Chapter 435: Chapter 423: The Desperate Schopenhauer
In a villa in the city of Langton, the young Schopenhauer lay decadently on the sofa, clutching a half-empty bottle of wine, with a large amount of research materials and a newspaper scattered on the floor.
For an alchemist who had always been self-disciplined, the scattered research materials and the wine stains on them were enough to indicate how awful his mental state was at that moment.
If Schopenhauer were in his normal state, he would never let important research materials scatter on the ground and be soiled.
In his laboratory, if an apprentice were to dirty the research materials, at the very least they’d be scolded, and at the worst, face very severe punishment.
In Schopenhauer’s own words, knowledge is the cornerstone for an alchemist to reach the truth. If you don’t respect knowledge, then you don’t deserve to be an alchemist.
But at this moment, even Schopenhauer himself couldn’t be bothered to care about these things.
Because the headline on the newspaper thrown on the ground read "The World is About to End."
If the world is about to end, why care about so many things?
It’s no wonder Schopenhauer felt so despondent. After all, if the world is ending, why make any effort?
In the past, Schopenhauer was diligent and self-disciplined because he knew that with his talents, he could reach the position he aspired to, whether in academia or power, as long as he was willing to strive for it.
But now, with the world heading toward destruction, what could power, academia, or status do to prevent it?
Everything has lost its meaning.
If everything is meaningless, why make any effort?
So Schopenhauer, who used to only sip alcohol at banquets, drank heavily for the first time in his life outside of a social setting, getting completely drunk and abandoning all his principles and persistence.
Since the world is ending, sticking to those so-called rules and habits is just to die with a little more dignity.
For Schopenhauer, his past life wasn’t what his heart desired; it was the so-called "upper class" decided by society, and he had to strive to fit in to live better than others.
But now, with the impending destruction of the world, he no longer needed to cater to any of this, and he could naturally indulge the desires he originally suppressed and restrained.
"The world is ending, so what Count Brandelis said three years ago is actually true! Those fools in the Noble Council didn’t believe her!" Schopenhauer was naturally aware of Perfikot’s warning to the Noble Council about the world’s end three years ago. Now that the apocalypse had arrived, he naturally connected it to that event and viewed the Noble Council as a bunch of fools.
And this seemed to explain why Perfikot slaughtered the Noble Council months ago and received no blame in the end.
"Perhaps the Imperial Center knew about this long ago, and the Northern Territory’s Count has been preparing for it all this time?" Such a thought emerged in Schopenhauer’s mind.
In his view, given the relationship between Perfikot and Eldest Princess Annie, if she was preparing for the world’s end, she should protect the Royal Family from the same fate.
Maybe the Northern Territory is where Perfikot built a shelter strong enough to withstand the apocalypse, and the members of the Imperial Center would hide there when the end comes, ensuring survival even if the world is destroyed.
But for an ordinary alchemist like him, it was meaningless.
Schopenhauer did not underestimate himself, but he was merely a moderately renowned alchemist in Langton, though he was a guest of some nobles and self-assured of becoming a Royal Academy of Sciences member before turning forty...
But these weren’t enough to make him believe he had a chance to board the ark to escape the apocalypse.
"Had I known this, I would have headed to the Northern Territory to seek refuge with that Count! Now it’s too late even if I want to go!" Schopenhauer felt extremely frustrated and sorrowful. He had considered going to the Northern Territory to seek refuge with the Count when Perfikot announced theories on Imaginary Alchemy, but the pursuit of the so-called "upper class" identity prevented him from leaving the Empire’s mainland.
This was undoubtedly a wrong choice. If previously he, like some other alchemists, chose to pursue truth instead of power and status, seeking the various new alchemy theories Perfikot offered in the Northern Territory, perhaps now he’d have a chance to get a ticket to the ark of the apocalypse, rather than despairingly waiting to die in Langton.
Schopenhauer didn’t doubt that the Empire had plans to resist the apocalypse, nor that even if the apocalypse came, someone from the mainland could successfully reach the Northern Territory’s shelter. But clearly, he wasn’t on that list, nor did he believe he had a chance to reach the Northern Territory when the apocalypse arrived.
After all, in such circumstances, the nobles and those big capitalists would surely head to the Northern Territory first, occupying all the means of transportation. Even if Schopenhauer had some connections and status, how could he compete with them for the opportunity to "board the ark"? Or gain a chance from those nobles with "tickets"?
Just thinking about these, Schopenhauer could only feel intense despair. He even contemplated how to end his life with dignity, instead of waiting to die hopelessly after the world ends.
To his left was a loaded handgun.
It was a gift from a noble, exquisitely decorated, well-crafted, and used Perfikot’s invented cartridge bullets. You only needed to load the bullet into the chamber and pull the trigger to fire it, efficient, elegant, and deadly.
Schopenhauer’s hand had already reached for the handgun; once he picked it up, he could end this despairing existence.
Yet, Schopenhauer still hesitated, still wavered, maybe because he was afraid of death, lacking the courage to end it all.
Even faced with the despair brought by the apocalypse, he lacked enough courage to choose death as an escape, instead cowardly clinging to life, fearing death.
"Why did everything turn out this way?" Schopenhauer questioned in despair, yet no one could answer.
Just as he took another big swig of wine, intending to pick up the handgun again under its influence, there was a knock on his door. Someone outside was asking, "Is Mr. Schopenhauer home? Count Brandelis has summoned you!"
"Count Brandelis?" Schopenhauer’s eyes instantly cleared. This name seemed magical, like a drowning man grasping the final life-saving straw.
Schopenhauer quickly scrambled off the sofa, wiping his face in one swift motion, stumbling yet rushing towards the door, and even though he fell, he opened the door at the first chance, looking at the person outside and asking, "Is it really Count Brandelis?"