Volume 2

Chapter 102 : Mingfuluo’s Diary, Part One

Diaries are meaningless to me, but for the critical moment ahead, and to ensure my thoughts remain clear without the slightest error over the next three years, I must record.

So, let’s begin, revisiting… my relationship with Anselm from the start.

***

Imperial Calendar, March 1, 1104.

I met Anselm at Iris Square in the Imperial Capital; from the first moment, I sensed the cold, dangerous aura about him.

—A reclusive, ancient monster, that was my first impression of him.

But it didn’t matter; I didn’t care, because Anselm possessed talent and ability far beyond my reach.

Even if he came with hostility, I was confident I could use him.

March 18.

Two weeks since meeting Anselm, and undoubtedly… he must be the most remarkable genius in this world.

I believe in pure conceptualization and thinking, he has surpassed his father, Flamel.

But he’s too dangerous.

In just seven days, he closed the social distance between us to the final ten centimeters.

I knew he harbored ill intentions and was mentally guarded, yet I still couldn’t control our proximity… I’m not good at this, and he, clearly, is far too skilled.

March 22.

Knowing me thoroughly, he began trying to win me over, saying he had a way to change Babel Tower’s current predicament, that I could be its savior…

I don’t know what Anselm aims to achieve, but this is a bait I must bite.

March 25.

He gave me a blueprint, saying that creating this “firearm” would save Babel Tower.

It was… revolutionary, not in the difficulty of making the firearm a reality, but in the transcendence of thought.

This thirteen-year-old boy was like an observer overlooking this stagnant era, his gaze already cast toward a distant unknown.

If this transcendence weren’t used for violence, it would be ideal.

But Babel Tower needs this violence, and so do I.

I must admit, even knowing he came with malice, it’s hard to stay wary and distant.

Anselm is remarkable, but with such talent, such ability, and as a future divine species, why would he bear ill will toward me?

Perhaps I need a chance to probe.

March 27.

I asked if I was worthy of being his Contract Head; he refused with a smile.

I think I understand why he came with malice… he doesn’t trust me.

He knows what kind of person I am, that I’d never revere him as supreme.

So his goal is to make me submit to him?

Using… this method?

Bearing malice yet employing such gentle means… What is he thinking?

No matter, this is a key point I can exploit.

April 3.

I can’t do it.

Watching him talk so passionately about those things, I… can’t keep using him.

Regardless of his initial intentions, his current thoughts are not false, and everything he’s told me is no lie.

I see… so that’s his goal? To move me with sincerity.

…If this continues, I might not be able to refuse him.

Because Anselm and I are fellow travelers.

If, if Anselm’s ultimate goal is also to change this world, then making some concessions isn’t unthinkable, because he’s more capable than I of realizing the vision my grandfather painted.

No… it’s too early to say.

Anselm still carries unresolved mysteries.

Why did he choose me?

If he came intending to tame me as a Contract Head, how did he pinpoint me, someone with no prior connection to him, with such modest renown, in the vast sea of people?

I’m confident in my abilities, but how… Did he discover me?

And as a divine species, destined to dominate all, why does he have that… insecurity?

I’m certain he feels insecure… just like me.

Perhaps from the start, I could sense his hidden malice because of this shared trait.

Like me, he’s wary of everything around him, which is why I’m accustomed to moving in a puppet’s body.

But how could Anselm, a divine species, feel such insecurity?

What could make a divine species feel insecure?

He carries a great secret; for the future, I should keep probing.

…No, no, Mingfuluo.

He may have endured a despair like yours.

It might seem impossible for a divine species, but… what if?

Even now, you avoid recalling Grandfather’s death, so how could you casually probe Anselm’s pain, however unlikely?

He’s sincere with you now, Mingfuluo.

You should respect him.

April 4.

This respect didn’t yield good results… that brat is getting more and more annoying.

The moment I show a hint of warmth or concession, he pushes further, irritating me.

I don’t want to waste time bantering or humoring his antics.

But he seems happy.

Fine, I know he’s actually trying to make me rest.

