Endless Debt Chapter 1153 - 15: Dream_2

"The Night Race has returned, stirring up many terrible recollections. Additionally, there have been some unwelcome visitors lately, disrupting the tranquility of this place."

Bologue knelt, positioning himself level with Wei’Er’s gaze. He reached out, gently caressing the cat’s smooth head.

"My apologies, I was rather impatient. When Serey awakens, kindly extend my apologies to him."

Wei’Er gave Bologue a firm nudge before leaping onto his shoulder. "This is the Undying Club’s rule: we cannot interfere with the mortal realm, not even to relay information."

"Although it is situated in a lively area, it truly stands apart from the mundane world," Bologue acknowledged with a nod.

Bologue proceeded to the bar and took a seat. Ever since Serey became embroiled in difficulties, he had alternated between sleeping and excessive drinking, leaving the bartender role to Bode.

The imposing skeletal figure possessed considerable bartending talent, but regrettably, Bologue favored orange juice over spirits. This simple request, devoid of any intricate technique, offered no opportunity for Bode to showcase his expertise.

"Lately, Serey has been sleeping for increasingly extended periods. He might be preparing for an extended dormancy," Wei’Er remarked, hopping onto the bar counter. "Sleeping for over a decade, completely shedding these burdens."

"A truly ingenious method," Bologue quipped sarcastically, as was his habit. "Is escaping the primary skill of all the undead?"

"Naturally, otherwise, what purpose do you imagine the Undying Club serves?" Wei’Er responded with indifference.

Bologue let out a profound sigh. Since assuming the role of group leader, he had found himself shouldering an ever-increasing amount of responsibility, which had taken a toll on him, at times even clouding his judgment.

"Speaking of which, I used to find great pleasure in dreaming," Bologue stated unexpectedly.

"Daydreaming?" Wei’Er inquired. "You don’t strike me as the type; you appear far more practical."

"No, no, not at all. I mean actual dreams, the kind experienced during sleep," Bologue clarified.

Bologue began to narrate his experiences slowly. "Perhaps... possibly due to my unique circumstances, I invariably dream of a rather unusual nature."

Specifically, visions resembling those from a 'past life' would surface.

Curiously, as Bologue attempted to piece together these past-life memories, they felt like countless fragments, unnaturally stitched together, akin to a poorly executed collage.

Within these past-life recollections, any sense of 'self' seemed absent; there was merely a detached, observational stance.

"I enjoy dreaming. The bizarre imagery within my dreams is akin to watching low-budget films," Bologue conveyed. "The best part is, watching these 'movies' doesn't feel like a waste of time, as it all unfolds during sleep."

"Do you believe dreaming, in a way, has extended your 'lifespan'?" Wei’Er posed the question.

"In a manner of speaking. Utilizing additional time to experience more peculiar events, though the majority fade upon waking."

As Bologue spoke, the smile on his face gradually vanished. "However, since becoming undead, I rarely experience dreams anymore."

"Perhaps it’s an instinctive awareness that the Grim Reaper will not visit, thereby eliminating any fear of time’s passage. Consequently, the need to dream for life extension has become superfluous."

"Why have you suddenly brought up these topics?" Wei’Er seemed perplexed.

"I observed Serey moments ago, engaged in a playful chase with sunlight. Serey appeared to yearn for death, yet when the sunlight touched him, he reacted with the panic of a coward."

Bologue spoke softly. "A profound sadness and emptiness were etched across his features... Palmer mentioned that Serey fears becoming like his father, losing his distinctive personality entirely, though society often labels such a transformation as maturity."

"I believe I am in a similar predicament. Witnessing Serey in such a state makes me wonder if, one day in the future, I might also transform into someone like him."

Bologue appeared unusually distressed. "It’s akin to my persistent questioning of why I ever made the wish for immortality in the first place... only the timid crave eternal life."

"Are you concerned that you might be a coward?"

"Hmm, I fear that the person I aspire to be and my true self are entirely different individuals, as if suffering from a fractured personality..."

