How close they are, thought Nemo.

Oliver leaned against the headboard of the pale wooden bed, the collar of the loose nightgown showing a little of his collarbone. The soft light brown hair is a little messy, and in the sunlight, the green eyes are clear and steady - they are looking at themselves, and the eyes they cast are full of trust and reassurance.

The body temperature of the other party still remained on the skin, and Nemo clenched his hand into a fist. He is nostalgic for this temperature, but because of this, he must say everything.

He didn't think about hiding it.

The idea of ​​concealment does come to my mind from time to time. After all, only he knows the details of everything that happens in the Church of Silence, just keep silent, or claim to be just a weird wanderer - Nemo has never been so clear that pushing away this warmth will cause What a pain.

It would be much better to keep the status quo, as long as he doesn't say anything, Oliver will never ask.

But he couldn't hide it.

That in itself is a distrust, he thought. Oliver had promised not to be afraid no matter what. And if one day Oliver finds out who he is - or worse, when "Nimo Wright" disappears completely and the real Demon Lord comes to the world, what will his lover think?

That would be hell. And he didn't want to push the other party into **** because of this deceitful warmth.

No escape.

"Oli." Nemo finally spoke, clenching the thin sheet beside him. The air seemed to be pulled away from him in an instant, and he couldn't breathe normally. "I know what I am, when I brought down the Church of the Abyss."

Oliver clasped his fingers, his eyes still warm.

"I...I'm not as innocent as you think, not even close." Nemo subconsciously wanted to look away, but he forced himself to look into the other's eyes.

He took a deep breath like a dying man: "Although I don't remember, I killed a lot of people in the past."

"I told you, didn't I? I liked the tin soldiers, but I killed them with my own hands. That was Uncle Ramon's companion—your father's companion..."

"Before that, before that. These thousands of years...I don't know how many..."

These words are like sharp thorns, each word will scratch his throat.

"There is no concept of a dozen generations of demon kings at all. From beginning to end, it was me at the bottom of the abyss, Ollie. And now I'm on the surface, just what I found... my lost memories , and even everything at present is likely to be in the 'Once Me' plan."

As if he was vomiting something poisonous, his tongue was almost numb.

"...It's okay to go against what you said, it's okay to run away. I won't be angry, I won't blame you. I'm..."

The word got stuck in his throat, and Nemo couldn't get it out. He finally lowered his eyes, unable to bear to see the moment when those green eyes turned cold. "I'm…"

"Demon King?" Oliver took it himself, his voice was indifferent.

Nimo did not answer. He stared at the cracks in the floor lit by the sun, knowing that his reaction was enough to explain the answer.

Oliver was silent for a long time.

There was only one person's breathing in the quiet space, and Nemo didn't even dare to breathe. He still stared at the cracks in the floor with a little shadow, and his clenched fingers almost scratched the thin sheet.

"I want to eat pudding." Oliver said suddenly after a long, suffocating silence.

"…Huh?" This wasn't any answer Nemo had imagined, his mind went blank.

"Can you buy one for me, Nemo?" Oliver's tone was barely calm. "I need a little time to think about it."

Nemo quickly stood up, made a quick hum, and rushed out the door as if running away. He still didn't dare to look at the expression on Oliver's face, and even forgot to say goodbye.

He barely remembered how he found the store, and he almost left without the dessert. Although the pebble ground was extremely solid, Nemo felt like he was stepping on cotton with every step. His body was trembling with tension, and the people passing by seemed to be in another world. It was not until he saw the sign of the inn that he realized that he had walked back.

Nimo did not return to the room immediately.

Is Oliver gone? He was holding the string of the pudding bottle, and an almost brutal conjecture crashed into his mind uncontrollably.

Thinking from a different standpoint is indeed the most rational approach. But this thought made him fall into an ice cave. Nemo looked at the brightly colored signboard and the owner behind the counter who was poking at the ink bottle with the tip of his pen. It was a warm and peaceful scene, but his stomach was twisted into a ball, and his blood vessels seemed to be blocked. Replaced by tiny venomous snakes.

In any case...when you step into that room again, you will get a definite answer.

This is the path he chose, and he is destined to bear the consequences of the confession. Nemo walked towards the door with the dessert in his hand, his heartbeat nearly out of control. Such was the feeling of fear, he thought, and he hated it with all his heart.

Nimo slowly reached out and pushed open the door. And didn't find the light brown head on the bed for the first time.

His heart absolutely stopped for a few seconds. Fortunately, the Sword of Rest is still lying on the light-colored sheet, which is particularly eye-catching at this time.

Oliver seemed to tuck his head under the pillow, wrapping himself in a cocoon. Hearing the door slam, he finally sticks his head out from under the fluffy pillow.

"You eat it." Oliver pointed to the pudding bottle and suggested seriously. "I'm sorry, I just lied - I don't have an appetite, and you finished peeling the last soft pear." Oliver sighed and sat up again. He raised the pillow and leaned back against the head of the bed. "...you look horribly pale, something sweet will make you better."

Nimo froze in place, his lips trembling slightly, unable to say a word.

"Come and sit," Oliver said, patting the edge of the bed. There was no expression on his face. "I promise I won't scream like a ten-year-old girl."

This time it was Nemo's turn to be restrained, holding the pudding bottle in both hands, almost crushing the poor bottle. After hesitating for more than ten seconds, he cautiously took a few steps and sat back on the edge of the bed—as if the bed was about to explode in the next second.

