Endless Debt Chapter 1150 - 13: Taming

"Ah, major trouble."

Palmer was utterly enveloped by the sofa, seemingly attempting to escape reality, his face concealed by a pillow.

"As you've explained, Palmer, Vasilina's world revolves solely around you. Her inability to endure days without you has led to her peculiar behavior." Bologue spoke while his pen continued its swift movement, treating Palmer as a subject for observation.

"Did you not perceive these signs earlier?" Bologue paused, searching for the precise term, "Vasilina's extreme... possessiveness towards you?"

Palmer conveyed his negation by shaking his head. "We never really had many friends, let alone the concept of encroaching possessiveness. I never felt it until my recent return home, when I sensed something was amiss."

"Thinking about my engagement..." Palmer added belatedly.

Upon hearing this, Bologue also recognized the significance of the situation. He tentatively proposed, "Could your engagement with her be another manifestation of this possessiveness?"

Bologue presented a theory that surprised even himself. "That aligns perfectly; you travel thousands of miles for work, encountering countless individuals. Who knows whom you might meet or be captivated by? Vasilina might have decided to legally secure you first."

Palmer was now almost entirely submerged within the sofa's depths.

"Hmm... what exactly is troubling you?"

Observing Palmer's state, Bologue inquired further, "You love her, she loves you, and you are engaged. Where lies the problem?"

"Yeah, where's the problem?"

A muffled sound emerged from beneath the pillow. Palmer lifted the cushion and sat upright, his expression earnest. "I believe I'm not quite ready."

"Ready for marriage?"

"Perhaps. Unlike that scoundrel Serey, my loyalty is unwavering. The thought of my life no longer belonging solely to me, but being fully shared with another, and the added burden of carrying a part of her life—it's not that I fear responsibility, but what if I falter? Love is exhilarating, but marriage embodies responsibility."

Palmer muttered to himself, "I barely navigated that initial hurdle, believing I could face Vasilina. Now, having overcome it, this deeper connection is giving me a splitting headache."

"Indeed, your connection with Vasilina is already so profound; the only logical progression is marriage," Bologue affirmed, diligently collecting his 'data'.

"By the way, what have you been diligently writing?" Palmer inquired.

"Matters you might find distressing; I advise against further inquiry," Bologue replied, his expression unchanging.

Palmer let out a deep sigh and reclined once more.

"I suddenly feel like I'm growing up."

"Palmer, you've been legally an adult for many years."

"I mean mentally, transitioning from a boy to a man."

"It's quite alright; your current mental state still appears boyish. To attain the manliness of someone like Fuen, you have a considerable distance to cover."

"Or perhaps not such a great distance; marriage might suffice."

"To be tamed into a proper man?"

"Tamed, tamed... that word sounds peculiar. It evokes the image of a wild dog running free," Palmer lowered his voice, "only to be tethered within a cozy, warm den."

"I recall encountering that analogy in a book," Bologue reminisced. "I quite enjoyed that particular novel."

Bologue elaborated, "Picture yourself as a wild dog. One day, you encounter someone, fall in love, and realize you cannot bear to be apart. To remain with her, you willingly relinquish your freedom, embrace the 'shackles' bearing her name, and journey together."

"That sounds rather grim."

"Not at all. The dog's freedom isn't truly lost; it's a conscious choice to wear the shackles, signifying commitment and devotion to love—akin to signing a contract."

Palmer gazed at the ceiling, lost in contemplation. Bologue understood that continuing such a discussion with the young man was futile; he remained in a state of emotional love, unprepared for the realities of marriage. Instead of burdening his mind with future anxieties, it would be more beneficial to address the immediate concerns.

Bologue shifted closer. "Vasilina will arrive sooner or later, correct?"

"Correct. Although she expressed a desire to end things, I'm actively assisting her in finding a residence closer to me, or perhaps within the Cultivation Room itself. Her work arrangements will be determined by the Decision Room."

Bologue was well aware that Palmer, despite his tendency to complain, proved quite reliable when faced with concrete situations.

"I could potentially relocate," Bologue mused, glancing around the living area. "Or you could move, though that might present greater complications for you."

