Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1337 Is it always about losing?

The torrent of life rolls in, its weight unbearable for mortals, yet for some, it is merely a simple sentence.

A biting wind whipped up snowflakes like goose feathers, raging across the forgotten ruins. Collapsed ancient buildings leaned precariously in the deep snow, like the skeleton of a colossal beast. The shattered sky filtered down a pale, gray light, outlining two slender figures standing opposite each other. All around was deathly silent, save for the mournful howl of the wind and snow piercing the heavens and earth.

The snowflakes falling from Caraboss's eyes seemed to be frozen in the cold air by an invisible force the moment Saint Charlotte's words fell. Time seemed to stretch out infinitely, the snowflakes still falling silently, trying to cover the ruins, and also to cover the turbulent waves surging in the hearts of the dying.

She never imagined that Saint Charlotte would hold such thoughts.

But she quickly realized that her failure to recognize this was actually her own problem, not Saint Charlotte's. She had been deliberately ignoring this possibility, even though she knew that the other person was a gentle person who was almost too gentle and kind to the point of being stubborn. For her, self-sacrifice was not even a choice, but an instinct. Just like in her previous life, the life before that, and even her first life, Caraboss couldn't remember how many times she had sacrificed herself to save others.

Perhaps those memories were too frequent and too painful, so she deliberately forgot them? But things forgotten in this world will eventually return in another form, and when they do, they will be even more overwhelming and suffocating.

Rationally speaking, Caraboss should actually be happy, because the complete Destiny King would become the most troublesome enemy of the Witch Society besides the Victory King, causing a huge obstacle to the next plan, and her death just happens to meet the needs of the actual plan, saving a lot of trouble.

But when death comes, even the cold-blooded dark witch will transform into a sentimentalist.

So when she saw the determination in those clear, transparent eyes of the blue-haired girl, her first reaction was to question her, just like the day she left the Western Continent, when she spoke with Tentis in the bustling port, and the latter had asked her the exact same question: "Are you sure... you really want to do this?"

Because she still retained some rationality and knew that from her own perspective she shouldn't have questioned, and hadn't even questioned, she paused almost imperceptibly when she spoke. That brief pause revealed a great deal of complex emotion.

Saint Charlotte's gaze calmly fell upon her. The wind and snow seemed to lessen for a moment, and a few whole snowflakes gently landed on her long, dark blue eyelashes, then quietly melted away. She remained silent for a moment before speaking, her voice equally soft: "Mm."

Perhaps feeling that her answer was too brief, she added, "I want to save him, save them, and then... save everyone."

Actually, the order should be reversed.

First and foremost, it's about saving everyone, because "everyone" includes both "them" and "him." However, this subtle shift in word order reveals the girl's hidden selfishness; she feels she owes that young man too much, perhaps too much to ever repay. The girl knows that in the young man's eyes, the girl-king named after fate has always been a selfless and devoted figure who cares for many, both great and devout. But at least for this moment, she wants to put him first, to show how irreplaceable her love and cherish for him is, even… wanting to save everyone for him.

Such subtle thoughts can only be understood by those involved, while bystanders have no way of knowing them.

So Carabosse didn't know either; she just stared at her, for a long time. The witch's body was slowly disintegrating, dark snowflakes constantly falling from the edges, like rotten paper being peeled from an old, yellowed storybook, returning to dust.

"That will come at a great price." When the witch spoke again, her voice was even weaker, like an icicle piercing the silence.

Saint Charlotte met her gaze without flinching, her voice calm and gentle: "There is no greater price to pay."

"They'll blame you."

"They will understand me."

"They are more vulnerable than you think."

"They are stronger than you think."

“But haven’t you considered the consequences of failure?” Carabosse couldn’t help but ask. “You and I, we and you are different. We have seen through the nature of the world, understood each other’s beliefs, and thus formulated a meticulous plan, ensuring that it would be strictly and cautiously executed no matter what happens, and not swayed by anyone’s will. Therefore, my death will only make them more determined. But you are different. Your death… may only make them sleep more soundly.”

Essentially, the travelers of Cloud Whale Sky Island are different from the Witch Society. They are not drawn together by grand ideals or a shared cause, but rather, like petals naturally gathering together in a field of flowers, blown in the same direction by the wind—so intimate and spontaneous. They have no plans, no ideologies, not even goals; they simply follow the most basic principle, which is what Mother said: True feelings will never hurt anyone.

To this day, Caraboss has no intention of judging whether this statement is correct. After all, she too was once a moth drawn to it, only to discover by chance that it might not apply to all situations, especially those of mortals, thus choosing a different path. But she knows that for this statement, a heart equally sincere, gentle, and all-encompassing is the most important. And on Cloud Whale Sky Island, you won't find a similar heart. Only the girl before you.

Will her death truly guide the lost petals, preventing them from continuing to wander aimlessly in the distant winds?

Carapos had no hope of this.

But her word doesn't count; Sainte-Charlie has more right to speak and correct in this matter.

"We won't fail," the blue-haired girl said softly, her eyes curving into two sweet crescent moons. "Because there is a very, very gentle person who will take care of everyone in my place."

The witch tilted her head slightly, gazing at the gray, hazy sky. Snowflakes landed on her lowered eyelashes, trembling slightly, blurring her vision completely. She knew who Saint Charlotte was referring to, and because of this, she inevitably felt a pang of jealousy, or rather, a bittersweet feeling, though she had never experienced it before: "You trust him that much?"

“Of course,” Saint Charlotte said, “just like Carapos believed in Tientis.”

