Endless Debt Chapter 636 - 147 Interesting People

The mellow tune flowed through the dining car, passengers whispered softly, forks and knives clinked against plates, making crisp sounds. In the narrow aisle, children ran cheerfully, occasionally causing passengers to exclaim.

Erwin sat in the corner with a cup of hot coffee and a simple sandwich, his body nestled in the angle between the chair and the cabin wall. By looking up, he could observe the entire carriage.

The uninteresting man was soon forgotten by Erwin. He spread out his notebook to observe the passengers and wrote down his fantasies about them.

As a poet, Erwin always wanted to write a work where fantasy and reality coexist. It might not satisfy everyone, but Erwin himself would absolutely love it.

On this journey, he considered many people as his writing material, collecting them in his notebook. Some people were not remarkable, so Erwin only jotted down a few strokes, while others were much more interesting, prompting Erwin to write extensively about them.

For example, the guy who was eating voraciously.

Due to the exhaustion of the journey, most passengers didn’t have much appetite; they were here solely to alleviate hunger. But that passenger was different; he seemed to have been hungry for several days, consuming double portions of sandwiches, sausages, burgers, orange juice...

In just a few minutes, the man swept away the food on the table like a whirlwind, rubbed his swollen belly, and let out a few belches.

"A guy with a good appetite."

Erwin described the passenger’s appearance in his notebook and added his label at the end.

Suddenly, for a moment, their eyes met. Erwin often encountered such situations; spying on others naturally drew their attention. Erwin smiled and nodded to the man as a greeting.

A friendly greeting often broke the awkwardness of such situations.

The man also smiled and nodded. Just when Erwin thought his narrative could be finished, the man stood up, then picked up the unfinished half a burger and half a glass of orange juice on the table, swaggering over.

"Yo! Friend, what are you writing?"

The man sat down unceremoniously, occupying half the space.

Erwin felt his facial muscles freeze.

"Uh... some writing material."

While answering, Erwin did not stop his pen, adding a few more labels at the end, like ’overfriendly’ and the like.

The man beamed, "So, you’re a writer?"

"Kind of, but I prefer to call myself a poet. Poets have a romantic charm, like birds flying freely. Writers are somewhat serious; it sounds like some old guy wearing glasses with a world-weary face."

Erwin explained, "Yes, I am a poet."

"Wow, a poet? There aren’t many poets these days," the man exclaimed, "Nowadays, people are more eager to become rock singers or movie stars."

Erwin shrugged and asked, "What about you? What do you do?"

The man paused for a moment, pondering how to explain his profession to Erwin, and soon he figured it out.

"Salesman."

"Huh?"

An unexpected answer.

"Our company operates a wide range of businesses. When some places can’t handle it, they send salesmen like me on trips to solve them locally."

As the man narrated, Erwin added more words to his notebook. He had encountered many people on this journey, but it was the first time he met a man as talkative as this.

"So, are you recording me?"

The man pointed at the notebook, "Using me as writing material?"

Erwin confessed, "Yes, I like to depict everyone I encounter and add them to my stories; it makes the stories feel more authentic."

"This...this is like actors in movies. The story is fake, but the actors are real."

Erwin observed the man’s reaction. Some people didn’t like this, and Erwin sometimes got cursed or even punched.

Seeing the man remain silent, Erwin continued, "If you feel offended, I can tear up this page."

The man waved his hand excitedly, "No, no, no, this is the first time I’ve encountered this."

Erwin was puzzled.

The man showed a tangled look, muttered, "I’m actually quite fond of reading. At one point, I even thought about writing a book... You can understand that, right?"

Erwin replied, "I can understand, especially after seeing those lousy stories."

"Yes! Exactly that feeling!" The man yelled excitedly, "Damn fellows, what kind of stuff did they write; let me have a go!"

Erwin’s eyes sparkled; he didn’t expect to meet such an interesting person on this boring journey. He then extended his hand.

"Erwin Flesher"

The man decisively shook hands with Erwin, but hesitated when mentioning his own name.

"Pa... You can call me Shaw Albert."

Palmer deceived Erwin; it was his false identity for this trip.

Erwin proceeded to ask, "Can I write your name into my story?"

Palmer responded affirmatively, "Of course."

During their subsequent chat, both Erwin and Palmer felt that the other was just a fellow traveler who they could talk to for a while. After tonight’s conversation, they thought there would be no further interactions. Yet, the more they talked in-depth, the more they found the chemistry between each other.

In the end, they looked at each other passionately as if they were old friends reunited.

Palmer, with his inherent comedic charm from life experiences, successfully captivated Erwin. Erwin filled pages of his notebook with writing about Palmer.

As the heir of the Clarks, receiving aristocratic education, Palmer inexplicably had an air of nobility. Yet, once he spoke, that noble aura instantly vanished, as he spouted random jokes like a drunken youth wandering the streets.

Erwin hadn’t encountered someone this interesting for a long time.

The same went for Palmer. His interests were broad and unique, rarely finding anyone who shared them. Even Bologue required great effort from him to promote his interests.

But Erwin was different; every topic Palmer mentioned, Erwin could add a few words, even knowing more than Palmer.

Joyful times swiftly ended; Palmer had tasks at hand. Being away for too long would inevitably worry others.

"Here’s my address."

Palmer quickly wrote a line; it wasn’t his real address but the unified fake point by the Order Bureau, convenient for the Field Staff to contact others.

Palmer came like the wind and left like the wind, giving Erwin no time to react. Looking at the address from Opus in his notebook, Erwin sighed softly.

Thought he had traveled far and met so many people, thinking this world would no longer surprise him.

Erwin hadn’t walked far enough.

After tidying up the tableware, Erwin returned to his carriage. Duwa, who sat opposite him, was gone. Erwin guessed the other might have disliked him and switched seats.

The train began to decelerate, and numerous light spots appeared in the night. It arrived at the next platform. It was late at night, and there were few passengers on the platform, but the train still stopped briefly as required.

Erwin stepped out of the carriage and onto the empty platform, rummaging through his pockets to take out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, igniting with a lighter. He inhaled and exhaled clumsily, the cigarette filling his throat, causing him to cough continuously.

The smoke irritated Erwin’s eyes, making him blink forcefully, shedding tears.

A silver bell-like laughter sounded from nearby. Erwin turned his head, seeing a girl standing beside him. She had long hair as pale as white, a red shawl covering her whole body, exposing only her boot-clad legs.

She spoke, "You seem like you don’t smoke."

"To be precise, I’m learning to smoke."

Erwin bit down hard on the cigarette. He thought to himself how peculiar today was, encountering so many strange people, although he wasn’t much better himself.

"Learning to smoke?" The girl laughed more joyfully, "You’ve reached this age, only now starting to learn this thing?"

Erwin’s deceptive appearance and demeanor couldn’t fool the girl; she instantly saw Erwin was an older man.

"One must always try things they haven’t tried before."

Erwin defended himself, so throughout this trip, he continuously accepted new things. On the day before leaving Opus, he performed his first-ever rock music presentation in an underground bar.

The result was a bit poor, the owner hoped he’d never come again – that was too disappointing.

The girl asked, "How do you feel after trying?"

"Not great."

Erwin found it somewhat dull; he threw away the half-finished cigarette, the sparks jumping and disappearing in the night.

His gaze fell on the girl; as their eyes met, Erwin’s mind went blank.