Jorgen-20

Renner sat on a chair, waiting for someone.

Chair, table, bed, tightly closed window, cracks on the walls, the shed exoskeletons of unnamed insects in the corners. These were the only things in the room. However, it was enough to distinguish it from a cave. Renner knew that the iron cell he had spent day and night in for the past few years was just a cave, where only stagnant air and hallucinated iron chains accompanied him—less comfortable than even an animal's food-storing nest. He looked out the window; in the distance, there were other houses and towers, piled up in a way unfamiliar to him, as if they would continue indefinitely, leaving the sight far behind. He imagined if he opened the window now, jumped out, and advanced in the same direction, would he eventually penetrate through these conglomerates of stones and wood to the outside world? Outside of Stromgarde. But for now, he wouldn't do that because Jorgen told him to wait for now.

When the guards arrested Lawrence, Renner was also present. "You! You! Come and help me!" Lawrence resisted the guards trying to put shackles on him, shouting at Renner not far away. "I'm not a traitor. I gave your prince so many priceless things. How dare you insult me with this term..."

Lawrence's continuous shouting raised the guards' concerns, and they told Renner, "This is an order from Prince Galin and Lord Jorgen. We are here on their orders." Even without this statement, Renner wouldn't help Lawrence. He didn't know why Lawrence thought he would go up and knock down those guards, smashing the shackles. Renner understood that when someone asked for help, they usually showed a sincere and somewhat anxious look, but Lawrence's expression at the time was closer to a convict facing execution on the gallows. Because he shouted too loudly, the guards had to stuff a cloth into his mouth.

Later, Jorgen took Renner out of the iron cell and told him he could leave Stromgarde. At that moment, what Renner experienced might not necessarily be joy but a sense of release. Every time on the execution ground, what he saw beyond the high walls was no longer just visually meaningful. He had the opportunity to understand what kind of journey he had taken, what kind of days and nights he had experienced before dying. Although Jorgen didn't explicitly say it, Renner knew he wouldn't have complete freedom for now. But at the moment, he wasn't very interested in this concept.

"There is one thing you must consider carefully," Jorgen said. "You said you wanted to see Crecyda. Now, I can arrange for you to see her. This is something that must be done in secret because Galin doesn't want it to happen. I am preparing to take you both out of Stromgarde, but that doesn't mean you have to meet immediately. The key is you, Renner. I must first seek your opinion before asking Crecyda."

"Why do you have to ask me first?"

"If this meeting happens, Crecyda will inevitably show strong emotions. This is not surprising, but I will try to ask her to calm down. I believe she can control herself for the greater good. But you are different, Renner. You are full of unstable elements. No one can predict how you will react to seeing your past wife—according to Lawrence's plan, you shouldn't meet any past relatives. He didn't study the possible effects on you from this kind of thing at all. As for me, I am familiar with your past self, know how different it is from your present self, so I cannot simply view this as arranging a meeting between old friends and a wife. Let me ask you some practical questions: first, do you still think it's very necessary to see her?"

"I think... somewhat. Although the idea is not as strong now, when I first talked to you about it, I did feel an irresistible urge to see her."

"Well, if hallucinations occur during the meeting, what will you do at that time?"

"I will do my best to prevent it from affecting me. When I first met you, I also saw some things. But I think I restrained myself."

"Okay, I believe you can do it. Anyway, sooner or later, you two will meet, so if it must happen now, I hope you are ready. I will now go and tell Crecyda, then arrange a time and place for you two."

Jorgen had just turned to leave but stopped again. "My original plan was to have a third party present when you meet. I changed my mind half a minute ago, even though I still think it's too risky. Like I said just now, you are the unstable one, so if you find yourself mentally unfit during the meeting, immediately ask her to leave. I will warn her beforehand. Understand?"

"I understand. Thank you."

"I am doing this not only for you. Although I cannot foresee the consequences, at the very least, be careful not to hurt her. I'm not talking about mentally—that is unavoidable. I will do my best to get you closer to your past self, but you also have to prove that you have this ability. If something unexpected happens to Crecyda during this meeting, I will have to reconsider the whole thing."

Renner understood that this statement was not a reminder or a warning but a command. Jorgen had to consider not only him but also others. Renner currently found it difficult to consciously consider others—he couldn't even grasp himself. Hesitating to kill the pregnant woman on the execution ground might have resulted in injury, but it might not have been entirely a bad thing. He knew he needed to learn to recognize the existence of others.

