Endless Debt Chapter 1144 - 7: Time

In Aimou’s perception, Bologue existed in a perpetual state of quantum uncertainty. Consider him complex, and he’d reveal a surprising simplicity. Assume him simple, and his thoughts would invariably take an unexpected turn.

Aimou vividly recalled the culmination of that eventful night. Bologue had guided her away from the Order Bureau, and though Aimou projected an image of composure, a tempest of anxiety raged within her.

She was acutely aware that her rational faculties had been completely overwhelmed by a surge of powerful emotions. In such a vulnerable state, it was virtually impossible for Aimou to deny any request Bologue might have.

And, as anticipated…

Bologue proceeded to take Aimou on an extended excursion, meandering for hours and engaging in conversation on myriad subjects until the first light of dawn. He then escorted her to his preferred breakfast spot. Over their meal, he even recounted tales of his frequent visits there with Palmer after concluding late-night work sessions.

Initially, there was surprise and elation, followed by a growing unease and apprehension, culminating in a profound mental and spiritual exhaustion.

Bologue, however, acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. While escorting Aimou back to the Order Bureau, he remarked that his energy reserves were nearly depleted, making him ready for immediate sleep. Unbeknownst to him, Aimou’s carefully constructed routine had been irrevocably disrupted, and she now faced the prospect of navigating a day consumed by a maelstrom of complex feelings.

In the ensuing days, Aimou did indeed observe a discernible shift in Bologue’s demeanor. He displayed a more proactive and affectionate approach towards her, yet it still fell short of the deeply intimate connection Aimou had envisioned.

Reflecting on his transformation, one might surmise that this psychopathic killer had finally begun to grasp the profound beauty of human affection, undergoing a gradual process of being shaped by the tenets of civilized society. To expect Bologue to attain the wisdom of a love sage like Serey overnight would be an unrealistic expectation.

Regardless, this represented a promising beginning.

Aimou could distinctly perceive Bologue's deliberate efforts to emulate the expected behaviors, striving earnestly to integrate himself into a close relationship. Bologue's earnest endeavors often left Aimou feeling gratified, prompting sighs of contentment.

Time now advances to the present moment.

"It’s quite alright, really," Aimou responded, gesturing dismissively with her hand. "I have no need for any gifts."

"But I feel that after undertaking such a lengthy journey, it is customary to present you with a token of remembrance."

"And why is that?"

"This is how such situations are typically depicted in motion pictures."

Bologue, much like a child deprived of fundamental education, seemed to derive his entire understanding of societal norms and interactions from cinematic portrayals.

"Movies are one thing, life is another!" Aimou asserted firmly. "Refrain from imposing fictional narratives onto reality!"

"Very well, very well."

Bologue chuckled, a sound of amusement. He found these nonsensical exchanges, reminiscent of movie scripts, to be remarkably effective in alleviating the tension within his heart.

Following the establishment of their unique "strategic partnership," Bologue and Aimou engaged in numerous subsequent interactions. Despite their alliance, their dynamic often resembled that of gladiators in an arena, cautiously probing one another, perpetually seeking vulnerabilities.

These duels were, for the most part, orchestrated by Aimou.

Bologue’s logical framework never perceived their interactions as a contest. Consequently, his pronouncements occasionally caught Aimou off guard, delivering unexpected, potent blows.

As their relationship deepened and intimacy grew, an initial sense of surreal enchantment gave way to an overwhelming wave of exhilaration. However, once the intoxicating pleasure subsided, numerous underlying issues began to surface.

Previously, they were merely friends capable of easy conversation. Now, they instinctively endeavored to present themselves in the most favorable light to each other, as if striving to demonstrate their inherent worthiness of love.

Once the other party expressed satisfaction and acceptance, a comforting sense of security would emerge. It was akin to undergoing a series of examinations, hoping for validation while simultaneously assessing whether they had met the anticipated standards.

Aimou, with a tinge of suspicion, once inquired, "What is it that you truly seek from me?"

Bologue’s initial response was, "Not much, I simply find myself quite drawn to… this particular ambiance?"

After a moment of contemplation, Bologue decisively added, "I appreciate the atmosphere we share; it provides me with a profound sense of ease."

Although Aimou and Bologue could hardly be categorized as conventional individuals, their rational processes were inevitably shaped by universally accepted values.

