Chapter 319: The Indifferent Lover

"Aglaia!? Aglaia, is that you?"

Seeing the translucent silver figure floating midair, Hoffa trembled with excitement, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. He reached out his hand, stumbling forward like a drunkard.

In this moment, he saw his heart more clearly than ever before. He realized that he was not a rational person—far from it. His chest swelled with an unimaginable passion, years of longing, and the ecstasy of finally achieving his deepest wish.

He stretched out his hand, full of anticipation yet tinged with fear, moving slowly toward the ghostly figure. When he arrived beneath her, he lifted his head to look at her.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. Though her body shimmered with a transparent glow, lacking physical form, those blue eyes, those delicate features, that face he had longed for day and night—it was undeniably her. His former classmate. The girl who had once pulled him back from the brink of death. The friend who had given him life and hope.

"Aglaia?"

Hoffa waved his hand beneath her, trying to draw her attention. "Hey, it's me! I've come to see you!"

But strangely, the silver-haired ghost remained completely expressionless, as if she hadn't heard him at all. No matter how much Hoffa called out to her, she remained utterly indifferent, her face devoid of any emotion. She simply continued stirring the cauldron before her with unwavering focus.

"What are you doing?"

A torrent of emotions surged within Hoffa, so overwhelming that he failed to notice the ghost's eerie detachment. Overcome with barely containable feelings, he clambered up onto the cauldron. Inside, a thick, bubbling, transparent liquid boiled—viscous like glue.

"I came to find you, Aglaia."

Clinging to the cauldron's edge, he spoke excitedly. "I found a way to bring you back. Did you know that?"

The silver ghost furrowed her brows slightly, and Hoffa immediately tensed. Had he said something wrong?

Then her brows relaxed.

She raised her arm and snapped her fingers.

A stone golem emerged from the dim cavern, carrying a stone trough filled with writhing worms—thousands upon thousands of them.

"Say something, Aglaia! Why aren't you speaking?"

Her slow, detached demeanor unsettled Hoffa, making his voice tremble. "Talk to me—say anything! Please!"

The silver-haired ghost did not look at him, nor did she respond. Instead, she changed her motion, elegantly pinching something between her fingers. As she moved, the stone golem mimicked her, lifting a pinch of white powder and sprinkling it into the transparent cauldron. Instantly, the bubbling liquid turned a milky white and settled.

"What happened? It's been fifty years—do you still remember me?"

Hoffa stammered. Her continued silence filled him with growing dread.

Inside his heart, a raging fire burned more fiercely than ever before—yet it was also more fragile than ever. He could barely keep himself upright.

Still, she said nothing.

The cauldron's stirring was complete. The silver-haired ghost drifted to another position and made a scooping gesture. The stone golem followed suit, using a stone ladle to scoop out a portion of the milky liquid and pour it onto the writhing worms in the trough.

At once, the mass of worms merged together in perfect synchrony, forming a pale human body that slowly rose from the trough.

Aglaia waved her hand, and the male figure in the trough was carried away into the distant darkness. The trough was refilled with another writhing mass of worms, and Aglaia repeated the process—directing the stone golem to pour the milky liquid over them.

This time, the worms fused into the shape of a female body. With another wave of her hand, the female figure was lifted by ropes and carried into the endless shadows.

Again and again, she repeated the process—focused and precise.

Hoffa fell silent, licking his lips as he forced himself to calm down. So this was how those temporary bodies outside had been made? Aglaia had created them?

Had she been doing this in the underworld all this time?

For how long? Fifty years?

His heart clenched in agony.

"Look at me. Look at me. Please..."

Leaning over the cauldron, he tilted his head, forcing his face close to hers, trembling with fear and anxiety.

Finally, under his persistent pleading, her gaze shifted from her work, sweeping over his face. She lingered on him for a mere fraction of a second before looking away.

What kind of look was that? To Hoffa, it felt like the still waters of a dead sea—calm, devoid of emotion. So numb, so unreadable, he couldn't tell what she was thinking at all.

"What happened... Tell me what happened..."

