"Is that really it?"
Just as long as he could feel at ease with it himself?
Falsen silently repeated those words in his mind, chewing over the phrase.
Samuel's words caught him off guard for a mont.
Because of his background, he had long been accustod to burying his own desires deep beneath layers upon layers of "expectations." He had never heard anything like this before.
Watching Falsen's sowhat bewildered expression, Samuel knew the progress bar on his unhinged-person developnt plan was steadily rising.
A satisfied smile spread across Samuel's face.
Yes, that was it.
This kind of indecisive, sentintal mindset was perfect for turning into full-blown craziness.
But Falsen's way of thinking was still far too normal. He needed to inject a dose of unhinged logic deep into him.
"And I think," Samuel said casually, "working so many jobs wasn't really your choice, was it?"
A pigeon flew down from the sky, grabbed the empty paper cup from Samuel's hand, and then headed for a nearby trash can.
"You just needed money."
Samuel paused.
"And now, since you've slowly started to actively control that talent of yours, money is no longer a problem. Falson, it has beco one of your least significant concerns."
Samuel leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower.
"Material accumulation. Value aggregation. None of these are problems for you. You can unconsciously attract vast amounts of wealth and money around you. They will appear in your pockets, slip under your door, or beco sothing you 'accidentally' find as lost property or paynt for so task-through all sorts of 'reasonable' ways."
"And you don't need to worry about the source of large sums of money being suspicious. You don't have to rack your brain like so nouveau riche, trying to explain away a pouch full of gold yur. Your sources of wealth will be reasonable enough-it's just that you're exceptionally lucky."
"But there are too many lucky people in this world. The world doesn't lack one more of you."
Samuel guided him step by step, even using the extraordinary ability of the "Bard."
For a mont, Falsen felt that the words coming from Samuel's mouth had a special way of making him feel personally involved.
When it ca to the "Unhinged-Person Developnt Plan" for Falsen, Samuel wouldn't force things too quickly. But he could absolutely do a little simple guidance.
He straightened up again and looked directly into Falsen's eyes.
"In that case, you can completely do what you truly want to do. What reason do you still have not to do what you want to do?"
Samuel supported his left elbow with his right hand, cupped his chin with his left hand, tilted his head, and looked at Falsen with great interest.
"Falsen Boles, you must have sothing you truly want to do, right?"
Falsen was a bit silent, not knowing how to answer.
Sothing he truly wanted to do?
Yes, of course there was.
But for the first ti, soone was asking him what he wanted to do, not for anyone else, but for himself-him who had been burdened with heavy expectations since childhood.
He vaguely rembered that during those brief and precious idle hours at grammar school, while other kids were chasing and playing, he would be srized, staring at the hourglass in the corner of the classroom used for timing.
Back then, hourglasses were cheap, and the school wouldn't spend money equipping every classroom with a clock. They just gave an hourglass so students and teachers could roughly know when ti was almost up.
He would space out in front of that hourglass, letting his imagination run wild.
He liked "Convergence." He wanted to be a traveler.
He wanted to see all kinds of events, things, or people co together and touch each other through various coincidences, rules, or external interference.
He wanted to see the sand at both ends of the hourglass "converge" due to gravity, the water droplets on the glass "converge" due to surface tension, the interlocking rings "converge" due to the solid nature of matter, magnets "converge" due to magnetic force, and people co together due to family, friendship, love, and all kinds of relationships...
He wanted to use his own footsteps to "converge" different regions, recording different places, different customs, and different landscapes-either in his mind or on paper. Using his own eyes, his own pen, his own notebook, even his own brain.
But "wanting"... was just "wanting."
He couldn't do it. Many things weren't sothing he could just do because he wanted to.
He had no money, no status. For so reasons, he was also desperately in need of money.
A "traveler"? That was nothing short of a fantasy, an irresponsible daydream that only existed in cheap novels.
He could only snuff out that desire, bury it deep, and then put on clothes washed white from repeated scrubbing, running between different employers day after day, bit by bit "converging" his ti, his energy, even his soul into the copper sien needed to survive.
Various mories began to surface in his mind. These mories were so vivid that Falsen even forgot that he had never actually experienced any of these things.
A corner of Samuel's mouth lifted.
This kind of simple, good-natured boy template is always the most ruthless when they eventually turn unhinged and start playing out the Human Instruntality Project.
He'd show him a couple of episodes of EVA soti and teach him the art of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
With a soft laugh, Samuel pulled back his overly obvious emotions, resud his relaxed "ntor" persona, took a small step forward, and began to inject his unhinged thinking deeply.
"As a Law Seeker, always being tied up in knots will never let you progress further."
"You just need to follow your own heart, do what you truly want to do, and let you walk far enough on the path of the Law."
Samuel spread his hand, making a sweeping gesture.
"Wealth or anything else, when you're strong enough, none of it will be a problem."
Falsen recalled seeing Samuel casually turn a pile of gold into being last night and subconsciously nodded.
"Mm, also," Samuel shifted his tone, becoming relaxed and casual, "don't call 'Mr. Samuel' anymore from now on. That's pretty boring."
"Calling that makes feel like an old man."
"I'm very young. I'm only 18. A bit younger than you, actually." Samuel said this without a shred of sha.
"So from now on, just call Samuel directly."
"Alright." Falsen nodded.
"Then that's settled. Let's find a place for lunch." Samuel clapped his hands cheerfully and strolled over to the coffee stall to ask the owner for directions.
Breakfast, lunch, and last night's dinner all together-surely stepping onto the path of the extraordinary had to involve a bit of a trinity.
After getting the directions, he casually produced a walking cane from thin air. As he passed Falsen, he tapped the cane against Falsen's shin, signaling for him to follow.
"Follow." Two words, simple and clear.
Lost in his own thoughts, Falsen instinctively followed.
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