孤独一人 Alone

作者：Ian St. Martin

莱维娅就快要睡着的时候，有光亮出现了。

Lyvia had nearly found sleep when the light appeared.

来到孤儿院的第一晚让她体会到一种奇怪的情绪，很陌生，却又让她想起很久前的回忆。生活夺走了莱维娅对外界的信任，也夺走了其它的一切，但绝境求生的习惯在这里减弱了，锐利的锋刃在屋檐下的安全保障中变得暗淡。她的小床虽然狭窄又纤薄，但却远比都城的冰冷石子地面好很多。睡意袭来，和煦温馨，缓缓放低她的双睑，向她许诺着踏实的安眠。

The first night in the orphanage carried strange emotions for her, unfamiliar yet close to a past that she had once held. Life had taken trust from Lyvia, like it had taken everything else, but habits of survival waned here, their edges dulled by the safety of a roof overhead. Her cot, though narrow and thin, was still far removed from the cold cobblestones of the capital. Sleep beckoned, warm and enveloping, tenderly lowering her eyelids with the promise of true rest.

然后门开了。

Then the door opened.

“醒醒，孩子。”莱维娅听得出是女院长蔡恩的声音。“来。”

“Wake, child.” Lyvia recognized the voice of Cynn, the headmistress. “Come.”

她害怕被重新赶回街头，于是莱维娅遵从地坐了起来。双腿向侧面翻动，双脚落到冰冷的地面上，然后她走进大厅的灯光下。

Afraid to lose what respite she had found from the streets, Lyvia obeyed and sat up. Her legs swung over the side to land on the cold floor, and she walked into the light of the hall.

睡眼惺忪的莱维娅站在其他孩子中间。他们的年龄从八夏到十夏不等，全都是今天刚刚从诺克萨斯街头被收进来的。有一对兄弟，还有三个骨瘦如柴的小男孩彼此紧紧牵着小脏手，然后就是莱维娅。另外两个小团体不约而同地与她拉开距离，缩在熟悉的人身旁。

Blinking, Lyvia took her place alongside the other children. All of them, ranging from eight to ten summers, had arrived there today, freshly collected from the streets of Noxus. A pair of brothers, three scrawny urchin boys who clutched each other’s hands in grubby unity, and Lyvia. Both groups shuffled away from her, retreating to the familiar.

“我知道时间很晚了，”蔡恩一边从孩童们的面前走过，一边说道，“但我们的主顾在时间上有许多要求。不管怎样，他想要欢迎新来的孩子。”蔡恩的话里藏了什么，莱维娅分辨不出来。“这是一份光荣。”

“I know the hour is late,” said Cynn as she walked down the line of little faces, “but there are many demands upon the time of our patron. Still, he wishes to welcome the newly arrived.” There was something within Cynn’s words that Lyvia could not place. “It is an honor.”

这时孩子们才突然注意到他，似乎他刚刚是悄无声息地凭空出现。高挑、纤瘦、穿着莱维娅不认识的华贵服饰，主顾开始向他们走来。蔡恩踟蹰着向后退去，表情漠然。

It was then that the children noticed him with a start, as though he had appeared out of thin air. Tall, slender, clad in a wealth Lyvia had never known, the patron approached them. Cynn demurred into the background, her expression impassible.

那个人缓缓地从孤儿们的面前经过，他苍白的双眼用奇怪的目光打量他们。他不假思索地从那对兄弟面前走过。莱维娅觉得自己的脉搏加速，因为他的脚步停下来了，那双眼睛看着她，随着他继续向前走，她觉得自己的脉搏又慢了下来。那三个顽童紧紧靠在一起，袒护着彼此，而主顾只是轻轻瞥了他们一眼。

Slowly, the man walked from orphan to orphan, his pale eyes casting them in an odd scrutiny. He passed the brothers without a thought. Lyvia felt her pulse quicken as he paused, the eyes falling upon her, and felt it slow again as he continued on. The trio of urchins bunched together, each defending the others, and the patron barely spared them a glance.

