第7章 殺父弑君 那雙渾濁不堪的眼睛裡，此刻竟然閃爍著病態的、虐待狂獨有的、令人不寒而慄的興奮火 光！嫌惡，與一種冰冷刺骨的“理解”，如同鉛塊般沉甸甸地墜入寒煜公的胃裡，讓他感 到一陣陣發冷． 他終於徹底確認了——父皇北斗晃的精神，早已偏離了正常的軌道，在邪惡、猜忌與瘋狂 構築的荒原之上肆意馳騁，並且樂在其中！ 北斗晃掙扎著，用那雙瘦骨嶙峋、仿佛一折即斷的手臂，勉強撐起了他那缺乏水分、如同 朽木般的上半身．他開始喋喋不休，用一種炫耀般的口吻，講述著他如何將這種殘酷的試 探擴展到全體朝臣身上，如何設計圈套，如何欣賞那些沒能“通過考驗”之人在恐懼中崩 潰的醜態，以及……他那令人作嘔的、計畫著如何將那些“不夠忠誠”或“愚蠢到被識破 ”的臣子們集中處刑的、沾沾自喜的宏偉藍圖…… 那惡臭的、扭曲的、視人命如玩物的計畫，從那張乾癟的嘴裡吐出來，每一個音節都像是 在玷污空氣． 「父皇，你實在是……」 寒煜公的聲音再次抑制不住地顫抖起來．但這一次，那顫抖之中蘊含的，不再是單純的恐 懼或憤怒，而是一種被逼到絕境之後，如同火山爆發前積蓄力量般的、破釜沉舟的決絕！ 在無盡的折磨、猜忌與精神虐待之後，在親眼目睹了大哥、二哥的悲慘結局之後，在確認 了眼前這個男人已然徹底瘋狂、無可救藥之後——一個念頭，如同地底深處醞釀已久的滾 燙熔岩，挾帶著灼熱、狂暴、足以摧毀一切的氣勢，猛然衝破了他心中所有關於人倫、孝 道、君臣的猶豫與束縛！ 他緩緩地，緩緩地伸出了自己的手．那只剛剛還緊握著劍柄、在戰場上斬將奪旗的手，此 刻越過了父皇枯瘦醜陋、散發著病氣與藥味的身體，堅定地抓住了床頭那個巨大、蓬鬆、 象徵著安逸與舒適的羽絨枕頭． 衰老、病弱、沉浸在自己病態幻想中的皇帝，在親生兒子這突如其來的、壓倒性的力量面 前，竟是那樣的不堪一擊，毫無抵抗之力． 當那柔軟卻足以致命的枕頭猛地捂住他的口鼻時，他甚至沒能發出一聲像樣的呼救，只能 從枕頭底下，洩露出幾聲模糊不清、如同被扼住喉嚨的困獸般的、粗鄙而徒勞的呵呵喘息 。 寒煜公微微驚異于父皇此刻肉體上的虛弱——與他精神上的暴虐形成了如此諷刺的對比。 但這絲驚異轉瞬即逝，被一種冰冷到近乎殘酷的決心所取代。 「你早就該死了，父皇．」 他低聲呢喃著，仿佛不是在對眼前這個人說話，而是在對那束縛了他二十多年的黑暗命運 ，下一個最終的判決．他的手臂肌肉賁張，青筋凸起，用盡了全身的力氣，將那方柔軟的 “刑具”，死死地、更深地按向那張曾經讓他無比畏懼的臉． 「像你這樣……肆意玩弄人心，視親情、忠誠為廉價的遊戲……像你這樣，從不信任任何 人，將所有人都當作你掌中的棋子和玩物……像你這樣的人，根本不配戴上這頂皇冠！」 「你的存在，對這個帝國、對你的兒子們、對所有不得不活在你陰影下的人來說，都是一 個詛咒！」 「為了所有人……你必須死！」 父皇那垂死掙扎的、悶絕的呻吟聲，以及身體細微的、徒勞的扭動，透過厚厚的、吸音的 枕頭，頑強地傳遞到寒煜公的手掌和手臂上．那垂死的、微弱的震動，如同無數根冰冷的 針尖，狠狠刺入寒煜公的心臟深處． 一陣突如其來的、排山倒海般的恐懼攫住了他——弑父！ 儘管他有千萬條理由說服自己這是正義的、是必要的、甚至是為民除害，但那根植於血脈 深處、烙印在靈魂之上的禁忌，此刻正發出淒厲的尖嘯！違逆人倫天理的巨大恐慌感，如 同冰冷的潮水，從胸腔深處猛地上湧，死死扼住了他的喉嚨．他手臂上那足以開碑裂石的 力量，在這一瞬間，竟不由自主地鬆懈了一絲． 但是！ 事已至此！絕無回頭之路！ 如果現在放手……如果讓這個剛剛還在炫耀其殘忍計畫的惡魔，哪怕只喘過一口氣來…… 等待自己的，將會是什麼？ 是百倍、千倍瘋狂的報復！是生不如死的折磨！是徹底的毀滅！不僅僅是他自己，甚至可 能波及所有與他有過關聯的人！ 不！絕不能！ 寒煜公眼中最後一點因人倫而生的猶豫，被這殘酷的現實徹底擊碎、冰封！他猛地咬緊牙 關，再次爆發性地發力，雙臂猶如燒紅的鐵鉗，將自己全部的體重、全部的決心、全部的 憎恨與恐懼，都毫無保留地傾注在那一方柔軟的枕頭上。 壓著…… 死死地壓著…… 更用力地壓著…… 直到枕頭下方所有的聲息、所有的掙扎、所有的生命跡象，都徹底平息，最終歸於永恆的 、令人窒息的死寂． …… 厚重的紅木門，在一片壓抑的寂靜中，再次緩緩開啟． 寒煜公的身影，重新出現在那些屏息凝神、各懷心思的朝臣面前． 這位素以驍勇善戰、臨危不亂而聞名帝國的年輕統帥，此刻臉色蒼白得如同剛剛經歷了一 場漫長的重病，嘴唇失去了所有血色，眼神空洞得仿佛靈魂已被抽離．那身沾滿風塵與汗 漬的銀白鎧甲，非但沒能襯托出他的英武，反而讓他看起來像是被某種無形的、沉重到無 法承受的負擔徹底壓垮了．連他一向挺拔如松的身姿，似乎都微微有些佝僂． 貴族、命婦、宮廷大員、貼身侍從……一道道由華麗的服飾、閃耀的珠寶和無數道探詢、 揣測、或是假裝悲憫的目光所組成的“人牆”，瞬間將他無聲地包圍． 短暫的、令人不安的沉默之後，終於有人，小心翼翼地打破了這凝固的空氣，用一種盡可 能顯得恭敬而悲傷的語調問道： 「殿下……對先皇陛下的……告別儀式……可已……完成了？」 寒煜公的目光緩緩聚焦，仿佛剛剛從一個遙遠而恐怖的夢境中掙脫出來。他像一個失去了 靈魂的提線木偶，動作僵硬地點了點頭． １－７完 經過先皇的靈堂．燭火搖曳，影子橫在棺槨上．送信的親衛未察覺，那影子與寒煜公的背 影一模一樣． 而亡者，沒有抗議． Chapter 7: Patricide Those clouded， decaying eyes— now flickering with a sick， sadistic gleam— filled Aureus’ stomach with a cold， sinking dread. Hatred mixed with a chilling clarity， settling inside him like a block of lead. He understood， completely and irrevocably: His father， Emperor Polaris Dawn， had crossed the boundary of sanity long ago. He now roamed freely across a wasteland built from malice， suspicion， and madness— and reveled in it. The old Emperor struggled， lifting his skeletal arms—so thin they seemed ready to snap—to prop up his wasted frame. And then， with grotesque pride， he began to speak. He spoke of how he extended his“tests” to the entire court— how he built traps， how he delighted in the terror-distorted faces of those who failed， and how he envisioned —the way other men imagine gardens or monuments— grand plans of purging all who were“not loyal enough” or“too clever for their own good.” Each word dripped like rot from his dry， cracked lips— fouling the air. “Father… you truly are…” Aureus’ voice trembled again— but not from fear alone. This time， beneath that trembling was something deeper: a pressure-building， volcanic resolve born from despair. After years of torment， after watching his elder brothers die beneath this