Confessions

In the first few moments upon opening his eyes, Jorgen's vision was obscured by a grayish-white haze, and his consciousness lagged behind his visual awakening. As he turned his head and glimpsed the glass window, he realized the earlier haze was a wall; the wall and the glass window brought his discernment back from the chaos, making him aware that he was in a "room." Then came the subtle itch in his nostrils as air flowed through, signaling a "breath." It was at this moment that Jorgen understood he was alive. Though he hadn't immediately grasped the extended period of unconsciousness he had experienced, he realized this awakening was different from the routine slumber: in the kind where one awakens daily, people exist in the same world before and after sleep, only with temporarily closed consciousness. But now, Jorgen seemed to rediscover a world entirely distinct from before sleep through his consciousness.

He was awake. He found himself in a spacious single-patient ward, and an intense instinct warned him not to move his limbs casually. Turning his head to the right, facing the door, he noticed a man standing outside leaning against the wall. The man turned his head, their eyes met, and he quickly left the doorway. Half a minute later, he returned with a doctor and a nurse. Judging by the medical attire, Jorgen recognized that he was in a Church hospital.

"How long has he been awake?" the doctor asked the man.

"Just now."

"Mr. Jorgen." The doctor stood by the bedside and raised his voice for the second time. "Mr. Jorgen."

"I can hear you," Jorgen said.

"It's excellent to see you wake up."

"Where am I?"

"Redemption Light Hospital. I need to perform some simple checks on you."

"How long have I been sleeping here?"

"Five days. Come, help Mr. Jorgen sit up a bit."

A nurse reached for Jorgen's pillow. Jorgen grabbed her wrist.

"Dalia... where is she?"

The nurse looked somewhat embarrassed as she glanced at the doctor. The doctor said, "Mrs. Dalia is in the next ward. Don't worry."

Jorgen pressed the edge of the bed with the palm of his hand, lifting his body. A sudden, intense pain momentarily halted his movement, but after a brief pause, he persisted in getting up, simultaneously moving his right leg out of the bed. The doctor and nurse rushed to stop him, wanting him to lie back down, but the man said, "Let him get up. Don't forget Lord Lindy instructed how it should be done." With that, he went to support Jorgen. The doctor could only stand aside, clasping his palms together in front of him. Lindy had instructed: if Jorgen woke up, nothing should prevent him from seeing Dalia.

"Who are you?" Jorgen asked the man assisting him.

"Lord Elin arranged for me to be your temporary guard."

Jorgen didn't say anything else and headed towards the door. The guard helped him out of the room. Jorgen looked around and found the entire corridor was very quiet, with several more guards not far away.

They arrived at the door of the next ward; Jorgen saw Dalia lying on the bed, eyes closed. He pushed the guard away and slowly entered the room. The guard gestured to the nurse who was originally in the room, and she left without a word. Before she exited, Jorgen asked, "Has she woken up?" The nurse shook her head and quickened her pace.

Jorgen sat down by the bedside. Since standing at the door, his gaze hadn't left her. Yet, at this moment, he didn't specifically look around; it was as if he had made an agreement with the invisible dust particles in the air, requesting them to create a tranquil, undisturbed space for him and Dalia. He reminded them not to surround Dalia, so as not to obscure the glow on her pale skin, representing the inner vitality. Then, he simply watched her, listening to her breath.

Inhale, exhale. Sunlight washed over, veins floated, and in the unseen places to the naked eye, the air perpetually existing in the process of an indescribable journey within the human body. The chest slightly expanded, then returned to calm. It was a miraculous process that had never ceased for millions of years, experienced by countless people simultaneously. In the symphony woven by the intertwining streets of Stormwind City, tens of thousands of people were experiencing it. Beyond Stormwind City, numerous others joined this concerto representing vitality, even if they were unaware of how miraculous breathing was. But for Jorgen at this moment, the only thing that mattered was that she was experiencing it. Dalia was breathing. 

She was alive.

Jorgen held her right hand, exposed outside the blanket. It was warm—not the kind of warmth one seeks when embracing a loved one, but it was sufficient. Jorgen recalled the moment he pulled her out of the pool, the chilling coldness on her skin that made his heart tremble, as if every raindrop lingering on her was stealing the warmth of her life. Those greedy, cunning droplets would never be satisfied—just being warmer than that moment was enough. Though her eyes were closed, it didn't frustrate Jorgen. As long as there was breathing, warmth in the palm, closed eyes were just a symbol of rest, nothing more. Let them remain closed.

"Dalia," Jorgen spoke but didn't continue. He realized that speaking in such a situation wasn't appropriate. He intended to keep his words.

After a few minutes, the guard at the door said, "Lord Jorgen." Jorgen didn't respond. The guard waited for several seconds and said again, "Lord Jorgen, someone has come to see you."

"Who?"

"Deza Galenmant. Actually... he's been waiting here since early this morning. I can ask him to leave for you."

Jorgen thought for a moment, kissed Dalia's hand, put it down, and left the room. Deza was standing not far away, facing away. He hadn't brought anyone, and his attire was simple. His nearly closed right eye squinted.

"Jorgen... Lord Jorgen." He spoke, the arrogance in his voice from their last meeting completely gone. Instead, there was an extreme fatigue of self-reflection, like someone who had experienced a painful career failure, only holding on with the last bit of willpower to prevent a complete collapse.

