Chapter 1575

The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned silent.

It was as if everyone had been joking about telling a serious ghost story before bed; everyone had been playing those childish games of "someone is behind you," telling jokes they'd heard online or from others that contained mild horror elements, and then someone had gone and told a ghost story that genuinely made everyone's back crawl.

More terrifying than the ghost story itself was the fact that the person seemed unable to read the social cues of the invitation, and the warm or lively atmosphere that had been so hard to build was reset to zero, leaving the person who started the topic to bear the responsibility.

Thus, Ivan pursed his lips, leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and said, "You all must know that the domestic violence rate in Russia is quite high. There are always husbands beating wives, fathers beating sons, or drunks causing chaos at home."

"That damn cold weather and the extreme living conditions force people to maintain a state of constant agitation. This was originally a way to vent that agitation while struggling against nature—either through sex, violence, or both."

"Some choose to vent their agitation by abusing their partners when the heavy snow seals the doors, leading to many cases of domestic violence, marital rape, and accidental homicides resulting in death."

Ivan's voice was very low. When he used long sentences to describe the state of affairs, the Russian accent mixed into his English was like a blade, plowing deep furrows into the relatively simple expression of the English language, evoking images of snowmelt, rust, and liquor.

"But the killer I saw that day wasn't like that. He hadn't been drinking, I'm sure of it. We brushed past each other when the police were taking him away, right under a bridge in Moscow."

"He was dressed quite neatly, not a vagrant. His mind was clear, not numbed by alcohol or drugs, and most importantly, he wasn't resorting to violence out of agitation—he was agitated because of the violence and the murder."

"Did he know the girl? Or did he just pick someone at random on the side of the road?" Natasha asked.

Erik slowly widened his eyes. When the gaze from those clear, water-like blue eyes landed on Natasha's face, the beautiful female agent subconsciously averted her eyes.

"That is something I am not entitled to possess," Nick sighed heavily as he took a sip of hot tea. "Agents focus on offense, constant offense, while a family requires a guard who can stand still. The two cannot be reconciled. Every professional in a dangerous line of work who thinks they can balance the two ends up dying a miserable death."

Erik coughed awkwardly twice, and Natasha's gaze immediately fell upon him, saying, "Captain, you are the only man here with a long-term partner."

"Is it not good enough that I appeared before him and mocked him while he was being chased like a stray dog?"

Steve turned to look at Charles again, while Rogers struggled for a long time before squeezing out a sentence, then said somewhat uncertainly, "I don't know if I should say this, but compared to the rich and turbulent love lives you all have, the two of us are as simple as lambs that haven't left the pen."

"There are many scenarios where sex and death are linked," Shiller lowered his eyelids and said. "Usually, people believe that humans can feel a sensation similar to an ultimate climax in the seconds before death."

"There are studies suggesting that hallucinations brought on by various mental illnesses can cause neurosis, and these hallucinations—which often appear in our minds, linger before our eyes, and make us unable to distinguish dreams from reality—are mostly related to death."

Ivan shook his head and said, "I was just passing by. I didn't see the whole murder process; I only saw the final moment when the killer was being taken into the police car. He was as excited as if he'd taken drugs."

"I am just being realistic; that has its benefits."

Suddenly, that astonishing aggression vanished. Natasha's face became calm again, with a touch of detachment. She said, "Unfortunately, because of my profession, I have to be measured. If I were truly that kind of madwoman, you might not be seeing Tony Stark right now."

"And family?" Shiller asked.

"Perhaps he saw her sleeping with that boy," Ivan drank a mouthful of scalding tea, shook his head, and said, "It's hard to explain otherwise why he would be that excited."

"Isn't that just self-deceptive gibberish?" Erik frowned and asked, then offered evidence: "I've been on the verge of death several times, but I only felt fear and pain."

His first half was too assertive, leaving Natasha no room to refute, so she just turned her face away, poked her cheek with a finger, then turned back to look at Shiller.

"And Peggy?" Natasha raised an eyebrow and asked.

"I heard he didn't perform well enough."

"More than that," Natasha rolled her eyes with a hint of resentment. "I shouldn't have held such high expectations for him. It seems the rumors of the playboy cover model are exaggerated. I really don't understand how Tony gets such rave reviews among them."

"Men are particularly adventurous in this regard. They always harbor an absurd idea that a female agent with a rich resume will hang up her hat for them. Even if my codename is Black Widow, there are always people betting they can enjoy my beauty and charm without paying any price."

