When Bologue was ready, having composed himself to fight Aimou for three hundred rounds and show off the professional deanor, Aimou suddenly reached out as if asking Bologue for sothing.
"Hmm?"
"Hmm what? Where’s the stuff?"
"What stuff?"
"The worn-out weapon."
"Oh oh oh."
It was then Bologue rembered the main reason he sought out Aimou, which was to commission her to repair the Alchemy Armant affected by the Decay Plague, and if possible, he hoped Aimou could also enhance them.
However, it seed these requests might be too demanding on Aimou, as her work was incredibly busy, adding more to her workload would only overwhelm her.
"How did it get this bad again? Didn’t I just fix it?"
Aimou took the Phantom Dagger, which suffered the most damage during the battle at the Fog Abyss Fortress.
Bologue said softly, "Sorry."
Aimou fiddled with the Phantom Dagger, looking at Bologue with so disdain. For an Alchemist, an Alchemy Armant is a piece of art that requires careful maintenance, but in Bologue’s hands, they seed as cheap as consumables.
The montum that Bologue just gathered dwindled again under Aimou’s topic shift. Indeed, he was at fault here, but it’s not just that—Aimou once again used this thod to suppress him.
"What about the paynt?"
"Paynt?"
Aimou put away the Phantom Dagger, saying, "I can’t always work for you for free, you know, this is like the nth ti."
"I thought..."
"Thought what? Thought that because it was , I’d work for free?"
Aimou covered her mouth slightly, feigning a look of astonished sadness, "Oh my, what am I to you? Free labor?"
This ti, Aimou’s act was too fake, or maybe she was doing it on purpose to lure him in.
Bologue was almost made dizzy, shouting, "Can you be normal?!"
"Alright, alright."
Aimou dropped the expression, waving her hand, but Bologue could still see a hint of disdain in her eyes, as if he was too weak to withstand such an easy attack.
Bologue was at his wits’ end.
"So what about the paynt?" Aimou was relentless, "I charge a lot, you know."
"How much do you need?" Bologue added, "I have a lot in savings."
Bologue’s daily expenses are very small; daily als are settled in the Order Bureau’s cafeteria, and the only entertainnt he has is at the Undying Club, where as a mber, he naturally doesn’t need to pay.
The only major expenses could be rent and buying DVDs and such, but even then, Palr shares part of the cost with him.
So in the third year of his work, Bologue accumulated a considerable fortune.
"You could pay a down paynt with this money," Palr said when he found out, "As for the loan, it’s even simpler. After all, you’re Undead, pay it off slowly."
Bologue never had the idea to buy a house. Not to ntion whether his professional nature would lead enemies to his door, the tumultuous and terrifying situation in Oubos was not suitable for any investnt actions.
Besides, the Undying Club has beds; if worse cos to worst, he could live there.
"Hmm..."
Aimou pondered for a while, her tone suddenly intense, "Do you think I’m the kind of person swayed by money?"
"Huh?"
Bologue’s brain was completely scrambled, and just as he was trying to clear his thoughts, Aimou suddenly stood up.
"Let’s leave it at that for now. I’ll help you fix this thing, and as for the paynt, I’ll think about it later."
She didn’t give Bologue any chance to speak, then waved at him, "Back to work now, off I go!"
After speaking, Aimou quickly left, disappearing at the Observation Tower, leaving Bologue standing alone, bewildered, in the chilly wind.
Bologue felt peculiarly wonderful at this mont. It wasn’t just like being hung out to dry in the mountains, but more like a group of lively deer trampling over him shortly after lying down.
The whale flipped over, wanting to whip away the botherso deer with its tail, but when it ca to, they had already disappeared into the dense forest.
Bologue suddenly felt very frustrated, his strength not even hitting a puff of cotton.
It wasn’t until Aimou entered the elevator that her smiling expression began to fade. She stood dazed for a few seconds, then leaned her head against the corner of the elevator, murmuring to herself.
"What... what did I just do?"
In a mont of impulsiveness, she did these things, even though she knew she shouldn’t. But looking at Bologue like that, Aimou couldn’t control herself no matter what.
It’s hard to resist petting a stray cat passing by.
As if trying to control her emotions, flesh-and-blood morphed into cold tal, yet inside Aimou, a relentless hum persisted. A few seconds later, chanical splits appeared, and blistering steam instantly surged, filling the elevator.
When the elevator reached the Sublimation Furnace Core, the doors opened, and Aimou walked out amid the swirling mist, startling a few passing researchers. So thought Aimou’s entrance was cool, while others suspected sothing was wrong with the elevator.
Strange indeed, logically, the Cultivation Room shouldn’t have such issues.
...
Palr was a noisy guy, like a child afraid of loneliness. He’d turn on the living room lights, blare those boisterous tunes, or turn on the TV, never at peace for a mont.
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