When Bologue closed the novel, the sky had already darkened. He didn’t read quickly, but he roughly understood part of the novel’s content.
In the story of "Night Hunter," lurking in the shadows of the human world are creatures known as demons. They are bloodthirsty and hungry, feasting on the flesh of the living. To battle these monstrous beings, a group of people gathers to beco Night Hunters, hunting evil in the shadows.
Bologue felt the story had so resemblance to reality. In reality, there is also a group of evil existences, but compared to the demons in the book, these beings called Devils are much more chaotic and insane. In this comparison, the Condensers are akin to Night Hunters.
Putting the novel aside, Bologue opened the door and woke up Palr, who was still sleeping. He was curled up on the sofa, and when Bologue woke him, he sat there looking bewildered.
The body was awake, but the soul was still struggling to rise. Palr stared blankly ahead, and this state lasted for a full minute before he slowly got up.
"My head hurts from sleeping."
Palr clutched his head, wailing in pain. After the excitent, the overwhelming fatigue from the promotion ritual consud Palr. He struggled to open his eyes and wobbled to the restroom to freshen up with cold water.
Bologue had already dressed, "Do you need a rest?"
"I’m fine. It’s rare for everyone to have ti today, so I can’t stand them up."
Palr waved his hand dismissively. Currently, the Field Operations Departnt is relatively idle, with only the Special Operations Group being busy. Hart had ti because he had just been rotated for rest after a week of overti by Yas, and it was similar for Church. The intensity of work at the Crow’s Nest, Palr had personally experienced.
Bologue nodded, then took out the Key of the Crooked Path, "Are you sure?"
The Key of the Crooked Path is a very convenient ans of spatial transfer, but the side effects after each use are dizziness and nausea. Bologue doesn’t mind since the Undead is quite hardy, but Palr isn’t necessarily the sa.
Palr hesitated for a while and then shook his head vigorously. Bologue put away the Key of the Crooked Path, opened the door, and made a "please" gesture.
Palr grabbed the black towel Hart gave him, wrapped it casually around his neck. Although it’s already the end of winter, Opus’s damn weather is still terribly cold.
In the parking lot downstairs, a bright blue car was parked in the corner. Due to his outstanding performance in the Ti Axis Disarray incident, Geoffrey provided Bologue with a new car identical to his previous one.
Palr took the wheel, and Bologue sat in the passenger seat. Unless required for action, Bologue generally let Palr drive, not because Palr liked driving or was more skilled than Bologue, but mainly because Palr had a driver’s license.
The new ho isn’t far from the Order Bureau, but during rush hour and the endless red lights, the car got stuck in the crowded streets, and it took a long ti before it slowly drove back to the Order Bureau.
...
At the Order Bureau, many employees choose to live in the Cultivation Room’s dormitories, firstly because rent and utilities are free, and secondly because it’s convenient for work.
Hart is also one of those living in the dormitory. Due to his excellent work performance, he has a single room in the Cultivation Room, rather than sharing with others.
Initially, Hart didn’t live in the Cultivation Room but rented a place outside. His reasons were similar to Palr’s – living in the dormitory was indeed much more convenient, but staying in the Cultivation Room for a long ti inevitably felt oppressive.
Later, Hart encountered an accident. Although he didn’t die, he transford into his current furry Beastman form due to the corruption of the Alchemy Potion.
If Hart appeared directly in the outside world and was treated as a doll, it would be fine, but if he was seen as a monster, it would certainly cause panic. So after that, to avoid trouble, Hart moved into the dormitory and basically never left the Cultivation Room unless necessary.
This lifestyle had a significant impact on Hart’s ntal health. It took him a long ti to adjust to the situation and eventually reembrace life in ti.
During breaks, Hart liked to soak comfortably in the bathtub. Because he’s all furry, bathing takes a long ti and is quite exhausting.
First, he dampens all his fur thoroughly, then grabs an entire bottle of shower gel and pours it all over himself, cleansing while combing along the grain of his fur. The entire bathroom is covered in suds. Hart feels like he’s washing a car.
Once the shower gel is rinsed off, he picks up a bottle of conditioner and rubs it all over, ensuring his fur is smooth and tangle-free.
He rinses repeatedly until all the foam is washed away, then leans against the bathtub, panting from exhaustion. He sotis wonders if he could go to a pet store to bathe. Given his appearance, he sowhat resembles a large dog. If necessary, Hart is even willing to pay extra.
Of course, this is just a thought.
Hart roughly dries himself and wraps a towel around his body. With his amount of fur, drying himself is quite a challenge, but there are always solutions to problems.
Leaving a trail of water, Hart, wrapped in a towel, twists and turns into a secret door. The surrounding light dims, leaving only the blaring noise of the chosen fan.
Hart stands in a ventilation duct just wide enough for one person, spreading his arms and letting the hot, dry wind from the front gradually dry him out.
This is the normal drying speed. If Hart is in a hurry, he usually goes to the Sublimation Furnace Core’s ventilation duct, where he can dry in a few minutes, regardless of how wet he is. However, it’s not good for his fur, leading to split ends and dryness.
After drying himself off, Hart’s silhouette seems to grow several sizes, his black fur all fluffy. Back in his room, he begins to comb his fur from top to bottom, collecting the fur he sheds into clumps and stuffing it into a drawer.
Hart always felt that shedding all that fur was a waste to just throw away. So he learned how to collect and process it. Whenever he had ti, he’d roll them into yarn balls, finding it incredibly stress-relieving.
He glanced at the ti; there was still plenty before Palr was supposed to et him. Hart put on his glasses, opened the cabinet, and took out a ball of black yarn.
It was quite an odd scene: a sturdy Beastman sitting in a chair, humming a tune while knitting a scarf with yarn.
For Hart, knitting a scarf was an extrely stress-relieving activity, helping to dispel his worries. His therapist highly recomnded it, and over ti, it beca a hobby for Hart.
As he knitted more items, Hart simply gave them to his friends, spinning a benign lie like saying his family was in the textile industry.
He looked just like the big bad wolf playing the granny in a fairy tale, completely unaware that a crisis was creeping closer.
"Yo! Hart!"
Palr kicked open Hart’s door, waving excitedly, but upon getting a clear view of the scene inside, the excited grin on his face suddenly froze.
Hart’s hand, knitting the scarf, trembled. Though his beastly features deprived him of the delicate, expressive human face, Bologue, standing behind Palr, could still clearly see Hart’s complex emotional reaction.
The joy from stress relief shifted to astonishnt, then turned into panic and sha, until finally carrying a faint hint of anger.
Palr was completely stunned, not because he was stupid but because he had instantly understood the reason for this damned scene at first glance.
"Ha... Hart..."
Palr placed a hand on the scarf around his neck, his expression complex and twisted.
Hart’s mind almost crashed due to the excessive discrepancy between this hobby and his image. It could be said that no one had ever known this side of Hart. He had always hidden it perfectly,but...who knew this bastard Palr wouldn’t knock?
Palr felt the warmth on his neck, and the thought of this yarn coming from Hart...
Bologue slightly held his forehead, leaning against the wall. Even as serious as he was, he couldn’t help but want to laugh at this bizarre scenario. But he knew that laughing out loud would definitely provoke the two of them to wrath.
This awkward atmosphere persisted for a long ti until Palr couldn’t resist making a joke.
"So, would this count as having ’Hart’ wrapped around ?"
"Rember to knock, you jerk!"
Hart stood up and grabbed a chair, hurling it toward Palr.
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