Jorgen-8

"Crecyda?" Jorgen wanted to confirm the name he heard.

"Yes," replied Renner.

Jorgen wasn't surprised that Renner remembered her. The key question was how much he remembered.

"You know her. I can tell," said Renner.

"In fact, we only met once, so I don't know her personally. But I know some of her experiences," Jorgen replied.

"Then you should be able to answer my question."

Jorgen was somewhat surprised by Renner's questioning tone. The scrutiny between them was mutual.

"Firstly, she... had a very close relationship with your past self. She was..."

"My wife. I know," interrupted Renner.

"You know?"

"Yes."

"So, what else do you want to ask me?"

"I know she's my wife, but..." Renner suddenly blinked his right eye, as if a needle pricked his brow. "Is that all? Shouldn't we have lived together for quite some time?"

"Yes. You shared a life for eleven or twelve years. Perhaps it wasn't very long for married couples in general, but it was challenging, especially since..."

"Especially since what?"

"You didn't voluntarily separate."

They fell silent for a long time. Jorgen realized he had opened a dangerous door, hinting that Renner's current state of life was the result of a series of persecutions. Despite cautioning himself to be careful before entering, Renner's question clearly exceeded the scope he could control. "We should have lived together for quite some time" – a hesitant yet hopeful judgment. This was the memory Renner wished to have. He had a wife, so they should have been together for a long time. Two people.

"You must know why I once lost consciousness," Renner said.

Jorgen's right thumb pressed against the side of his index finger. This was the question he least wanted to hear – as an agent of Section Seven, as Lawrence's collaborator, he didn't want to hear it. Renner questioning the essence of his current state was a failure for Detective Jorgen. But as a person, as someone who once considered Renner a friend and comrade, Jorgen felt a strong sense of release. He had been waiting, waiting for Renner to ask, but couldn't boldly guide him, like a pigeon fancier holding back a hope pigeon eager to soar into the sky. Renner's question presented a crucial choice to Jorgen. He thought he was here to make a unilateral judgment – the Undertaker or Renner – but now he faced a similar judgment himself: Section Seven detective or Jorgen. It wasn't a simple distinction of right or wrong, black or white.

"I do know," Jorgen said. "It was the Western East Plague Lands. A very dangerous place far from here. In a battle..."

"Were you there at that time?" Renner asked.

"Yes, I was there. We were jointly facing an enemy. We thought we had completely defeated it, but we hadn't. It counterattacked, targeting you."

"Was it my negligence?"

"Yes, you were careless and didn't evade its attack. It was a Death Knight, and the attack was fierce."

Jorgen should have stopped there, but he continued.

"I was very disappointed in you, Renner. An enemy that had already fallen once managed to defeat you again. It's a disgrace on the battlefield. I didn't want my comrade to make such a foolish mistake, but you did. All for the sake of reclaiming that ring. You relaxed, completely defenseless, just to retrieve the wedding ring you lost in battle."

"Why did I do that?"

"Who knows? When a person loses something, they naturally want to retrieve it, but it depends on the timing. It should never be on a battlefield where the danger hasn't been completely eliminated. Yet, you did. What's even more foolish is that, in the end, you didn't retrieve it, at least not that I saw. Even if you had found it, it had already fallen into Lake Darrowmere along with you. That's where everything began... and it's a part of the responsibility you have to bear."

Renner pressed his left eyelid. "You say I made a foolish mistake."

"Yes."

"Was I a terrible officer?"

"No, not at all. You were excellent. But people make mistakes. It's just that you made a crucial mistake at a critical moment, which is unforgivable."

"There must be a reason. I wouldn't do it without a reason. I... according to you, I did it for Crecyda..."

"No, if you made this mistake solely for Crecyda 'herself,' that could be understandable. But you went far beyond that. It was just a ring; without it, you wouldn't have lost anything. Yet, you insisted on bringing it to the battlefield, lost it, and risked your life to find it. These are three consecutive mistakes, three."

"But... the ring represents my connection with Crecyda..."

"If it weren't for Crecyda, you wouldn't have done this – you can draw that conclusion if you want."

Renner suddenly stood up and took a step forward. Before Jorgen could react, Renner pressed him against the iron wall behind with his elbow. Only at this moment did Jorgen recall the Undertaker's strength. If Renner wished, he could easily crush Jorgen's chest. The impact on the back of his head against the wall caused severe dizziness.

Renner didn't look at Jorgen. In fact, for the past two minutes, he seemed to be in a struggle with his own eyes. He didn't want to close them completely, but he also didn't want to use them to see things.

"Lawrence never says things that I don't understand. What are you talking about?" Renner asked.

"What... don't you understand?" Jorgen tried to push away Renner's elbow. "If you're a person, you should understand."

"You say I was attacked because of Crecyda. Should I hate her then? She's the one who harmed me..."

