"What kind of dream was she having? You actually didn't wake her up and let her keep sleeping?"
Dox seemed like the sort whose mouth could never stay still. Even though Angel was acting quite coldly, he still forcibly sidled over.
Angel remained silent for a moment before slowly saying, "A dream that let her see the truth."
"So, you used some method to make her dream of seeing the truth? And that dream was a nightmare to her?" Dox immediately began analyzing.
Angel did not reply.
Yet Dox kept chattering away. "What's the point of seeing the truth? Seeing it doesn't mean you can recognize it for what it is."
Though Dox had said it offhandedly, he was not wrong. There was still an immense distance between seeing the truth and recognizing the truth.
"Besides, since it was a nightmare to her, perhaps she won't even want to remember it after waking up. You know, people with frail hearts always protect themselves within walls they've built themselves. They are unwilling, and do not want, to touch any negative emotions."
"Your analysis is quite thorough." Angel was not being sarcastic; he genuinely thought Dox's analysis was good.
Dox said, "I've seen plenty of similar things, and no small number of similar people. Trapped within worlds they wove themselves, dreaming what they believed were beautiful dreams."
Angel asked, "Then what do you do?"
Dox said, "When I'm in a good mood, I slap them awake. If one slap doesn't wake them, I give them another. When I'm in a bad mood, who cares about them?"
Listening to Dox speak of violence as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Angel did not find anything wrong with it. Instead, he found the man rather interesting.
Dox said, "Anyway, I