“她”那个人对蔡恩说道，他的音调低平，顺滑。

“Her,” the man said to Cynn, his voice low, silken.Cynn’s arm was on her shoulder now, leading her to another room. It was empty, but for a single chair. “No harm will come to you,” Cynn said, an attempt to dispel Lyvia’s fear. “It is an honor,” she repeated, closing the door behind her.

Lyvia crossed to the chair, and sat in it. She watched the door intently, the sole means of entry into the room, only to notice a moment later the shadow stretching out from behind her.

蔡恩的手扶在她的肩上，带着她来到另一个房间。这里空荡荡的，只有一把椅子。“你不会受到伤害的。”蔡恩说道，想要消除莱维娅的恐惧。“这是一份光荣。”说完，在她身后关上了门。

The patron.

莱维娅来到椅子前方，坐了上去。她一心一意地看着门口，那是这间屋子的唯一入口，但片刻过后她却发现自己身后的影子渐渐拉长。

“Please,” he said, raising his hands as she bolted to her feet.

是那位主顾。

Lyvia did her best to contain her fear, to remember what Cynn had told her.

“请坐。”他举起双手，对一跃而起的她说道。

“Think I am here to hurt you?” he asked, his voice languid, accent cultured.

莱维娅尽力把持住自己的恐惧，尽力回忆蔡恩对她说的话。

Lyvia shook her head, but it was far from convincing.

“觉得我要伤害你？”他问道，语气慵懒，口音高雅。

He feigned puzzlement, laughing softly. “My dear, has life not done enough?” He circled around in front of her. “No, my child, I am only here to hear about your life, and what has brought you here.”

莱维娅摇了摇头，但毫无说服力。

He gestured kindly to the chair, and slowly Lyvia took her seat.

他假装疑惑，轻轻笑着说，“亲爱的，难道生活还不够艰难吗？”他在她面前转了一圈。“不，我的孩子，我来这里只是为了倾听你的生活，你是如何流落至此的。”

“I’m from Drekan,” she began.

他轻轻示意了一下那把椅子，莱维娅缓缓坐了回去。

“Yes?” He nodded, urging that she continue.

“我从德雷坎来。”她开口说道。

“War took papa,” said Lyvia, trying to keep her voice level, to betray no weakness. “So we came to the city. Mama went out to find work, but after four days we stopped waiting for her to come back. It was just my sister Vira and I. I kept her safe.” She fought her voice but it faltered. “Then Vira took sick. I couldn’t protect her, and then I… I was...”

“哦？”他点点头，期盼她继续说下去。

“Alone,” he said softly.

“战争带走了爸爸，”莱维娅努力控制自己的音调平稳，不露出弱点，“于是我们来到城里。妈妈出去找工作，但四天以后，我们就不再苦等她回来了。只剩下我和妹妹维拉。我保护她不受伤害。”她努力抵抗自己的声音，但还是颤抖了。“然后维拉生病了。我没法保护她，然后……我就……”

Lyvia’s chest swelled with a tide of pain. Of loss. “Alone,” she repeated, and a tear struck her cheek.

“孤独一人。”他轻轻地说。

“There!” he breathed. She recoiled as he reached toward her.

莱维娅的肚子里涌起一阵痛苦和失落。“孤独一人。”她重复了一遍，然后一滴泪从她的脸颊滑落。

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice hypnotic. “Focus upon that feeling. The pain. It has mounted for you in this unforgiving world, nowhere to go but bottled up inside. Feel it rise up, above your neck, slipping up over your nose, your ears. It threatens to swallow you, but just at the precipice, it yields. Face it and feel it break against you. That is strength. Turn your mind upon it, and allow it to drain from you.”

“来！”他轻叹一声，把手伸向她，而她向后躲开。

She let the pain flow out of her in sobs, feeling the cold of glass against her cheeks, softly touching beneath each eye. A torrent of despair, taking her breath, then it was gone.

“闭上眼。”他的声音催人如眠，“专心体会那个感觉。那种痛苦。那个感觉是这无情世界给你准备好的，无处可躲，只能封藏在心底。感受它的潮涌，没过你的脖颈，盖过你的口鼻、耳朵。它要吞没你，但就在最高涨的时候，它退却了。直面它，感受它在你面前溃散。那就是力量。让你的心智俯视它，让它流失、干涸。”

Lyvia opened her eyes.