man’s gaze， after realizing fully that the creature before him was far beyond reason— a thought rose within him. A molten， surging thought， long suppressed in the depths of his soul， that now burst through every barrier of duty， morality， and filial law. He reached out. Slowly… steadily… The hand that had cleaved through shields and armor hours ago now passed over the Emperor’s frail， fever-ridden body— and seized the large， soft down pillow beside him. The old Emperor， so monstrous in spirit， was pitifully weak in flesh. When the pillow descended， when it sealed his mouth and nose， he could not even manage a proper cry— only muffled， animal rasping. Aureus felt a flicker of surprise at the contrast— the tyrant’s vicious mind， trapped in such a pathetic vessel. The surprise vanished. What replaced it was ice. “You should have died long ago， Father.” His whisper was not addressed to the man， but to the shadow that had ruled his life. His muscles tightened. His veins bulged. He pressed the pillow down with the strength of a man who had nowhere left to retreat. “A man who toys with hearts… who treats kinship and loyalty as cheap entertainment… who trusts no one… who sees every soul as a pawn in his hand…” “You—do—not—deserve—the crown.” “Your existence is a curse. To this Empire. To your sons. To everyone forced to live beneath your shadow.” “For all of us— you must die.” The Emperor’s dying convulsions shuddered through the pillow— those vibrations traveled up Aureus’ arms like cold needles stabbing straight into his heart. A tidal wave of ancestral terror surged up inside him: Patricide. No matter how justified— no matter how necessary— the ancient taboo screamed through his blood. Aureus’ breath hitched. His grip slackened ever so slightly. But— No. There was no turning back. If he released the pillow now— if this monster drew even a single breath— Aureus knew what awaited him: Retribution. Madness. A death far worse than this. Not only his own death— but the ruin of anyone tied to him. Never. Never. Never. The last shred of hesitation froze into nothingness. Aureus clenched his teeth— and drove his full weight downward. All his strength， his dread， his fury， his grief— Everything— poured into the pillow. Pressing— Pressing— Pressing— Until every sound， every twitch， every flicker of life beneath it fell silent. Utter， suffocating silence. ＊＊＊ The heavy redwood door opened again. Aureus stepped out. The young commander—renowned for fearlessness and iron resolve—now looked like a man drained by a long illness. His face was pale. His lips bloodless. His eyes hollow， emptied of light. Even the proud set of his shoulders had collapsed inward. A wall of courtiers， nobles， attendants， jeweled consorts— all draped in sorrow， curiosity， calculation— closed in around him without moving. After a tense， brittle silence， someone finally ventured: “Your Highness… has your farewell… to the late Emperor… been completed?” Aureus’ gaze slowly came back into focus， as though he were returning from some distant nightmare. With the stiff， puppet-like movement of a man whose soul had been scraped raw ， he nodded. 1–7 End As the messenger passed the funeral hall， the candlelight wavered— casting a shadow across the coffin. A shadow with the exact same outline as Duke Aureus’ back. The dead offered no protest. --

※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc), 來自: 101.14.3.113 (臺灣) ※ 文章網址: https://webptt.com/m.aspx?n=bbs/DummyHistory/M.1764744291.A.062.html