OBS Chapter 4560 The Day of Brightest Day (9)
Chapter 4560 The Day of Brightest Day (9)
Chapter 4560 The Sun Shines Brightest (19)
Following the leader's death, martial law was quickly declared in major Egyptian cities, especially Hegada, where the incident occurred, which immediately entered a state of war. Troops continuously entered the streets to search for him. This forced Deathstroke and Schiller to retreat to their safe house.
Schiller walked into the basement and seemed somewhat shocked and confused when he saw the broken sofa and the mess on the floor. Deathstroke turned to look at him and said, "Don't tell me motion sickness can cause amnesia."
“No,” Schiller said, “I know how this happened. I’m just surprised you can tolerate such destruction.”
"Is that something I can tolerate?" Deathstroke's head was practically filled with question marks. "You almost fucking knocked me into the Red Sea. Did I have any other choice but to tolerate you?"
“Of course you have them,” Schiller said, looking at the shards of the coffee table on the floor. “You can leave.”
"Do you want to hear what you're saying?" Deathstroke was truly shocked by his shamelessness. He said, "This is my safe house. You want me to leave?!"
"The safe house was originally set up to ensure your safety. If it's no longer safe here, then what's the point of you staying here?"
Deathstroke opened his mouth, only to find himself speechless. Schiller walked to the sofa with the broken armrest and sat down, then said, "Perhaps you don't even realize it yourself. Your tolerance for me far exceeds what one would expect for a temporary partner met along the way. What do you see in me that makes you willing to sacrifice your most valued professionalism for curiosity?"
“You’ve been pointing that out,” Deathstroke said, walking over to sit opposite him, but quickly getting up again to grab two cans of beer from the refrigerator next to him. He didn’t give any to Schiller, but kept them for himself. He opened one, pulled up his mask, took a sip, and suddenly froze.
"Your hearing has recovered?" Deathstroke looked at Schiller incredulously, realizing then that he had been wearing a full-face mask the whole time, and Schiller shouldn't have been able to see his lip movements. But they had just had a very smooth conversation. This couldn't be guessed.
Schiller shook his head. Deathstroke stared at him for a while, but Schiller didn't seem to have any intention of explaining; his attitude was more like, "You'll find out sooner or later anyway."
"Want me to tell you?" Deathstroke stopped dwelling on the question. Schiller was finally willing to talk, which was unusual, and they just happened to be unable to leave that night. Such a conversation could satisfy his curiosity. After all, his commission had failed; he couldn't have come all this way for nothing, could he?
“Go ahead and speak,” Schiller said, appearing much more compliant, at least to Deathstroke, who seemed less averse to communication. At this point, he thought it a good sign, a sign that it would help him understand this seemingly very special agent. But Schiller didn't let this assessment last long.
“I can tell you’re not as young as you look. In fact, I am too.” Deathstroke decided to show his sincerity by revealing information, saying, “Your soul is older than your body. That’s not very common, is it?”
Schiller simply nodded slightly, seemingly carefully assessing whether Deathstroke was telling the truth. Deathstroke then continued, "Not long ago, I had an accident that nearly killed me. And when I awoke, I found myself suddenly young again. It was incredible."
“However, I know very well that at my age, I never thought of becoming a mercenary. I was probably just enlisting then, first cleaning the decks of naval ships, and then transferring to the army to become a member of the special operations forces, serving my country with confidence and hope. I am never ashamed of that experience.”
“However, this situation is still very troublesome because I have a family and children. I… cannot face them in this form. Especially my children, they probably wouldn’t even recognize me. I have been looking for a way out of this state, visiting wizards and people who claim to be experts in this field, but nothing has worked.”
"There aren't many things that can leave me so helpless. But now it seems I have no choice but to accept reality. It's actually very difficult, and sometimes it gets on my nerves. When I get up in the morning, I can't tell whether I should check the information the client gave me or follow the first mate's instructions to clean the deck of the Nimitz."
“I should definitely see a psychologist. But I can’t accept electroshock and hypnotherapy, and if I just talk about it, they won’t believe I’m an old man because my body looks perfectly fine, young and strong, with no old injuries, which doesn’t match my description at all. It would make them think I’m a hypochondriac. Most people have diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder, but I know very well that’s not the case.”
“I can see that your situation is similar to mine, but also different. You seem to accept this state completely. You know, it's like an old soul living in a young body. So I'm actually wondering, what's going on with you? Is the mental illness you mentioned related to this?”
Schiller paused for a moment before speaking, "The problem you mentioned about the discrepancy between the age of the soul and the age of the body does not exist in me."
