He couldn't remember nothing about her, even her name, except vaguely thought he was in love with her.
He was responding her with a big laugh, afterward, he slowly approached her, firmly holding her left hand.
However, at that very moment, her feature changed.
Her face twisted, with a sorrowful look on it; at last, bits of bloody-red stains appeared on her pretty face, gradually becoming several masses of dark-red cicatrices, which collapsed in the depth like glass fragments, with all of these turning into a huge dark collapsar. At the last gasp, slowly and gradually, it began to swallow houses, lawns, and ultimately, everything.
The whole world was swallowed at the last minute, sinking into a plumbless darkness.
In the endless darkness, he was in such a sorrow, desperation, that even the last hope had vanished in this painful world.
"No... not like this... NO!"
"Don't... please... don't leave me! Don't leave me!"
"Miria!"
The black-haired man woke up with a start and suddenly stretched his dark eyes, fortunately, finding everything before was just a nightmare. He slightly composed himself, throwing his eyes on his alarm- It's 8 a.m. now.
A light rapid tap at the door came into his notice. He quickly arranged his messy hair, leaving the bed and opening the door, a young, pretty woman with wavy hair, fine figure and charming appearance standing outside the door, greeting him. She was merely wearing a thin silky night skirt, which made him blush a bit.
"Had a nightmare again?" Her voice was sweet and soft like white chocolate, " I've just heard your screams...Still thinking of her, aren't you?"
"That's none of your concern, Flora." Rigald replied coldly, " Nothing more than cooperation between us, not much else."
He trended directly towards another room, seated beside his laptop. He switched on the power, proficient at inputing a trail of commands, another yet another different files emerging from its screen.
"I've finally seized all files! Lovely!" He tapped the kevboard with excitement, several strings of codes ceaselessly showed up, directly on the window.
"If only I decode all of them, this work will be crowned with success!"
"What about Isley? Shall we inform him of these?" Flora came up to him, asked with concern, "Even though he remains out recently, he's been always caring about this."
"After I decode all of them, maybe." He responded her lightly, continuing to input numerous codes in his laptop.
Carelessly, she shot a quick glimpse at his scarred body. Although it's been three years, the scars and burnt marks on his skin are still not completely taken off, like strands of worms creeping, spreading through his body, he looks peaceful and quiet- perhaps the pain has already faded away.
However, it's really a miracle that he made to survive from that disaster.
If it wasn't Isley, he might have already died, turning into ashes in that explosion.
During his most feeble period, she'd been nursing him for a whole year, yet he never expressed any gratitude to her, instead, he's getting colder and colder toward her.
Maybe she's never cared for his gratitude.
Flora looked affectionately at this dedicated man, all of a sudden, enrapt by this scene. In so many years, she'd been accompanied him all along. Weren't the time spent with him the happiest of her life? She should be the one felt thankful. It made no difference for her whether he got cold toward her, or didn't care about her at all. Perhaps just staying by his side would be enough.
She turned up to envy that woman named Miria, entrenching herself so deeply in his heart; even now, she'd never been forgotten. If only I were her!
She was gazing fixly at his silver eyes, lost in thought. If only I could have him around for some more time, even a minute, a second more...
"Hey, Rigald... how much are you sure of success if we strike against the organization?"
He suddenly stopped tapping, sighed slightly. For the past three years, as a hacker, his supple mind and smart tricks enabled him to detect a good deal of secrets about the organization, but when it came to the winnings, he'd never taken it seriously into consideration.
Their enemy was a large-scale interest group which had enormous funds and complex relations network, and in every way, weaponry or position of strength, it greatly surpassed the rebels. And the problem with probability of the winnings...
Ten percent? Or twenty percent?
He scratched his dark hair in a flutter, the figure of her continuing travelling over his mind.
Miria... If she were here, we might have the game in our hands. That woman, everytime in the critical point, she would become incomparably strong, stronger than anything.
Yet obviously, he couldn't see her,at least presently not. If she's detected implicated with them, she would be suspected as a traitor, and last, hardly to keep herself alive.
He heaved a sigh, laying his present work down. "Excuse me, I want to go out for a blow."
He dumped these words icily, putting on his dark glasses and hooding himself, lining out without a backward glance.