Wei’Er flicked her tail, the plush tip brushing against Bologue’s nose, almost eliciting a sneeze.

"Cease these thoughts. I can sense, Bologue, that you possess a great deal of courage."

Wei’Er continued, "Perhaps you desired immortality for reasons other than those you assume."

Finding some solace in Wei’Er's words, Bologue felt slightly better. After finishing his orange juice, he glanced once more towards the staircase.

During the month of his absence, Serey had evidently endured significant strain. Similarly, Serey likely possessed knowledge he was unwilling to share, either due to regulatory constraints or personal reservations.

Indeed, with the inherent advantage of undeath, the turmoil of the mortal world held no sway over him.

"On that note, Bologue, what experiences have you encountered recently?" Wei’Er inquired.

Bologne expressed his confusion, stating, "I’m a bit confused."

"Hmm?"

Wei’Er completed a few circuits around Bologne before leaping onto his shoulder. She pressed her entire cat face against his cheek, rubbing back and forth with the intensity of sanding a model, like sandpaper against a surface. The black cat fur, dispersed widely, made Bologne feel as though an allergy was imminent.

"You’ve got a peculiar scent on you." Wei’Er scrutinized Bologne with suspicion. "Frankly, I’ve sensed this aroma faintly for several months, but it was so subtle I dismissed it as imagination. However, as time progressed, the scent on you intensified, as if it had been marinated."

"I maintain rigorous personal hygiene." Bologne opened his collar and sniffed meticulously, confirming his cleanliness and the absence of any unusual odors. As a professional, he strictly separated his work from his personal life, never sleeping with blood-stained hands.

"Could you describe this scent in detail?" Bologne inquired.

With her large cat eyes narrowed, Wei’Er leaned closer to the bar, turning to Bode and asking, "Did you detect it as well?"

Bologne was about to reprimand Wei’Er, considering Bode’s skeletal form and the apparent lack of a nose for smelling scents, when Bode interjected, "Hmm, I’ve also noticed something."

"Huh?"

Bologne’s mind spun, suspecting he was the subject of a coordinated prank by these individuals.

The thought patterns of the undead were indeed inscrutable. It was comparable to how Serey, despite appearing lethargic in the morning, had been passionately engaging in pole dancing just hours prior.

Speaking of such stark contrasts, Bologne had once pondered, out of sheer curiosity, whether Wei’Er ever buried her own cat litter.

That line of thought was too offensive; it was best left untouched.

"We’re not referring to common smells, but rather an aura of power," Bode elucidated to Bologne. "To use terminology you might grasp more readily… an umbilical cord."

Bologne’s expression grew serious.

The term ‘umbilical cord’ historically denoted the peculiar link between a debtor and a devil. However, with a deeper comprehension of devils, the concept had expanded to encompass all forms of contact related to them.

It was, in essence, a type of aura linked to devils.

Bologne was perplexed. Calculating from the commencement of his employment, an average field operative would rarely encounter devils more than a handful of times in their entire career. Yet, Bologne faced them almost daily, and each encounter was with a different entity. If the unique aura of every devil he met were to linger on him, Bologne would manifest an olfactory presence potent enough to incapacitate anyone.

This led to a crucial question: the chaotic aura clinging to Bologne was not a recent development. Why had Wei’Er and the others not reacted previously, and why were they paying attention now?

"Have you encountered anything unusual recently?" Wei’Er inquired, sensing a familiarity within the aura yet unable to pinpoint the source at that precise moment.

Bologne responded candidly, "No. The most unusual entities, provided they could be eliminated, I have eliminated."

Wei’Er remained silent in response to Bologne’s statement.

"If I must point to something specific…"

Bologne analyzed the timeline, calculating the onset of the anomaly, and a particular weapon swiftly came to mind.

"About six months ago, I obtained a contract object from the Order Bureau."

Related to devils, occurring recently, and consistently in Bologne’s possession – upon careful reflection, this could only be that terrifyingly violent, forbidden weapon.

"According to the official records, its designation is the Vengeful Saw Axe."