Chapter 276: You Should Leave

Jessica's mind felt like someone had struck it—suddenly everything went blank.

That child. That stolen child whose heart was taken the moment they were born.

That child she had never held, never fed, never even gotten a good look at.

She thought she had buried that day in the deepest part of her memory, but when Benjamin spoke those numbers, her body reacted before her brain could catch up.

Her stomach churned violently, her fingers began to shake, her muscles tensed—she felt like every cell in her body was screaming.

"Benjamin," her voice was cold when she spoke, "you think giving me these things can make up for what you did?"

Benjamin shook his head. "No. I know it can't. These things aren't an apology, not compensation, they're..." He paused, as if searching for a more accurate word, "something I've always wanted to give you. I started thinking about it a long time ago. I just didn't know how to give it to you then. Now I want to hand it over to you, whether you're willing to forgive me or not."

The lab fell silent. So silent that Jessica could hear the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, could hear both their unsteady breathing, and could faintly hear a child's mumbled sleep talk from a distant cage.

Benjamin's gaze slowly moved down from Jessica's face, stopping at the faint reddish marks on her neck.

Those weren't mosquito bites or an allergic reaction—they were marks left by a man's lips.

The marks were faint, mostly hidden by her trench coat collar, but he still saw them.

His pupils contracted slightly.

The change was brief, so brief it could almost be ignored, but his body was more honest than his eyes.

His fingers gripped the table edge tightly, knuckles forced white, his whole body like a steel pillar struck by an electric current, enduring an invisible impact from the inside out.

He wanted to ask who—but of course he knew who.

Joseph.

The person who had gradually taken up all of Jessica's attention while he was away.

Benjamin released the table edge and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He didn't ask, because he knew very well he had no right to.

Jessica wasn't his wife, not his fiancée, not anyone who belonged to him.

She was just Jessica, someone he had hurt, betrayed, and killed with his own hands.

"You two..." his voice was hoarse when he spoke, "is he good to you?"

Jessica looked up at him.

When he asked that question, his eyes were different from before.

That obsessive, crazy, reckless light from earlier had been doused like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head the moment he saw the marks on her neck—it had dimmed by more than half.

What remained flickered weakly in the depths of his pupils, like an oil lamp about to burn through its last bit of fuel.

"Very good," she answered. "He's very good to me."

Benjamin nodded slightly.

The movement was so subtle it seemed more like he was nodding to himself, or perhaps to the Jessica from that previous life who had never been treated well, saying, "See, this time you're finally happy."

In that life without Benjamin, Jessica was doing well.

The corners of his mouth slowly curved into a smile, one that held a belated sense of release.

"That's good," he said.

He turned and walked toward a corner of the lab. There was a metal cabinet with its door open, inside was a row of red valves of different sizes, arranged like some kind of industrial equipment control panel.

He placed his hand on the largest valve, not turning it, just resting it there quietly.

"There are explosives buried under the arena," his voice was steady, steady like he was making small talk. "I had remote detonators installed. Each valve corresponds to an explosion point. If I die, these devices will all detonate at once. The entire arena will collapse within ten seconds."

"Actually, those 'test subjects'—I already had them sent away. They didn't do anything wrong. They're just like us, people who once had no chance to escape."

Jessica's expression changed. "Benjamin, what are you trying to do?"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He turned to look at her. "I asked you to come here just because I wanted to see you one more time. Now I've seen you, you can go. When you leave through the main door, don't look back."

Jessica didn't leave. She stood there, staring at him, at his hand on that red valve, and at the calm on his face—the kind of calm that only someone who had arranged everything could have.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice began to tighten.

Benjamin was silent for a while.

"Because I don't want to live anymore. It's not because you don't love me, but because I've finally realized that the person I love was never in this world. The you I loved in my past life is already dead. The you in this life doesn't belong to me. I've been waiting for an ending that will never come." He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling slightly.

His tears fell, drop by drop, silently sliding down his cheeks.

He hadn't cried in so long that he'd forgotten what tears felt like.

It was like salt water burning its way down his throat, like old alcohol seeping into an open wound, sharp and bitter all at once.

"Jessica," he called her name softly, his voice so light it was like calling someone he would never see again. "If there really is a next life, let me get my memories back earlier, let me know who you are sooner. Let me have one chance... to treat you right just once. It doesn't need to be long, just once is enough."

Benjamin's knees suddenly hit the ground with a dull thud.

It wasn't a slow kneeling motion, but rather his knees seemed to suddenly lose all support and collapsed. His upper body tilted forward, forehead pressed against the cold cement floor, his whole body curling up like a shrimp thrown onto shore, still twitching on instinct.

His hand slid from the valve, hanging at his sides, fingers slightly curved, as if grasping at something that had already disappeared.

He knelt there before Jessica.

It wasn't begging for mercy, nor asking for forgiveness.

It was his goodbye.

"Go," his voice was pressed against the ground, sounding somewhat muffled. "Close the door. Let me be alone for a while."

Jessica stood there, looking at him. This Benjamin who had once been high and mighty, arrogant, trampling everyone underfoot, now knelt on the cold floor, as if he had finally let go of his last bit of support.

He truly didn't want to keep living.

From the day he recovered his memories, from the first moment he saw those scenes from his previous life, he had already started his own countdown.

He had left everything he could give to her, shattered his last bit of dignity before her, and in a clumsy, almost desperate way, tried to repay a debt he could never clear—not in this life, the next, or any life after.

Jessica finally turned and walked out. She didn't look back.

She left the lab, walked through that long narrow corridor, past rows of empty iron cages on both sides.

She reached the main door and pushed open the heavy iron door.

Joseph stood outside looking at her, his gaze mixed with several emotions—like heartache, and like the relief of surviving a disaster. He reached out his hand, and she raised hers to hold it.

Behind them came a muffled explosion, like a roar surging up from deep underground.