Chapter 285: Switch to This
Maggie gathered her thoughts, pushing aside the chaotic whirl of emotions. She had resolved to accompany Timothy on the climb up Parbo Hill.
The scenery was stunning: lush green trees and leaves painted in golden hues, while a sea of fiery red maple leaves covered the ground like a crimson carpet. The crisp autumn air offered relief from the summer heat. Sunlight filtered gently through the leaves, casting warm patterns on the ground. Autumn, with its soft breezes, was a comfortable season, ideal for picnicking and enjoying the outdoors—easily uplifting one's spirits.
But Maggie found no joy in the beauty. The thought of Nathael being lured to the factory looming nearby overshadowed everything. She regretted not paying closer attention to the news from Alosea in her past life, possessing only a vague understanding of the situation. More than that, she regretted never meeting Timothy and getting to know him. If she had, she wouldn't feel so helpless and passive now.
"There's a monastery on the mountain with many statues of angels. You might find it interesting to visit," Timothy suggested warmly, walking alongside Maggie like a considerate guide.
"Why would you want to visit a monastery?" Maggie asked softly, as if confiding in a friend.
Timothy's calm eyes met hers; a smile graced his face as he replied, "I want to see if one can defy their fate."
Maggie's breath hitched, her heart sinking. She said softly, "No one can plan without fault, nor can anyone defeat destiny."
"They were mortal. The idea of 'defying fate' is just a comforting illusion, while blindly surrendering to it is often the coward's excuse," he countered.
Standing halfway up the hill, Maggie lifted her gaze to the sun peeking through the trees. She slowly stated, "The world contains both light and darkness, positive and negative. Just as there are days filled with brilliant sunshine, there are also days of continuous rain."
Timothy's gaze rested on her face, which exuded both beauty and tranquility. She had quickly adjusted from her earlier panic, showing no signs of distress.
"So, are you saying that despite my plans, Nathael may still come out unharmed?" Timothy asked slowly.
"The laws of the world dictate that life and death coexist. Where there is death, there is also a path to life, eternal and unchanging," Maggie replied, deflecting further discussion.
She turned to Timothy, asking softly, "Why do you hate Nathael so much?"
While Nathael was ruthless, he wasn't someone who stirred up trouble without cause. Timothy's response was chilling: "He came after me, and I want to see him lose."
Unable to contain herself, Maggie replied coldly, "Is there something wrong with you?" Timothy paused, then smiled, seemingly in good spirits. Maggie was furious. She withdrew her gaze and continued walking in silence. Nathael was right; Timothy was a lunatic.
The journey was uneventful. The mercenaries gradually relaxed, their vigilance waning. Maggie waited for the right moment, spotting a slightly flat stone. Silently, she planned her next move.
"I need to rest," she said, walking towards the stone, sitting down, and looking back down the hill. The path wasn't steep, but it was a relatively easy climb. However, for the frail Timothy, who had climbed such a long distance, his pale face now bore a hint of flush.
He approached Maggie, asking gently, "Do you need water?"
In the next instant, Maggie acted swiftly. As she stood and Timothy reached out, she grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her. Simultaneously, Timothy felt the mirror shard Maggie had concealed in her sleeve pressed against his neck. The large piece of glass, with its sharp edges, glinted menacingly. The mercenaries aimed their guns at her; the sounds of chambering bullets echoed in unison.
Maggie's icy gaze glowed with amusement. It was a rarity—someone who had lived twice, now facing numerous guns.
Samuel remained indifferent, standing three meters away, neither too close nor too far. Despite her shorter stature, the sloping hill reduced her disadvantage, allowing her to press the shard against Timothy's throat without much strain.
"I thought you wouldn't bring out this piece of glass," Timothy chuckled lightly. His pale eyes revealed a chilling calm.
The sharp edge pierced his skin, and blood seeped out.
"Call Nathael and tell him to stay away from the chemical plant. Alert the fire department and bomb squad," Maggie commanded coldly. Her life was in peril, but she was indifferent to her own fate—not to Nathael's.
"Given the sharpness of this glass, you would probably take a bullet and get killed before it pierced my throat," Timothy remarked nonchalantly. Maggie chuckled. Her eyes turned red, and she uttered, "It seems like a fair trade. After all, who knows when you plan to kill me?"
"Then make your move," Timothy's eyes were dark and sinister, tinged with bloodthirsty excitement.
Maggie looked at Samuel. Timothy might not care, but what about Samuel? To her disappointment, Samuel's expression remained impassive. Clearly, he was following Timothy's lead.
Maggie lowered her gaze and pushed the glass deeper. More blood traced down his neck.
"I don't want to hurt you. Give Nathael a call and tell him to pull out. I'll accompany you to climb to the mountain peak," Maggie stated coldly.
"Have you ever used a dagger?" Timothy asked, lowering his gaze. His long eyelashes cast shadows on his already pale face, rendering him seemingly harmless.
Maggie paused, surprised by the change of subject. The next second, he effortlessly grasped her wrist. His warmth and strength caused her to furrow her brows. She inadvertently increased the glass's pressure. She could distinctly smell blood.
Despite his frail appearance, Timothy was far from weak; his grip was surprisingly strong. Maggie's jaw tensed; veins on her forehead became visible.
"Relax, switch to this," Timothy said softly, calming her. He took the glass and replaced it with a finely crafted dagger that could slice through iron as if it were butter.