Bologue opened his eyes, rubbed them, and got out of bed. He had always been a highly disciplined person, waking up at the sa ti each day, whether it was a workday or a day off, like a perfectly functioning machine.
Pulling open the curtains, warm light filled the room, bringing a long-awaited sense of warmth, spreading a cozy feeling over him.
It’s been half a month since the terrible vacation in the Wind Source Highlands. Thinking back now, it all still feels like it happened yesterday. Bologue briefly reminisced, slipping on his slippers to wash his face and brush his teeth.
By the third day back, Palr had been discharged from the ergency treatnt at the Border Sanatorium. He then collapsed on the living room sofa, constantly lanting and reminiscing about his hotown.
Perhaps this was what they call hosickness.
Bologue could understand Palr, but only a small part of it.
The Wind Source Highlands was indeed a nice place, but for Bologue at present, he didn’t wish to live there long-term. It was a beautiful land, where everything was wonderful, but ultimately, it didn’t belong to Bologue.
All of Bologue’s life traces were left in Oubos, Oath City, this bizarre and twisted city that continued to expand madly, was his real ho.
In the morning light, Bologue stretched his body vigorously, loosening and stretching his muscles, feeling the full strength, after which he changed clothes and went downstairs for a jog along the street.
Bologue could be considered one of the first to awaken in this city. The streets were empty, with hardly any people in sight. Only after Bologue finished his run did the city slowly co to life.
Returning to the apartnt, Bologue opened the fridge, took out ingredients, and began making breakfast in the kitchen. He ate simply—bread with jam, and so fried eggs and sausages, with a glass of chilled juice for himself.
Picking up the plate, he placed his breakfast on the low table in front of the sofa. He turned on the radio, and after a brief hiss of static, the timing aligned perfectly, and a familiar voice rang out.
"Hello, listeners! I’m Dudel, your loyal friend broadcasting twice a day. Welco to this program!"
At the mont he heard Dudel’s voice, Bologue felt unprecedented relaxation.
From waking up till now, everything had proceeded precisely according to schedule, with every activity firmly within his control.
In this brief period, Bologue felt like the master of all things, dictating their operation.
Bologue closed his eyes, leaning back on the sofa. This feeling was so great that he felt a tinge of sadness at the thought that the precise schedule would soon be disrupted.
Dudel’s opening chit-chat concluded, leading into the music environnt. As the first song played, Bologue turned up the volu, humming along with the radio, and walked to Palr’s door, knocking several tis until awakening sounds erged from within.
Palr opened his eyes, red-streaked with blood vessels. Since talking to Vasilina, it felt like he had untied part of his psychological knots, and he hadn’t been drinking excessively in this ti.
It could also be because Serey wasn’t ho recently.
After being discharged, the first thing Palr did was head to the Undying Club intending to ask Serey why. But Wei’Er said that just as they left, Serey also went out and still hadn’t returned.
Raucous music blared from outside, giving Palr a headache. He always felt Dudel’s morning show had low listenership due to his choice of music.
Palr thought that on a warm and gentle morning, one should listen to soothing music to relax, and not heavy tal rock, as if heading out not to work but to battle.
But then again, Bologue wasn’t a normal person, and their work was not much different from fighting.
Palr turned over, pulling the blanket over his head. Unlike Bologue’s precise to-the-minute schedule, Palr lived casually, sleeping when tired and waking naturally.
He still wanted to sleep a bit more, but the increasing volu outside was like a heavy hamr pounding on his door. Palr tossed aside the blanket, gazing dazedly at the ceiling.
Palr yawned heavily like a tractor starting up, the rumbling sound fully waking him, and he abruptly sat up.
"Good morning."
Palr greeted Bologue while scratching his belly, then sat beside Bologue on the sofa, starting to eat breakfast.
Palr speared a sausage, stuffing it into his mouth, "Is there anything planned for today?"
"As usual, patrolling the area," Bologue said, "Aside from that...the Minister summoned ."
"The Minister?"
"Yes, Minister Nisanel."
Palr was a little surprised, not expecting Bologue to be summoned by that mysterious guy.
Bologue said, "Sothing work-related."
Upon hearing work, Palr lost all interest, continuing to spear and stuff food into his mouth.
Palr suggested, "Speaking of which, Bologue, can you make sothing different for breakfast?"
Bologue asked, "Tired of it?"
"A bit."
Bologue rejected Palr’s suggestion, "Soone who contributes nothing isn’t qualified to make demands."
If not for feeling a little bad eating alone, Bologue wouldn’t have planned on bringing any for that lazy dog Palr.
After finishing the al, the dishes were piled in the sink. Palr wouldn’t do anything else, but he would at least wash the dishes.
