Henry murmured softly, as though tossing an idea into the air just to watch it take shape. "To strive or simply to keep going doesn't necessarily mean you'll ever arrive."
He lifted his gaze slightly, as if a new thought had just occurred to him.
"But existence itself demands that we strive. Maybe you'll never reach the goal you long for… and that, in itself, is fascinating."
"Perhaps you won't even make it that far. Maybe you'll die tomorrow no one knows what will happen. That's why we keep moving. Not because the ending is guaranteed, but because the journey itself carries meaning. And if you reach your goal, that's good. If you don't… perhaps that's for the best. Maybe it was never meant for you in the first place."
He paused for a moment before turning to Kayden. "But we don't truly know what's good for us. And sometimes… that ignorance is useful, because it leaves us free to choose among countless possibilities. Yet people, at times, use idealism merely as a means to an end… believing that the end justifies the means."
Henry let out a slow sigh, as though exhaling something heavier than air itself.
"But human beings… breathe, don't they?"
Kayden gave a faint nod.
"Yes…"
A faint smile appeared on Henry's face.
"As long as a person can still breathe, and as long as tomorrow exists… there is hope. Even if only for a single moment, there is always a reason to continue. Sometimes, simply breathing… is enough."
At last, Colton broke the silence with a direct question.
"What… is mental decay?"
Kayden's eyes widened slightly, as though the question had unlocked an old chest of forgotten thoughts. He drew a short breath before answering.
"It has many faces… existential, psychological, and even moral."
Arthur nodded, his eyes fixed on his son.
"Explain."
Kayden straightened in his seat and rested a hand against his neck, as though steadying himself before stepping into a heavy subject.
"The human mind is a living organism made of ideas. It's no different from any other living thing it needs nourishment and movement. Its nourishment comes from questioning, experience, and failure. But when a person chooses to treat truth as something final, or shuts the doors of their mind against change and doubt… they kill their own growth. That's when the mind begins to decay, slowly. It no longer creates or seeks; it simply repeats itself in an endless cycle, like a lifeless machine that has lost its soul."
He touched the side of his head lightly, as if trying to stir a memory loose, blinking several times before continuing.
"Psychologically… mental decay is the offspring of false contentment, or what I call 'rigid idealism.' When someone believes they've become the best version of themselves or that they've reached ultimate truth they stop striving. That's when an inner emptiness begins to form. Into that emptiness creeps stagnation, and curiosity quietly disappears. Over time, the mind becomes a sealed box… one that no new light can enter."
Arthur exchanged a brief glance with Henry before asking,
"And morally?"
Kayden froze for a moment, as though pulling the words from somewhere deep inside himself. A spark of determination flickered in his eyes, refusing to let his memory fail him.
"Morally… it's a surrender of one's inner freedom. When a person embraces intellectual stagnation, they hand themselves over to a ready-made mold—one they may have created themselves, or one society imposed upon them. They become nothing more than a copy, repeating laws written for them instead of creating their own… or reshaping the old ones."
When he finished, he leaned his head back slightly and exhaled, as though a burden had finally left his chest.
A faint smile crossed his face.
My memory didn't fail me this time… I'm proud of myself.
Before that quiet satisfaction could settle, Henry shattered the silence with a voice so soft it felt like a stone dropped into still water.
"You know… perhaps humanity itself is the problem."
Henry slowly rose to his feet.
He wandered through the garden with heavy steps, his eyes settling nowhere in particular before speaking in a hoarse voice filled with unsettling certainty.
"Humanity begins everything. Ignorance. Wars. Disease. Every seed of chaos was planted by human hands. We are creatures that resist taming, impossible to discipline… and the only path to salvation is purification."
At that moment, Arthur felt a weight settle in his chest.
It wasn't the weight of the two bombs he carried that burdened him it was the weight of the choice they represented.
He spoke quietly, with genuine curiosity.
"And who are we… to decide what purification means? To judge whether someone should live or die?"
Henry stopped.
His eyes gleamed with a strange mixture of excitement and madness.
"We're not judges… we're guides. Helpers. We are everything that is good."
Arthur gave him a faint smile.
"Your words… are the complete opposite of what you claim to be."
Then he stood as well, as though the garden itself had become too small to contain two such opposing worldviews.
When the conversation finally came to an end, Arthur walked away in silence and climbed to the upper floor.
The others followed just as quietly, as though they had all silently agreed that nothing more needed to be said.
Even Colton, who had remained composed throughout the evening, quietly returned to his own quarters.
The moment he closed the door behind him, he collapsed onto the bed without even changing his clothes, as though his body had finally refused to endure another moment and surrendered to a deep sleep like a stone sinking into the still depths of the sea.
It wasn't long before Colton's eyes opened again, calm and alert, as though he had awakened from only a brief slumber.
His body dissolved into darkness like a shadow melting into the void, only to reappear in the corner of Kayden's room, where dim light cast restless shadows across the walls.
Kayden had just finished showering.
Steam still clung to strands of his hair as he prepared for bed.
He turned toward the corner the moment he sensed a faint movement.
Colton dropped to one knee respectfully.
"You called for me, my lord."
Kayden sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to stand. "You came."
Colton rose to his feet again, quietly wondering why his master had summoned him so late at night.
Kayden cleared his throat softly before asking in a calm, almost testing tone,
"Colton… you've gone hunting twice before, haven't you?"
"Yes."
A faint smile crossed Kayden's face before he spoke in a low voice, as though announcing something of genuine value.
