Chapter 11
In the blink of an eye, half a year has passed.
Although the progress remained stuck at 99%.
But both I and the Wish System had become accustomed to it.
After all, the explanation given to me by the Wish System was that it was impossible for both partners to die at the same time.
So the desire for “growing old together” or “being together for a lifetime” is, in a sense, never possible to achieve.
In the afternoon, I sat in the small garden downstairs from the company, waiting for Dalton.
There was a lively discussion coming from the bushes next door.
“Have you heard the gossip about the Degth family?”
“Is it the part about the siblings fighting over the family property? I heard that the sister almost sent the brother to the hospital with her punches! It seems that the brother is now locked up in a mental hospital.”
Sophie and Alan, right?
I was stunned, I couldn’t remember any conflicts between the two siblings at all.
A family tradition of inheriting the family business, and a second–generation prodigal who has been studying abroad for a long time.
Can break one’s head for family property? How abstract.
And Alan actually had a mental illness?
I only knew that he was quite sick.
“By the way, did you guys see Ms. Lyth’s arm?”
Ms. Lyth.
That would be me.
I was taken aback when I suddenly heard my own gossip.
Someone blocked the light in front of me.
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It was Dalton.
I grabbed his hand and made a shushing gesture.
The gossip group next door was still continuing.
“I saw it. It seemed like it was choked.”
I raised my right arm and silently accused Dalton.
That’s right! You squeezed too hard that night!
“What did I say? Dalton was definitely retaliating, he was being abusive!”
“Ah, should we call the police or not?”
“Or should I subtly ask Ms. Lyth this afternoon?”
Dalton coughed lightly.
The conversation next door came to a sudden halt.
I sincerely thank you very much. Actually, I bumped into it myself, so there’s no need to call the police. But I really appreciate your help.
There was no sound from the opposite side.
I don’t know whether he heard it or not.
Dalton held my hand and said, “Let’s go.”
I jogged a few steps and approached Dalton, inquisitively asking, “Why was Alan put into a mental hospital?”
Dalton smiled and said, “Schizophrenia, manic–depressive disorder, paranoia, that’s how it was diagnosed, I think.”
How could he be so clear about it?
I sighed, “That’s quite pitiful, considering that he used to just be a little bit eccentric.”
Dalton remained noncommittal, “Have you decided where to go on vacation?”
“Let’s go to Chillyland.”
“December?” Dalton was somewhat surprised.
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“Ah! The longest time of the polar night! We could stay together for a very long time.”
Dalton lowered his head and murmured, “Okay.”
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Chapter 12
