Chapter 32#

Temple of the Burning Lamp 3#

Lighting candles and placing them into a candleholder.

Anyone with hands could do that.

Even if they weren’t tall enough, the stepping stool was right by the bed. Just drag it over to the wall and climb up.

‘Knight Commander Yu Fei’ might indeed be the Pope’s knight, but Yu Feichen was not.

And he did not consider himself a particularly helpful person, especially not in a place like a fragment world.

He took two steps forward. Candlelight reflected off the metal plates of his knight’s armor, flickering with silver gleam.

“Did you have something to say to me?” he asked lightly, as if he hadn’t understood anything earlier.

The Pope sat by the bedside, his head slightly lowered. Even three seconds after Yu Feichen spoke, he still didn’t move.

A warning pricked the back of Yu Feichen’s mind.

Before entering the Gate of Eternal Night, he had visited many worlds, but not every kind. One category he rarely set foot in was the kind filled with violations of common sense, the so‑called “supernatural” or “horror” worlds.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t understand them.

—The Pope’s complexion was very pale, and even the rise and fall of his breathing was barely perceptible.

Yu Feichen stopped in place, fingers resting on his sword hilt. “Your Holiness?”

Pope Ludwig’s lips moved slightly.

His lip were pale and thin, his voice very soft.

“Candle,” he said.

Yu Feichen stepped forward, took a candle from the bedside drawer, and lit it using the nearby matches. As he did, he caught the Pope glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

During dinner, the Pope had sat on his right. Yu Feichen remembered his eyes, which had been calm and lucid.

But the glance he just caught was neither calm nor lucid.

If he had to describe it—it was like looking through fog.

Yu Feichen’s expression remained unchanged. The Pope might be exhibiting abnormal behavior. If so, this game was beginning far sooner than he expected.

He picked up the lit candle, but didn’t walk toward the wall. Nor did he turn to flee.

Instead, he maintained a steady motion and brought the bright flame directly in front of the Pope.

“You need this?” he asked.

The Pope raised his face slightly. Those mist‑veiled dark‑green eyes met his gaze directly.

Time seemed to stand still.

Yu Feichen’s breath caught.

On the right side, beneath his eye—

A tiny brown mole, no bigger than a pinhead, lay quietly beneath the lashes.

The colour was slightly different, but everything else—the position, the proportion—was identical.

The instant that tear‑mole came into view, the snows and northern winds of Oak Valley surged back into his mind.

“Anfield?” he asked, faint uncertainty in his voice.

The Pope didn’t respond.

Then, in the very next second, his long lashes, which had been lowered, suddenly closed.

Not only that—his entire body tilted forward, collapsing straight toward Yu Feichen!

—and directly in front of him was the candle flame.

Yu Feichen jerked his right hand away instantly, and his left hand reflexively supported the Pope’s shoulder, easing his fall.

Only after completing the motion did he realize he’d done it to keep the Pope’s forehead from striking the metal armor on his chest.

There had been no warning, as if he had suddenly lost consciousness—in short, the Pope simply slumped against his chest.

Bai Song finally dared to poke his head through the hidden door, and what he saw was—

His Brother Yu was holding a lit candle in one hand, the other hand steadying the Pope’s shoulder. The Pope, dressed only in a thin black silk sleep‑robe, was leaning against Brother Yu’s chest. His face was hidden, only the silver hair spilling down with the motion could be seen.

A thousand thoughts flashed through Bai Song’s mind, the clearest being:Brother Yu is so good at this, there may be more situations like these in the future…

He mulled over it for a moment, then asked, “Should I close the door now?”

Brother Yu’s unfriendly voice replied, “Come here”.

Bai Song hurried over and took the candle.

Yu Feichen freed his hands, lifted the Pope in a cradle hold, and laid him flat on the bed.

Even through the silk, he could feel a faint warmth of his body.

“What happened to him?” Bai Song asked, staring at the Pope. With his hands folded over his abdomen, and expression serene like someone peacefully asleep, Bai Song finally realised that things were not what he’d imagined.

Yu Feichen’s gaze remained fixed on the mole beneath the Pope’s right eye.

Not a ghost. A living person.

Not unconscious—just asleep.

And that fog‑soft gaze earlier was likely not due to anything abnormal, but just fatigue.

But falling asleep this abruptly was strange enough. And then there was that tear‑mole.

Such a mole, in that exact position, was far too unique. He had only seen it on Anfield of the previous world.

It wasn’t impossible for two people in the universe to have identical moles in the same place. But for him to encounter them in two consecutive worlds after entering the Gate of Eternal Night, now that was impossible.

So, the Pope was Anfield?

Then Anfield was also someone from the Gate of Eternal Night, sent on a mission?

He pulled aside the Pope’s black robe. There was no A1407 marking on the collarbone.

Would people from two different teams enter the same world through the Gate at the same time?

Or was he someone from outside Paradise?

But regardless of the questions, he couldn’t ask now. The Pope was deeply asleep, who knew how long he would remain that way.

He told Bai Song to relight the row of candles.

Compared to the sea of candlelight in the room, a few candles made little difference. As Bai Song stepped on the stool to replace them, he asked, “Do wehaveto light them all?”

