Ignoring the London behind him that was scattered by the impact, Merka quickly ran, his figure flashing like lightning in the night sky.

Endowed with the Descent of the Holy Son, his limbs moved so fast that they left afterimages.

He gasped for breath, his eyes unfocused, his thoughts drifting towards the distance, towards a far, faraway place.

To his left, continuous floor-to-ceiling windows flickered by, while to his right were rows of dull wooden doors.

The scenes in front of him passed by quickly, like neon lights on both sides of Red Port pedestrian street.

However, Merka's spirit was gradually being consumed, being nibbled away.

Exhaustion hollowed out his heart, numbness sucked on his brain, while loneliness circled above him like a vulture, waiting for him to fall to his knees with a thud.

A deep sense of nostalgia flashed through Merka's eyes.

In this moment, he once again recalled the days when he and Turing used to play in the snow at the Lake of Souls.

He regretted not touching her face more.

Regretted not having more time to leave more kisses on her neck.

"Turing!"

Finally finding Turing's chamber as per his memory, Merka burst through the door and caught sight of Turing sitting on the windowsill.

She looked like a fairy in a painting, embedded in the scroll of the window frame.

She was serene, elegant, dignified.

Quietly beautiful like a poem, just like the beauty Merka first encountered.

At this moment, Turing sat still, gazing faintly outside as if a curious canary looking out from its cage. Her hands anxiously twisted on her fair thighs, as if worrying about her husband's uncertain return.

Her waist-length peach-red hair, like the withering sunset faintly staining the snowy ground, appeared to emit a subtle rainbow glow in the dark night, making it impossible to look away.

The sapphire-blue eye embedded in her profile was like a star plucked from the sky, shimmering with a mix of colorful starlight.

Truly, no amount of embellishment could suffice.

Merka thought.

Words could not possibly describe the timeless beauty before him.

Her beauty was like a sweet, aged wine, one sip enough to make one fall under the sway of her pomegranate shroud. Even those who heard of her beauty would be intoxicated, those who smelled it would be intoxicated, and even those who described it would staggeringly fall under its spell.

Upon opening the door, Merka stood there frozen, as if he had seen the morning star heralding the end of a long night.

"Turing..."

Merka, filled with grievance, pain, regret, and heartache, overwhelmed by longing for Turing, stepped forward quickly to embrace his beloved.

He hurried towards Turing.

Hearing Merka's soft murmur, Turing, who was gazing outside, shivered and turned to look at him.

"I finally...finally see you again."

Merka, unable to contain his emotions, half knelt before Turing, clasped her hands, and kept kissing them lightly.

Tears glistened in his eyes - they were like sparkling diamonds reflecting their owner's complex emotional state.

However, somehow Turing's body felt stiff, a bit reserved.

"Merka...look behind you."

At Turing's gentle reminder, Merka mechanically turned his head and saw Oedipus sitting in the corner of the room.

She smiled lightly, crossed her legs elegantly, perched on a delicate stool as if she held all the cards.

"It's fine, you don't need to mind me."

"Since the newlyweds have finally met, isn't it normal to be affectionate?"

Oedipus's smile, akin to a huge hidden crevice under clear skies, induced fear, sending ripples through the heart.

"Turing, look, you have won our bet."

"However, Merka, I am truly disappointed in you..."

"You have turned out to be just like Maria in the end."

"Sacrificing those around you...self-righteously fulfilling yourself, yet achieving nothing."

"Despite my belief that you could actually do something, enough to threaten my affairs."

"The truth is, your capacity ends here."

Oedipus lightly raised her hand, bringing her thumb and index finger together in a gesture resembling 'okay', teasingly looking at Merka.

At this point, every muscle in Merka's body tensed up, as if stung by bees all over in excruciating pain.

He looked at Oedipus in disbelief, his cheeks drained of color, turned incredibly pale.