Moving House

Tonight's rain was especially heavy. The raging wind and rain outside battered the windows like they were beside themselves with fury, but the room remained warm.

The heat produced by Cassifa's flames drove away the chill, while the crackling of burning firewood created white noise that made one drowsy.

Having been busy all day, Alicia went to bed especially early.

There were only two rooms upstairs. One belonged to Shaya, while the other was given to Arthur. Since Alicia's legs were not in good condition, it was best for her to stay downstairs.

Shaya found a folding bed and a mattress in this building's storage room, placed them in the arched space beneath the stairs, then nailed a bedsheet to the beam as a curtain. A reasonably convincing temporary room was complete.

She had cleaned the first floor thoroughly today, and it was close to Cassifa, so it was warm. The sleeping conditions here were even better than upstairs.

Shaya sat in the chair he often used, warming himself by the fire as he quietly thought.

Today, he had experienced death all day long and witnessed much grief and parting. It had been an intensely oppressive experience; someone with poor mental resilience might even develop psychological problems because of it.

But Shaya had not. On the contrary, he was frighteningly calm, without the slightest ripple in his heart.

That was probably because his heart was not currently inside his body.

It was not simply that he had lost his sense of good and evil, along with his desires.

His behavioral logic still followed the values and habits formed over the more than twenty years of experiences before he lost his heart.

But unlike before, he no longer felt fulfilled by doing good, ashamed by doing evil, or saddened by others' misery. He had lost his empathy.

Though on the surface, this seemed to make him a little more composed in the way he handled things.

But if the timeline were stretched out, when the life he lived after losing his heart outweighed those more than twenty years, he could not imagine what he would become.

Zhuangzi used "forgetting" as the secret to attaining "freedom"—forgetting oneself, forgetting emotions, forgetting things, and so on. In the book Zhuangzi, "forgetting" appeared more than eighty times.

Shaya's current state was very similar to Zhuangzi's "forgetting," which was why he seemed so detached.

It was also much like the realm of "supreme forgetfulness of emotion" described in many cultivation novels.

But in truth, "forgetting" was not "nothingness." Many people confused the two.

Forgetting emotion was not the same as being emotionless; it meant "having feelings without being burdened by them."

Ordinary people were either detached and cold, unable to appreciate the warmth of the world, or deeply attached to the point where they could not pull themselves free, grieving and hurting themselves.

But those who had forgotten emotion possessed feelings without being trapped by them, and loved deeply without being wounded by love.

When Zhuangzi's wife died, he beat a basin and sang, believing that his wife had merely changed form and continued to accompany him. True feelings were already rare in this world, yet to demand that they last forever was delusion.

Between people, there was only separation in life or parting in death. That was humanity's fate.

Once one understood this, one became more open-minded. That open-mindedness of letting go of attachment was "forgetting emotion."

Shaya now stood somewhere between forgetting emotion and being emotionless, and he might even drift toward "emotionlessness." In the future, perhaps only the responsibility bestowed by that old man would remain.

That was no longer "freedom." It was more like a machine operating according to some program.

Of course, if that day truly came, it might still be far in the future.

Shaya silently rose and walked to one side. He raised his hand and pulled open the curtain, revealing the sleeping face of the girl.

Alicia lay on her side atop the mattress, fast asleep in her nightclothes beneath a comfortable quilt.

As a curse manifested from her inner image, once she fell asleep at night, her appearance returned to what it had been in the past.

Her long black hair spread out like clouds, and the exhaustion left over from the day lingered on her face,

His gaze swept over her butterfly-like lashes resting in quiet slumber and her soft red lips, warm as begonia blossoms. Flickering firelight outlined the exquisite contours of her features.

Although Shaya no longer had a heart, that did not stop him from appreciating beautiful things.

He raised his hand. From among the clothes hanging beside her, a small slip of paper flew out. It did not touch Shaya's hand, instead drifting above his palm.

He took the slip of paper and sat before Cassifa.

"What is that?" Cassifa asked, staring at the white paper in Shaya's hand.

It seemed to have noticed something and began reading the words written on it.

"Brightly pursuing flowing fire, secretly shedding tears of the heart—your heart is mine."

"Whoosh~"

As Cassifa read the words aloud, the slip of paper instantly burst into flames, then fell to the floor.

"Very ancient magic," Cassifa commented. "And very powerful, too. Whose is it?"

"It was on Alicia. Who do you think it belongs to?" Shaya asked calmly.

"The Wilderness Witch?" Cassifa's flames grew slightly larger. "Then doesn't she already know where I am?"

"The general location." Shaya murmured quietly. "Before long, she should come to Eagle's Horn Port."

Cassifa's flames turned blue, clearly panicked. Then it asked, "What are you going to do?"

"If I remember correctly, she has a fire demon too, doesn't she?" Shaya asked.

Cassifa sank into its memories. "I think so."

"A fire demon..." Shaya murmured. "In the novel, the Wilderness Witch's fire demon had already gone out of control and turned around to control her, but the film never mentioned it."

"That is possible," Cassifa said. "It might also explain why she insists on having your heart. She needs a younger contract partner."

"How confident are you?" Shaya asked.

"She is old, but experienced. I am younger and stronger," Cassifa said.

Shaya thought quietly for a moment before saying, "No rush. Let's move away from Eagle's Horn Port first."

"M-move?" Cassifa crackled, sounding alarmed.

Its true body in the hearth was extremely fragile. Without firewood, or with even a basin of water poured on it, it could die. Moving once like this might cost it half its life.

"It doesn't matter," Shaya said. "You can choose between the Wilderness Witch and moving. If you don't want to, forget it. I don't care."

"Damn it!" Cassifa wailed as it burrowed into the firewood. If moving meant losing half its life, falling into the Wilderness Witch's hands meant truly losing its life.

"Moving isn't only to avoid her," Shaya said. "There are three people in the castle now. We can't have Alicia sleeping beneath the stairs every day. I'm not her wicked aunt."

After a pause, he continued, "Time is on our side. The longer we drag this out, the stronger I become."

Cassifa emerged again and asked, "When are you planning to move?"

"I need to find the locations of the other entrances first," Shaya said. "I want to rent a storefront. Ideally, one of its entrances should have a large courtyard, though I already have an option for the latter."

As he spoke, Shaya looked once more at the bed where Alicia slept, then turned to look at the box resting on the table.

The box was exquisitely made, covered in elegant relief carvings. It was clearly the work of a master, and even its materials were precious.

Shaya had brought it out of the palace. It was also the "payment" Moria had given him.

Shaya got to his feet, silently picked up the box, and carried it upstairs.