Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 687: Dream of the Golden Rose_3

"The petals, they carry something very precious," Susanna said, closing her eyes and clasping her hands around the Golden Rose, allowing the gold’s brightness to vanish from the trio’s sight.

"What kind of thing?"

"Human nature, the sediment of intense spiritual remnants."

"Ah, isn’t that the bad stuff like grudges? Susanna, you should throw it away quickly."

After picking up the Golden Rose, Susanna seemed like a different person, more delicate. She leaned on Irason’s shoulder, placing her petite body against the somewhat bewildered Green Dragon Priest.

"This isn’t the kind of intense bad stuff. It only allows the one who touches it to experience those leftover feelings. If it had the power to influence its bearer, it wouldn’t have left behind these regrets."

Irason knew that Susanna liked this Golden Rose.

Gently wrapping his arms around Susanna’s shoulders, Irason drew circles in the sand next to her.

"Susanna likes these spiritual remnants? Morocoy, the older brother, told me these things are either dangerous or useless."

"He’s right. For you, the intense will of the past could twist your thoughts, it’s a trace of life that came and stayed in this world. Human nature is the deepest kind. To us, it holds a strong allure."

"The Evil God progeny likes... human nature?"

"For us, it’s like a sweet poison."

"Human will can kill an Evil God?"

"No, human nature could cause us to fall, to no longer be gods. Human nature, to Evil God, is like the detritus left by a tick, harmful to our ’growth.’ No god would pursue the essence of ants; that would make them weak, fall, and become a lonely monster. It is wrong, yet shines like gold. Lovely but vain, confusing yet dreamlike."

"Indulging in memories that aren’t one’s own isn’t a good thing, Irason."

Irason nodded somewhat dizzyingly, while Princess pondered Susanna’s words.

"I’m now a bit curious about the origin of this Golden Rose. Maybe we could investigate its history."

Susanna slowly turned her head, looking toward the vague shadows deep in the nearby jungle.

"It looks like we won’t have to make the trip."

"Who is there!" Princess’s ice blade sparkled in the sunlight. Intruded upon by a friend without permission, the daughter of the sea grew angry.

Dragging his damp steps and breathing the murky air, the figure clad in a captain’s garb revealed his rotting body under the harsh sun. He took off his tricorn hat, exposing a face wrinkled and slightly swollen, with a cat’s eye stone set into the socket of his right eye – the only fresh thing on his entire body.

A faded, tattered overcoat hung on his emaciated frame, with a through-and-through hole on the right side of the chest, excessive decayed flesh gravitated toward the abdomen, painting his entire body in an unhealthy deep cyan, standing at the edge of the white beach in wrinkled boots, he bowed with composure.

"Greetings, ladies."

It was a Drowned Corpse, or water ghost, a living corpse of a human who had died in the water, a unique monster produced around the vast sea.

"The Pirate Captain is here for his treasure! We’re in trouble!"

Irason screamed in fright, but in reality, she was role-playing. The power of the three ladies surpassed that of ordinary creatures; they were monsters left over from the last era, not truly afraid of any Pirate Captain.

And the Captain knew this too.

"Respected, mighty, beautiful ladies, I merely wish to ask you to return the cursed treasure to me, it once belonged to me, Alexan Alonzo, my prized possession."

"Cursed?" The three women exchanged glances, Susanna extended her palm to reveal the Golden Rose. "Are you talking about this?"

Seeing the Golden Rose, a flicker of remembrance shone in the ghastly Pirate Captain’s eyes, and he bowed again, "Indeed, that Golden Rose truly is my treasure."

The Drowned Corpse’s decorum earned the ladies’ goodwill, and his articulate manner contrasted starkly with their initial impression of him.

"Then tell me the story of the Golden Rose, prove you are its owner."

This was exactly what they had hoped for.

Alexan flexed his limbs slightly and sat down cross-legged on the spot, his bodily oils dripping onto the grass, wiped away with leaves he snatched up at random.

"This won’t be a fun story."

"The owner of this Golden Rose isn’t me; I am merely its current possessor."

"There once was a boy who fell in love with a rich girl. They shared common interests and would wander the fields together, telling each other fascinating stories, including one about the Golden Rose. The story said a rose made of gold could bring happiness to ordinary people."

"Later on, the boy went to war, and that story became a memory sealed in his heart."

"The war was brutal, the boy came back whole but riddled with injuries and diseases, a poor and weak street sweeper in a foreign town."

"Fate’s whimsy also showed itself; he met her again. She was just as radiant and charming as he remembered. They still remembered each other, and the tale of the Golden Rose."

"After parting, Shami realized his infatuation hadn’t faded in the slightest, but he no longer had the courage or strength to stand by her side."

"[How nice it would be if I too had a Golden Rose, surely I would be happy too.] The innocent words of his childhood became the new belief of this man. Crafting a Golden Rose, for a sweeper, was a fool’s dream."