Plague Lord-Chapter 59: Heavy Ice

It was a difficult question.

Flaming Rose truly didn’t know how to answer.

By "reaching the deepest depths," Nightingale meant reaching the very end of the Black Mire which was rumored to be the ninety-ninth floor, according to speculative researchers and scientists.

In truth, no one knew what lay below. What horrors lurked there, or whether anything even existed at all, remained an unanswered mystery. Humanity had yet to clear the "Fifth Narrative," the supposed main trial of the seventieth floor.

No one — not even the so-called Saints, the self-proclaimed strongest among humankind — had managed to surpass the sixty-ninth floor.

So how was she supposed to give him an answer?

But Nightingale hadn’t asked the question because he wanted an answer. He never intended for her to understand. Perhaps, in his own way, this was the ugliest form of violence he could inflict upon another person by forcing his unhappiness onto someone who could never truly comprehend it.

He already knew, deep down, that she was a kind person. A cold-hearted individual wouldn’t lose composure at the mere sight of Lesser Fiends. Something or rather, someone, must have been taken from her to ignite that hatred.

And because she was someone capable of hating on another’s behalf... someone who could care, even enough to scold him for recklessness... she would naturally despair upon realizing she could never understand his own despair.

Nightingale quietly laughed at that shallow, hollow sense of victory.

"Hehe! Just kidding!"

"Eh?"

"Were you perhaps misunderstanding something? That story I told earlier, that child isn’t related to me in any way. My mother and father are both alive and love me dearly. Sometimes, it’s honestly overwhelming. If you thought otherwise, then I apologize for the misunderstanding. Okay?"

"...Eh?"

The selfish, unpredictable Nightingale had returned.

Flaming Rose stared at him with what he could only describe as pure dumbfoundedness. But Nightingale wasn’t looking at her. His gaze drifted toward the sky above.

It was as if that alone was enough. Strangely, he felt something lift from his shoulders.

A burden he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying finally eased away.

...For now.

"Ah," Nightingale murmured suddenly as though recalling something trivial. "That reminds me, I still have one question left, don’t I?"

"Eh?"

Rose was probably still dumbfounded because she couldn’t quite keep up with the sudden change in tone. The sharp melancholy from moments ago had vanished entirely, replaced by that familiar, irritating nonchalance that defined Nightingale.

He turned to her with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"You remember our little deal, right? I answer your question, and you answer mine."

She hesitated.

"...Yes."

He seemed pleased.

"Good. Then I suppose it’s my turn."

Flaming Rose straightened slightly, still cautious of his unpredictable demeanor. Then, after a moment, she tilted her head as though something had just clicked in her mind.

"Wait a second... didn’t you just ask your third question?"

"I did? How strange. When did I ever do such a thing?"

"What are you talking about? You literally asked it just now! Who are you trying to fool?!"

"But did I receive an answer?"

"T-That... T-that’s..."

Her words stumbled and fell apart. Unable to come up with a proper response, she could only glare helplessly at him.

Nightingale’s lips curled into a small, satisfied grin. Maintaining that smug expression, he said:

"According to the game’s rules, you’re required to answer any one of my questions. And since you already used your ’refusal to answer’ ticket, that means you can’t refuse anything I ask! Buuuut..." His tone turned playful. "...since you seem unable to answer the last one, I suppose I’ll have to spice things up ♪ and change it to something you can answer. Surely, you have no objections to that, do you?"

Flaming Rose blinked.

"If you put it like that... then, I guess not."

Nightingale’s grin widened. It seemed the little mouse had wandered straight into the spider’s web.

He said with mock delight.

"Excellent. Wonderful. How lovely!"

Then, after a pause, his voice softened, carrying an almost disarming curiosity.

"For my last question... is there someone you like? Or someone you’re currently seeing?"

Her voice immediately froze over.

"Y-You... I thought personal questions like that weren’t allowed!"

"When did I ever say that? If you were uncomfortable with such questions, you should’ve said so from the beginning."

"Scratch that! I’m not answering that!"

"So you’re going to be a sore loser by refusing? I didn’t know you were that shallow, Ms. Rose."

The Caster gritted her teeth.

Then, after a long, tense pause, she finally uttered:

"...There is someone."

Her words came out quieter than she intended. It sounded like a hesitant whisper that just managed to slip past the defenses of her lips.

For a moment, even Nightingale was caught off guard. Though he quickly recovered and leaned forward.

"Oh? How unexpected. I was prepared for another stubborn refusal but this is rather interesting indeed."

Rose averted her gaze.

"Don’t get me wrong. It’s... not what you’re thinking."

"Oh? So you don’t have someone?"

"No. Well... yes, and no. I’m in a relationship with someone, yet at the same time, I’m not." She paused briefly before adding, "Are you familiar with FWB?"

"FWB?"

Nightingale frowned. The term didn’t ring a bell.

What did it even mean?

’Hold on... does that mean what I think it does?’

Just as he was on the verge of figuring it out, Flaming Rose abruptly shifted gears.

"Alright then! Since you’ve asked all your questions, it’s my turn now. Time for my final one."

Nightingale squinted suspiciously. Her sudden change of topic was far too quick like she was trying to bury something.

Should he press for details?

After a moment of thought, he sighed inwardly.

’Whatever. Her personal life isn’t my business anyway.’

With that, he decided to drop the matter entirely.

"Shot. I’m game."

Flaming Rose straightened her posture, brushing back a loose strand of pink hair that had slipped past her mask. Though her face remained hidden by that pristine mask, Nightingale could sense her eyes narrowing behind it, radiating with an air of mischief within them.

’Just what are you plotting?’

He soon received his answer when she opened her mouth.

"Then, Mr Devil, let me ask you this; what is your type of woman?"

Now it was Nightingale’s turn to be dumbfounded.

"Eh?"

’What kind of question is that? No, that question is exceptionally dangerous!’

Normally, this was the kind of ridiculous question Marcus would throw at him out of nowhere and he’d just roll his eyes and reply with something crude like, "Women with big asses, obviously."

But right now, staring at Flaming Rose — who was watching him intently behind that flawless white mask — he realized saying that might actually get him incinerated on the spot.

She was really scary ♪ when she got upset, so he quickly abandoned that suicidal thought.

Worse yet, he had to answer. And what could he even say? Something safe, something boring like, "Someone with a nice personality." Yeah, right. Even he knew that was the kind of halfhearted answer people gave when they were lying through their teeth!

If the person in question wasn’t at least a little attractive, most wouldn’t even glance their way, no matter how kind or pure-hearted they were. That was just the sad truth for both sexes.

And knowing Rose, she’d see through that lie instantly. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Then...

’Hold on.’

...He realized something.

’Do I really need to answer that question?’

As that thought took shape, a slow grin spread across Nightingale’s face. It was sly, confident, and just a little bit cruel.

With a tone dripping in triumph, he said:

"Ms. Rose, aren’t you forgetting something?"

She tilted her head, clearly confused.

"And what exactly would that be?"

Nightingale’s grin widened mischievously.

"Ah... right. You see, Ms. Rose, while I could answer your question, I happen to still have a little card left in my hand."

He slowly drew an imaginary card from his pocket, holding it between his fingers as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Of course, there was nothing in the hand.

"This, my dear Caster, is my ’refusal to answer’ ticket!"