36 Unfinished Business

"Strictly speaking—" Konrad Curze Curze said—our actions could, to some extent, be considered serious crimes."

Without looking up, Karyl replied, "There's no rule in Imperium law that forbids the Legion from adding regulations regarding the selection of new recruits."

"But you call it the twentieth surgery."

"It's not surgery, but it's not much different. Both involve bleeding, injury, and pain. The only difference is that the surgeon and the patient are themselves, nothing more. Besides, this is much better than a bizarre ritual that could lead to sleepwalking, Konrad Curze."

Konrad Curze Curze nodded, agreeing with Karyl's statement.

He was one of only two people who pushed this matter forward. Whether his question was genuinely due to his disagreement with the name of the twentieth surgery, or an attempt to use it as a pretext to start another conversation, is something no one can truly know.

The Night Haunter has now learned some special skills, which he mastered without being taught—he can keep a straight face and hide all his emotions, as if they were hidden in a box in his heart.

Is this a good idea?

Konrad Curze Curze has no answer, but he doesn't care about the answer now.

He leaned against the wall behind Karyl, rubbing his back against the cool surface, feeling a long-lost sense of comfort. The war was over, and the outcome could still be categorized as "good." That was enough; Curze didn't ask for much more.

He squinted as he watched Karyl write line after line of text on the blank document, and couldn't help but ask, "When did you become proficient at this?"

"What's up?"

"Write a file."

Curze shrugged; he knew Karyl could tell what he was doing just by the movement of the air.

"The way you write these documents is just like another Roboute."

Have you ever seen him write documents?

"No, he always uses Dataslate."

"Then I--"

Karyl turned around and shoved a pen into Konrad Curze Curze's hand.

"--He's not another Roboute Guilliman, but a more old-fashioned professional document processor. Now it's your turn, Konrad Curze. Since you've finished your meeting and are planning to come here to chat, let's talk while we review the documents."

"."

"What, you don't want to?"

"I thought I'd finally get some rest after a war ended."

"Since the Legion Commander wishes to rest, then let him rest."

Karyl smiled slightly, rested one hand on the back of the chair, and shook his head.

"Anyway, paperwork isn't going to grow legs and run away, is it? It's there whether you write it or not, so you can go take a break, Konrad Curze."

"What do you mean I can rest?" Curze raised one eyebrow, making his expression somewhat intriguing. "I am the Lord of the Legion, Karyl. If I want to rest, I can rest."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, you can rest whenever you want." Karyl nodded with a half-smile. "Then rest."

"."

Konrad Curze Curze silently walked around him and went to the other side of the table. He moved out the Primarch- sized chair, sat down in silence, and began doing the paperwork just like Karyl.

To be honest, his handwriting was beautiful enough that Karyl could tell at a glance that it was derived from Fulgrim, but Konrad Curze Curze wrote very quickly, which resulted in many connected lines between the words.

But they are not gentle.

They are not curved lines; they even look somewhat straight, like knife blades, which is very much in Konrad Curze Curze's personal style.

It's extremely difficult to understand.

"Konrad Curze, I must say, while your handwriting is quite distinctive, it has caused our clerks a lot of trouble." Karyl tapped his fingers on the table. "They've even had to come to me several times."

Konrad Curze Curze's pen suddenly stopped writing.

"What do they want from you?"

"Drinking tea, chatting, studying which joint of someone's finger to bend to cause more pain—what do you think?" Karyl asked with a smile. "What do you think they came to see me for?"

The ring finger or index finger is better.

"Ah, I think it's better to bend all four fingers at once and then straighten them back. But what do you think they came to see me for?"

Konrad Curze Curze silently put down his pen, pursing his lips in a sullen voice. "I've been saying for a long time that we should move towards paperless offices. Roboute even distributed a batch of Dataslate to us, but you insist on using paper documents on this matter."

"What I just mentioned predates your desire to implement paperless offices, Konrad Curze. And, in this matter, using paper documents is perfectly normal."

Karyl shook his head, his dark eyes calm. Today he was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved shirt with a black and gray vest over it—standard office attire, provided by a tailor who had accompanied the Emperor's Dream.

Before this expedition, he gave Karyl several pieces of clothing of different styles and uses, without asking for anything in return or even explaining why.

