Chapter 298
Ilux and Erietta stood inside the queue, still engaged in light conversation or exchanging glances that reflected their mental preparation.
They were part of the crowd, yet to Theo's eyes, they were the very center of the entire scene.
After a silent chase, the observer and his subjects now found themselves within the same space once more, separated only by several dozen meters and a sea of strangers.
"Should we go in as well? And if so, would Aldraya be willing?"
Fhooooh!
"It's not that he's easily frightened; it's just that this is about observation, not about having fun."
The two silhouettes he had been watching for so long finally vanished into the mouth of darkness, swallowed by the thick shadows that seemed to live beyond the haunted house entrance.
The creaking sound of the door slowly closing felt like the sealing of a separate world.
Outside, beneath the park lights that were beginning to turn on one by one, Theo stood motionless.
The doubt that had been postponed in favor of speed now resurfaced, filling the space in his mind that had suddenly grown quiet.
A single question hung in the air.
Should they go in as well?
For Theo, this was not merely a matter of buying a ticket or sneaking inside, but a deeper strategic consideration.
Entering a closed space designed to shock and frighten meant relinquishing control over the environment, placing oneself on the same stage as the subject of observation, and risking direct exposure to reactions that could disrupt his objectivity.
Yet on the other hand, staying outside meant nothing more than guessing at what was happening inside, losing moments of intimacy and spontaneous reactions that could only be captured from very close range.
Theo's thoughts then shifted to the figure beside him.
Aldraya, with an essence untouched by human fear, appeared entirely unbothered by the prospect of entering a haunted house.
To him, it was merely a structure with measurable variables.
Lighting levels, sound patterns, disguised actor movements, and surprise mechanisms.
However, the question was not about capability, but about desire.
Did Aldraya have a preference?
Did he, within his operational logic, see greater value in direct observation inside, or did he consider external data sufficient?
Theo realized that this decision could not be made unilaterally.
He had formed a silent partnership, and although Aldraya always followed, entering a space so personal and filled with simulations of negative emotions might require the implied consent of the former angel.
"You're looking at me as if you're considering whether I would go into that ride, aren't you?"
Aldraya's sharp, unblinking eyes, which had been fixed on the gate of darkness where Ilux and Erietta disappeared, slowly shifted.
His cold gaze, like a laser beam, scanned Theo's face, capturing every subtle crease on his brow and every glimmer of uncertainty in eyes that were usually filled with conviction.
He concluded that Theo's attention was now fully directed at him, not at the target or the surrounding environment.
Within Aldraya's straightforward logic, cause and effect were processed swiftly.
Theo's prolonged silence, accompanied by his complete attention after a moment of visible hesitation, led to only one possible interpretation.
Thus, through the silent channel of telepathy, a question was posed—not with curiosity, but in a flat, analytical tone—asking whether Theo's indecision about entering the ride stemmed from uncertainty regarding his response.
"I admit I'm hesitant. But there's another question—do you dislike dark places, or things like that?"
A short breath, almost like a restrained sigh, escaped Theo's lips.
It was a wordless admission, a sign that Aldraya's question had struck its mark.
He nodded, a small movement that affirmed the truth behind Aldraya's analysis.
Yes, his hesitation indeed originated from uncertainty about Aldraya's position in this scenario.
After that brief confirmation, without allowing the silence to harden, Theo followed up with another question directly.
The question sounded simple, perhaps even naive, yet it carried layers of deeper meaning.
Did Aldraya hate the darkness, or things like it?
"Darkness is not something I fear. However, passing through a place like that alone reminds me of times that were far too long and silent."
Aldraya blinked once, a mechanical motion that seemed almost unnatural, before his sharp gaze returned to the darkness ahead.
His voice, flowing through the telepathic channel, was flat and without inflection, conveying a factual statement.
To him, darkness was not an entity worthy of fear.
This lack of fear was not bravery, but a logical consequence of his existential construction, built upon rigid and absolute pillars.
Unshakable religious dogma, devotion that functioned as natural law for him, and betrayal—not merely as memory, but as a part of identity fused with his former essence.
Within such a frame of reference, fear of the absence of light was an irrelevant emotional luxury, a minor disturbance unworthy of attention.
Yet beneath that cold and certain statement lay a deeper, more bitter reality.
While physical darkness meant nothing, the act of traversing a dark room alone carried a heavy symbolic burden.
For Aldraya, solitude was not a temporary choice, but a condition forged by a long and complex history.
The religious dogma he once held had long placed him apart from others; the tower of piety he built became a magnificent prison, while betrayal—both believed and experienced—collapsed every bridge toward togetherness.
Walking through the darkness alone, in this context, was nothing more than a repetition of an old pattern.
Living as an isolated entity, traversing any reality—light or shadow—relying solely on oneself, because that was the only path he had known and trusted since the past shaped him.
"You don't have to face it alone."
Theo's hand moved almost outside of his conscious awareness, rising with a slow yet resolute motion.
His warm fingers touched the surface of Aldraya's white hair, smooth like frozen silk, and gently stroked the top of his head.
The gesture was simple and spontaneous, filled with an almost childlike tenderness, yet it carried profound weight.
It was a form of body language that transcended words, an attempt to offer physical comfort for the confession of loneliness that had just been revealed.
The touch said, "I am here. I hear you."
Along with that touch, his words flowed—honest and direct.
He stated that Aldraya did not need to bear that burden of feeling—or the structured absence of feeling defined as loneliness—by himself.
Theo's use of the word "feeling" may have been his own interpretation of Aldraya's complex inner state, an attempt to humanize something that might lie beyond full human comprehension.
Then, he delivered a firm promise.
That he would accompany Aldraya into that dark room.
This was not merely about physical companionship, but an offer to share space, to transform the narrative of "passing through the darkness alone," which had long been Aldraya's fate, into "passing through the darkness together."
The promise did not end there.
Theo added, in a tone that might have sounded like a guardian's oath, that he would do his best to keep Aldraya's condition stable.
This was an acknowledgment that the "stability" in question might not concern strength or fear of darkness, but existential stability—offering a consistent presence that could, even briefly, serve as an antidote to the isolation that had lasted for thousands of years.
To be continued…