The intimate nature of their relationship often felt somewhat artificial and contrived, stemming from their mutual efforts to conceal imperfections and present their most polished selves to one another.

During that peculiar nocturnal stroll, both maintained outward calm, yet their inner worlds were in a state of considerable agitation. The shyness and apprehension they experienced were palpable.

Despite recognizing that the other likely harbored similar emotions, they remained concerned about appearing overly impulsive or lacking in confidence. They meticulously observed each other's reactions, eager to discern the other's thoughts, much like cautious predators encountering each other in the depths of a dense forest, maintaining a defensive posture.

When Bologue finally took Aimou’s hand, during that significant moment of physical contact, a peak of tension and anxiety was reached.

Bologue, however, remained unperturbed. His unique logical approach fostered a deep-seated trust in the passage of time.

Magic's power resides in time, a force that heals all sorrows and dissolves all obstacles. Bologue held this belief deeply.

He was certain that as time unfolded, their acquaintance would deepen into familiarity, fostering trust and leading them to reveal their innermost thoughts and feelings. Their bond would naturally mature, allowing them to shed pretenses and defenses, embracing vulnerability without fear of hurt or rejection. This shared openness would forge a stronger, more genuine connection, stabilizing their inner selves and nurturing confidence and sincerity.

"Human emotions are incredibly intricate, peculiar, yet undeniably magnificent," Bologue would often murmur to himself, as if chanting a mantra.

Ever since he began analyzing his own mental landscape, Bologue found solace and enjoyment in writing, drawing, and engaging in deep introspection.

This self-exploration became his research project, a fascinating endeavor he eagerly anticipated yielding results.

Settling into a cross-legged posture within the confines of the room, with only Aimou for company, Bologue felt a wave of effortless relaxation wash over his spirit. Fatigue and drowsiness surged, making sleep seem like a mere blink away.

"By the way, how has your work as office director been?" Bologue inquired.

"Not bad, aside from some accounts I can't quite figure out," Aimou stated, emphasizing, "I'm not actually the office director!"

"Hm? Don't you think that title sounds rather impressive?"

The title 'office director' conjured images of authority, the power to dictate attendance with a simple gesture.

"Absolutely not!" Aimou protested vehemently. "It sounds so old-fashioned."

"How so? You're still quite young," Bologue calculated carefully. "Technically, you're still a minor."

"You little rascal!"

Aimou sprang to her feet, radiating an aggressive energy, as if ready to dock Bologue's attendance. However, Bologue was under the purview of the Field Operations Department, rendering her authority void.

"If I'm a minor, then what does that make you?" Aimou retorted. "An abductor of minors?"

"Aimou, do you possess a birth certificate?" Bologue inquired. "Or any form of identification?"

Aimou paused, considering the question. Fundamentally, she was an Alchemy Puppet crafted by Teda. Though gifted with life through Fantasy Becoming Reality, societal norms and documentation were aspects she seldom considered. Especially after her integration into the Order Bureau and her residence within the Cultivation Room, such mundane items held little necessity.

"Ah..."

Aimou pondered, then belatedly asked, "So, does that mean I'm considered undocumented?"

"Likely so," Bologue continued. "Even I have identification."

The identification Bologue currently possessed was newly issued by the Order Bureau. As for his original documents... for someone nearing a century in age, they more closely resembled a counterfeit street ID.

"I wonder if undocumented individuals are afforded legal protection," Bologue mused aloud.

"I heard that!"

"Haha."

Bologne couldn't suppress his laughter. He had to admit that releasing his emotions brought a tangible sense of ease and liberation. Not having to suppress these trivial matters within his heart also stirred a peculiar, almost possessive sensation. He found Aimou's bashful and flustered reactions oddly satisfying, tapping into a vein of dark humor.

"Will things be busy going forward?"

Aimou resumed her seat, her voice softening. Just as Bologue was learning about her, she too was observing Bologue.

Bologne was a man of profound simplicity, to the point where eating was merely about sustenance and sleeping, a mere necessity for rest... he could dissect myriad things down to their most fundamental essence.

The simpler the individual, the fewer their needs; yet, when such a person expresses a need, it signals a situation of considerable gravity.

This was precisely the case now.

"Extremely busy, bordering on overwhelming."

Bologne's smile faded as he recalled Lebius's earlier inquiries, and he adopted a confident demeanor once more.

"It's fine."