"Merka, is that you?"

"My eyes... seem to have lost sight."

Blood trickled from the corner of Turing's mouth, as bloodshot eyes tiredly sparkled.

Once lovely azure eyes like a bay, now appeared like a dried-up and cracked desert, devoid of their former radiance.

"It's me... it's me... *sobs*"

Merka held Turing tightly, cradling her pretty face and gently stroking her long hair.

His heart filled with immense panic, overwhelming fear. He swore he had never felt so scared, not even when facing Beezelbub or when the sky threatened to fall.

But now, he was trembling uncontrollably.

Subconsciously, he felt Turing at that moment was like a handful of fine sand. No matter how tightly he held her in his palms or embraced her, he couldn't prevent her from slipping away like grains between his fingers.

"Ah... I never thought losing my eyesight would feel like this."

"I understand you a little more, Merka."

"So happy, hehe."

Struggling to lift the corners of her mouth, tearing at her vocal cords, Turing whispered by Merka's ear with a smile, filled with laughter and whispers.

She didn't know what came over her, finding the mood to banter even then.

"Don't be sad, Merka."

"Don't make me sad... okay?"

At that moment, Turing, with no clothes on, seemed like a sketch of ink, serenely elegant like midnight, with a silent celestial beauty.

Her viscous black blood, mingled with the wrinkled silk on her body, along with wounds and swollen scars, emerged one after another like rolling hills on her uneven body.

Just looking at her brought ripples to the heart and pain to the chest.

Merka didn't respond to Turing's words, only trying to suppress his cries.

But his wet shoulder betrayed him.

"Mother."

Turing softly called out.

"Oh? Now you call me mother."

Oedipus stood beside Turing, chuckling like a mother.

"You two continue, don't mind me."

"Of course, you can play up your pathetic act some more."

"Maybe I’ll be moved and let you go?"

As Oedipus spoke, she laughed gleefully, as if she were ten years younger.

Mocking the defeated was one of her favorite things as a victor.

Of course, it didn't bring her joy.

But observing others' pain did bring her some solace.

"Mother, I was wrong. I give up."

"I'm willing to compete for you."

Turing murmured gently, though her voice was soft, Oedipus listened intently.

"Whether you want me to compete, or be your facade, or be at your beck and call, I'll do it."

"But... can you release Merka?"

"You can have someone watch over him, use him as leverage against me. As long as you don't harm him, I agree."

"After all, the reason why you haven't killed him is to use him against me, right?"

Oedipus, surprised by Turing's words, raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Looks like growing up is not just about strength after all."

"Hehehe, my lovely daughter, what's this? Have your love buds finally bloomed?"

"Hmph."

As she spoke, Oedipus's face, once radiant like a young girl, suddenly darkened.

She glared at Turing, as if looking at a disgraceful beast who embarrassed her.

"... But... have you mistaken your position now? Dare to negotiate terms with me?"

Sensing the malice in Oedipus's words, Merka struggled to get up and stood in front of Turing. His gentle willow brows furrowed, his eyes fixed firmly on Oedipus as if to tear her apart.

"Oedipus, if you dare lay a finger on Turing, I...!"

Before Merka could finish his words, London's figure appeared like a shadow.

A magical foot in high heels, like a knife, kicked Merka's leg, instantly shattering it into three pieces.

Merka fell to the ground, howling in agony from the excruciating pain.

"Who do you think you are? Do you have a say here?"

"Climbing high branches, thinking you've become a phoenix? Understand your position."

London shimmered to Merka, retracted her foot, and gracefully walked back to stand behind Oedipus, as if she had just done a trivial task.

"Don't be angry, Merka."

Before Merka could argue with London, Turing softly spoke to Merka.

When Merka was almost rolling on the ground in pain, Turing's gentle arm reached over Merka's neck, lifting him lightly.

In an instant, the intense pain, like a wildfire doused by a downpour, disappeared completely.

One could hardly believe that these pure, elegant arms, which had healed him, had been the same hands that tore mountains and stars not long ago.

The tenderness felt like a meadow full of dandelions, gently lifting you as if to make you float.

Thanks to Turing's treatment, Merka's injuries quickly improved.

"You said it, there's nothing we can do about it, right?"

Turing whispered into Merka's ear.

Nothing we can do about it... What couldn't they do?

Hearing this, Merka was terrified, wanting to turn back to see Turing's expression.

But he found Turing's soft arms that had embraced him, now hard as marble, making him unable to move even an inch.

A strong sense of panic washed over Merka along with intense PTSD, fearing that when he turned his head back, he wouldn't see Turing but Joan's familiar face instead.

He struggled as if suffocating, panting heavily.

"Turing... Turing, Xixi, please..."

"Don't... do this..."

"I beg you..."

"Don't leave me..."