Hoffa's voice, once filled with excitement, gradually faded into a whisper. He sat dazed atop the cauldron, his face written with confusion.

One by one, new bodies emerged from the stone trough, only to be carried away. The worms were used up, and the cauldron was nearly empty. The silver-haired ghost slowly descended from the air and snapped her fingers again.

Clanking footsteps echoed as the armored sentinel from earlier re-entered the cavern.

"Who allowed you to bring in unauthorized personnel?"

The silver-haired ghost asked, her voice carrying a faint trace of exhaustion.

"I couldn't stop him, my lady. My deepest apologies—it was my failure, no one is more incompetent than I am. Please grant me another chance." The armored sentinel spoke in a metallic tone.

"Take him away." She ordered curtly.

"Understood."

The towering three-meter-tall armored figure stepped forward, gripping Hoffa's shoulders and lifting him off the cauldron with ease. Holding him under one arm, it strode toward the exit, all the while rambling, "Sir, you may enjoy yourself anywhere else, but if you wish for a new body, I highly advise you to queue properly. After all, if you anger the priestess, you—"

BANG!

Hoffa swung his fist, smashing the armored figure into a heap of broken metal, sending pieces clattering against the cavern walls.

"Don't you dare touch me!" he roared.

Suppressing his rising emotions, he turned back to the silver-haired ghost.

"Aglaia... Aglaia..."

With a trembling hand, he reached out, trying to touch her. "Why aren't you reacting to seeing me? Do you even remember me?"

His hand passed straight through her face, meeting nothing but air. Yet she still turned her head away, as indifferent as ever.

"I miss you so much... I have so much to say to you," he whispered painfully.

"Save it," she said at last—the only words she spoke. "I don't want to hear it."

"Wha—?"

All the words Hoffa had wanted to say were stifled in his chest, as if an invisible hand had seized his throat.

The armored figure reassembled itself, standing before him once more.

"Sir, acting out violently is not the way. In Helheim, all souls must learn patience. If you continue this way—"

"Enough! Shut up!"

Another punch landed, but this time, the armored figure held firm, gripping Hoffa's spirit form with immense strength.

With four mechanical arms, it forcibly dragged Hoffa out of the cavern and threw him outside.

BAM!

The doors slammed shut.

Hoffa lay dazed on the ground before scrambling up and pounding on the doors.

"Why are you doing this to me, Aglaia!? I will find a way to take you from here!"

Silence.

"Aglaia! Say something! Please!"

No response.

"Open the door! Open the door!!"

Shouting and shouting, Hoffa could no longer bear it. He clutched his head tightly and sat down.

This was the first time he had ever felt such suffocation. The feeling was beyond words—despite being separated by just a door, the distance felt longer than the divide between life and death. A profound sense of helplessness washed over him.

He wanted to yell something foolish like, "If you don't come out to see me, I'll die right here!" But then it occurred to him—he was already dead. That realization only deepened his sorrow.

What was Aglaia thinking? Had fifty years been too long, making her forget completely? But even if she had forgotten him, she shouldn't have been this cold.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had heard people say that a woman's heart was as unfathomable as a needle at the bottom of the sea, but he had always scoffed at such claims. Or rather, he had never cared. After all, the thoughts and actions of the women passing by had never mattered to him in the slightest.

But now that he truly cared, he realized just how agonizing it was. If the one you love does not love you back, then no matter what you do, it is meaningless. No matter what you say, it is redundant. The best thing you can do is disappear.

This cruel reality was almost unbearable.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A gong sounded.

A short figure clad in metal armor emerged from the stone tower atop Pancreas Island.

"Hey! Anyone in need of a body, come collect one over here."

With those words, a massive stone trough was tipped over from the tower above.

Piles of pale, naked bodies tumbled from the high tower, crashing onto the ground with sickening splats. They were covered in a slimy substance, and there were both men and women among them. Their limbs twisted in unnatural angles, like a heap of discarded dolls.

Immediately, countless ghosts swarmed in from all directions. Like slipping into a set of clothes, they noisily occupied the vacant bodies.

