【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 445 [Empire] Extreme Pull

"I...are you waiting for my call?"

"Yeah." Nightingale's voice was still low, and seemed a little tired, but also calm. "You finally realized that I was waiting for you, although I have been waiting for you for a long time."

I froze for a moment, my fingers unconsciously tightening around my laptop. The words "I'm waiting for you" seemed to carry a certain pressure, instantly filling me with an inexplicable sense of nervousness. My throat was dry, my heartbeat involuntarily accelerated, and I felt a bit overwhelmed.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in a firm tone, trying to suppress my inner turmoil.

"Nothing." Nightingale's tone remained calm, but the implicit emotion seemed to be transmitted through the gaps in his words. He was silent for a moment, then whispered, "When are you going to come back? I have something to discuss with you."

"Come back?" I was stunned for a moment and frowned. "I haven't decided yet. Why do you have to come back?"

"You know why." Nightingale's tone suddenly became low. "Because the way you left was not right, girl. You shouldn't have left so abruptly."

I lowered my head, silent for a moment. Those words were like a stone dropped into a lake, stirring up countless ripples. My heart ached, but even more so, I felt an unspoken regret. I understood what the nightingale was saying—I was indeed running away, avoiding those emotions I didn't want to face.

"You know I have my responsibilities, Nightingale." I managed to regain some composure and responded softly, "This is not an escape, it's a move forward."

Nightingale seemed to chuckle on the other end of the phone, with a hint of helplessness: "Girl, sometimes you are really stubborn, like a fool. You think you can bear everything alone, but you know that you always need to rely on others, don't you?"

I didn't respond, just listened quietly to the voice coming from the phone. Nightingale seemed to wait for a few seconds, as if waiting for my answer, but finally gave up. He took a deep breath and returned to his normal tone: "Okay, whatever. When you are ready, call me."

"I will." I agreed silently and hung up the phone.

I sat there, the scene before me beginning to blur. My emotions tangled like a tangled thread, tightening ever tighter until they trapped me. The nightingale's words seemed to hold some kind of magic, making me realize I wasn't as independent as I'd thought. Behind everyone, there seems to be an invisible shadow, always waiting for you to look back.

I took a deep breath and looked out the window at the gradually darkening sky. Perhaps I should calm down and re-evaluate my path.

Every step seemed to follow a familiar rhythm. Entering Nightingale's home, I barely needed to look at the ground; I remembered every detail, every bump in the staircase, even the slightly creaking wooden door. The air was filled with a blend of aromas, a faint woody scent interwoven with a hint of tobacco. Perhaps it was Nightingale's accustomed environment, or perhaps it was because I'd been here so long, but even this very scent gave me an inexplicable sense of belonging.

Entering the house, the layout remains the same: simple yet warm. Every piece of furniture has its own distinct place, and even the casually placed small items reveal Nightingale's personality: informal yet meticulous. The sofa remains at one side of the living room, its black leather looking remarkably textured. Next to it is a small coffee table, a few wine bottles and scattered books untidy, which actually adds a touch of laziness to the space.

I couldn't help but smile, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains. The night outside deepened, and the street lights twinkled like stars. It suddenly occurred to me that this place seemed to be the only place in the city where I could feel at ease.

Nightingale's home isn't just his place; it's also, in a sense, our own safe haven. No matter what we've done or experienced, returning here seems to offer a temporary escape from all worries and burdens. Even if it's only a momentary peace, it always leaves me with a strange sense of dependence.

"Why are you here?" A sudden voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned around and saw Nightingale standing at the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Didn't I tell you?" I replied with a smile, "There are some things you need to explain in person." I didn't explain much, after all, he said he wanted to talk to me about something.

Nightingale's expression suddenly became complicated. He looked down at the computer on his wrist, as if considering how to speak. Finally, he spoke in a low voice: "You shouldn't walk so fast, girl."

As always, these words shattered the air of intimacy between us. I forced a smile, but I felt a bit bewildered. This familiar feeling made me feel uneasy, yet I had nowhere to escape.

"I told you I have a lover, and you said you didn't mind. But you also said that our relationship was just a short-term one. I don't understand, Nightingale, what do you want?" I asked with a frown.

Nightingale's eyes flickered, as if he was weighing his response. I could sense a struggle deep within him; perhaps, even he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted. The air grew heavy at that moment, and the silence seemed to stretch longer and longer. The only sound in the room was our breathing, and the invisible barrier between us, like an unbridgeable chasm, quietly widened.

He was silent for a moment, then walked over to the sofa and sat down, rubbing his temples as if deep in thought. "You're right, I don't quite understand what I want." His voice was deeper than I'd expected, with a hint of fatigue. "I know, on the surface, I don't care about a lot of things, and I even pretend not to. But really, I'm more afraid of losing them."

I looked at his calm face, yet I could still see the fragility deep within him through that moment of confusion. This kind of fragility was something I had never seen before, and it was even a little too much for me to bear. Nightingale had always been calm and decisive, principled and decisive. But in that moment, he seemed like a lost child, overwhelmed by the things he couldn't hold onto.

"You said you have a lover, and I shouldn't interfere with you." He took a deep breath and looked up at me, with an indescribable look in his eyes. "But even so, I still don't want to let you go."

I didn't respond, merely lowering my head in silence. My heart suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Nightingale's words were like a sharp sword, piercing the softest part of my heart. Perhaps because he had never openly expressed his feelings, it wasn't until this moment that I realized that our relationship wasn't completely indifferent.

