"Did I sleep the whole day?"
Sitting at the dining table, Palr glanced at the pitch-black night outside the window and rubbed his drowsy eyes vigorously.
"Seems like it, maybe it’s a hangover, or perhaps the fatigue after the promotion ceremony..."
Bologue served bread and sausages, piling them haphazardly on the table, making it look quite sumptuous.
After sharing a place, they had to think about eating and drinking. After a brief discussion, Bologue took on the responsibility of cooking. It’s not that Bologue knows how to cook, rather he’s afraid that with Palr’s luck, the kitchen would explode.
They had just moved in not long ago, and Bologue certainly didn’t want to move to a new place so soon.
Bologue seed organized, but when it ca to food, he was always the sort of person who made do, having lived through the madness of ’Scorched Earth Fury,’ Bologue was easily satisfied with food—so long as it filled his belly.
For this reason, Bologue’s cooking was very basic, mostly fast-food items that just needed a little heating.
Palr picked up a fork and started eating bite by bite. Having done nothing, he clearly couldn’t complain about anything.
"Next ti we could consider inviting Aimou," Palr said, mouth full, his words muffled, "she seems to be researching culinary skills or sothing."
"Do you think it’s reasonable to have soone over to cook for us for no reason?"
Bologue spread jam on his bread and bit off a corner.
Palr paused and scrutinized Bologue carefully, his eyes filled with unspoken words. Unfortunately, Bologue was too lazy to sync his thoughts with Palr, unwilling to guess his intentions.
"I encountered sothing strange today." Bologue swallowed his bread.
"What is it?"
"I keep feeling like soone is watching ."
"Watching? You an like a stalker or sothing?" Palr was surprised, "Who would be so reckless as to dare to stalk you?"
"No...it’s hard to describe, just like soone is watching from sowhere."
Bologue pondered for a while and gave a vague answer.
"Is that so?" Palr replied earnestly, "I don’t quite understand."
"Forget it, it’d be an issue if you did understand."
Bologue waved his hand, not interested in continuing the discussion with Palr, wondering whether he was being overly sensitive, or if guessing Overlord Xilin’s past today had made him suspicious.
Through the clean floor-to-ceiling window, an endless cluster of buildings stood on the ground, in the colorful lights and shadows, in the dark corners, a pair of eyes was observing Bologue from afar.
This was beyond the limits of human vision, yet he could clearly see Bologue’s every move, even discern his words from Bologue’s lip movents.
A crazed laugh echoed in his throat, a palm pressed against the wall, fingers slowly converged, nails deeply embedded, scraping off large pieces of dust.
"I saw him! I saw him!"
The man’s voice was joyfully suppressed, and in response, a surge of satisfaction released within his body, the feeling was so delightful that this tired, weary flesh felt sowhat relaxed.
In the man’s wildly crazed eyes, seemingly connecting to another world, tiny details were continuously magnified, densely packed chairs began to unfold.
"Bologue... Bologue Lazarus..."
The wickedly frenetic presence reclined on a chair as always, watching the huge screen before him, able to clearly see Bologue’s actions at this mont, shared through the man’s vision.
As the image continued to enlarge, the screen began to split, Bologue’s various angles revealed before him as if nurous invisible caras were observing Bologue.
Hands clasped together, squeezing forcefully, even the joints turned slightly pale. He struggled to control his joyful emotions, the constant vibrations resonating from the depths of darkness, as if so colossal entity rejoiced exuberantly.
"Please present the perfect story to ."
He whispered, preparing to further observe Bologue’s actions when he suddenly recalled sothing else. He pressed the remote, and the image began to switch, a familiar figure appeared before him.
The figure wore a ridiculous mascot costu, with a dog headpiece, ears drooping down. At the mont he observed the figure, the figure detected him as well. Sai Zong slowly raised his head, a hoarse voice sounded.
"Get lost, observer."
The mont the words reached the observer’s ears, the image shattered, withering like a mirror. Vaguely, the man’s painful cries and wails were heard, followed by the sound of liquid being compressed and splattered, along with the teeth-grinding sound of bones being crushed...
The observer’s smile froze slightly on his face, he muttered to himself, "Your temper is still so volatile."