We’ve only known each other a month—how did we get this close?

…Because Anselm is the only one in this world who understands you, Mingfuluo, you know this answer.

April 6.

Anselm told me a lot today, giving me a remarkable initial concept: mechanized armor.

Only a genius like him could conceive such a thing; he even had detailed creation ideas.

But I cared more about the other things he said—about the sky, the future, and infinite possibilities.

How did he know I love looking at the sky?

How could he guess such an obscure hobby?

He said he didn’t use mind-reading magic on me…

So it wasn’t just in ideals that he understood me.

No, he’d shown signs of this long before, otherwise how could I… how could I…

How could I, in less than a month, see a boy five years younger as my first, perhaps even only, friend in life?

I enjoy being with him, that’s why this happened.

…You’ve won half the game, Anselm.

When it’s time to lay the cards on the table, you’d better not make any outrageous demands.

April 29.

The initial Universal Ether Furnace experiment failed… but it’s fine.

Anselm and I were prepared for over ten iterations. Focus, improve, enhance… with Anselm, I can do it.

May 2.

I should’ve been focusing on the Universal Ether Furnace research, but Anselm dragged me out to eat. Honestly, being looked after by a kid five years younger doesn’t feel great.

But… it’s not so bad either.

June 6.

The second model of the Universal Ether Furnace failed, but we gained more precise, valuable data.

At this pace, future iterations will come faster.

Within a year, Anselm and I might push the furnace to the sixth or even seventh model.

Unbelievable… this kind of research should take years, each model requiring years of accumulation, yet Anselm and I can achieve a breakthrough in a month… this isn’t just “genius” anymore.

Though Anselm hides it well, he always pinpoints the critical parts precisely, controlling the entire iteration process.

This is no coincidence.

Has he already created a Universal Ether Furnace?

Does he already have a finished product?

That’s unlikely; his joy when I created the furnace was genuine.

But how else to explain Anselm’s unfathomable talent and knowledge?

Is it really just the incomprehensible aptitude of a divine species?

Anselm, where… Does your knowledge come from?

June 11.

I’ve completely grown used to being with him, or rather… I’m no longer used to days without him.

Rumors about us have spread in the Imperial Capital… is this his strategy?

Has he not given up?

Perhaps. Knowing him, he’d have backup plans.

He might not be entirely sure his sincerity would fully win me over, so preparing alternatives… is only natural.

I asked him about the Contract Head again; I’ve asked many times, but he still didn’t agree.

He still doesn’t trust me.

He’s right.

I can’t place him above my ideals, but Anselm… how can you not see?

I view you and my ideals as equal; pursuing them is helping you, and helping you is pursuing them.

I don’t believe you can’t understand… yet you clearly haven’t considered this.

Do you want that absolute, dog-like loyalty, wagging my tail and begging?

Why?

Must I submit to you, instead of being your friend, your fellow traveler?

You’ve disappointed me a bit, Anselm.

June 12.

I owe an apology.

Anselm surely sees me as his friend, his fellow traveler; he needs me.

I believe his extreme demands for a Contract Head’s loyalty aren’t about the conditions themselves but stem from that initial issue—he lacks security.

He’s clearly, clearly just a child… no matter how genius.

He’s lonely, without friends, without… security.

It sounds absurd, but I’m certain now—he’s utterly insecure.

Just like me.

But I have something I truly want to pursue, unbothered by meaningless distractions. What about Anselm… does he see that ideal as his everything, like I do?

No, he doesn’t. I’m the odd one.

So his struggles are far greater than mine, his life far harder, so he… needs my help even more.

—What is the source of his insecurity?

I must find the answer to this question.

July 3.

Today, Anselm showed me a future even Grandfather never envisioned.

The Data System… breaking through a thousand years of knowledge barriers, connecting the entire world.

I can’t describe my feelings then; even recalling it now, my emotions stir uncontrollably.

Not just the system’s potential and value, but Anselm’s longing and anticipation when speaking of it.

He genuinely yearns for that future… I knew long ago, he wants to change this world more than anyone.