He continued, "I know I'm not good enough, not brave enough, and even... sometimes, even I feel I'm not worthy enough for you." His voice was so low that it was almost inaudible, "But I still... want you very much, girl."

I was slightly startled and looked up at Nightingale, my heartbeat a little erratic. His eyes were sincere and deep, no longer the usual indifference and playfulness. It was as if from this moment on, he was revealing his truest self to me.

"You don't have to be like this, Nightingale." My voice trembled, and my fingers unconsciously pinched the corner of my clothes. "I can't... I can't be trapped in this relationship anymore."

He lowered his head, a trace of pain flashing in his eyes, "I know, I know you have your difficulties. But I still can't let it go."

The air was still again.

I was silent for a long time, muttering softly: "You always say that I don't understand myself, but I think you are the one who doesn't understand yourself even more." I frowned and pouted: "It's not like you at all..."

Nightingale froze slightly when he heard what I said, as if he hadn't expected such a response. The silence in the air was suddenly broken by my words, and his eyes darkened, as if he was reflecting, or trying to regain his usual composure.

He slowly raised his head and looked at me, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions. Perhaps my words had touched upon a blind spot deep within him, or perhaps he had suddenly realized that he was losing sight of himself. His long period of toughness and determination might have made him forget his true needs, the struggle within himself.

"You're right," he replied in a low voice, his tone surprisingly deep. "I don't know what I was thinking, but you hit the nail on the head."

I looked at him, a different person than before, and a strange feeling welled up inside me. The Nightingale of old was calm, decisive, and never easily betrayed weakness. But now, it was as if I had stripped down all his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and sincere. I was suddenly at a loss, unsure how to face him.

"It's really hard to deal with everyone like you," I muttered softly, trying to change the subject, but I also knew that I couldn't completely ignore the situation. I stood up from the sofa, ready to walk away and give us some space to avoid being trapped in endless conversation.

However, Nightingale suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist, his movements gentle but firm. "I know you might want to run away now," he said with a rare gentleness in his voice, "but you have to know that running away isn't the solution."

I lowered my head, looking at his hand gripping my wrist, feeling a complex mix of emotions. Escape was truly what I wanted most right now. I didn't want to be sucked into this emotional vortex anymore, I didn't want to worry about other people's emotions anymore. I was even starting to lose myself.

"Are you really so sure?" I looked up at Nightingale with a hint of helplessness in my eyes. "Are we really...suitable?"

Nightingale was silent for a moment, his eyes growing deeper, as if he were recalling something, searching for an answer. But in the end, he didn't respond immediately, only staring at me quietly, as if waiting for my own answer.

At that moment, the air seemed to be still.

"Forget it," I scratched my head and pulled him back to the bedroom: "It won't solve the problem now anyway, let's go to sleep."

Nightingale glanced at me, as if about to say something, but ultimately remained silent. We walked back to the bedroom together, the room so quiet that only the sound of our footsteps filled it. The atmosphere had become unusually peaceful, free of the tension and entanglement from earlier. Perhaps it was because I had proactively let go of my worries, or perhaps it was because we both realized that some things couldn't be easily resolved, and perhaps the only thing left to do was to wait quietly.

I stretched, casually took off my coat, and jumped onto the bed. Nightingale also sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered, looking a little tired, or perhaps he was also thinking about our conversation just now.

"I really don't know how to talk to you." I said softly, with a hint of helplessness and relief in my tone, "You know, I'm not that complicated."

Nightingale didn't answer, but stood up and drew the curtains. The sound of rain outside intensified, as if pouring out all its emotions. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a tangle of thoughts. Perhaps only in the stillness of this night could I find some peace.

"Can you sleep well tonight?" Nightingale finally spoke, her voice low but with a hint of soft concern.

I turned to look at him, with a tired smile in the corner of my eyes: "I will sleep well, after all, I am so tired."

Nightingale nodded slightly, walked to the bedside, turned off the light, and the room suddenly fell into darkness. There were no more words between us, as if everything had been said, and all that remained was the silent companionship.

As the night deepened, the sound of rain grew louder and louder, but in this quiet darkness, I gradually fell into a dream.

The night air was slightly chilly, and the wind outside the window carried the patter of rain. I lay in bed, eyes closed, yet the faint, unsettling sounds around me kept me awake. The nightingale tossed and turned, the creaking noises almost incessant. Each of his restless movements made me feel his unease in my half-awake state. That unease, like an inescapable bondage, made the air in the room heavy.

I gently opened my eyes and saw him tossing restlessly in bed, lips pursed, brow furrowed. No matter how hard he tried, he seemed unable to escape the dilemma that gnawed at him. I pursed my lips, a strange feeling welling up inside me. Was it irritation? Or helplessness?

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I reached out in the darkness, subconsciously pulling him into my arms and gently pulling him close. Nightingale froze for a moment, then seemed to sense my movements and instantly stopped moving. He quieted down, his breathing evening out, as if he had finally found a place where he could relax.

I sighed softly, a complex mix of comfort, exhaustion, and bewilderment swirling within me. The person next to me, alternating between strength and fragility, was a presence that couldn't be ignored. Despite his repeated attempts to conceal his vulnerability, the unease and unspoken pain still lingered.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment. I simply held him silently, listening to his gradually steady breathing. My heart began to relax. Although I didn't understand what he'd been through, at least in this moment, we could feel each other's warmth. In this quiet night, perhaps I didn't need all the answers; perhaps simply being there was enough.

Nightingale finally calmed down in my arms, as if he had found a safe haven of his own. I closed my eyes, held him in my arms, and slowly fell asleep.