Luckily, he was well aware of Sai Zong’s temper. He pressed the remote again, the image began to shift, transitioning to an endless expanse of wilderness, lush green grass filled every corner of his view, and then ca the distant sound of a train whistle.
The observer saw the train speeding by, flashing past on the cold tracks, a faint echo of rrint emanating from it, as if an endless celebration was ongoing.
...
Having tidied up the dining table, Bologue and Palr gathered together, sitting in front of the sofa watching the videotape. Neither spoke, focused on the content of the film.
Bologue enjoys this kind of atmosphere. He’d wanted to set up a ho cinema here long ago, and without realizing it, all those small desires have been realized one by one.
Thinking back to the scene when he got out of prison and looking at the present, Bologue sotis can’t help but sigh — live long enough, and so wishes will definitely co true.
The piercing music matched with the bloody scenes, while the violent protagonist cut open the security door with a chainsaw, and amidst the screams, turned his enemies into a pile of minced at.
Palr pointed at the film, "This guy should have sawed the legs first, that way he could incapacitate them."
Bologue retorted, "But he doesn’t need any captives, so sawing anywhere is the sa."
"That’s true..."
It was a strange image. Two people, from a professional perspective, watched the film while comnting on its professionalism.
Near midnight, the film ended. It was a low-budget violent film, basically just a few necessary lines of dialogue mixed with various actions and gore... If there were more cold jokes, Bologue thought this film would resemble a true record of his daily work.
With this thought, Bologue suddenly asked Palr, "Do you want to make a film?"
"What?"
Palr turned on the lights and tidied up the videotape; he hadn’t heard Bologue’s words clearly.
"Nothing."
Bologue waved his hand - making a film requires strong expertise, sothing far out of reach for an amateur like him. Yet, it’s one of Bologue’s unfulfilled dreams.
Serey had told him that as an Undead, Bologue should wish for more things, so his long remaining days would have things to do, instead of being like Serey, wasting endless ti in alcohol.
Playing with the radio, Bologue adjusted the channels, searching for Dudel’s broadcast.
On non-working days, Bologue’s life was very routine. He would routinely listen to Dudel’s radio every night, making him and Dudel the most familiar strangers there could be.
Accompanied by the screeching electric noise, the lines he had heard countless tis echoed.
"Hello listeners! I’m Dudel, your loyal friend broadcasting twice a day, welco to our program!"
For so reason, every ti Bologue heard Dudel’s opening line, he was tempted to laugh.
On the other side, Palr poked his head out. He often listened to Dudel’s radio show, shouting to Bologue, "Turn it up!"
Bologue turned up the volu. This floor had only their household, so they didn’t have to worry about disturbing neighbors.
"Before we begin our music appreciation segnt today, I have a major announcent to share with our listeners."
Palr ca over, plopped onto the sofa and joined Bologue in listening.
"A few days ago, on behalf of the ’Gray Mist, Industry, and Delicious Shrimp Crackers’ radio show, I interviewed Mr. Gab Jay."
Gab Jay?
The na sounded sowhat familiar to Bologue, while Palr expressed slight surprise. He seed to understand the aning behind the na.
Bologue asked, "Who is Gab Jay?"
"You don’t even know who Gab Jay is?" Palr was amazed, "Then you really are quite ignorant."
"Cut the crap."
"Gab Jay is a very famous author, he wrote ’Night Hunter.’"
Upon hearing this, Bologue realized where the sense of familiarity ca from. It turned out that ’Night Hunter’ was sitting on his desktop, just a few pages read.
Bologue found the story quite interesting. He wanted to find ti to finish the series.
"But Gab Jay hasn’t written a new book in almost ten years, many people thought he was dead. It’s normal if you’re unaware..."
Palr continued, but before he could finish, Dudel interrupted him, thoroughly shocking Palr.
"During the interview, Mr. Gab Jay revealed that he has been working on a new book for the past decade, which will be published soon."
Dudel’s voice was very calm, like a news broadcaster, as if he was announcing an extrely ordinary ssage.
Palr was stunned on the spot.
Bologue patted Palr, "Are you alright?"
After a brief delay, Palr sprang up from the sofa, like a monkey, spinning and jumping, and excitedly grabbed Bologue’s shoulders and shook him vigorously.
"Gab Jay! New book!"
He was excited like a monkey winning a banana.
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