These words shattered the Dark Witch's emotions, leaving her speechless. Everyone encounters someone in their life with whom they can unconditionally trust. No matter how much betrayal, separation, sorrow, or loneliness you've experienced, once that person appears before you, smiling, extending their hand, and asking if you'd like to embark on an incredible journey together, even to completely change the world, you still can't help but want to respond, reach out and grasp their hand, and softly reply: "Yes."

Carabosse once thought that her soulmate would be Sainte-Charlie, and coincidentally, Sainte-Charlie also once thought that her soulmate would be Carabosse. After all, they had such a tacit understanding, living together in the ancient and desolate city, taking care of their young and naive sisters. Carabosse played the strict older sister, while Sainte-Charlie played the gentle older sister. One criticized and educated, while the other comforted and encouraged... If fate had not changed, it would surely have foreshadowed some kind of future.

The strict and earnest older sister is about to die, but her death is a powerful cry, a way to wake her sleeping younger sisters; the gentle and considerate older sister is also about to die, but her death is a silent embrace, a way to protect her cherished younger sisters with love. Perhaps each choice reflects an ideal, but in the final moments of her life, Carabosse suddenly realizes that perhaps the eldest sister's way is the most appropriate.

because--

“You’ve always been a wonderful older sister,” Carabosse said softly. “Saint Charlotte.”

But I'm not.

As soon as the words were spoken, a sudden blizzard howled, the snow intensifying and intensifying as it blew up the bangs of both girls, allowing them to briefly glimpse each other's souls in their final moments. Their hair, blue like sprouting buds, black like ink—never before in this world had such a fitting metaphor existed, perfectly capturing their respective states of mind.

A chilling longing pierced her chest instantly, the warm flame burning away the last vestige of emotion, leaving the witch no time to utter a true farewell. A weariness deeper than the deepest night spread from the depths of her soul, gently enveloping her remaining consciousness. The past battles, the weight of power, the entanglements of her sisters, the agonizing wait… all of it lost its weight in the stillness of the falling snow, becoming distant and blurred. Even the cold seemed to have lost its sharpness, transforming into a strange, intoxicating tranquility. She felt herself slowly sinking into a boundless, warm, and dark sea of ​​nothingness, devoid of light and sound, only an eternal, sweet rest beckoning her. This sinking was a process of loss; the girl constantly discarded something, trying to make her body lighter and lighter, enough to float to the depths of that sea.

In her final moments before sinking to the bottom of the sea, she would suddenly recall the time of her birth, when her mother, before falling into a deep sleep, had spoken privately with each of the young princesses, conveying her expectations and wishes to them. These secret conversations were kept hidden in their hearts, never revealed to others, as if they were secrets even the closest sisters could not share. Caraboss was no exception, but what stopped her was not selfishness, but fear. For then, her mother had looked at this stubborn girl with loving and regretful eyes, softly telling her, "Never forget your true self, or you will lose the most important thing in life." She did not understand, and was deeply confused.

Then she recalled the man named Tumi who had come to the Heavenly Sanctuary seeking worldly truth and mysteries. Although she couldn't change everyone's decision and reluctantly agreed to his request, she still harbored an instinctive wariness. After handing over fourteen sacred artifacts, she bluntly demanded that he leave the Heavenly Sanctuary and return to the mortal world. The man named Tumi wasn't bothered by his impolite words and actions; he simply thanked her sincerely for her help and, before leaving, uttered words that were perhaps regretful or poignant: "You seem to be a stubborn person, Lord Carapos. I've seen many like you in the mortal world. Please be careful, for this stubbornness will one day cause you to lose something."

At the time, she didn't take it to heart, arrogantly thinking, "Could a mere mortal really foresee the fate of a young girl like Wang Quan?" But all self-righteous emotions eventually come at a price. She couldn't understand her mother's admonition, and ignored the prophecy of the wise mortal. Perhaps even fate couldn't tolerate such arrogance. And so, from some point onward, her life became inextricably linked to the word "loss." After the cataclysmic upheaval, she thought she had lost a warm home and a group of family members she had spent every day with, and she frantically tried to find them. But now, listening to the faint mournful sound carried on the wind, she suddenly understood that it was only the first time, or rather, the beginning; and now it was the second time, or rather, the end.

Yes, it's all over—the prophecy, the lament, the emotions, the catastrophe, the obsession, the stubborn face of the girl in the city, her earnest gaze in the ruins, the silent stillness in the wind and snow… She left, she awoke, she was always there, she never existed; she recalled her stubbornness a thousand years ago, facing the still greedy and mediocre mortals a thousand years later, she persisted in her original will; she was never truly alive, yet she was never truly dead; she possessed life, she possessed death, she possessed everything in the process of life and death, yet she was not recognized by them, and thus she constantly lost; she was a transcendent mortal, arrogantly believing she possessed the power of life, able to create new worlds, endowing them with souls and consciousness, influencing thoughts and will, controlling time and civilization, becoming the master of creation; she was a contradictory deity, so humble that she denied everything about herself, destroying ideals and beliefs, annihilating aspirations and hopes, losing her way and direction, ultimately achieving nothing, yet comforting herself that this was fate.

The wind and snow intensified, destroying the last few intact buildings in the ancient city. Karapos's remaining body was almost completely reduced to drifting dark snow dust, leaving only a blurred outline. In the chaos, the girl's heartbeat gradually quieted, and she murmured indistinctly, "I'm sorry..."

"Mother."

Consciousness, like a candle flame, flickered in the last north wind and peacefully went out.

Give me some cats