"I think you should go back to sleep," Nick whispered into Erik's ear. "Same as usual, next is the midnight tea party for the mentally ill and the mad... You know you can't do anything about them, right?"

"Shouldn't men also send a representative to chat?" Natasha kicked her leg forward and said, "I'm not a simple little girl. Don't try to fob me off with topics like 'gentle women' or 'gentlemanly conduct.' You can be more direct."

"I am a very famous agent," Natasha crossed her legs and folded her arms, smiling as she said, "That sounds contradictory, but Black Widow is well-known."

"Most murderers suffering from mental illness claim they saw something happen between themselves and the victim in their hallucinations. Some see the victim grow devil horns and feel they are acting on behalf of heaven; others see the victim lunging with a knife and want to defend themselves."

"What are the benefits?"

"Too absurd," Erik evaluated. He could never accept such an outrageous logic, but at that moment, he noticed the expression on Natasha's face sitting opposite him.

"That is indeed a pity," Nick said, but Natasha wouldn't let it go and looked at Nick again.

"Care to talk about it?"

"Perhaps some can convert those into pleasure, but it should be a small minority," Nick shrugged. "If death were truly such a great thing, why would those addicts who destroy their bodies for pleasure not try it?"

Steve had to keep glancing at Charles, and since Charles still had no reaction, Steve had to speak up: "But constant offense must come to an end. When the days finally calm down, what is there to comfort the soul? The past is gone, my old friend."

"Betting on whether you are holding a knife behind your back is a gamble I'd rather avoid. Keeping my belt tight is one of the secrets to how I've survived and become a legendary agent."

"You are always so optimistic, Steve," Charles said indifferently, but that seemed to provoke Rogers' anger. He stared at Charles and said, "And you are always too pessimistic."

Seeing that the two were about to dig up all their old grudges again, Nick cleared his throat and looked at Shiller, asking half-curiously and half-distractedly: "Doctor, you've used your exquisite conversational skills to wrap everyone in, yet you still haven't told us why you chose not to have a family."

"Back then, neither of us had any time," Rogers tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips and saying, "We came in a rush and left in a rush. I've lost count of how many times our intimacy was interrupted by missions."

Nick immediately raised his hands in surrender and said, "Women are trouble. Women like her are even bigger trouble. Getting tangled up with one could cost me half my life."

"It's Tony's wealth that gets him rave reviews," Nick laughed and said. "But no one would despise him for failing to handle the Black Widow, especially since you had such high expectations for him."

"Me? I'm on another level."

"Madness." Erik also leaned in, saying incredulously, while Nick tried his best to raise his eyelids, looking at Rogers from beneath his eyes, leaving only the whites of his eyes visible, and then continued: "But what's quite shocking is that the vast majority of these people are seeking their own deaths."

"I felt that at that moment I... was full of power. Besides, I didn't kill them during the process."

"Very clear-headed." This time it was Charles speaking.

"Perhaps they didn't understand, they just had confidence they could escape," Shiller said, blocking his lips with his cup. "Or they felt that those who died at your hands before were only because they weren't strong or cautious enough, while they themselves could play you in the palm of their hands."

"I was just trying to deduce..." Shiller adjusted his glasses slightly, while Magneto sitting opposite him frowned slightly. Shiller continued: "If someone believes in such a theory, perhaps they would feel that bestowing death upon others allows them to experience a pleasure akin to ascending to heaven, while they themselves can also feel joy. It is a thing infinitely close to sex, yet purer and nobler."

"You've killed your partners after sleeping with them before. How did it feel?" Shiller turned to look at Natasha and asked.

"That is the topic for late at night," Nick said with some regret, pouring himself another cup of tea. "It's a pity our liquor is still in the box. Alcohol makes people speak more freely, right?"

"I think no one would be stupid enough to believe that a female agent could achieve a near 100% mission completion rate based solely on frontal combat ability. Even from the outside, she isn't the type of woman to be trifled with, yet everyone is betting."

"His appearance is to my taste," Natasha lifted her upper lip, smiling with her teeth exposed, making herself look more seasoned and mischievous, and said, "It was those eyes that fooled me. When he looks at you and says sweet nothings, you think, what his performance is like afterward doesn't matter."

Erik covered his face. His moral bottom line made it impossible for him to participate in such a slightly evil topic, but Nick, who was of a similar era, and even Charles were listening with great interest.

"So they all died." Natasha's eye corners and mouth were sharp when she smiled. This kind of evil and cruelty made her look like a true poisonous spider.