Endless Debt Chapter 1130 - 127: New Beginnings_3

A brief reunion, yet they had only just parted ways a few hours prior. To express such direct sentiments felt somewhat peculiar, didn't it?

The more Bologue mulled it over, the more his unease grew. He began to question the intricate nature of human emotions, how a simple utterance could be so misunderstood. Yet, he also found himself sighing, struck by the profound beauty inherent in humanity. He, a person like himself, could perhaps one day be enveloped in such warmth.

Bologue gradually eased his stride, contemplating his next words and carefully arranging them in his mind. For someone not particularly adept with language, this proved to be a formidable challenge.

True experts were defined by their ability to conquer difficulties.

Bologue halted abruptly; a conviction struck him – he needed to deliver a speech. After advancing a few more steps, he placed his trust in his memory.

A few minutes later, Bologue found himself at the entrance of the Cultivation Room. He could navigate this path blindfolded, arriving at the Pillar Courtyard, proceeding to the elevator, and finally reaching the Sublimation Furnace Core.

The Sublimation Furnace Core existed in a realm devoid of the cycle of day and night, a place where researchers frequently toiled through the night. Bologue paid them no mind, his path veering left and right through the corridors until he reached the residential sector. Consulting the memorized door numbers, he stopped before a sequence that felt strikingly familiar.

Bologue drew a deep breath, steeling his resolve. Just as he raised his hand to knock, he faltered, his arm trembling uncontrollably.

Damn it all, having just escaped one predicament, why did it feel as though he was plunging into another?

Observing his body's insubordination, Bologue exerted control through the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid. A Silver Hand ascended slowly, and as it poised to strike the door, Bologue’s face contorted with the sheer strain of the effort.

Simultaneously, the hovering Silver Hand twisted, morphing into a ball of yarn.

"Move, just move!"

Bologue silently roared within, a wave of self-reproach washing over him.

Anxiety and apprehension gripped him, a peculiar mix of honor and fluster regarding what he was about to experience.

After an immeasurable period of internal struggle, a sequence of hesitant knocks broke the silence of the corridor.

Finally, the knocking ceased. Bologue exhaled in relief, only to be immediately consumed by a more profound tension. What words should he utter when Aimou opened the door?

Ah, yes, the speech.

Bologue made an effort to recall the words he had meticulously prepared en route, but now, in retrospect, his mind was utterly vacant.

At this critical juncture, the door swung open.

Aimou blinked, adorned in soft, brown fuzzy pajamas, his posture swaying as if he had just woken from a deep slumber.

"Oh, Bologue?" Aimou mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Bologue fell into a silence, a multitude of words seemingly lodged in his throat. After an immense struggle, a single sentence finally emerged.

"Following thorough analysis and careful consideration, I have definitively concluded that I harbor a particular affection for Aimou."

Bologue's declaration bore the sterile tone of a laboratory report. Had he not crumpled the initial draft, he could have presented it as an official experimental paper to Aimou.

It was a regrettable truth that Bologue lacked any discernible talent in Alchemy; otherwise, with his meticulous approach, he would undoubtedly have become a burgeoning luminary in the academic sphere.

Having spoken, Bologue felt an overwhelming sense of release.

He finally understood Ewen's unyielding nature; she was akin to Cinderella from the fairy tales, Cinderella...

Muse.

"Oh."

Aimou nodded, then shut the door, retreating back towards the bed with a stumble, clutching a pillow and curling into a comfortable position.

"Is he out of his mind, showing up for something so trivial in the dead of night..."

Aimou's voice gradually faded, diminishing into silence, as if she had completely succumbed to sleep.

Mere seconds later, her eyes snapped open, the blue luminescence intensifying dramatically, piercing the surrounding darkness like a powerful spotlight.

Aimou murmured, her voice tinged with bewilderment, "Something isn't right..."

From behind the door, Bologue heard a sharp, startled cry.