她让痛苦顺着她的啜泣流淌而出，这时突然感觉到冰冷的玻璃贴在脸颊上，依次轻靠在双眼下方。一阵绝望狂涌而来，让她不敢呼吸，然后又消失不见。

“Thank you,” said the man, and Lyvia noticed a vial in his hands, “for sharing.”

莱维娅睁开双眼。

“You,” Lyvia dared to ask, seeing something she could recognize in her patron despite everything else about him. “You’re alone, too?”

“谢谢，”那个人说道，莱维娅看到他手中握着一支玻璃小瓶，“谢谢你的分享。”

He took his eyes from the vial, glanced at her. “I have seen much of this world, over many years—yes, almost all of it alone.”

“你……”莱维娅鼓起勇气问道，她在这位主顾身上看到了一种似曾相识的东西，纵使他的一切都卓尔不群。“你也孤独一人吗？”

Livia sniffed, looking up at him. “Will it get better?”

他的视线离开小瓶，轻轻侧眼望着她。“我已阅遍世间冷暖，无数岁月沧桑——是的，几乎始终都是孤独一人。”

“For you?” He smiled gently, his eyes glimmering for a moment in a gentle show of sadness. “No.”“She is unharmed?” Cynn asked as Vladimir stepped into the hall.

莱维娅啜泣了一声，抬头看着他说，“会感觉好一些吗？”

Vladimir arched an eyebrow. “Were you harmed, Cynn, all those years ago when it was you in that room?” He tilted his head, producing a thin ampoule in his long fingers.

“你的感觉？”他温柔地微笑，眼中闪烁出片刻的忧伤迹象。“不会。”

Cynn’s eyes locked to the slender tube of glass, its frosted length dulling the contents to a soft ruby. Cynn snatched the ampoule, her eyes darting as she secreted it in the sleeve of her robe.

“Until next time, my dear,” Vladimir chuckled, then he turned and left.

“她没受伤吧？”蔡恩问刚刚迈进大厅的弗拉基米尔。

The moon was full that night, bathing the Noxian streets in radiant silver hues. Vladimir stopped at the fountain in the orphanage’s empty courtyard, dipping a finger into the still water. Whorls of crimson bloomed from his touch, rushing across the shallow pool until it was a depthless claret. Stepping briskly up to the lip of the fountain, Vladimir dropped into it without sound or splash.Vladimir rose from another pool within the dark halls of his manor, emerging dry, it was as though he had never touched the liquid. A chill wound through the yawning cavern of shadow and stone arches, brushing over shuttered windows and priceless artworks collected over a thousand lifetimes. His step was light across thick rugs, barely disturbing the layers of dust that caked them as he ascended a staircase.

弗拉基米尔高高拱起一撇弯眉。“你受过伤吗，蔡恩？许多年前当你在那间屋子里的时候？”他歪着头，修长的手指夹出一支密封安瓿瓶。

For a moment his thoughts lingered on the child, Lyvia. Doubtless tonight had been a strange experience, but he had seen enough mortals to know this night would not define her life. She would live, and then die, like all the other little sparks around him. Her name, her face, their interaction would slip away from him, as they always did, to where he wondered if they had ever existed at all.

蔡恩的双眼死死盯着那支细小的安瓿瓶，磨砂玻璃的质地让里面的内容物散发出柔和的红宝石色彩。蔡恩一把抓过安瓿瓶，目光四下扫视的同时把它藏进了袖子里。

People. The creatures surrounded Vladimir yet stood upon the opposite side of an impossible gulf, tantalizing and impermanent. A thin, crooked smile came to him. He was melancholy tonight. He rolled the vial of tears in his fingers.

“下次见，亲爱的。”弗拉基米尔笑着说完，转身离开。

The studio beckoned.