"You don't need to address me like that," Jorgen said.

Deza avoided Jorgen's gaze. "I hope to talk to you about... my son. No, I request to talk to you."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I... I can't stand the smell of the hospital, so I was on the rooftop early this morning, waiting for you to wake up. Can we go to the rooftop again?"

"Lord Deza, I'm afraid..." the guard said.

"Then let's go up," Jorgen interrupted the guard.

This building was one of the inpatient buildings of the Redemption Light, with a total of five floors. Jorgen and Dalia's room was on the fourth floor. After a while, the three of them arrived on the rooftop. Deza walked ahead, and the guard assisted Jorgen up the stairs. The former chief prosecutor's steps were not lighter than Jorgen's. On the rooftop, they could overlook the vast hospital grounds.

"Firstly... I want to apologize to you for my son." Deza said this from about ten yards away from Jorgen. The wind on the rooftop blew from behind him, lifting some of his grayish-white hair.

Jorgen did not reply.

"And for myself. I... used very inappropriate means to deceive you."

"Go on."

"I had Skeeny write that article. About... Mrs. Dalia and my son. I paid him to do it."

Jorgen frowned. "I've been asleep for five days, Lord Deza. If you have something to explain, try to make it clear, or I'm afraid I don't have enough mental capacity right now to understand what you're trying to say."

"I paid Skeeny to write that article, so I could have a reason to make you notice my son. I hoped you would drive my son away from Mrs. Dalia. Because... I feared he might do something. I knew he would, my son..."

"How did you and Skeeny meet?"

"We didn't know each other originally. One day he, along with another person, approached me, claiming my son killed a woman pregnant with his child. They asked me for money. I knew the woman they mentioned was Gythra. I knew getting involved with such a woman wouldn't lead to anything good, but since Foros stopped talking to me a long time ago..."

"You mentioned Skeeny had another accomplice."

"I don't know his name. But I think he might be the one called Aved, because Mr. Elin briefed me on the interrogation of my son."

"They said your son committed murder, and you believed them just like that?"

"I had no choice." Deza's voice suddenly became sharp. He pressed his head with his right fist, thumb rubbing against the bulging vein under the thin skin. "Oh, my son... Ever since he was twelve, he tried everything to get away from me. I couldn't find a reason for it no matter what. The first time he killed someone was at fifteen. Back then, he wanted to elope with a maid at home. When she reported it to me, he killed her. He drowned her. So when those two extortionists mentioned he drowned Gythra, I knew it was true immediately."

"You can't escape responsibility, Deza. I'm not interested in how you raised your son or why he severed ties with you. But this whole matter... you'll have to wait for trial."

"I know, I know. Mr. Elin interrogated me yesterday. I know what I'm facing. I paid the extortionists, paid the landlord to cover it up, paid Skeeny to write that article. I was willing to give up everything to save my son. But in the end... after Mr. Elin said my son couldn't escape the death penalty, I gave up. I wanted to tell him the twins were still alive and well. But since he's inevitably going to die..."

"The twins are with you?"

"I took them from Skeeny. I paid him a considerable sum for that because Skeeny said Aved had a dispute with him. It seems Aved was more interested in things beyond the ransom. Skeeny said giving the children to me was a life-threatening move, and he planned to leave Stormwind. But, in the end, he died. You see, all I did in this whole thing was keep paying, but it didn't help me at all. But I can't accept it... I thought there was one more thing I could do. I've made an agreement with Lord Lindy to donate all the remaining family assets to the charity organization now under his name."

"Dalia won't take your money." Although knowing the organization no longer belonged to Dalia, Jorgen suddenly became excited. "What do you think this is? Atonement?"

"No, no, no. I don't even have the qualification for atonement. Just treat it as the last bit of selfishness from a man who has been selfish all his life. I entrusted the twins to this organization, hoping they—a boy and a girl—could grow up well, not like their parents, especially not like me. Of course, they won't know of any connection with the Gelmant family. This family... ends here."

Deza stopped talking, lips tightly closed, revealing a strange smile. That smile seemed to celebrate his completion of something, regardless of whether it was pride or shame—it didn't matter. He was just liberated by the experience he had gone through.

"Lord Jorgen," he said, "your knife, where is it?"

"If I remember correctly, I haven't seen it since that afternoon when your son threw it outside the wall. Why do you ask?"

"I thought... I could borrow it."

"Hey, don't joke." The guard was about to step forward, but Jorgen stopped him and said, "Let him use your dagger."

The guard hesitated for a moment, his fingers resting on the hilt for quite some time. After pulling it out halfway, Deza said, "No, forget it. I'm sorry. I've said everything I need to. Please go back and rest, Lord Jorgen. I need some time alone."

Jorgen last looked at Deza. It was a face that had undergone extreme exhaustion and torment, like a person who, after walking through the desert in despair for days, finally found a water bag, not concealing the moment of release, even though he knew there were only a few meaningless drops left in the bag.

"Goodbye, Lord Deza."

Jorgen and the guard walked down the stairs and returned to the original floor. Jorgen still intended to spend some time in Dalia's room, but before that, he found some people gathering at the windows along the corridor. Among them were doctors, nurses, and guards. They stuck their heads out of the window, looking down. Some people glanced and furrowed their brows, quickly walking away. Indistinct noise came from below.