"...Let's not ahead of ourselves, alright? I don't know what you might be going through, but giving up isn't the answer."
How does one pacify a person ready to make the jump into the abyss? The difficultly level spiked up so damn high, I had nearly given up myself. Were it not for the fact that I felt obligated to help her, I would have already run away from this place.
I'm no prince on a white horse. What do I stand to gain in helping a girl like her, who's clearly lost her mind?
Yeah, that makes me sound like a massive dickhead, but at the same time, this isn't my problem.
This is someone trying to shoulder their problem onto me, who's already got his plate full of problems.
...Even so, I couldn't just reject her plea for help outright. Something inside of me was screaming to help her, if not for righteousness's sake, then to repay the karma I owed for my own salvation.
For her to have reached out to me, knowing what I had done and gotten myself involved with, only served to stress how desperate she must be.
I had to be careful with how I phrased my following responses, or else I'd lose whatever trust she had in me.
"Before I even consider agreeing to anything, I need to hear your entire story, am I clear? What your asking for is so tremendous, I fear not even the Shadow Parliament at the pinnacle of its power could have pulled it off."
Assassinating a member of the LeDeloux family. Even imagining the scenario sounded ridiculous in my head.
Shit, assassinating the current President of the Federation sounded more realistic when I thought about it. The Shadow Parliament could have pulled something like that off, once upon a time. Maybe.
Lyla twitched. It seemed to me that she had not heard the answer she wanted. But I wasn't going to budge even if she gave me the waterworks and pleaded on her knees for help.
We were, for the most part, strangers to one another. At best, we could be called "acquaintances", since we knew a bit about each other. And even for a true friend, I would not make enemies of the LeDeloux family.
What could she offer me in return for my cooperation? Wealth? Authority? Reputation? ...A Golden Apple?
"It's a long story," said Lyla and quietly added, "And I don't think it really matters so as long as you complete what I have asked of you. I can assure you that your services will not go unrewarded either, should you accept. The reward will be unlike anything ever offered in history too, if that matters to you at all."
Oh, now this is interesting. What could she possibly have to bring me into the fold?
"Like what, a metaphorical mountain of credits? Perhaps some rare artefact from the Age of Worship? Or perhaps a bushel of those infamous Golden Apples that your family has made its fortune on?"
A part of me cannot help but find it outrageously entertaining that the wealthiest family on Masulan is compromised of... farmers. Not the tech moguls, the retail giants, or the international conglomerates that dominate the global economy.
No, the most powerful house on the planet... grows apples.
The LeDeloux house is the oldest of all High Elf families in the world and supposedly owns a majority of the Elysian Fields of ancient yore. To date, there are no records of it ever being discovered, though the High Elves themselves claim that it, indeed, does exist and is not a fleeting myth from a bygone age.
It is a hidden island of eternal peace and prosperity, still blessed with a portion of the late god, Nothric's, divine essence. Though to them, the island is probably more than that...
After all, it's the supposed birthplace of the very first High Elves — their original motherland.
As it is the only area on the planet that still has a remnant of a genuine deity's spirit, the Elysian Fields are the only place where the Old Magiks, as they are called, can still be performed.
Thus it is the site where are all Golden Apples, the legendary fruits of yore, are harvest from as it is the only location on Masulan that still bears soil blessed with the lifeforce of a God.
"A single apple for a single life," it was often said in the biblical past. They weren't lying.
So long as you bit into one of those divine apples, you'd escape the Grim Reaper's embrace.
Severed limbs? Regrown in the blink of an eye.
A weak, injured heart? Not a problem.
The only condition required for a Golden Apple to heal you was that you needed to still be alive for them to function. Though it could bring back someone on the brink of death, it could not bring back someone who had already died.
These Golden Apples were live-saving gifts meant for heroes and rewards for the most virtuous of sages, kings, and the few guests in recorded history who were permitted an audience with the High Elves of the Elysian Fields.
Nowadays, anyone could buy a Golden Apple... if you had the right connections and a disgustingly large amount of credits, or so I heard another life ago.
But that wasn't what they were used for in modern times. Heroes didn't exist anymore, nor did the great wars that they once were an indispensable part of. Golden Apples would've outlived their initial utility, had they not also bestowed a certain hidden blessing upon consumption.
For ages, the living-saving effects of the Golden Apples had been the primary source of their value.