"Huh?" Palmer's voice rose in surprise. "We're partners!"

"Adding another housemate?" Bologue inquired. "Then we might indeed require a larger dwelling."

Palmer sank back into the sofa, evidently reluctant to engage in any further discussion about Vasilina for the time being. This was understandable—after years of maintaining a certain distance with Vasilina, the sudden prospect of closeness might incite panic.

"I harbor a fear of becoming like my father." Palmer confessed quietly.

Accustomed to liberty, Palmer found the notion of transforming into Fuen, a person so utterly different, difficult to grasp.

"Why don't we discuss our work? What's the current status of the Night Race?" Palmer inquired.

"It's not optimal; we eliminate one when encountered, and two if two appear," Bologue stated, having honed his skills in dispatching these bloodthirsty fiends through prolonged hunts. "Of the Undead I've confronted, the Night Race proves comparatively manageable; with Silverware and the sun's rays, their inherent undead characteristics are considerably weakened."

"Is our next assignment to continue our pursuit of the Night Race?"

Bologue responded, "No, according to Lebius, the Decision Room may task us with addressing the Great Rift predicament."

Palmer, acutely aware of the perils festering within the Great Rift, felt his countenance fall instantly—the fading light, the near-total annihilation of the Holy City's ruins, and the impending breach of the Calamity's seal...

"This is truly vexing; I am merely a Prayer Believer."

In bygone eras, the rank of Prayer Believer could surmount numerous trials, but with the shifting circumstances, dispatching Palmer into such events seemed to offer him little chance of survival.

His only recourse was to rely on luck's timely intervention.

"Concerning the Great Rift, we need not be overly concerned; the Decision Room is making preparations, and our role will be to execute their directives," Bologue advised. "I remain rather preoccupied with the Night Race situation; my intention is to visit Serey next."

"You may have to postpone that until tomorrow," Palmer informed him.

"Why is that?"

"Have you not heard? Serey is asleep, though not in a prolonged slumber; he is literally sleeping," Palmer elucidated Serey's recent peculiar state to Bologue. "He frequents late-night revelries, returns to sleep, thereby broadcasting a message to all: 'This matter does not concern me.'"

Checking the time, Palmer continued, "This implies Serey is currently asleep, and until he has rested sufficiently, no one can rouse him. Furthermore, considering the labyrinthine corridors within the Undying Club, should he not emerge willingly, few could locate his chambers."

"I concur that this matter may not directly involve Serey," Bologue remarked. "The Undying Club adheres to its own principles, such as maintaining complete detachment from the mundane world."

"Yet, as the Night Race Lord, he must possess certain knowledge," Palmer countered.

"Indeed, I must devise a strategy to extract information from him."

"But he is Serey. Beyond the uncertainty of whether you could best him, are you certain an interrogation would prove effective?" Palmer mimicked a choking motion.

"Why would we need to fight him?" Bologue expressed his confusion.

"What other approach is there? Do you possess interrogation methods beyond forceful coercion?"

Palmer never hesitated to admit Bologue's mastery in transforming brute force into an art form, yet he perceived this master as somewhat excessively reliant on that particular path.

Bologue's contemplation paused momentarily; he too realized that a direct inquiry would undoubtedly be met with Serey's silence. Employing force? In that scenario, it remained uncertain who would inflict violence upon whom; while Serey might be an elder, he was still a Night Race Lord, and his latent power was an unknown quantity.

A figure, almost entirely erased from Bologue's recollection, suddenly materialized in his mind's eye. An instinctive sense arose within Bologue that this individual might hold the key to unlocking Serey.

"Do you recall the events preceding the temporal axis disruption, specifically the assault on the Gray Trade Association's exchange?" Bologue inquired.

"Naturally, I remember," Palmer affirmed with a nod, recognizing it as his inaugural participatory experience in a large-scale operation.

Prompted by Bologue's reminder, a semblance of that figure emerged from Palmer's own fading memories.

"You were involved as well?" Palmer hesitated.

Bologue responded, "Undoubtedly. I initially dismissed it as mere happenstance, but it appears this encounter might indeed be central to resolving the issue."