Chapter 600 Seven-Colored Shell
"What am I even doing?"
Michael shut his eyes, feeling the weight of his realization—his love had morphed into an obsession, pushing away the person he cared about most.
The night wind howled, mocking his foolishness.
Michael had no clue how he ended up on Dreamscape Peak beach.
The waves crashed in the darkness, the moonlight breaking into countless silver shards scattered across the black sea. He walked barefoot on the cold, wet sand, each step like treading on the sharp edges of his memories.
In the distance, a colorful seashell lay half-buried in the sand, glistening as the tide washed over it.
Michael crouched down, picked up the shell, and gently traced the intricate patterns with his thumb.
"For you."
In his memory, a little girl's voice was as clear as wind chimes. She wore a light blue dress and stood barefoot on the beach, her shadow stretched long by the sunlight.
Back then, Michael had just lost his parents, his eyes hollow like a walking corpse.
The little girl shoved the colorful shell into his hand, tilting her head as she looked at him. "Don't be sad. The shell will protect you."
He stared at her, his throat tight. "Who are you?"
The girl didn't answer, just smiled at Michael before turning and running off into the distance.
He panicked, stumbling as he tried to catch up. "Wait! I promise I'll come back for you!"
But she ran further and further away, her figure gradually blending into the blinding sunlight, as if she had never existed.
That was the first time Michael experienced the taste of "loss."
The tide came in, soaking his pants, the cold biting into his bones.
Michael snapped back to reality, realizing he had walked into the sea, the water now up to his knees.
"Michael! Are you out of your mind?"
A figure rushed over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back to the beach.
Zachary was panting, his hair tousled by the sea breeze, his eyes filled with anger. "What kind of melodrama are you playing at this hour? Do you want to be swept away and become a missing person?"
Michael looked at him silently, his eyes empty and terrifying.
Zachary frowned, his tone softening. "Come on, it's just a breakup. Is it worth dying over?"
Michael forced a smile, his voice hoarse. "I wasn't trying to die."
"Then why were you walking into the sea?" Zachary rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you were looking for inspiration to write poetry."
Michael looked down at the colorful shell in his hand and suddenly laughed, a bitter sound. "I just remembered something."
Zachary followed his gaze and was slightly taken aback. "That shell?"
"Someone gave it to me many years ago," Michael said softly. "She said the shell would protect me."
Zachary was silent for a moment, then suddenly threw an arm around Michael's shoulders, giving him a firm pat. "Alright, enough with the drama! Come on, let's go get a drink!"
Michael stumbled as Zachary dragged him along, frowning. "I don't need it."
"Stop talking nonsense!" Zachary insisted, pulling him towards the shore. "Tonight, we're drinking until we drop. My treat!"
The wind howled, the sound of the waves fading into the distance.
Michael took one last look at the dark sea, clutching the shell so tightly it hurt.
"I promise I'll come back for you."
But in the end, he had still lost Emma.
In Zachary's villa, the lights were dim. Michael slumped on the couch, his tie loose, his shirt collar soaked with alcohol. He still held the colorful shell, his knuckles white.
"Drink! Keep drinking!" Zachary popped open another bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. "Tonight, we're forgetting all this crap!"
Michael's eyes were unfocused, and he suddenly laughed softly. "Forget? How do you forget?" He held the shell up to the light, the colorful reflections falling on his reddened eyes. "She said the shell would protect me, but in the end, even she..."
The doorbell rang suddenly.
Zachary stumbled to answer it, and Celeste stood outside, holding a pot of soup. She saw Michael, drunk and disheveled, and her eyes widened in shock.
"What are you doing here?" Zachary raised an eyebrow.
Celeste walked in, her voice soft but firm. "I heard about him..." She trailed off, choking up. Michael was always so composed and elegant; she had never seen him like this.
She knelt by the couch, gently brushing the damp hair from his forehead. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his furrowed brow. Celeste's heart ached.
"Michael," she murmured, her fingers trembling as she touched his face.
Memories flooded back.
Years ago, Celeste was just a child living in the fishing village below Dreamscape Peak. One summer afternoon, she was collecting shells on the beach when she met a boy with hollow eyes. He stood in knee-deep water, looking like he might be swept away at any moment.
She ran over and pressed the most beautiful, colorful shell into his hand. "Don't be sad. The shell will protect you."
The boy stared at her, then clumsily pulled a red string from his pocket, tying it around her wrist. "This was my mom's. I'm giving it to you." His fingers were cold and trembling. "I promise I'll come back for you."
But later, the village was hit by a disaster, and she ended up in a foreign country. When they met again, he was a high and mighty figure, and she was just an orphan he had saved. That red string became her most precious secret.
Michael frowned in his sleep, suddenly rolling over and nearly falling off the couch.
Celeste quickly reached out to steady him, but accidentally knocked over a glass on the coffee table. The sound of breaking glass was especially jarring in the quiet night.
"Careful!" Zachary rushed over, but it was too late. Celeste's finger was cut by the shards, blood immediately welling up.
The blood dripped onto the clear glass shards, reflecting the moonlight, reminiscent of the sunset-stained sea during the disaster. Celeste stared at her blood, the cries, and the smell of the salty, bloody sea from that day flooding back.
"Are you okay?" Zachary frowned, about to fetch the first aid kit, when a thud sounded behind him.
Michael had rolled off the couch but remained deeply asleep. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing a muscular chest with a jagged scar, a remnant from saving Emma.
Celeste's tears fell suddenly. She reached out, trembling, to touch the scar but pulled back at the last moment. The red string hidden under her sleeve peeked out but remained unseen.
"I'll take care of him," she said softly, her voice resolute.
Zachary looked at her, then sighed. "You..." He swallowed his words. "Fine, I'll get a blanket."
As Celeste gently wiped Michael's face with a damp cloth, a tear fell onto his lips. In his sleep, he unconsciously licked it away, his frown deepening.
"Does it hurt?" Celeste murmured, unsure if she was asking him or herself. The red string on her wrist had faded but remained as strong as ever, like her unspoken wait.
Outside, the sound of the waves was faintly audible. The promise made thirteen years ago was remembered by only one person.
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