Chapter 227 Final Words
Chapter 227 Final Words
[Dear Ms. Johnson,
By the time you read this, I, Dean, a man weighed down by my sins, might already be gone, facing my final judgment.
This letter is my confession, twenty years too late, and my last attempt to reveal the truth buried under blood, fire, lies, and silence. I'm not looking for forgiveness; I just want to pass this heavy truth to someone trustworthy from my homeland before I completely descend into darkness.
Jordan once told me that life is cyclical, and one day, my time to repay would come. I know that time has arrived.
Over twenty years ago, in that fishing village constantly battered by sea winds, a catastrophic disaster occurred, and it was all my fault.
Back then, I held a high-ranking government position, responsible for a top-secret biological defense project.
A terrible accident happened, and a deadly virus leaked from a secret lab near the village. It contaminated the water, soil, and even the air at an alarming rate.
Despite our best efforts, we couldn't find any effective treatment. Panic spread internally, and if the news got out, it would trigger nationwide chaos and severe international sanctions.
Driven by immense pressure, fear of the unknown, and a twisted sense of the 'greater good,' I committed an unforgivable crime. I made a cold, cruel, and utterly foolish decision: to seal off the entire village.
Cut off all contact with the outside world, and let time and the virus 'solve' the problem. Sacrifice hundreds of innocent villagers' lives for the so-called 'greater good' and 'national stability.'
When I gave the order, my hands trembled, and my heart bled. Because I knew that in that village lived not just my citizens, but many who had migrated from PhoenixiaSilverlight City decades ago, seeking a better life.
Their bloodline was the same as mine! Sealing off the village was a betrayal of my kin, a complete trampling of humanity! I am a sinner who wielded the knife against my own people!
After the order was executed, the overwhelming guilt nearly consumed me.
At that moment, I got an opportunity to go to Phoenixia for long-term exchange and study. I fled Vesperia, escaping the potential political storm at home.
In Phoenixia, I met Jordan. He was a rising star in the Silverlight City prosecutor's office, upright, wise, with eyes that saw through the world. Talking to him was like basking in spring sunshine, yet also like walking on thorns.
I didn't dare tell him the truth, but my inner torment was unmistakable. He seemed to sense something, and once, after drinking, he said to me, 'Dean, this world is like a snake biting its own tail, a cycle. What you owe, you can't escape; what is due will come.'
His words were like a cold key, instantly unlocking my deepest fears. I knew he was right. From that moment, I lived in the shadow of awaiting judgment.
I returned to Vesperia, leveraging my accumulated resources and skills to transition into the business world, establishing Zaka Group.
On the surface, I was immensely successful, but internally, I was constantly gnawed by the silent village and hundreds of wronged souls. I knew there were survivors.
We later confirmed that eight children miraculously survived, including an infant (later I learned his name was Byron) and a smart boy of about ten (Kurt). They were like seeds of revenge scattered in the world.
When Kurt, under an alias, joined Zaka, and when he secretly guided Byron to create 'The Past of the Ocean Loong Clan,' revealing the truth of the bloodshed through metaphors, I felt both fear and a strange sense of relief. I knew they had come. The 'repayment' had begun.
As the head of Zaka and honorary president of 'Emerald City Daily,' I used all my power to stop the serialization of 'The Past of the Ocean Loong Clan' under the pretext of 'inappropriate content' and 'causing social panic,' and blacklisted Byron in the industry. This was my public 'explanation' and my futile attempt to delay judgment.
However, facing Kurt and Byron, these children burdened with deep hatred, I couldn't bring myself to harm them. They were living evidence of my sins and the objects of my nightly repentance. I chose silence, chose to wait, wait for their final revenge, wait for fate's ultimate reckoning.
Over the years, every night, the dead village's sea wind would pierce through time and space, flooding my dreams with the cries and questions of the deceased. No matter how large a business empire I built, I couldn't fill the void inside. No matter how much I donated, I couldn't wash away the blood on my hands. This torment has completely hollowed me out.
Kurt orchestrated the subway incident, using an extreme method to force the buried truth into the public eye. Byron's death utterly shattered my last bit of courage to cling to life.
I know the time has come. Jordan's 'repayment' has reached its end.
Before ending this sinful life, there are two things I must tell you:
First, about my origins.
I am not a native Vesperian. My home is in PhoenixiaSilverlight City. I am one of those who risked their lives to migrate to Vesperia decades ago. Many of the lives lost in the village shared the same Phoenixia bloodline as me. This makes my decision back then even more unforgivable, a complete betrayal.
Second, about Ruben.
After the village was completely sealed off, driven by intense guilt, I secretly returned to the outskirts of that dead land. In the basement of a ruin, I heard the faint cries of a baby. It was an abandoned infant who miraculously survived the virus and the lockdown. He was Ruben.
I couldn't take him with me; it would desecrate the dead and expose my whereabouts. I thought of my dear friend Jordan in Phoenixia. He was someone trustworthy. So, I took the risk and secretly sent the infant back to Phoenixia, entrusting him to Jordan. I hoped he could grow up safely, far from this land of sin.
Jordan placed him with a trustworthy police family and kept an eye on him. This is why, when Ruben came to Emerald City as a detective, I felt a surge of emotion upon seeing him; his features faintly resembled those of the villagers.
I secretly investigated and confirmed his identity. He was the eighth surviving child from the village bloodshed, the only one sent back to Phoenixia, the child I personally saved from hell.
Out of a nearly laughable sense of redemption, or perhaps a certain obsession with the continuation of Phoenixia bloodline, I once hoped Ruben could marry my granddaughter, Clifford.
Clifford is a kind child; she deserves happiness. And Ruben, if he could take over Zaka's assets, it would be a small compensation from me, the sinner, to the descendants of those whose home and family I took away.
Of course, this was just my selfish fantasy. Matters of the heart cannot be forced. Now it seems his heart already belongs elsewhere.
Ms. Johnson, my story is finished. This letter is my final confession. The truth, along with my decaying life, is handed over to you.
How to handle it is up to you. I only hope this belated truth can bring some comfort to the deceased and unravel some mysteries for the living, like Ruben.
Sinner Dean, signing off.]