"Today… I'm giving you a soul. Even so, you're free to continue hunting whenever you wish. Consider it a gift from me."
"Thank you, my lord."
Kayden dismissed it with a casual wave. "Don't mention it… He already possesses a spiritual essence. Besides, I've struck him before."
Colton understood exactly what his master meant and asked no further questions, remaining silent instead.
Just as he was about to leave, Kayden stopped him.
"Introduce yourself… the way I taught you before."
For a brief instant, Colton felt as though he had been thrown into an unexpected test. Yet his expression never changed. In fluent, confident Chinese, he introduced himself exactly as instructed.
Kayden murmured,
"Well done."
Then he turned toward his bed, closed his eyes, and surrendered to sleep, leaving Colton standing silently in the shadows for a moment before vanishing as quietly as he had come… without a trace.
Out on the balcony, Henry sat hunched over a small wooden table, slowly working on his thesis. Papers lay scattered around him like autumn leaves waiting for the wind, while the cool night breeze stirred their edges and made the lamplight flicker softly.
As he lifted his head to rest his eyes, he noticed a shadow moving quietly below.
It was Colton, approaching the front gate as though determined not to attract anyone's attention.
Henry stopped writing.
He rose slowly and rested an elbow against the balcony railing, watching him in silence.
After a long moment, he whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself. "He's… free."
As though the words had somehow reached him despite the distance, Colton raised his head slightly and looked toward the balcony.
His eyes reflected the moonlight with an unreadable coldness.
He said nothing.
After a brief silence, he turned away and disappeared into the night, leaving behind an emptiness somehow heavier than his presence.
At six o'clock the following morning, when the first rays of sunlight had barely begun slipping through the curtains, Henry woke.
It wasn't because he wanted to. It was obligation.
Pain still clung stubbornly to his body. A steady headache pulsed behind his eyes, while his injured arm throbbed as though reminding him of last night's mistakes.
He dressed carefully in his formal clothes.
Despite his usual composure, it was obvious he was forcing his body to move.
"That bastard…" Henry muttered under his breath, remembering the previous night's events.
Slowly, he walked to Kayden's room and pushed the door open as though storming a fortress.
Inside, Kayden was fast asleep, his features completely relaxed, his face buried in the pillow.
Henry stepped closer and lightly kicked the side of the bed. "Wake up."
Kayden stirred as though someone were dragging him from the depths of a dark sea.
He slowly opened one eye and looked at Henry with unmistakable hatred.
Pure disgust was written across his face.
"What do you want?" he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.
A small, emotionless smile appeared on Henry's face.
"Get up. You're coming with me."
"Are you my mother?" Kayden muttered with immense effort.
"Go away. You're unbelievably annoying. Now I finally understand why siblings are so irritating."
Henry paid him no attention.
After several attempts and a great deal of reluctant complaining Kayden finally climbed out of bed like a man being led to his own execution.
He disappeared into the bathroom for several minutes.
When he returned, he found his clothes carelessly tossed beside the bed, as though someone had thrown them there without a second thought. ' This is exhausting '
Silently, he dressed himself with slow, unhurried movements before making his way downstairs.
In the kitchen, Kayden sat down and stared at a single piece of bread.
He didn't reach for it. He didn't speak.
He simply sat there, eyes dull, silently studying it.
Henry suddenly spoke without lifting his eyes from the coffee cup in his hands.
"You're not eating outside today. Don't even think about it. There won't be any breakfast there. Eat now."
Kayden gave no reply.
He continued staring at the bread as though negotiating with it.
Eventually, boredom won.
He picked it up and began eating with painfully slow movements, chewing as though the simple act required an extraordinary amount of determination.
Halfway through, he spoke quietly without looking up.
"Henry… you know who you remind me of?"
"A child on a holiday morning. The kind who wakes up ridiculously early not because they actually know what they're going to do, but simply to annoy everyone so they can go outside… only to end up finding a few toys that they'll grow tired of within minutes."
Henry slowly lifted his eyes from his coffee, looking at Kayden with a mixture of mild irritation and complete indifference.
"At least the child has genuine enthusiasm," he replied dryly.
"Unlike certain lazy people who despise the entire world and then complain about being lonely."
A crooked smile tugged at Kayden's lips.
"At least the child doesn't have all those responsibilities. He's freer. He doesn't have to wear a tie at six in the morning just to convince himself he's an adult."
Henry answered only with a long sigh before returning to his coffee, as though the two of them had long grown accustomed to these small daily battles that never truly began and never really ended.
After finally finishing breakfast, Kayden and Henry stepped outside toward the carriage waiting in front of the house.
The morning air was slightly cold.
The sky remained gray, as though the sun still hadn't decided whether this day deserved its light.
Kayden climbed into the carriage with slow, reluctant steps before settling into the rear seat.
He rested his head against the cold glass, closed his eyes for a moment, then murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep and faint regret for having been awakened.
"Where are we going?"
Across from him, Henry sat with a satchel full of neatly folded handwritten papers resting against his knee.
He carefully flipped through them, scribbling notes in the margins, marking passages, returning to previous pages as though searching for an answer that kept slipping away.
"The university," Henry answered quietly.
His voice was calm, low, and as sharp as ever.
Kayden slowly opened his eyes, turned his head slightly toward him, and replied with sincere annoyance still clouded by sleep.
"Damn you."
Henry wasn't bothered in the slightest.
A faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, as though this had become part of their morning routine.
"You graduated months before I did, and you were grateful for it. Now it's my turn. Let me finish this without your usual complaints… so stop grumbling."