Then muttered, “It’s too bright—I can’t sleep like this.”

Once the candles were replaced, the brightness balanced from all directions, eliminating the faint shadows that had appeared earlier.

Yu Feichen’s eyes lingered on where that shadow had vanished.

A fragmented world held fragmented rules. These rules sometimes defied common sense, but were absolutely inviolable.

The temple’s many irregularities flicked through Yu Feichen’s mind. He thought he had likely identified one rule.

The Pope’s request was its corroboration.

“Bai Song,” he said, “when you’re on night watch, pay attention to the candles. If one is about to go out, replace it. Don’t open the window, and don’t let the wind blow the candles out.”

“Why?”

The temple was filled with candles on all sides. The room was a perfect square, the bed in the exact center.

And the temple worshiped the sun.

Sun. Light. Illumination.

The opposite of light is shadow.

Why worship light? Perhaps because they feared the shadows.

And the most abnormal thing about the temple was—

With candles blazing on all sides, anyone walking through the main areas had almost no shadow, or only the faintest trace.

“Beware of shadows or dark places,” Yu Feichen added after briefly explaining.

Hearing this, Bai Song froze. “Then… Brother Yu…”

Yu Feichen expected another employer‑style question.

But Bai Song asked, “Should we tell the others?”

“The others” meant the people in the other rooms. Yu Feichen glanced at him. The kindness of the Korosha people was practically etched into their bones.

But Yu Feichen himself was not a kind man. He had helped the Korosha people escape the concentration camp only because it best ensured mission completion.

Though he didn’t consider himself evil either.

Most of the time, his choices came down to two judgments: Whether the gains were worth it, and whether he could bear the loss.

“Don’t leave the light. Anything else is up to you, just for tonight.”

When Bai Song put his hand on the doorknob, Yu Feichen added:

“After knocking, step back to the center of the corridor.”

When Bai Song’s knock sounded, Djuna had just blown out the last candle.

With all the candles extinguished, the room was finally dark, and the suffocating heat eased slightly.

Even after stripping off her heavy gown and wearing only a lace bustier, she still felt unbearably hot, unable to breathe.

It irritated her to no end.

Not to mention her husband, whose temper had inexplicably worsened. His face was dark, he refused to let her open the window, even snapping at her for trying. Without opening the window, if she didn’t blow out the candles, she would have passed out.

This cursed place, even the physical sensations felt so real. She now suspected the holo‑pod had glitched and trapped them in some half‑finished high‑tech game still in alpha testing, with no logout option. But it was fine—technology was advanced; eventually some programmer would pull them out.

“Who is it?” Djuna called through the door.

“It’s me, Bai Song,” he said. “Your… companion.”

The door creaked open just a fist‑wide. Lady Djuna covered her chest with one arm. “What is it?”

Bai Song froze.

Not because of how she was dressed, but because—

Even through that narrow gap, the room was completely dark.

“You blew out the candles? Why?” Unease surged up his chest. He instinctively wanted to step back, but reason pinned him in place.

“This room’s hot enough to kill someone,” Djuna laughed. “Why?”

Bai Song repeated Yu Feichen’s explanation and told her firmly they must relight the candles.

“This game is pretty fun,” Djuna said.

He didn’t know why she kept insisting this very real world was a “game,” but Bai Song still said, “It’s not a game, but please remember to keep the lights on.”

“Alright, alright,” she said breezily and closed the door.

Bai Song lingered outside. From within, he vaguely heard Djuna’s voice take a sharper edge: “Light the candles! Why are you just lying there—are you dead? Why did I have to get the door myself? Didn’t you see what I’m wearing?!”

After confirming they would relight the candles, Bai Song knocked on the next room, that of the plump king. The lord couple and this king were the easiest to talk to, so he had chosen them first.

After a few knocks, no door opened, but a voice inside replied: “I know.”

Bai Song let out a breath of relief, then knocked on the farthest room, receiving a terse, “I heard you.”

This place was too quiet, and the doors were just thin wood. Apparently everyone could hear him.

Bai Song hurried back.

The moment he entered the room, the thick oily heat was several times heavier than in the corridor, nearly knocking him out. After reporting back to Yu Feichen, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and eventually carried his pillow to the Pope’s room.

Yu Feichen was still by the bedside—or more accurately, the Pope slept in the center of the bed, while Brother Yu half‑leaned against the right headboard, seemingly observing His Holiness the Pope’s… face.

“Brother Yu,” Bai Song asked, “you’re not planning to go back?”

“No.”

Not because the Pope’s chambers were more luxurious than his broom‑closet‑sized room. But there were things he needed answers for, and he wanted to see how long the Pope intended to sleep.

Bai Song asked to sleep in the room too, claiming he was scared.

He wasn’t allowed on the bed, but dragged a soft chair to the left side of the bed and lay down.

Just two minutes after he settled down—

Pope Ludwig seemed to dream of something unpleasant. His delicate brows tightened almost imperceptibly.

Then, in an unconscious motion, he lightly grasped Yu Feichen’s left forearm.

And naturally turned, shifting his body to lean against Yu Feichen’s side.

Bai Song: “…”