"Although paper documents are more cumbersome to store and not as convenient and quick to retrieve as Dataslate, even the Ultramarines haven't abandoned them. You might want to think about why, Konrad Curze."

"I don't want to."

"Um?"

"I don't want to think about it right now," Konrad Curze Curze said. "I just want to get back to Nostramo, Karyl, and then I'll conscript soldiers, and then I'll—"

He paused strangely, pursed his lips, and said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ground. He seemed to be silent, or perhaps deep in thought. Karyl stared at him silently, waiting for him to continue, and Curze did not disappoint him.

"--It seems too early to say that now," Konrad Curze Curze said in a tone so rational it was completely unlike his own. "Nostramo is still not suitable for conscription."

He drew a conclusion and then overturned his own idea; he controlled himself with reason, while Karyl sighed almost imperceptibly.

"Then," he said slowly, "When do you think would be the right time, Konrad Curze?"

"I have no answer either." The giant, who had just said he didn't want to think, thoughtfully propped his cheek up with his right hand.

He stared at the tabletop, his eyes following the lightning bolt patterns on it—everyone has different habits when thinking, and this was Konrad Curze Curze's habit, dating back a long time.

It comes from the days when he was still squatting on the Gargoyle, waiting for a man named Karyl Lohars to tell him what to do, while he would follow the shadows of people and vehicles on the ground with his eyes and think about some trivial things.

At that time, they had no idea what was hidden in the gloomy sky above Nostramo, nor did they know each other's true identities.

They hunted together on many nights, and the two monsters committed one horrific tragedy after another, leaving behind so many corpses that they could fill several streets in Quintus.

And now?

Konrad Curze Curze burst into a shrill laugh, abrupt and out of place, yet strangely normal for him—he was handsome, or rather, inappropriately and poorly described as beautiful, the best proof of being the Emperor creation.

But he himself transformed this beauty into a dangerous aura, a danger that remained hidden most of the time, only truly revealed on rare occasions and in front of a select few.

"I have no answer, Karyl." The Night Haunter chuckled and shook his head, his laughter almost mocking. But whom was he mocking?

Karyl also had no answer to this.

"Sometimes, I feel like I've changed," Konrad Curze Curze said with a completely unsmiling laugh. "And other times, I silently ask myself—is it a good thing to just leave Nostramo to go to war?"

"I know the Great Crusade is necessary, and I know I shouldn't think this way, but it's so hard to convince myself to do the right thing, Karyl."

He looked at the giant who bore a striking resemblance to him, and spoke softly, his dark eyes fixed intently on the other. "How did you do that?"

"What should be done?"

"Always do the right thing."

"I've never done that, Konrad Curze," Karyl told him calmly.

"I've made many mistakes, some of which still haunt me, others which serve as warnings. No one can always do the right thing, and those who force themselves to do so invariably become monsters. Paranoia is a kind of curse within us; anyone can be paranoid in some way. For example, me, I'm used to presenting things as riddles, and most of the time I carry everything on my shoulders. Or the Emperor, he—"

Karyl couldn't help but smile, "--Let's not talk about him anymore."

"Why?"

Are you really asking, or are you planning to take this further, twist it, and turn it into an awkward conversation that mocks your father?

Curze, whose true intentions had been exposed, was not annoyed. He simply smiled, picked up his quill, and continued writing. A few minutes later, he finished writing, handed the document to Karyl, and left the room.

Karyl watched him leave, then lowered his head and began to read.

He saw that the words Konrad Curze Curze had initially written had been marked with a large X by his own hand, and below the blank space in the document were four lines of smaller text. The font had changed, and the words were no longer continuous, making them very easy to distinguish.

"We still have unfinished business, Father."

"I could just be a killer, a ruthless assassin, but I realize I can't. If crimes go Judgment, our killings are meaningless. I used to dislike being changed, even resisting wearing the clothes Fulgrim gave me. But now, I realize I must change."

"If I don't change, more people will be cruelly changed by this world."

Let's go back to Nostramo, let's change it first.

Update complete. New chapters will begin tomorrow, Sevatar and others.

Let me share some of my thoughts.

The data decline this month is entirely my own fault, there's no excuse for it. I've read all the comments. Anyway, thank you everyone who read this far, I will try my best to make this story interesting again.

Also, the Shattered Steel Soul next door is now available! Go check it out! If anyone doesn't know, this was originally for raising Perturabo! It's currently at its most exciting moment.