"The Night Race has resurfaced, bringing back many dreadful memories, and not to mention, there have been some uninvited guests recently, disturbing the peace of this place."

Bologue knelt halfway down, aligning his gaze with Wei’Er’s, and reached out to gently stroke the smooth head of the cat.

"Sorry, I was impatient. When Serey wakes up, please help me apologize to him."

Wei’Er nudged Bologue forcefully, then leaped onto Bologue, standing on his shoulder, "This is the rule of the Undying Club, we cannot interfere with the mortal world, not even to inform others of information."

"Though it’s established in a bustling place, it indeed stands apart from the mortal world." Bologue nodded.

Bologue walked to the bar and sat down. Since Serey got entangled with troubles, he either sleeps or indulges in drinking, leaving the duty of bartender to Bode.

The large skeleton frame had ample bartending experience, but unfortunately, Bologue preferred orange juice over alcohol. This demand, lacking any technical content, couldn’t display Bode’s professionalism.

"Recently, Serey has been sleeping longer and longer. He might be preparing for a long slumber," Wei’Er jumped onto the bar, "Sleeping for over a decade, completely getting rid of these troubles."

"A very superb trick," Bologue mocked habitually, "Are all undead just good at escaping?"

"Of course, or what do you think the existence of the Undying Club is for?" Wei’Er replied indifferently.

Bologue sighed deeply. Ever since becoming the group leader, he couldn’t help but take on more responsibilities, and this also exhausted Bologue, sometimes even interfering with his decisions.

"Speaking of which, I used to love dreaming." Bologue suddenly said.

"Daydreaming?" Wei’Er asked, "You don’t seem like that kind of person, you seem more pragmatic."

"No, no, no, I mean literal dreams, the kind you see when you close your eyes."

Bologue slowly recounted his experiences, "Probably... maybe because of my particular experiences, I always dream of some peculiar things."

For example, scenes from a "past life."

Strangely, Bologue tried to organize his past life memories, but they seemed like countless fragments forcibly pieced together, like a poorly made montage.

In the memories of the past life, the concept of "self" seemed nonexistent, there was only a cold observation.

"I like dreaming. The bizarre images in my dreams, to me, are like watching low-budget movies," Bologue said, "The best part is, watching movies doesn’t waste my time, because it all happens in sleep."

"Do you think dreaming, to some extent, has extended your ’life span’?" Wei’Er asked.

"Sort of, using more time to experience more weird things, though most will vanish when I wake up."

As Bologue spoke, the smile on his face gradually disappeared, "But ever since I became undead, I rarely dream."

"Probably because I instinctively know that the Death God won’t knock on my door, hence I no longer fear the passage of time, and thus dreaming to extend life has also become meaningless."

"Why are you suddenly saying these things?" Wei’Er was puzzled.

"I saw what Serey just looked like; he was playing chase with the sunlight, Serey seemed to long for death, but when the sunlight fell on him, he was as flustered as a coward."

Bologue said softly, "Sadness and nothingness were written all over his face... Palmer said he fears becoming like his old man, completely losing his interesting personality, though people often call this change maturity.

I think I am the same, seeing Serey like that, I wonder, could it be that one day in the future, I will also become like him."

Bologue unusually troubled, "It’s like how I always doubt why I made the wish of undying in the first place... only cowards long for undying."

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

"Hmm, I fear that the self I hope to be and my true self are completely different people, like a split personality..."

Wei’Er shook her tail, the fluffy tip of her tail brushed against Bologue’s nose, making him want to sneeze.

"Don’t think about those things, I can feel that, Bologue, you have plenty of courage."

Wei’Er continued, "Maybe you wished for undying for some other reasons."

Comforted by Wei’Er, Bologue felt a bit better, after finishing his orange juice, he looked again towards the staircase.

During the month he wasn’t around, Serey seemed quite stressed, likewise, Serey must know something. Yet due to constraints of rules and some personal issues, he did not want to speak to anyone.

Indeed, with the advantage of being undead, the chaos of the mortal world means nothing to him.

"Speaking of which, Bologue, what have you encountered recently?" Wei’Er said.

Bologue was unsure, "I’m a bit confused."

"Hmm?"

Wei’Er circled Bologue a few times, then jumped onto Bologue’s shoulder, her entire cat face pressed against Bologue’s cheek, like sanding a model with sandpaper, rubbing hard back and forth.

Black cat fur flying around, Bologue felt like he was about to have a cat fur allergy.

"You have a strange scent on you."

Wei’Er skeptically inspected Bologue, "Actually, I’ve faintly smelled this scent since a few months ago, but it was so thin, I thought it was just an illusion. Yet as time passed, the scent on you became stronger like it was marinated in."

"I maintain good personal hygiene."

Bologue pulled open his collar, sniffed carefully, he was very clean, without any peculiar odor. As a professional, work and personal life must be separate, so Bologue never goes to sleep with bloodstained hands.

"Can you describe this scent in detail?" Bologue asked.

The large cat eyes narrowed, Wei’Er leaned closer to the bar, asking Bode, "Did you smell it too?"

Bologue was about to scold Wei’Er, Bode being a skeleton frame, where’s the nose to smell scents, when Bode spoke, "Hmm, I’ve noticed something too."

"Huh?"

Bologue’s mind got jumbled, he wondered if these guys were collaborating to prank him.

The thoughts of the undead are hard to fathom, like how Serey, despite looking dispirited in the morning, was passionately pole dancing a few hours before.

Speaking of such contrasts, Bologue once curiously wondered if Wei’Er buried her own cat litter.

That’s too offensive, better leave it.

"We’re not talking about ordinary scents, but an aura of power," Bode explained to Bologue, "To use the terminology you’re more familiar with... umbilical cord."

Bologue’s expression became serious.

The umbilical cord refers to the bizarre connection between a debtor and a devil, but as understanding of devils deepened, the concept was expanded, regarded as all contacts relating to devils.

A kind of aura related to devils.

Bologue was puzzled, calculating from the start of his job, an ordinary field staff wouldn’t encounter devils several times in their lifetime, yet Bologue encountered them almost daily, and not repetitively, if every devil’s unique aura remained on him, Bologue would be a bouquet strong enough to knock someone out.

Then the question arises, the chaotic aura on Bologue wasn’t a recent occurrence, Wei’Er and others didn’t react before, why were they paying attention this time.

"Have you encountered something bizarre recently?" Wei’Er asked; it felt that the aura was familiar but couldn’t recall at the moment.

Bologue candidly said, "No, most bizarre things, as long as they could be killed, I killed them."

Wei’Er fell silent at Bologue’s response.

"If I must say there’s something special..."

Bologue analyzed the date, calculating when the anomalous started, and quickly a weapon popped into his mind.

"Half a year ago, I acquired a contract object from the Order Bureau."

Related to devils, happened recently, and has been accompanying Bologue, upon careful thought, Bologue could only think of that terrifyingly violent forbidden weapon.

"According to the official data, its name is the Vengeful Saw Axe."