Bologue put down the phone, sitting back on the sofa expressionlessly. The room was quiet, a dim light emanated from the sky outside the window. On the radio, Dudel’s program had concluded a few minutes ago.
Everything was very quiet, quiet except for Bologue’s steady breathing. This silence lasted for several seconds, and Bologue’s expression quickly lted, his lips barely curled up to reveal joy.
"Finally... it’s about to begin."
Bologue let out a long sigh, his whole body relaxed, evenly spreading out on the sofa.
He tried to relax, his muscles could loosen, but his spirit couldn’t escape, increasingly intense emotions crashed around in his mind, making his body slightly heated.
Bologue felt a bit stifled in his chest. He pulled open his collar to breathe more smoothly, then cast his gaze toward the sand table in front of him.
On that sand table recording the Fall of the Holy City, the flags representing the legions crossed each other, coming from all directions, engulfing King Solomon’s Holy City in raging flas of war.
Bologue’s heart felt ignited, he could barely endure, and stood up, opened the wardrobe, changing into clothes.
Like an obsessive-compulsive disorder, every ti before going out, Bologue carefully dressed himself, not for glamour, but to make himself resemble a person, a respectable person, as much as possible.
A white shirt was paired with a black tie, a gray-black overcoat concealed fatal sharp objects, he simply tidied his hair, extra hair slicked back into a small braid, only a few ssy strands fell from the forehead.
Bologue stared at his reflection in the mirror, his blue eyes reflected a hint of distraction.
This was a familiar face, yet also a slightly unfamiliar face.
"Bologue, you are different from before." A voice ca from beside his ear, Adelle had said this at the ti.
In mory, she erged from the bedroom, smiling at Bologue standing before the mirror, her aged face holding a smile.
"You used to be such a carefree person, sotis going out wearing pajamas and slippers, claiming you didn’t care about others’ gazes."
"What changed you?"
Faced with Adelle’s question, Bologue paused for a few seconds, then gave a completely unrelated response.
"I just... sotis think about things."
"What things?" Adelle could see the sorrow in Bologue’s eyes.
Bologue paused for a few seconds, then smiled, shaking his head, "Nothing, just so odd worries."
Seeing this, Adelle didn’t ask further. She walked over slowly, reaching out to ruffle Bologue’s hair.
Adelle was much shorter than Bologue, and being an elderly lady with an unstraightened back, Bologue could only smirk and lower his head, letting her ss up his combed hair.
She laughed heartily, Bologue didn’t know what she was laughing about, but he thought it wasn’t bad, and a smile spread across his face too.
Bologue’s mind drifted back from mories, his wandering gaze solidifying again, then looked at his reflection in the mirror.
Since Adelle’s death, Bologue could not help but recall things related to her. His mory had always been good, but Bologue still feared that one day he might forget about Adelle. This possibility made him panic.
"I’m thinking about so things, Adelle."
In the empty room, Bologue murmured to himself.
"I’m thinking about the difference between myself and a beast, what is it?
I recklessly commit violence like a beast, but unlike a beast, I wield an elegant sword and hamr, dress neatly, and after slaughtering my enemies, I wash my hands with clear water, rather than bloodthirstily devouring like a beast."
Bologue paused for a few seconds, his voice calm, with a trace of hidden sorrow.
"I think, perhaps there’s not much difference between and a beast, just different weapons, different attire.
I am a beast, but as if unwilling to compromise, I stubbornly dress up, making myself as respectable as possible, thus distinguishing from that wicked savagery."
Bologue’s voice stopped, he slightly tilted his head, noticing an odd sensation, then raised his hand to rearrange his tie, making it stick straight to the shirt.
Neat and rigorous, with a cold face, he appeared like an efficient expert.
At this mont, a knock sounded at the door, Bologue opened it, a cheerful voice rang out.
"Yo! Good morning, Bologue!"
Palr waved his hand energetically, greeting with vigor, despite having only known each other for a few days, Palr surprisingly beca familiar quickly, not waiting for Bologue to say anything, he directly walked in.
"The room is quite clean," Palr said, plopping down on the sofa, and glanced at the sand table and imdiately recognized it, "Is this the Fall of the Holy City? Not many these days are familiar with this battle."
"You seem quite familiar with it too," Bologue said.
"I studied it in school, you must know I graduated top of my class," Palr boasted.
