【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

When I finally see the object in my hand clearly.

My fingers paused for a moment on the metal whip, the scene before me filling me with a wave of dizzying oppression. The whip's cold metal texture and sharp barbs weren't meant to threaten others, but to further my own depravity. How much pain must this man be in to torture himself in such a way?

I looked at his drooping hair and his face, which looked even more vulnerable due to being drunk. His pleading eyes were like an abandoned child trying to feel some trace of existence through these things, as if only in this way could he feel alive.

My hand gripping the whip handle trembled slightly, and an inexplicable feeling welled up in my heart. I didn't want to hit him, even if it was just a symbolic gesture.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself?" I lowered my voice, almost saying to myself, "You deserve better than this, not using pain to justify your existence."

He still didn't answer, simply lowering his head while clutching the bottle, his expression still limp. His fingertips clenched the bottle, as if it were the only thing keeping him awake. The barbed metal whip trembled slightly in my hand, and I could feel its weight, just as heavy as the struggle within him.

I wanted to put down the whip, but the indescribable feeling made it impossible for me to make a decision.

At this moment, he suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist. "If you don't hit me, I won't stop..." His words were a little unclear, but I could hear the pleading and desperation in them.

I frowned, feeling a pang of bitterness in my heart. It was like invisible shackles, locking away all my rational judgment.

"You don't need me to do this." I suddenly spoke, my voice steady, but every word was filled with suppressed pain. "What you need is time and courage to face the truth in your heart, not these cruel methods."

He didn't say anything else, let go of my wrist, and his eyes became even emptier, as if even I had no meaning to him anymore.

I sighed softly, put the whip back on the table, and looked at him.

"You don't need these things for comfort," I whispered again. "You've had enough."

He still didn't respond, still sitting quietly with his head lowered. The air was silent and oppressive.

Maybe today, he still won’t understand what I said, but I can only do this and let time resolve everything.

I also knew that saying these things to a drunkard didn't make much sense, and the real person was about to leave.

He cried and hugged me from behind.

I could feel his cold body pressed against my back, his hands grasping at a last straw, their grip growing stronger and stronger, as if he feared I would vanish if he let go. I paused slightly. That familiar feeling of powerlessness washed over me again. This wasn't the first time someone had asked me for help, but each time, it left me with a stabbing pain, as if I were wandering in someone else's abyss, unable to reach out and pull them out.

"Don't go..." His voice was low but trembling, with a fear that could not be ignored, "You are the only one left for me... You are the only one..."

His emotions spiraled out of control, and I could sense the tension and anxiety emanating from him. The scent of alcohol mingled with the scent of loneliness, a bottomless loneliness that seemed to devour him completely, swallowing up all his rationality and composure.

"You shouldn't have let yourself get into this state," I said softly, lowering my head slightly. My fingers unconsciously stroked his arms that were hugging me tightly, as if trying to soothe his trembling. "You can find another way and give up these things..."

I knew these words were like air, entering his ears and not staying there for a moment. His fear and confusion were already deeply rooted in his heart, and there was no way a few words from me could change them. Especially when he was so out of control.

He suddenly buried his head in my back and cried even harder: "Don't leave me... I really have no other choice..."

That sound was like a cry from the depths of hell, piercing my heart. I gently raised my hand and patted him on the back. His body trembled slightly. I knew he was waiting for me to make a decision, waiting for me to give him an answer.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice: "I won't abandon you, at least not now."

I cannot promise the future, nor can I make any decisions for his life, but what I can do is to accompany him through this moment, give him a little trust, and let him see another possibility of living.

He finally let me go, his hands hanging limply at his sides, his eyes empty, like someone exhausted. But his face was devoid of the struggle and tears from before, perhaps he had already given up on those struggles.

I held his shoulders and guided him to sit on the sofa. I silently poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. His hand trembled slightly as he took it, as if he was a little unfamiliar with this moment, but also eager to hold on.

"You need to rest," I said softly, "That's all for today."

He didn't say anything else, simply lowering his head and quietly drinking the water. The oppressive feeling in the air finally dissipated a little, and silence fell all around. At this moment, we all seemed to be quietly waiting.

Suddenly, as if struck by something, he stood up and swept the cold food and cutlery from the table into the trash. He stumbled to the kitchen and cooked a few side dishes. He placed them on fresh plates and brought a large tray to me. "Ruyuan, don't be angry. These are for you... for you."

He stood before me, his eyes a bit dazed, but the tray in his hands seemed remarkably powerful. The aroma of the food on the plate filled my nostrils. Although it looked a bit messy, the way he put his heart into it still made me feel his faint yet stubborn feelings for me.

I stared at the tray, a complex wave of emotions welling up inside me. No one knew how hard he was working to repair those broken things. Perhaps it was to make amends, perhaps to prove he could do something, to bring me some comfort. But whatever the motivation, at this moment, it left me with a pang of sadness.

"You... don't need to be like this." I sighed and my tone became softer. "I know what you're thinking. I don't blame you for what happened tonight." I reached out and gently placed my hand on the tray, giving myself a brief pause.

He didn't say anything, just looked at me, the helplessness in his eyes still there. His hands trembled slightly, as if waiting for my response, as if waiting for me to accept everything he did, accept all the attempts he made for me.

"Thank you," I said softly, "but you should rest tonight."

I saw him standing at the kitchen door and could feel that he was still trying his best to maintain that seemingly strong mask.

He lowered his head and finally smiled softly. The struggle in his eyes seemed to have loosened a little. He turned to get the tableware and put it neatly in order. "If you don't mind, I hope you can try these dishes."

I looked at his calm back and was slightly stunned. There was an indescribable emotion fluctuating in my heart. It seemed that something was slowly changing, quietly changing the distance between us.

"Okay, I'll try it." I nodded slightly.

The moment he turned, the anxiety and vulnerability in his eyes faded, replaced by a barely perceptible smile. I watched him bring me food, and a sigh lingered in my heart. This night seemed even more complicated than before.