Anselm said even he couldn’t provide a concrete concept for the Data System, but that’s fine—I can do it.

No longer him helping me, but me helping him. I’ll show him the world he hopes for.

I’ll do it with him.

July 9.

No… something’s wrong.

After our talk about the Data System, about the network he envisioned, Anselm… changed somehow.

His passion for creation is fading rapidly, his hope for change vanishing at an incomprehensible speed, and even… a kind of disgust seems to have emerged?

I can’t be mistaken; I know him too well.

I’ve replayed that day’s conversation countless times and still found no words that could cause such a drastic shift.

Did something catastrophic happen to Anselm during this time?

If anything I said that day affected him, it could only be one phrase.

Only that one, “as fate would have it.”

Fate…

July 21.

Anselm seems unable to hold back any longer.

He’s using clumsy, indirect methods—ones he’d never have used before—to ask if I’d follow him or pursue my ideals.

Anselm… you know my answer.

You just never trusted me, never believed in that possibility.

Have you boxed me into some framework? Stubbornly shaping me in your mind based on what you know?

…No, it’s not your fault either.

If I hadn’t been presumptuous, trying to secretly uncover your secrets to help you, if I’d been honest earlier, perhaps your image of me would be better.

But doing so, I’d lose my only chance, my only chance to help you.

Because you don’t trust anyone, including me; you’d never… share your secrets with anyone.

It’s too late to confess now; I’ve become the image you believe me to be.

I don’t know where this path leads, but I’ll keep walking.

As for why, you wouldn’t like the reason now.

July 25.

I’m exhausted, tired of deceiving Anselm, tired of the truths gained through this deception.

Now I see… Anselm is trapped in some obsession.

He clearly craves outside help yet vehemently rejects all; he desperately wants to share his pain but will never speak of it to anyone.

He wants me as a friend, yet also a perfectly loyal servant.

I can feel his growing pain; he probably thinks the time for a choice, for a showdown, is nearing.

All this might just be my wishful thinking. Perhaps it’s not that complicated; perhaps if I sided with him, he’d be much better.

But that would only be temporary… how could something causing a divine species such agony be resolved by a single word or attitude from me?

Without finding the root of the issue, Anselm will inevitably fall back into this pain.

I lack the courage, the qualification… to bear his entirety.

I’m too weak, and besides, verbal “life-and-death” promises don’t suit me.

Anselm’s obsession… might be like my own fixation.

I know my fixation is abnormal, but I’m willing to give everything for it. Yet Anselm seems unaware he’s trapped in this obsession.

This obsession… must have a source.

I lost Grandfather; what did Anselm lose?

Was he betrayed?

Could a single betrayal wound him so deeply?

By a friend, a family member?

Or perhaps not betrayal, but something unacceptable to him, like Grandfather’s death was to me, bringing such despair.

I, too… haven’t moved past it for a long, long time.

Regardless, I’ll keep going.

Sorry, Anselm, I haven’t done anything for you yet, just chasing truths under grandiose pretenses.

August 10, torrential rain.

Anselm laid his cards on the table.

I asked him why, why he abandoned or even scorned our ideals.

He told me there was no reason.

He told me it was all a lie—ideals, the future, friendship… all lies to deceive me.

He even used the means he’d prepared to prove it.

You didn’t have to say that, Anselm… you could’ve painfully told me it wasn’t a lie, condemned my baseness, but you didn’t.

Even now… you don’t want me to face a dilemma?

Anselm… Anselm, I understand you better than anyone in this world.

Your loves, your hates, your joys, your anger, your hopes, your pain.

For nearly half a year, you’ve been almost my entire life.

How could I believe all this was just a lie?

I’ve known, longer than anyone, your unspoken pain.

Looking into his eyes, I saw coldness and disappointment.

He’s probably… blaming me now, for not yielding even a little, for not bowing to him even once, for always placing him below my ideals.

Helping you is helping my ideals; doesn’t that mean I’m just using you, right?

But doesn’t that also mean…

You’re equal to my ideals, Anselm?

