Aimou sat next to Bologue with a cup in hand, turning her face, not with the expected anger, but with a look of concern.
"You look pretty good," Aimou said, "I thought you were still lying in the Border Sanatorium? Turns out you’ve been back for a while."
Bologue felt his voice was distorted, "Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy lately and forgot to visit you."
"Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"Why?"
"Because I forgot to visit you."
Unconsciously, every ti he woke up in the Border Sanatorium, Bologue would go to see Aimou, due to their connection: if Bologue died and ended up in the hospital, Aimou, who overlapped with him, would most likely get hurt as well.
Bologue gradually developed this habit, until this ti he completely forgot.
"I thought you would be angry."
Bologue had read in Ewen’s books that it’s hard to understand what won are thinking, they are like the wind—sotis gentle as a breeze, sotis raging like a storm, lingering around you, never dispersing, but when you try to grasp them, they slip right through your fingers.
Ewen’s writing was beautiful, if not for knowing Ewen’s rather shallow romantic history, Bologue would have almost believed Ewen, yet, thinking of Ewen dancing with a Devil, he inexplicably admired Ewen, feeling there might be so truth in his words.
Bologue was not Ewen, and Aimou was not the Devil, Ewen’s stories were of no use.
Aimou said, "Angry? How could I."
Bologue felt that Aimou was lying, she deliberately turned into a Steel Body, making it impossible for Bologue to judge her expression.
"Relax, I won’t eat you," Aimou took a sip of orange juice, "I’m just glad to see you’re okay."
Bologue emphasized, "I am an Undead."
"Then this Undead..."
Aimou suddenly reached out, with a sly smile, a glimr floated at her fingertips, her nails slowly slid across Bologue’s hand, bringing a tingling itch.
"You’re still nervous," Aimou sensed the vague emotions, her voice carried surprise, "and a bit... guilty?"
Bologue sincerely said, "I’m sorry, I truly am."
Aimou squinted her eyes, light in her narrowed eyes forming a horizontal line.
Bologue’s sincere reaction disrupted Aimou’s plans, for days, Aimou lingered in the Undying Club, replaying her strategies in her mind, under her exquisite emotional control, Aimou thought she would completely conquer Bologue.
She felt like a warrior sieging a city, trebuchets and siege towers at the ready, yet when the battle began, the gates opened wide, offering cartloads of generous gifts, making Aimou feel a bit embarrassed.
"Sigh, you’re being so dull."
Aimou withdrew her thoughts, hitting Bologue with a grudging tap.
"What’s wrong?"
"Your honest straightforwardness, even if I wanted to leverage this to say sothing, or make any request, I couldn’t."
"Isn’t that a good thing?" Bologue didn’t understand, "What’s wrong with being a bit sincere?"
"Exactly!" Aimou clapped, "That’s it exactly!"
The cold, hard facade turned soft, a lively expression erged on Aimou’s face, she complained, "With you like this, it’s hard for to get angry."
Bologue was a stubborn person, but when he realized his mistake, Bologue’s speed at acknowledging it was fast, he hardly argued but wholly accepted his errors and sought ways to make ands.
Such people are rare these days.
Aimou couldn’t bring herself to be angry with Bologue, lest it seem like she was deliberately bullying him, although he was a psychopath who would laugh while hacking people, on this kind of matter, he was as obedient as a student.
"Huh?"
Bologue was completely unaware, his way of thinking dictated his behavior, confessing when wrong, Bologue couldn’t see what was wrong with that.
But Aimou.
"Not losing your temper, isn’t it good?"
Aimou was stumped by Bologue’s words.
She wasn’t truly angry, rely seizing the opportunity, pressing an attack, coercing Bologue into surrender and progressing this challenging relationship. Just as Aimou felt victory at hand, from the open gates poured a hundred thousand troops, crowds erged outside, forming a pincer with support from inside, encircling Aimou. Who could fathom how the city held so many people.
Aimou took a sip of orange juice, grumbling, "Now I’m sowhat genuinely mad."
"Huh?"
Bologue wanted to say sothing, but swallowed his words back.
So strange.
Bologue began to agree with Ewen’s words, though he could infer the faction and nature of an enemy’s Secret Energy in life-and-death clashes, uncovering their sches, he couldn’t decipher what she was thinking.
Suddenly, a warm softness clasped Bologue’s hand, Aimou’s hand was delicate compared to Bologue’s rough large one, Bologue looked at her, eting her gaze.
"You look a bit troubled, Bologue."
"I think I’m fine." Bologue muttered internally, "At least for now, I’m good."
"I an in your heart, I can feel it, like a tangled mass of seaweed wrapping layers around you, dragging you to the seabed, suffocating you."
Aimou said, "Do you need help?"
Bologue fell silent.
Aimou thought for a mont, "In other words, is there anything I can do?"
Bologue pondered for a long ti, then said, "No, you don’t need to do anything."
A trace of disappointnt flitted through Aimou’s eyes, then Bologue quickly added, "Just sit here."
Bologue repeated, "You don’t need to do anything, just sitting here is fine."
After speaking, Bologue exhaled deeply, closing his eyes, resuming that feeling of relaxation, he loved this atmosphere, and Aimou’s presence undoubtedly added warmth to it.
"Huh?"
A barely audible sound escaped from Aimou’s throat, this ti it was Aimou who felt bewildered, the halo twisting into strange garbled symbols, flashing swiftly.
The tense atmosphere softened, like a frozen river turning rapid, Palr and others made their shrill noises again, but Bologue didn’t mind, he liked the noisy environnt, filled with a sense of life that anchored Bologue to the mundane world.
In another corner of the darkness, Wei’Er lazily glanced at Bologue, silently raising a paw, the cat’s eyes full of helplessness, pushing the coins before it back to Bode, who rattled a bit like stifling laughter.
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