那一夜是满月，让诺克萨斯的街道沐浴在银色的光泽之下。弗拉基米尔在孤儿院空旷庭院中间的喷泉旁边停下脚步，伸出一根手指触摸静止的水面。绯红色的旋涡从他指尖绽开，迅速覆盖整片浅水池，把它变成一块干瘪的泥饼。弗拉基米尔轻巧地跳进喷泉口，落入其中，没有发出任何声音，也没有溅出任何水花。

Maudlin thoughts aside, of all the countless mortal lives he encountered, there were a select few Vladimir refused to forget, and so he labored to do what his mind could not. To remember them, those brief moments their lives touched, what felt like an eternity ago. In this case it was less than a millennium, the memory springing suddenly into his mind despite the vast time since last they met. For this one, he chose paint.

It was nearly finished, a work most would not find out of place alongside the masterworks adorning his lonely walls. He had certainly had the years to hone a craft. All the details were done: the gentle tumble of auburn hair, the tanned skin, features that alone were commonplace, but combined effected a demanding, regal aura. The expression, unthinkable loss. It was all there, save the whites of his eyes.

弗拉基米尔从他庄园的黑暗门厅中的另一片水池中站起身，身上干爽怡然，似乎从未沾过水。张开大嘴的暗影洞穴和石墙拱顶传来一阵颤抖，抚过紧闭的窗户和一千次生命的时间里收藏的无价艺术品。他轻柔的脚步踩在厚厚的地毯上，几乎没有扰动上面层叠的灰尘，随后静静地爬上一道楼梯。

Vladimir opened the vial, tipping it into a pot. The innocent tears mingled with the paint, and with the touch of his brush, came alive when laid upon the canvas. Nothing else, in all his travels, could match the splendor it wrought.

有那么一刻，他的思绪久久留在那个孩子，莱维娅身上。毫无疑问，今晚的经历很奇怪，但他已经见过太多凡人，知道这一晚肯定不会决定她的一生。她会活下去，然后死去，就像他周围其他渺小的火花一样。她的名字，她的脸庞，他们之间的对话会被逐渐忘却，直至让他怀疑是否真的发生过。一如既往。

What was his name?

人。这种生物围在弗拉基米尔身边，但却又站在一道深渊鸿沟的对面，招风惹草、转瞬即逝。他露出一抹浅薄、歪曲的微笑。他今晚很忧郁。那支装着泪水的小瓶在他指尖翻滚。

He found he could not remember. The absence stabbed at him, a name gone, but at least the face preserved. The whites of his eyes would keep his memory here.

画室在召唤。

Like a lonesome soul, he sought me out from beyond, Vladimir mused with a smile. More melancholy, but fitting perhaps.

先不提那些多愁善感的思绪，在他见过的无数个凡人生命之中，有少数几个是弗拉基米尔不愿忘记的，于是他用身体上的劳作完成自己头脑做不到的事——记住它们，记住他与那些生命相触碰的短暂瞬间，记住永世以前的久远刹那。这次的回忆是一千年以内的，虽然已经很久没见，但这段记忆还是突然出现在他的脑海里。为这份回忆，他选择作画。

After all, there was nothing in the world as beautiful as sadness.

这幅画已经快要完成了，它在众多名画之中不会显得突兀，它们将共同点缀他孤独的墙。他当然拥有充足的时间去磨炼一项技艺。一切细节都已完成：温柔卷曲的褐色头发、晒足阳光的皮肤、还有其他特征，单独看上去每一样都普普通通，但组合起来却能散发出一种威严的王者风范。那种表情，那种无法想象的失落。一切都呈现在画里，除了他双眼的空白。

弗拉基米尔打开了小瓶，把里面的泪水倒进一个罐子。天真无邪的眼泪混合了颜料，随着它的笔触，在画布上活了起来。在他无数旅行见闻中，没有什么东西能比得上它所早就的壮美。

他叫什么名字来着？

他发现自己记不起来了。遗忘的空白戳痛了他，一个名字消失了，但至少这个脸庞保留下来了。他双眼的留白会守住他的回忆。

如同寂寞的灵魂，他从彼端找到了我。弗拉基米尔微笑着想道。他更加忧郁了，但或许恰如其分。

毕竟，这世上没有什么比悲伤更美。