"I have a few questions to ask." Oliver looked at the ceiling, "Nimo, you said you were the devil... What is your basis for your judgment?"

"Ulysses' skull fragment." Nemo said dryly, "I can feel it, there is no doubt my strength, there is no difference. As for the complete skull , it's in the top of a tree in your backyard."

"You mean—" Oliver's voice shifted slightly, "is 'Mr. White' your bones? . . . if I'm not mistaken."

Nimo nodded slightly, looking lower. "This is one of the reasons, the second...it may be more difficult to understand. Ollie, I can completely control the life of the superior demon, I guess ordinary demons can't do this."

"I don't really understand, but it seems that you are quite sure of your identity."

“…Yes.”

"Then next question." Oliver murmured sullenly, "You really don't remember anything?"

"That's right." Nemo clenched the vial in his hand bitterly, "When I touched the skull fragment, I took back a little memory of Ulysses. He... no, I used to be Deliberately made your father take out the head. Ollie, I used your father. I don't know the details, but I'm here now... definitely has something to do with that skull."

Oliver let out a long sigh.

"One last question." He turned and looked Nemo directly in the eyes. "Where are you going?"

"What?" Nemo didn't respond for a while.

"You insisted yesterday that 'Ann will come and pick me up'." Oliver said word by word, his voice unable to hear happiness or anger. "Nemo, do you want to leave?"

"I..."

"Is this a breakup request?"

"You..." This was completely different from what he expected, and Nemo almost dropped the bottle in his hand. He quickly put it on the low cabinet beside the bed, and there was a dull sound when the hard objects hit it. To be honest, he didn't dare to hold out much hope - Oliver didn't escape, he was relieved from the bottom of his heart. As for the level Oliver mentioned at the moment, he didn't take it into consideration at all.

He didn't think they had the luxury of "the future".

"...You fell to the Withered Castle, in the final analysis I did it." Nemo growled, "You don't have to insist, I have been putting a lot of pressure on you, I know. Ollie , this is no joke - if I were just a normal high-level demon, of course we could go on... but I've always been an enemy of the surface! I'll pull you down one day, you..."

"You listen to me. I'm not innocent at all, what happens is what happens, no matter what I do it won't change. I'm probably just an illusion now, one to put you at ease A vigilant camouflage..."

Nimo buried his eyes in one palm and gritted his teeth. "You always use your best judgement and you know what to do."

"I know." The mattress collapsed and Oliver approached. "I'm not going to tell you 'those things don't matter' on behalf of anyone."

Then a pair of warm arms came up from behind him - Oliver hugged him from behind, a hug without a doubt. "I can't forgive you on behalf of anyone. You're right, no one can change what happened."

Oliver pulled Nemo's arm away and put his palm over his eyes.

The palm was dry and warm.

"If I hadn't 'fallen to the Withered Castle', I might have made the so-called most reasonable judgment as you think." Oliver put his chin on Nemo's shoulder, and Nemo could feel it The heat of his breath burrowed into his ears accompanied by whispers. "But I won't do that now. Thank you for telling me that, I know you could have said nothing."

"But Nemo...the Demon King never climbed to the surface, it was the army of the surface who entered the abyss on their own. Father was a very smart man, he always saw the essence of things at a glance, you know? He'd put the bouquet next to the skull. He must have cherished his comrade quite a bit too...but the bouquet was still there. Whatever happened back then, it certainly wasn't a mere 'exploitation'."

"If there is a real crime, I will bear it with you. If you want the answer, I will find it with you."

"Because the person I love is here right now and suffers for hurting others. It's okay to pretend, it's okay to pretend, 'you' are here now, Nemo."

"You might die." Nemo cleared his throat. "I can go back to the abyss, I can find a place where no one else is, I..."

"Almost died...I have experienced it, and I will be more skilled in the future." Oliver even laughed softly. "Now that I know the truth, I should be more responsible for monitoring you, right?"

"I'd rather catch you than leave you alone where I can't see. After all, even if you go back to the abyss, the next expedition is still inevitable. And no one knows Are you now able to travel freely between the abyss and the surface?"

"If I understood anything this time... Nemo, it's painful to be alone, more painful than you can imagine. It's easier for two."

"I just wanted to protect..." Nemo's voice was a little more hoarse.

"The things you did in the past will not go away, and the things you did in the present will not disappear." Oliver's voice became softer and softer, "We have helped a lot. Man, you did change a small part of the world. If you hide, I can't do those things alone. If one day, things really get to the point of irreversibility..."

The hug was tightening, the heartbeat coming from behind was steady and strong, Oliver's body temperature seeped through the thin cloth, almost scalding him.

"I will kill you with my own hands."

It was probably the best dream he'd ever had, thought Nemo. He gripped Oliver's arm tightly, like a drowning man clutching the last piece of driftwood. He had no doubts about Oliver's words - not so long ago, this man had even tried to turn his own death into a shackle to defend a promise to guard the surface.

It's great that the man he fell in love with was so cruel.

"...until then, if you want, I'll be by your side."

"Good."

Nemo took a breath, and the air around him finally reappeared. The blood was flowing again, and Oliver's hand was still lightly covering his eyes. The sunlight pierced the sides of his fingers a warm orange-red.

“…so stop crying.”

"Good."

(m..=)