The once-lifeless flesh began to stand up. The newly embodied figures examined their fresh forms with glee, grinning as they spoke:

"New toys again. It's been so long!"

"How do you want to die this time?"

"How about I behead you this round?"

"Wouldn't that be too quick? If you die too fast, you'll have to wait a long time again. Maybe I'll chop off your limbs first."

"You didn't say that last time when you cut me in half!"

"Must it always be beheading?"

Hoffa paid no attention to what the ghosts were saying or doing. He sat numbly on the worm-infested ground, letting utter confusion consume him.

He had imagined thousands of times what he would say if he ever saw Aglaia again, but now that the moment had come, everything had changed.

She was no longer the proud, willful Ravenclaw girl he once knew. She had become cold and bizarre, as if wrapped in invisible layers of armor that concealed her true self, making her unrecognizable.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there when another transparent ghost floated over from the distance and landed beside him. It was Little Barty.

"Mr. Bach, what's wrong? You look utterly hopeless," Little Barty asked anxiously.

Hoffa was so lost in his despair that he didn't even register who had arrived. It wasn't until the ghost called his name several times in his ear that he finally snapped out of it and looked at the spirit beside him.

"Little Barty," he mumbled in a daze, "was your last body... given to you by her?"

"Yes, as soon as the wind brought me into Helheim, I encountered that witch. She was the one who brought me here."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"Not a word. When I landed, she was already there. The only time she spoke was when she gave me a body. She told me that if I wanted to leave, I should wait at the entrance for you, that you would take me back."

"She told you that herself?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No, not a single extra word."

After a pause, Little Barty asked uneasily, "Do you know her?"

Hoffa didn't answer. In the midst of his despair, he saw a glimmer of hope.

"Let's not talk about this for now. Can we still go back, Mr. Bach?" Little Barty asked, his expression filled with worry.

"Back where?" Hoffa asked blankly.

"Back to the real world," Little Barty said urgently. "This place... there's nothing here! No food, no taste, no touch, no smell—nothing! I feel like I'm going insane!"

Hoffa slowly came to his senses. Go back? But how? He didn't know. Miller had told him to return as soon as time was up, but he feared he had already been trapped in Helheim for too long. He had no idea what was happening outside. Had the Triwizard Tournament started? How far along was Grindelwald's plan?

Gradually, Hoffa calmed down. He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing the ground in deep thought. Aglaia had found Little Barty with precise accuracy and had sent him to find Hoffa. This meant she had never truly forgotten him. And the only words she had spoken to him were—"Keep it, I don't want to hear."

If she had truly forgotten, she would have asked who he was. But she didn't. This meant she not only remembered him, but perhaps even knew something crucial. She just hadn't said it for some reason.

After pacing for a long time, he stopped. He couldn't give up now—not when he had come this far. There was no turning back.

Then, he suddenly remembered the tall, dark figure named Avada he had first met. Avada had mentioned that in the Underworld, he could obtain anything—if he was willing to play a game with Death.

"No, I must find Avada," Hoffa muttered, furrowing his brows. "Death must have done something to her. I need answers."

Hearing this, Little Barty panicked and grabbed his arm. "No! You can't go to that guy!"

"Why not?" Hoffa asked, puzzled.

Little Barty looked around nervously before whispering, "I've been here for days, and the one thing I've heard most from the ghosts is this—here in Helheim, you can do anything, but the one thing you must never do is get involved with Avada. Everyone who does... meets a terrible fate."

"How terrible?"

"I—I only heard rumors. They say as long as you stay ten meters away from that guy, you can do anything in Helheim."

"Do anything? What is there to do here? There's no food, no scent, no body, no senses—just endless worms!"

As he spoke, Hoffa stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait!" Little Barty grew frantic. "It's just a woman! Why are you losing yourself over her?! There are plenty of women in the real world!"

Silence.

Hoffa narrowed his eyes and turned to stare at Little Barty until he nervously shrank back.

Just then, the iron door behind them creaked open...

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09