Shortly after Beacai’s words faded, a familiar sense of being watched emanated from the end of the corridor. Isis lifted her head, gazing deep into the distance, yet saw no one.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. It must be my imagination.”
Pressing a hand to her forehead, Isis continued towards Milton’s office with Beacai, a peculiar feeling stirring within her.
‘Was it truly her imagination?’
Once might be a trick of the mind, but repeated occurrences could not be dismissed as mere illusion.
Someone was watching her. Moreover, this gaze was so subtle that even Beacai couldn’t detect it.
This observer was most likely a deity.
While others might panic under such divine scrutiny, Isis was different. She sensed no malice in the gaze, only a faint familiarity.
‘Was it a deity she had known before?’
After much deliberation, she decided against telling Beacai. The deity’s choice to observe her covertly clearly suggested a strained relationship with Beacai.
To rashly inform Beacai might ignite a divine conflict, an outcome Isis wished to avoid.
****
“Hiss—!”
In the basement, a sharp gasp of cold air heralded Mel’s gradual return to consciousness. He had been in a daze.
As his vision cleared, the memory of being knocked unconscious flooded his mind. His face flushed with anger, and his teeth ground together in frustration.
But the next moment, a voice called out, freezing all expression on his face.
“…Mel?”
The familiar sound came from his right. He turned his head, only to see the man who should have been lying on the high platform now standing beside him, looking at him with profound concern.
Instinctively, he rubbed his eyes. Yet, when his vision returned, the man still stood before him.
Was he hallucinating? Or had he not fully woken up? Was all of this merely a dream?
He scrutinized the man before him, then cautiously asked, “You are…”
He recognized the face as his father’s, but he couldn’t quite believe it.
It wasn’t until the man reached out and clapped him heavily on the shoulder, sighing, “Mel, I never imagined you’d grown so big…”
His eyes welled up with tears at those words. Mel lunged forward, embracing the man tightly. His vision blurred with tears as he sobbed softly, countless past memories surging through his mind.
After a long embrace, he wiped the tears from his eyes and noticed a woman behind his father.
Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her slender, elongated ears were striking. A gentle smile graced her face, her breathing soft and tranquil, making her appear serenely beautiful.
“Mother…”
Mel murmured, dazed. The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let out a soft chuckle. Mel, however, took a step back, finding the situation increasingly surreal.
“You… you’re really awake?”
He slapped his own cheek, hoping the pain would rouse him from this beautiful yet cruel dream. But the slap only made him wince, his face contorting in pain.
‘This truly isn’t a dream?’
The man chuckled lightheartedly at seeing him slap himself, while the woman, clearly distressed, stepped forward to gently rub his cheek, assuring him that everything was real.
Despite her words, he remained skeptical, unable to fully grasp the truth of the moment. He couldn’t accept the news so quickly.
Seeing his continued stupor, the man said, “Mel, it’s been over a decade. We truly are awake, and it’s all thanks to…”
At this point, he couldn’t recall the benefactor’s name, so he turned to Milton, who understood their meaning and supplied the answer:
“It’s thanks to Miss Isis and Miss Beacai. They were the ones who saved them.”
‘How… how is that possible?’
Isis and Beacai?
Mel knew them well. Isis was the priestess who had previously taught him about the Doctrine of Life, and Beacai was the young woman who had knocked him unconscious.
They saved his parents? Could they truly not be deceivers? How did they manage it? Even those from the Blood Church couldn’t revive his parents…
Milton, discerning Mel’s confusion, added, “It was the Doctrine of Life. Miss Isis used the life energy contained within the Doctrine of Life to awaken them.”
A jolt went through Mel’s heart, and he lowered his head in shame.
He knew his grandfather would never lie to him. The Doctrine of Life could truly revive his parents, yet he had scorned it. He had misunderstood his own faith.
The man, unsure why Mel had lowered his head as if he’d done something wrong, patted his shoulder and asked, “You must have suffered a great deal all these years without us by your side, haven’t you?”
“Hmm, it’s been… alright…”
“Did you listen to your grandfather?”
At this question, Mel gasped, sweat beading on his forehead. He instinctively glanced around, stammering, “Uh, yes, I think so…”
Milton raised an eyebrow at his reply but didn’t expose his lie in front of his father. Though the man had only just woken, he was no fool; he could discern truth from falsehood.
Mel didn’t want to leave such an impression on his newly awakened parents. He straightened up, opening his mouth to confess the truth, but the man interrupted him.
“It’s our fault.”
Mel looked bewildered. The man reached out, gently stroking his hair. “If we had been here all these years, you would have had a mother’s and father’s love. You wouldn’t be so rebellious now.”
All the fault lay with them. Their absence all these years was what had made him this way.
Hearing his father blame himself, Mel could no longer hold back. His eyes reddened once more. He rubbed them, sobbing, “It’s alright. In the future, I won’t be rebellious anymore. I just… I just wanted you both to wake up…”
He had hated the Church of Life and disobeyed his grandfather, all in the desperate hope that they would awaken. Everything he had done these past years was in a relentless search for a way to save them.
Having once enjoyed the warmth of family, he had simply yearned to have them back. If they could awaken, why would he ever be rebellious?
The woman came to his side and held him tightly, expressing her longing for him. Mel, in turn, recounted everything that had happened over the years, including Milton’s actions.
Especially when he spoke of being deceived by many, the elderly elf uncharacteristically flushed, his gaze drifting, whether from embarrassment or shyness, it was hard to tell.
After an unknown duration of rambling conversation, the basement gradually fell silent, the joy of reunion and rediscovered family gently spreading through the space.
Once calm, Milton approached Mel and grasped his hand.
“Come on, let’s go to the office and apologize to them.”