The new moon was rising in the east, and on the Ivy Bridge, Ed saw Miss Abigail's figure from a distance. Under the moonlight, her eyes remained a haggard red color.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I was just in the financial department for a while."
He walked over quickly on crutches and said hello cautiously.
"What's the matter? You came on time...your legs?"
Abigail wandered over his body with doubtful eyes for a moment, and finally noticed something strange on her left leg.
"It's nothing, just a minor injury."
Ed waved his hand and said with a heavy heart:
"That... Holland thing, I'm really sorry..."
The Bureau of Divine Investigation has sent someone to inform her of Holander's death. According to the remains of spontaneously ignited human bodies in the dock area, it can be determined that he was intercepted and killed by Elder Issyk during his escape.
"You don't have to feel guilty about this. It was his people who killed him."
Although her pain was visible to the naked eye, Miss Abigail did not take it out on anyone else.
She just looked at the cold dark blue sky, as if trying to predict tomorrow's weather:
"Why is hatred like rain that never stops? Once someone presses the switch, the gears will keep turning until everything falls to pieces. No technology can eliminate this failure."
I'm afraid there is no correct answer to this question. Ed couldn't answer. He looked at Abigail, who also had no expectations for the answer:
"Has he ever mentioned me to you?" the girl whispered with tears in her eyes.
"He could feel the good things in life when he was with you, and he had never wanted to live so much. Mr. Holland told me so."
After confirming that no one was around, Ed took out a thick bundle of banknotes:
"Here are 250 pounds in cash and ten 50-pound checks, as well as your original money. I know this is not enough. I just hope that this money can slightly improve your living conditions."
In order to make it easier for Abigail to use it, Ed specially asked the finance department to change it to small-denomination banknotes when he went to withdraw the money.
With this money, she can choose to start a small business, or leave here to live somewhere else, at least she doesn't have to sell herself to make a living.
Miss Abigail took the money, her thin fingers trembling slightly with difficulty in the cold night wind, as if they were holding a weight. Perhaps to ward off the chill, she took out a women's cigarette from her pocket:
"Can I borrow a fire from you?"
"Of course." Ed handed over the lighter. The previous one was lost in the underground fortress, and he bought a new one.
Unexpectedly, after Abigail took the lighter, she lit the coins in her hand first. After using it to light the cigarette, she released her palm toward the outside of the railing.
The firelight instantly illuminated the girl's delicate face, and a warm spark bloomed in the dark night, drifting around, dissipating in an instant, flowing into the shadows.
For some reason, she brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes and smiled happily.
"That would be rude of you - well... it's your money after all."
Looking at the dying fire on the river, Ed sighed, not knowing what to say.
That's a lot of money. He thought she was crazy, but her laughter was clear and sweet, and she didn't seem to be ill.
"The fire in my life has gone out. Only by giving up false hope can I survive the long night."
Abigail looked at the lit cigarette in her hand, her originally fragile eyes gradually hardened. She returned the lighter to Ed and said goodbye with a smile:
"Thank you for bringing the money here. Good night, Mr. Police Officer."
Ed leaned on the railing beside the bridge with his elbows, watching Miss Abigail's back leave, until the low house in the distance cut off his line of sight.
"she left?"
At some point, Quinn had already walked to his side. She wrapped herself in the big scarf again and looked the same as usual.
"Yes, she left. She burned all the banknotes with a fire." Ed sighed.
"She's going to be fine. I can smell the desperation and she's far from being in that situation, or quite the opposite."
"Actually, I prefer endings that end in comedy." Ed put his hand on the railing, "But sometimes I want to do good things, but it always goes in circles and backfires."
"Agents from the Bureau of Investigation cannot choose to do 'good' or 'bad'. We can only do what we must do."
She also put one elbow on the railing and carved scratches on it with her pocket knife.
"I know." Ed exhaled a breath of hot breath, which disappeared without a trace in the wind blowing from the river bank.
"Sorry." Quinn said suddenly without any clue.
"Huh?" He even suspected that he heard wrongly.
The word came out of her mouth as strangely as the sun rising over the western horizon.
"...At that time, I felt an inexplicable malice. I could clearly see everything that happened, but my body was out of control. I thought that was not me."
"Don't take it to heart. You have done a good job. Without you, we would have been killed by Elder Issyk."
Ed nodded. Mr. Eaton had long said about the dangers of undoing the collar:
"Speaking of which, what does 'despair' smell like?"
"How should I describe this to you...?"
Quinn's face turned slightly to one side. She stared at the river bank and hesitated for a while:
"Broken toys, cold coal stoves, low-quality alcohol, extinguished cigarette butts, poison, teeth lost due to aging, and skeletal embers, put these things into a mixing glass, and then stir them evenly with tears - Smell of Despair It smells like that.”
"My God, that's a wonderful description." Ed laughed. "You may be better suited to be a poet than an investigator."
"Yeah—if I could read. Let me show you something."
She stretched out her other hand from her pocket, and in her hand was a handful of fresh dandelion flowers. The chrysanthemum-yellow petals looked like fresh lavender at night. It’s not yet the height of summer when they sprout their fuzzy seeds.
"Dandelion?"
"Look carefully and don't blink."
The vibrant orange petals closed one by one in her hands, shriveled, and bloomed again a moment later. Instead, there are pom-poms made of white crests, like crystal clear clouds. It was as if its life had been artificially accelerated.
"How is this going?"
He didn't know that Quinn could still use the secret text. Could it be said that it was the effect of some kind of holy object?
"I don't know. I discovered this secret a long time ago, but I have never told anyone else. Remember to keep it secret for me."
"Aren't you curious why you have such an ability?" Ed asked doubtfully.
"No, not at all. I'd rather feel things than try to understand their existence."
Quinn put the dandelion in front of her lips and blew it gently. The crescent moon above her head shone slightly, and the white seeds suddenly spread all over the river bank.