At that moment, Renner heard footsteps approaching from the west end of the corridor, gradually reaching the door of the small room. It was a woman, with light and soft footsteps, not those of a guard. When she was about three steps away from the door, there was a slightly longer pause in her footsteps, revealing the breath of the owner. In this brief pause, she took a total of nine breaths, increasingly rapid. After a deep inhale during the fifth breath, there was a brief two-second pause, then a gradual calming until the footsteps continued. Renner was highly sensitive to the changes in human breathing. On the execution ground, he listened and understood the breathing patterns of the condemned in various situations: before futilely picking up weapons to counterattack, or stiffly huddled in the back watching comrades fall one by one, or realizing that they were about to die in the next second. What Renner heard now was a breathing pattern he had never experienced. Although urgent and anxious, it had a crucial difference from battlefield breathing—he didn't sense despair. He could almost envision a woman slowly approaching, eyes not fixed on the front of the corridor but on the room's door getting closer. When there was a short distance from the door, the tension forced her to stop; she would lower her eyes, perhaps placing a hand on her chest, not to calm the nervousness, but to firm her determination. Now, she stood in front of that door.

She was Crecyda, Renner thought. She used to be a phantom in the night, a name he nostalgically remembered without reason, but now she had become a living person, breathing and pausing just outside the reddish-brown wooden door not far away. She was his past wife, someone who knew the old him extremely well.

Renner stood up and walked to the door. Opening it and letting her in should be that simple. However, the breathing outside the door changed again—more restrained, faint. She must have heard her own footsteps, knowing he was standing behind the door. Perhaps she needed more psychological preparation, Renner thought. But this wasn't just her issue. Jorgen's final command suddenly appeared in Renner's mind: Do not harm her. The only way to ensure this didn't happen was not to open the door.

He saw a spider crawl in through the crack in the door and fall to the ground.

If this door weren't there, they would have faced each other by now. Renner imagined how many doors the woman outside had opened and closed over these years before finally arriving just a step away from him. His wife. Her breathing. He should immediately open the last door separating them. Open the door, Renner. You make me feel ashamed, a failure. All those eyes staring, and now you're starting to show kindness. Whether she is a woman has nothing to do with you. Whether she is pregnant has nothing to do with you. Kill who you have to kill. I put in so much effort not to turn you into a useless mortal. You've disgraced my face. Jorgen said he hoped I would become a person. Lawrence said becoming a person was meaningless and embarrassing for him. I don't believe him. Renner pressed his face with his right hand. No mask today.

Crecyda knew Renner was behind the door. At this moment, she suddenly felt resentful towards Jorgen, although she knew it was unfair. Jorgen emphasized so much caution, be careful, and possible accidents. She didn't want to fixate on all these things in her mind. She was here to meet her husband, not attending some meticulously planned social event—she hoped that whatever the result, everything would happen naturally. The overall situation, plans, she had had enough of these things. Jorgen was her most important benefactor, but she couldn't help complaining about him in her heart. Reuniting with Renner, whether in simple ecstasy or hopeless breakdown, she would wholeheartedly accept. This was not something rational pre-planning could influence.

She took a final deep breath, raised her right hand, ready to knock on the door. Just at that moment, the door opened, causing a small gust of wind beside her. She saw his face.

Crecyda didn't need to compare the man in front of her with the images in her memory. It was like many years ago when she opened the door for him to come home, that familiar feeling overflowing her mind before seeing his face. A stream doesn't need a map to confirm it is about to merge into the ocean. A bird doesn't need a compass to guide it back to its nest. The person in front of her was Renner. His appearance might have changed slightly—seven years. They hadn't seen each other for seven years. Crecyda certainly didn't expect her husband to remain unchanged after seven years, but he was still him, without a doubt.

Now she was afraid that Renner wouldn't recognize her. She tried to search for any hints in Renner's eyes, and what she found made her increasingly uneasy. She couldn't deduce what it was—perhaps a kind of perplexed scrutiny. His eyes had a brilliance, but it couldn't be described as pleasant or uplifting. Why aren't you smiling, Renner? In my memory, you almost always had a smile. I survived the days of looking for you by recalling these smiles. That was my only request. As long as you can recognize me, you will definitely smile. That's how it has been in the ten years we lived together. 

Crecyda didn't see the smile she hoped to see. What she saw was Renner reaching out towards her headscarf—she hadn't taken it off since cutting her hair—"No," she said, suddenly jerking back and holding it with both hands. Her slightly calmed heart began to beat violently again, but this time not because of anticipation, but an unfounded panic. She hated herself for feeling such emotions.

Next, Crecyda noticed disappointment on Renner's face. This made her mood even more conflicting because perhaps it was this disappointment that proved Renner still remembered her.