Bologue looked at him with an odd gaze, based on Palr’s various actions previously, it was hard to associate him with a top-class elite.
"Oh? Can I take a look at this?"
Palr noticed sothing next, but wasn’t as careless as before, rather asked Bologue cautiously.
This sowhat changed Bologue’s impression of Palr, he said.
"Go ahead."
"Wow, these records are rare items. Where did you find them?" Palr picked up a few records, delighted.
"Old goods market, if you browse long enough, there can still be many good things there."
Seeing Palr’s interest in the thing, Bologue walked over and placed the record on the player, the music gradually starting with the rotation.
"The sound quality is quite poor, the record is already an old piece. You need to try so new things, like tapes."
Listening to the music, Palr’s eyebrows danced, seemingly like-minded with Bologue.
"Ah, I haven’t even received my first month’s salary yet," Bologue said helplessly.
"Then co over to my place when you have the chance, I’ll show you so cool stuff," Palr said, giving a thumbs-up.
Bologue moved to the side and sat on the sofa, leaving so distance between himself and Palr. Watching this guy who had bounced back, he asked curiously.
"What’s up? Have you started getting used to this new position? I rember you were sulking all day that day."
"Can’t help it, whether sulking or cheerful, I still have to go to work, right?"
Palr complained with a smile.
"Living is about participation."
Unexpectedly open-minded, this guy was. Of course, with such absurd "blessing," if Palr wasn’t more open-minded, it would be too torturous.
"If you don’t like this kind of job, you should have given it up from the start," Bologue thought and said.
"No choice, I’m one of the Clarks clan, the vital heir."
Talking about this, Palr beca wide awake, his complaints continued endlessly.
"I’ve always tried to convince my old man to find another heir, so I wouldn’t have to worry about any duties. But they always say I’m a once-in-a-century genius in the family, and revitalizing the Clarks’ glory depends on ."
"And then? There’s no ’then’. "
Palr shrugged, showing despair.
The Clarks Clan.
Bologue had heard Geoffrey ntioning it before, this family existed before the establishnt of the Order Bureau. It’s a renowned Condenser family, and after the Fall of the Holy City, when Oubos was founded, the Clarks were invited by the Rhine Alliance to beco one of the initial founders of the Order Bureau.
"But what about you? How do you find this job?"
Palr asked in return.
"The Order Bureau is already ridiculous with all the fighting, but I didn’t expect anyone would join the Field Operations Departnt... Do you know the annual death rate in the Field Ops? Right, you seem to be undead, such things don’t an much to you."
Palr still rembered Lebius telling him that his partner, Bologue Lazarus, was undead.
This slightly frightened Palr, although aware of the existence of the undead, it was the first he’d encountered one.
Thinking more beca cumberso, Palr started to miss Wind Source Highlands, realizing he hadn’t been ho for many years, and thinking deeper brought on so lancholy...
"? I quite like this job."
Bologue answered very earnestly, a response he had given before when facing enemies.
"You get to chop people, and get paid for it, I feel it’s pretty good."
Palr stared at Bologue with a strange look, his expression twisted for a few seconds, then cursed.
"Field Ops are really a bunch of lunatics."
"You’re one of the lunatics now," Bologue thought and said to Palr, "Don’t you agree, partner?"
This term ’partner’ completely shattered Palr’s ntal state; his efforts to be optimistic vanished, his face drooped, and he stood up slowly.
"Forget it, forget it."
He muttered incessantly, fumbling sothing from his pocket.
"Geoffrey asked to pick you up; he probably told you in advance, right?"
Bologue nodded, then asked, "Do you know why he wants you to pick up?"
"I don’t know; the more you know, the more troubleso it gets."
Palr muttered, but soon he spoke again.
"But I think it must be extrely important; otherwise, Geoffrey wouldn’t have given this thing."
He said, pulling a key from his pocket, one Bologue had seen before.
Key of the Crooked Path.
"I haven’t used this thing many tis either, are you ready to go?"
Palr beca lively again, holding the ’Key of the Crooked Path’ standing at the doorstep, looking eager.
"Let’s go."
Bologue was already prepared; he and Palr stood side by side at the door, with ’Key of the Crooked Path’ inserted into the lock, intricate glowing patterns spread across the entire door from the lock core.
Palr turned the key, exerted a bit of force, and opened a chaotic, unknown darkness.
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