"No, you're wrong. It's quite the opposite. You love her; that's why you did this. That's how people are; no explanation is needed. Renner, you're not really a person now, because you've said something so foolish. You died trying to retrieve a wedding ring, yet you say you should hate your wife..."

"Death? I... died once?"

"We've been talking about losing consciousness, but it's a lie, Renner. Perhaps your heart has never stopped for a long time, but you've died once because the present you has forgotten the basics of everyone. That's death. I don't want to say it this way, and I don't want to hear it, but you did die once, and you're still a dead person. You can come back; there must be a way. You can come back."

"Jorgen."

"What?"

"There's a spider on your shoulder. Two of them."

"What nonsense are you talking about? I don't see anything."

"No... forget it. I just..."

Renner lowered his hands, moved slowly two steps backward.

"You say I love her."

"Yes. It can only be that way. Based on your past actions, there's no other possibility. Not every husband is like this, but you were. The past you."

"I've thought about it too. I thought Crecyda loved me. After all, she's my wife. Do you have a wife, Jorgen? In my memories..."

"No, I'm alone. But that doesn't mean I don't understand what's happening to you."

"Is Crecyda... still alive?"

"Yes, she's alive and well— at least as far as I know. She's looking for you. I've answered your questions, Renner, and that's all I know about Crecyda: she's alive, and she's looking for you."

"She must not be able to find this place."

"No, she's an ordinary person, ordinary people can't come in."

Renner returned to his original position.

"Jorgen, you said the attack... the one that killed me was a Death Knight. What is that?"

"A type of resurrected monster."

"Am I also that thing?"

"No, don't think that way. You're far different from them. They've... lost the chance to become human. But you still have it."

"Why do you want me to become human?"

"Don't ask me, Renner. Do you want it?"

"I don't know," Renner said, lifting his head. "But I want to try. I want to see Crecyda, Jorgen. I don't know why, but I feel I can trust you. So help me, Jorgen. Let me see her."

At first, Galin didn't think much of Jorgen meeting Renner alone, but soon he became anxious, mostly because Jorgen was unaware of Crecyda's situation. If Jorgen found out, the situation would be difficult to handle—not about specific matters, but solely about Galin deceiving the messenger of the MI7. Thinking about this troublesome issue, Galin began to worry about what Jorgen might tell Renner. Perhaps Jorgen already knew Crecyda was in Stromgarde, deliberately pretending to be ignorant, and might exploit this to control Reina—there was a possibility, considering he was from the MI7. And Lawrence... he was also half of the MI7. No one could be trusted. No one told the truth.

After a series of perplexing thoughts, Galin decided to find Crecyda. Maybe talking to her first, having her speak favorably about him in front of Jorgen, was the safest strategy. But he had already boasted to Jorgen that he would strangle her. Regardless, he had to meet Crecyda, preferably before Jorgen.

"Where is Lady Crecyda?" he asked a maid in the corridor.

"She's in the bath, she..."

"Take me there."

"But..."

"Do you want to disobey orders?"

The maid quickly lowered her head and led Galin to a brownish-green door, opening it.

Galin entered the room, facing a short corridor. He walked to the end and lifted the curtain, slightly damp from the steam.

Crecyda stood inside the tub against the wall, seeming to have finished bathing but not yet dressed. She had her back turned to Galin, gazing outside through the lattice window. In her right hand, she held a towel, wiping her hair. From the top of her head to the neck, to the wet back hair. The black hair, now wet and shiny, glistened with a healthier luster. Droplets of water flowed down her hair, either absorbed by the towel or finally falling, dripping onto her skin, tinged red from the hot water.

Galin's initial thought was: the woman in front of him was once an "individual." However, he quickly associated it with other things. He had never told anyone, but he didn't want to bury these thoughts in memories. It wasn't just about Crecyda's body, but more about her hair and the way she looked out the window. The first time Galin saw Crecyda, he noticed that black hair, and his only impression was, "Very beautiful." However, when it clung to her moist skin—

Don't wait any longer, Mother. Stop looking outside, I beg you. Father will find out soon. He'll come quickly. We can't let him find out, Mother. I can't protect you much longer. Leave here, or else—

The sound of water droplets stirred Galin's thoughts back to the present. He saw Crecyda crouching in the tub, trembling, trying to cover her body, looking at him with an expression as if she had discovered a reef in a storm.

"Lady Crecyda," Galin took a step forward.

"Please don't come closer."

Galin frowned. He put his right thumb to his lips, but suddenly realized what he was doing and immediately put it down. He turned around and left, pulling the curtain closed.

Crecyda's heartbeat was fast. She tried her best to calm herself, but suddenly felt a sharp pain in her left waist. When she found Galin behind her just now and quickly crouched down, a small corner of the wall scratched her. A little blood floated in the water, like a lonely red thread floating in the air.