Chapter 132: Is it foolish?

A moment later, Handel awoke. He opened his eyes and looked toward the opposite bed where Moore was sleeping. The middle-aged man with the greying beard wore an expression that shifted between anxiety and tranquility, occasionally even clenching his fists in his sleep.

Ever since Mulan had taken an interest in Moore, Handel had found himself inevitably observing the man closely. In Handel’s estimation, Mr. Moore harbored no selfish motives; his thoughts and actions were entirely centered on others.

The Handel of the past would have found such a person unimaginable. Even among historical figures, one could always discern a framework of self-interest within their so-called noble ideals. A noble knight like Professor Jonster was, in his view, the pinnacle of moral character.

Yet today, there truly existed someone fighting for the fate of others—striving for an ethereal ideal, a goal destined to be fraught with hardship, or, to put it bluntly, a pursuit doomed to end like a moth flying into a flame.

Is such a person foolish? Handel asked himself.

Mr. Moore was steady and resolute, possessing noble character, remarkable medical skills, and a depth of logic and literary knowledge that even Professor Jonster praised. His etiquette was flawless, and he likely even possessed noble blood. A man of such caliber could never be labeled foolish.

Why, then, would such a man choose to do "foolish" things? Was he unaware that if not for Professor Jonster’s admiration, he would have long since perished in Digao?

After deep reflection, Handel concluded that Mr. Moore was perfectly aware. He had experienced danger, could anticipate it, and had even witnessed supernatural forces firsthand, yet he persisted on the same path.

Handel was loyal to Mulan and trusted him unconditionally, willing to give his all for Mulan’s commands. Likewise, he respected Moore’s character, but as a member of the nobility, he found it difficult to truly understand Moore, and even harder to empathize with him.

There were plenty of genuinely kind-hearted nobles, were there not? Professor Jonster was one; perhaps even Handel himself could be counted among them. Even the Queen of the Dirga Empire was said to be relatively kind.

So, Professor, why? Why?

Handel closed his eyes.

...

On a distant train, Mulan, who had been dozing while leaning on his cane, opened his eyes. He glanced out the window, where the faint light from the train carriages revealed the thick, swirling snow falling in the night.

A tranquil sleep was a luxury to him; the few hours he had managed to get were precious, and those two hours alone had restored much of his energy.

In his dreams just moments ago, Mulan had felt a connection to Handel. Perhaps his mission was not an easy one.

Although Handel had gone missing for a time while traveling with Mulan, it was not enough to draw the attention of the Dirga authorities. As long as Mulan vouched for him and produced the materials he had prepared, there would be no issue. Even so, Handel was already far behind schedule. He hoped that he and Moore had not encountered any mishaps.

The rhythmic "chug-chug" of the train was constant. This steady, repetitive noise had a hypnotic effect, making Mulan feel drowsy again.

Though Mulan was well aware of his physical condition, he could not help but tap into that power—a force that had perhaps always existed, though his understanding of it had only recently become clear. It might overlap with certain theories of the supernatural, but one word described it most aptly:

"Resonance."

*Thump-thump, thump-thump...*

As that concept crossed Mulan’s mind, the beating of his heart felt like a clear, audible note, transforming into an intangible force that transcended spirit and flesh, transcending the spatial dimensions of both reality and the world beyond.

With sufficient connection, sufficient bonds, sufficient knowledge, and sufficient understanding, one could gain enough presence within another’s heart.

Oh, you who possess such excellent qualities, perhaps you still lack a pair of true eyes. Perhaps you are still unable to recognize certain facts, or perhaps you have recognized them and chosen to ignore them.

...

Handel suddenly felt a shortness of breath and a sharp headache. He sat bolt upright, his eyes opening to pitch-black darkness, accompanied by the sound of snoring nearby.

"Why am I... here?"

The foul air made Handel feel nauseous. He shook his head, his mind appearing blank. After a long while, memory returned, and he hurriedly shook the person beside him.

"Stop resting! Our work isn't finished yet."

"There are three more storage areas; we’ll never finish digging them all..."

"He’s right. Don't rest."

These voices, heavy with exhaustion and numbness, rose up, supporting one another. They picked up their pickaxes and headed deep into the mine shaft to excavate coal.

In the dim, filthy underground space, even getting a drink of clean water was difficult. The water they had brought was gone, and they had to endure their thirst as they worked. Carload after carload of coal—by the end of the day, they were spent. Such days seemed endless, with no hope in sight.

No one cared for them; no one listened to them. Beyond the beatings, the wage deductions, and the humiliation, human dignity had been stripped to its absolute baseline. Their voices in the depths went unheard.

A mine collapse meant the loss of life, but in the eyes of some, the only concern was the time it would take to clear the passage and resume production...

*Boom!*

Amidst flying flames, a violent explosion flipped Handel over. He let out a hysterical scream.

"Ah—!"

One leg was blown off. Handel, a soldier now crying in agony, was dragged away by his comrades. They carried him to the military surgeon, only to hear a maddening reply.

"What? Anesthetics are reserved only for officers?"

"You bastard, what about us?"

"Bastard!" *Bang!* *Bang!*

In his daze, Handel heard chaotic sounds, but the blood loss and intense pain blurred his consciousness...

Huge steam engines were erected in the factory. Workers gathered around, curious, while the engineer proudly introduced them to the noble owner.

"As long as we burn coal to start it, it can do the work of fifty laborers! And it hardly ever needs rest! The monthly operating cost is only this much..."

"Hahahaha! That is truly wonderful!"

The owner turned to look at the workers beside him.

"So, your total monthly wages should also be this amount. Otherwise, get out, and let the machines replace you."

Handel and the other workers didn't quite grasp how much that total would be when divided among them, knowing only that it would certainly be even less than their already pathetic wages...

Kind nobles and wealthy men—indeed, such people existed in this era, but individual kindness remained within the limits permitted by their class.

The despair of the lowest rungs was not merely poverty, hunger, illness, and confusion; it was the dawning realization that without a breakthrough, these conditions would endure forever!

And above that ordinary despair lay the chaos stirred by greed—the profound darkness above the twilight, an abyss that seemed ready to swallow the world...

"Hah..."

Handel shuddered and woke from his dream, panting violently, sweat drenching his body. His own memories seemed to awaken only at this moment.

*It was a dream, just a dream...*

Handel relaxed slightly, lying back on the bed to steady his breathing. The memories of the dream were already blurring, but its meaning remained deeply etched in his mind. He couldn't help but look to the side, where Moore was still sleeping soundly on the other bed.

If there were no such people, if there were no one holding onto such a noble, perhaps even naive ideal, then these wretched lives would be eternal, until the darkness swallowed everything...