The quality of dishwashing depended on Palr’s ntal state; if he was muddle-headed from sleep, Bologue would have to wash them a second ti himself.
If not for their partnership, from a co-renter roommate perspective, Palr was undoubtedly a deadweight.
"It’s okay, he won’t live much longer anyway."
Bologue often comforted himself this way.
Palr picked up the newspaper. Though not one to care about current affairs, Palr enjoyed the strange and unusual sections which always brought him a lot of enjoynt.
Sweeping through the lines of text, a black and white photo of a whale stranding caught his eye. Palr read the words beside it. This used to be a cheerful section, but today Palr couldn’t quite smile.
Bologue asked, "What’s wrong?"
Palr handed him the newspaper, "An unlucky whale got stranded."
Bologue looked at the black and white picture and words, as Palr’s voice mingled with the radio broadcast.
"This whale seems to have gotten lost, separated from its pod, and has been lingering near Free Port.
The fishern called it Char. Char is a very strange whale. Free Port is filled with terrifying whaling ships. People have scared and hard it, yet it refuses to leave, as if searching for sothing.
It often rushes ashore during high tide and gets stranded on the beach. Thankfully, each ti it manages to escape, but this ti it failed."
In the black and white photo, Char could no longer be said to have just rushed ashore. Nobody knew how it had managed to, but it surpassed the beach and even approached the dense forest.
This ti Char couldn’t return.
"Many people liked this strange whale. They sprinkled water on it, trying to help it return to the sea, but it moved stubbornly forward... and unsurprisingly, it t its demise."
Such complex matters should not be contemplated so early in the morning, but Palr couldn’t help wondering about the mindset of the whale nad Char when it rushed ashore.
Bologue, still his ticulous self, straightened his outfit, while Palr picked up the car keys, spinning the keychain endlessly around his fingertip.
He opened the door and made a "please" gesture to Bologue.
The vehicle drove out of the parking lot, heading towards the Order Bureau as they chatted idly in the car.
Bologue asked, "Did you get anything out of Church?"
Palr had indeed ntioned his suspicions regarding Church afterwards, but Bologue hadn’t paid much attention due to its lower priority.
"No," Palr shook his head, "Unlike those who spill their life stories in casual conversation, Church is tight-lipped."
"If he doesn’t want to talk, you can’t force an answer... You know, he’s an Iron Whistle; torture doesn’t work on him."
Enduring enemy torture to protect critical information is a compulsory course for every Iron Whistle.
"Huh? You were also an Iron Whistle, but how co I couldn’t tell?"
Bologue questioned, rembering their first eting with Palr. This guy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life; he’d answer whatever was asked.
"It’s different, really. I’m just more flexible. As long as it’s false information, the opponent gets what they need, and I don’t have to endure physical torture. Isn’t that a win-win?"
Bologue cast a sidelong, disdainful glance at Palr.
"But how to put it... I guess everyone has so psychological issues to so extent."
Palr raised one hand, gesturing wildly in the air taphorically.
"Maybe Church has his troubles too, but he doesn’t want to tell us. I think we shouldn’t press him too hard on such matters. Maybe soday, he’ll open up and talk with us."
"Let’s hope so."
Bologue recalled things about Church. He had always had a good mory, but when it ca to Church, everything was covered with a vague fuzziness.
If not for Palr bringing him up, Bologue wouldn’t normally think of this person, as if he didn’t exist at all.
Palr honked the horn aggressively, interrupting Bologue’s thoughts. He rolled down the window, leaned out, and yelled at the car in front.
Spending so much ti with Bologue, Palr seed to be showing signs of road rage.
"Calm down," Bologue advised.
Palr hated the congested morning traffic. "You’re not the one driving!"
"I would like to, but I don’t have a license."
Bologue spread his hands, indicating it wasn’t his problem, "You wouldn’t want the car impounded, would you?"
"Have you ever thought about getting a driver’s license? It shouldn’t be difficult for you, right?"
Palr couldn’t understand. Bologue had top-notch driving skills, like a bull on the road, but unless necessary, he always sat in the passenger seat.
Bologue shook his head, explaining to Palr, "You need to think like this, Palr, if I also take on the driving, then what’s your value of existence?"
After saying that, Bologue strained his expression, almost writing "apart from driving, you’re useless" on his face.
Palr’s face fell instantly, staring ahead as silence filled the car for a long while.
"Want to play table gas tonight?"
"Where at?"
"Undying Club."
Bologue recalled his recent schedule. Except for the conversation with Nesanel, nothing important...
Life is like this; not every day is exhilarating. Most of the ti, it’s like now, chatting about irrelevant topics in heavy traffic, passing the ti.
"Alright."
Bologue replied.
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