation brewing within him.
Inner demons are not typically so accommodating; the person before him was definitely not his inner demon.
Just as he had told Sanye, he indeed didn’t have an inner demon capable of manifesting into a haunting force. More likely, this red-clad Angel before him was a fusion of emotions, memories, and lingering attachments.
Given the other party’s identity, Angel could surmise why they would want to obstruct him.
However, Angel disregarded their advice and continued to walk toward the mirror. When he looked into it, just as he had suspected, he didn’t see any person. Instead, he saw a familiar darkness and an aura from the Nightmare Plane that seemed almost ready to burst forth from the mirror’s surface.
Indeed, this mirror had something to do with… Shava.
Angel once had a dream where he saw another version of himself in the mirror within his room. But it wasn’t his real-world self; it was another version of him that existed in the Nightmare Plane.
In the House of Hearts, a simulation of this very mirror had been created.
Was it because this was his greatest inner concern?
Angel didn’t linger in front of the mirror. Even though it was just a simulated mirror created by the House of Hearts, as his obsession suggested: the entity in the Nightmare Plane transcended laws and might actually sense his presence. And Angel wasn’t yet prepared to confront this entity directly.
So, he withdrew.
“It seems you’ve made your choice. Would you like to talk with me?” said the red-clad Angel, sitting on the sofa with a wine glass in hand. However, the transparent glass wasn’t filled with wine but a pure white liquid exuding a strong scent of milk.
Angel shook his head and proceeded straight to the doorway: “No need. If you didn’t plan on showing up in the first place, then you already know that there’s no necessity for us to meet.”
Since it wasn’t a full-fledged inner demon, Angel didn’t care about this manifestation of his obsession. He didn’t need to negotiate with it, for he knew himself all too well. No one could understand his emotions, desires, and obsessions better than he did.
The red-clad Angel smiled, raised his glass in a nod toward Angel, and then slowly faded away.
Chapter 1643 Dissipating Sentiments <TOC> Chapter 1645 Psychological State