Deathstroke stared at him, seemingly genuinely doubting whether his judgment was wrong. "Yes, your biggest problem now isn't your age. You're like a different person... no, not completely. It's just that you seem to have changed suddenly."
Have you ever considered that the gap between your younger self and your current self might be greater than the gap between someone else and you?
Deathstroke paused for a moment, then said, “For myself alone, that might be true. Like I said, I never imagined I’d be a mercenary, even though I think I did pretty well. But if I could go back in time, I might take a different path.”
"for example?"
"I will not accept that experiment, retire smoothly, find a job as a bank security guard in Buenos Aires, and enjoy family time with my wife and children."
“Interesting.” Schiller’s tone was too nonchalant. This made Deathstroke very uncomfortable, and his eyes turned cold almost immediately.
“You just need a confessional, Mr. Wilson. You need to urgently tell others these thoughts to demonstrate how society has defeated you.”
Schiller's tone wasn't actually aggressive, but that's precisely what made it so particularly irritating. Perhaps due to motion sickness, he seemed a little drowsy, leaning against the intact armrest on the other side of the sofa as he said, "Believe it or not, I can see you clearly, all of you. Do you want to hear me from the beginning, or just the part you least want to hear?"
“We have plenty of time.” Deathstroke’s words were quite aggressive, almost a threat, much like “You have plenty of time to talk nonsense.”
“Okay. Let me explain the rules first. You don’t need to respond to me, so there’s no need to rack your brains to figure out how to refute what I say. You just need to use them to ask yourself if that’s really the case. You don’t need to tell me the result, I’m not interested.”
Deathstroke frowned deeply, clearly because of his last words. But Schiller ignored him and continued, “Before we talk about our differences, I think we can talk about our commonalities—some congenital defects. These include a lack of empathy, irritability, and even sexual perversions, which are undeniable lesions in the brain that are currently incurable, but not actually decisive factors.”
Deathstroke remained silent, offering neither confirmation nor denial. Schiller, however, seemed genuinely unconcerned by his reaction, continuing, "Actually, this isn't a rare disease. Two or three out of ten people have these congenital symptoms. The key is whether they manifest, and in what way."
"The timing of realizing this about oneself is crucial. If he is just a child, he may be confused, and he will not be able to pretend, but will simply let himself reveal certain asocial traits. This will cause people to fear and feel disgusted. Children usually do not understand why their nature is not liked. This problem may haunt them for a lifetime."
"Then, hypothetically, it is after they have reached adulthood, at some important moment, that they realize their indifference. They have enough knowledge to disguise themselves as normal people. It's actually very simple. Cry when you should cry, laugh when you should laugh, and no one can tell that there is something wrong with them, which is why people think that most people in the world are normal. But in reality, the situation may be exactly the opposite."
“Sometimes they will show their flaws. Especially when they are at a disadvantage or when they are provoked. People will suddenly find that a friend next to them has become completely different from himself, and they don’t know when he suddenly rotted away. They are often amazed and regretful about this.”
"The truth is that people's spirits are not that fragile. The accidents that can cause them to change their temperament drastically are extremely rare. If you think that someone has suddenly turned bad, it only proves that such a trait exists in their personality. That's their nature, it's just that it's being revealed now."
"I think we all agree that we are not born perfectly healthy people, and we also need to pretend. That's what I mean by our common ground."
Schiller launched into a long speech, his words simple and easy to understand, but the true logic remained elusive. Therefore, Deathstroke's furrowed brows didn't unfurl. But this did make it clear to him that Schiller had some insight into this matter. He grew increasingly eager to hear more.
"Now, we must talk about the differences. This is also the main reason why I cannot support you. Our attitudes on this matter of disguise are almost exactly opposite. To help you understand, let me start with mine."
“A long time ago, I used disguise as my tool. You can imagine how convenient it was for me. With my good looks, understanding personality, and just the right amount of sweet talk, I could easily move in and out of high society. Everyone would open doors for me because of some good quality I had. This allowed me to carry out countless seemingly far-fetched plans.”
Deathstroke looked at Schiller. As a mercenary, he was more receptive to the dangerous signals emanating from Schiller, the kind of signals a secret agent would give. This allowed him to compare Schiller to a weapon, such as a knife or a gun, to emphasize his offensive power and dangerousness.
But one can also imagine that, in the eyes of some foolish and pretentious collectors, completely oblivious to any danger, Schiele would be seen more as a rare painting or a mysterious antique porcelain, possessing both artistic merit and collectible value. Attracted but not vigilant enough, they would certainly be completely fooled by him.
Schiller's expression when he said this easily reminded Deathstroke of his dissolute youth. He would be a darling of high society. But it was precisely because of his tone that Deathstroke had to seriously consider what he really wanted to do by sneaking in there.