A minor, concealed blessing that the Golden Apples granted had gone under the radar until this new age of muddled peace arrived and changed the entire game.
Those who ate a Golden Apple would be restored back into health better than they were originally, such that they would benefit from the effects of the fruit, even if they weren't in mortal danger.
In essence, those who consumed the divine fruit would enjoy the blessing of increased longevity, albeit in a minor form.
Roughly speaking, eating a Golden Apple gave one an additional year of life.
Every year, the Elysian Fields' harvest comes around the end of Fall and a new batch of Golden Apples will enter the market to be bought by the richest and most powerful families on Masulan.
I needn't explain myself further how such an effect could absolutely destroy the world's balance.
A never-ending cycle of prolonging the end. Year after year without stopping. Inconviencable amounts of credits flooding the doorstep of the LeDeloux family as the .01% bid against each other for the right to continue living amongst the young.
Lyla shook her head in dismissal and smiled, as if she had heard something humorous.
"What I'm asking you to do is worth more than just a bushel of Golden Apples. No, if you accomplish what I've asked of you, I will give you something even better than that," said Lyla with a smug, self-satisfied smirk on her face.
"I will give you an entire tree for yourself, Katché. I will give you the key to what all mortal such as yourself desire — Immortality on your own terms, free of the LeDeloux family's tyrannical grasp."
The audacity of she had said left me speechless. She had not lied about the reward being unlike anything offered in recorded history. What she spoke of was no doubt sacrilege of the highest order amongst her race.
If word ever got out about what had just said to her people, they'd probably kill us both in our sleep. Perhaps we'd both be erased — all records of us having existed purged from the world — and left to rot in the special Hell that the High Elves were rumored to own in secret.
I could feel my heart beating madly up in my throat as if it wanted to escape. The sustained pounding in my ears and the slight tremble in my hands felt unbearable to me. Sweat poured down the back of my shirt and stuck onto me in a way I found disgustingly familiar.
"...What you're offering is too hot for me to ever consider accepting. The idea of robbing the High Elves is something that no one in their right mind would ever consider attempting.
Do you understand? Stealing from immortals is the dumbest fucking idea I've heard. They, in a very literal sense, have the rest of eternity to search for the criminal. And your folks are the wealthiest fuckers in the realm — they'll send every Fed, bounty hunter, criminal organization, mercenary company, and fuckwit with a gun to hunt me down for the rest of... goddamned time!!"
Who in the FUCK does she think I am? Does she think I'm the greatest hitman in history or some one-man-army that can take on the whole world?! Shit, I got... caught and almost got put in the slammer two years ago!
She's crazy. I don't know what her deal is, but I can't take this sort of job. Not that I even had an opportunity to do it.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and reminded me that my time was almost up.
5:36 PM.
It was time to head back home before I broke curfew and destroyed the second chance that Dr. Milton gave me.
When I stood up, Lyla stared expectantly at me for some sort of confirmation, but the only thing I did was raise my left pant leg for her to see.
A metallic ring with a bunch of lights flickered on my left ankle, reminding me that I was still not trusted by society.
"I'm a collared dog, as you can see. Have to be at home by 6:30 or this piece of shit will send a message to my handler that I've broken my curfew. Zero tolerance policy. One fuck-up and I'll be sent to a juvie correctional facility — and I won't get out until I turn 21 if that happens."
In the end, I couldn't do it. I was trapped and had no way out aside from being a good boy. Had to keep my word to Dr. Milton and that meant not getting wrapped up in what got me in trouble in the first place.
"Sorry. I really am, but I'm not the one you're looking for. I'm... just a washed-up idiot who got played and then was thrown away. But if it means anything, though I doubt it, I'll always be here if you wanna talk."
I made a painfully polite smile and then made my way out of the study room without looking back at her again.
I was afraid that if I saw her face, I'd make another reckless decision and fuck my second chance at life down the drain.
Still, I felt bad for her. What could have wanted her to seek death so much? It intrigued me, morbid as it might've sounded. Theories flooded my mind, but none of them sounded realistic.
And before I knew it, I had fallen into a hole I could not climb out of... in pursuit of stimulation.
Which she, admittedly, had provided in spades.
The death of a High Elf. A Golden Tree as a reward. Trouble in a paradise ruled immortals.
Her honeypot had caught me as she expected, though I had no clue this had been the case until much, much later... when I'd found myself at the bottom of a conspiracy beyond my wildest dreams.