You have talent, insight, vision beyond mine; you share my hopes, aspirations, desires… why chase a cold, distant unknown when I have you right beside me?

You could see this, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t even tell me why you abandoned our shared ideals.

That’s why I won’t reveal everything to you.

You don’t trust me, you don’t trust anyone; you only trust conclusions from your obsessive mindset, your so-called objective analysis.

Even if I stood by you, even if you saw me as a friend, you wouldn’t share the source of your pain.

This lack of trust isn’t your fault; your obsession and paranoia… aren’t your fault either. You’re just a victim, Anselm.

Most crucially, even if I knew, I lack the power to change it.

I need… time.

Fortunately, Anselm’s proposal, likely a setup for taming me later, perfectly suits my needs.

August 11.

The day to split my soul is coming.

I must make final preparations.

The created “me”… cannot fully possess this me’s memories, my understanding and knowledge of Anselm.

Because the Anselm who spent these six months with me was still a child, but after that rain, he’s no longer one… he’ll grow colder, more perceptive due to my betrayal.

I may not… be able to deceive him again.

Moreover, only when the “me” who so despises and hates him is fully tamed will he truly be at ease.

This is absolutely necessary.

So… there was only one choice—delete those memories.

Delete all my thoughts, considerations, care, and emotions for Anselm… leaving only disgust and hatred.

Deleting wasn’t difficult; erasing memories was simple, but preserving them…

The only carrier Anselm would never discover, the unstable, nascent Data System, was the sole option for preserving memories.

If my memories were destroyed within it, everything would end.

Anselm and I would be locked in a life-or-death struggle, and he’d only gain a servant utterly loyal to him… something he surely doesn’t want.

A gamble… I’d never do something so foolish, but I had no choice.

Even Mr. Flamel could notice I’d erased memories at any moment, but I had to do it.

Nothing in this world is guaranteed to succeed.

This was my only chance to uncover the truth, and I couldn’t let it slip away.

This opportunity, Anselm’s plan, gave me time, the means to grow stronger, and… room to maneuver.

So perfect, almost as if… fated.

As if fate itself granted me this chance.

Fate…

Though unlikely, and I hardly dared believe it, but… was it you?

Are you the one tormenting Anselm, destroying his ideals, making him so lonely, so insecure?

Fighting fate—what an indifferent notion.

Could something so ethereal truly exist?

But if it does, if my actions are within your design, that’s fine.

I’ll fight you in the darkness until one of us is utterly defeated.

I won’t let you destroy my ideals.

I won’t let you destroy my Anselm, my friend.

***

In a sealed room with nothing but a desk and bed, Mingfuluo Zege silently set down her glowing glasses.

Beside her hand was her most precious notebook, its open page bearing… a string of incomprehensible characters.

A cipher only she could understand, the key to unlocking the encrypted memories sealed in the Data System.

“I see…”

The woman murmured: “This is the truth.”

She didn’t doubt the memories’ authenticity for a moment and instantly understood her mission here, without hesitation.

“Three years.”

Mingfuluo walked straight to the wall of the doorless chamber, passing through it effortlessly, arriving at the underground library of Hydra Mansion in the Imperial Capital.

“You have three years, Mingfuluo.”

Looking at the countless forbidden tomes that could drive the world mad, Mingfuluo Zege whispered:

“Three years is enough.”

She returned to the chamber, where a crystal on the desk projected images onto the wall.

The images showed another woman.

Ignorant of all this, but… a crucially important other self.

Harboring only suspicion and hatred for Anselm, lacking the vital memories and emotions…

Yet precisely the “Mingfuluo” in Anselm’s framework, as he envisioned her.

“It’s time to begin.”

Mingfuluo Zege turned her gaze to the future.

She would unravel the mysteries surrounding Anselm, probe his hidden pain, and discover the source of his incomprehensible obsession, while… amassing the necessary strength.

Even if it meant enduring three years of solitude in this unknown, unacknowledged darkness.

Because Mingfuluo knew she was the only one in the world who could understand and help Anselm.

She had never, for a single moment, considered betraying her friend.

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