Hart took three minutes to introduce the mbers of the Undying Club to Kemp and Shelley, and then the two sat at the bar for ten minutes, trying to accept everything in front of them.
Where was the promised dragon’s lair, where was the promised hellish Demon Cave?
Everything in the Undying Club was completely different from what Kemp had imagined; it was just an ordinary bar, and the environnt was even better than most.
Palr stood in front of the jukebox, complaining that it was always the sa song every ti he ca here, and he humd along with "Bar Ilala," insisting on changing it to a different song.
Aimou sat on one side rubbing Wei’Er’s face, who made a comfortable purring sound, while Bode was busy like a babysitter, bringing plates of snacks from the kitchen.
Although Bode had lost his sense of taste and the ability to eat, he was surprisingly good at cooking, which he allegedly learned from Bologue.
"As long as you follow the recipe strictly, even an idiot can make sothing edible."
Ever since visiting Bologue’s ho, he had been greatly inspired by Bologue.
Hart and Kemp clinked glasses; Kemp usually didn’t like drinking. As a professional field staff, he had to stay sober at all tis, and Kemp clearly rembered when he last drank—it was at his graduation ceremony.
But now, this self-disciplined Kemp took the glass willingly; he had never craved alcohol so much to numb his nerves and forget the absurd reality.
As his nerves relaxed, Kemp’s tense deanor softened, and his cheeks flushed slightly, as though he was getting tipsy.
After changing the song, Palr returned to the bar with his glass, and Serey, seeing him coming, asked, "Church didn’t co?"
"No, according to Ivan, he’s been sent on a long-term mission."
Palr explained to Serey, sitting beside Kemp, "I haven’t seen him for a while either."
At the thought of his forr partner, Palr’s mory beca vague. Since parting at the Wind Source Highlands, Church had been assigned to the Seventh Group, and Palr hadn’t seen much of him since then.
He vaguely rembered wanting to ask Church sothing, but perhaps due to the alcohol, he couldn’t recall it at the mont. Soon, he simply forgot about it, as it probably wasn’t important anyway.
"When do we start?"
Serey beca lively in anticipation, looking forward to the nightly fun.
"Anyti."
Palr said, glancing towards the shadows in the corner, "Bologue, do you want to join?"
Hearing Bologue’s na, Kemp’s drunkenness sobered a bit, his gaze moved to the shadows in the corner of the bar, where a vague figure sat away from the light.
"No."
Bologue shook his head, having been in intermittent anxiety lately; he couldn’t focus even on play, so he simply declined.
The high expectations and the vast gap between his abilities led to Bologue’s poor state. He understood the reasons but often couldn’t convince himself to calm down. Even Aimou’s help only allowed him to forget these briefly.
Sotis, knowing too much is not a good thing.
Bologue increasingly understood Nesanel’s words and the pressure that ca with his position. Thinking of the absurdity of the deputy director, he understood even more.
Indeed, those in high positions all seem this way: either with gloomy faces like numb corpses or with a hint of frenzy and excitent.
Aimou glanced at Bologue, and seeing this, Bologue waved her away to play. He wanted to sit quietly alone, emptying his mind.
"New friend, want to join?"
Serey invited Kemp, and Kemp hesitated for a mont, seemingly borrowing the courage and straightforwardness from the liquor; he shook his head, "Maybe later, I’m a bit drunk and need to sober up."
"We’ll call you next round then."
Palr took several twelve-sided dice from a box, pulling over a chair to keep a spot for Kemp.
Aimou and Shelley huddled together; while bringing new friends, Hart was also helping Aimou expand her social circle, gradually freeing her from Belli’s control.
The two chatted and giggled, then picked up the identity cards Palr handed out and joined their ga.
Bologue was about to close his eyes to ditate when he heard light footsteps. He opened his eyes, and there stood Kemp in front of him, the light casting shadows from behind, obscuring Kemp’s expression.
A silence fell between them, and Kemp mustered the courage to speak, "May I sit here?"
"Go ahead."
Bologue felt that Kemp seed a bit reserved, and thought it was understandable, as they only knew each other through Hart’s introduction, placing them in a peculiar spot between acquaintances and strangers.
Kemp sat down next to Bologue, becoming even more nervous.
Whenever he saw Bologue, Kemp couldn’t help but compare himself to him, only to despairingly find that he couldn’t catch up to Bologue.
But Kemp was also a proud person and didn’t want to admit defeat, which made his pride exhausting.
The two sat together, one imrsed in his thoughts, the other sipping his drink, and after a while, Kemp broke the silence first.
"By the way, I never thanked you."
"Thank for what?"
Bologue opened his eyes, glancing at Kemp beside him. He thought to himself that this guy seed odd, like he really disliked him, always looking tense whenever he saw him.
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