Bologue could feel his consciousness awakening from the darkness, but this time, after his mind stabilized, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. Instead, he allowed himself a small moment of anticipation.

This might sound a bit boring, but in Bologue’s daily life, this was one of the few pleasures.

He first opened his eyes a sliver. In his blurry vision, the light seemed a bit dim. Bologue surmised that he might have been unconscious for some time and the sky had grown dark again. It’s also possible that he was lying in some enclosed room.

His nose twitched slightly as he sniffed hard. Bologue didn’t detect the smell of disinfectant, only a familiar aroma of alcohol.

It was time to solve the mystery.

He fully opened his eyes, and what came into view was not the familiar gray-white ceiling of a hospital ward, but a luxurious ceiling. Even though the light was dim, Bologue could still make out the expensive oil paintings hanging on the walls.

Sitting up from the soft bed, from the lavish decor and the last place he collapsed, Bologue could conclude that he was in a room of the Undying Club.

He looked down to check his body; the tattered, blood-stained clothes had been replaced by a set of clean pajamas, but the pajamas were a bit off in size, hanging loosely on him.

A faint snoring sound came from beside him.

Bologue turned his head alertly, only to see a strong figure lying nearby. His head was completely buried under a pillow, the muffled snoring coming in waves. Because the bed was so enormous, Bologue had completely overlooked this guy beside him.

"Se... Serey?"

Bologue silently shuffled a bit to distance himself from Serey.

The snoring paused, and Serey slowly lifted his head from under the pillow, his face obscured by his messy hair, the crimson glow in his eyes dimmed by weariness.

"Oh? You’re awake."

Serey said as he turned over, his body sprawling in a starfish shape. After a moment, he turned his head to the side, propping it up with one hand.

It must be admitted, with Serey’s innate noble aura and excellent appearance, any woman who wakes up in bed after a date with him would be entranced by this scene.

But Bologue wasn’t a woman, and he had no desire to date Serey, much less any thoughts about this situation. It’s already a testament to their deep friendship that he didn’t smash Serey into the wall with a punch.

"Don’t worry, don’t worry, nothing happened between us."

Seeing Bologue’s body language full of resistance, Serey aptly explained, "I only date elegant ladies. I’m not interested in crazed killers like you."

"Oh, very good."

Bologue nodded vigorously and smoothly got out of bed.

"Your clothes were all torn, so I lent you my pajamas. As for your weapons, they’ve been cleaned and are placed by the door."

Serey was as considerate as a personal butler.

"Alright."

Bologue walked to the other side of the room, his gaze sweeping over. Countless oil paintings hung on the walls... Not just oil paintings, but also photos, sculptures, and every medium that could capture someone’s likeness, surrounding Serey’s enormous bed like exhibits in a memorial.

An inexplicable chill spread down Bologue’s spine. He always felt that those things were not inanimate, as if they were staring back at him.

The Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid slithered along Bologue’s arm, transforming into a serpent and crawling back under his collar. He picked up the Resentful Bite, its pitch-black blade unmarked by any scratches or bloodstains, despite having recently fought a life-or-death battle against a Seeker of Glory.

He raised his hand to grasp the doorknob, attempting to turn it, only to find it firmly locked in place.

"Wait a minute, Bologue, I haven’t said you can leave yet."

The cold atmosphere became even more oppressive. Bologue turned his head; the laziness on Serey’s face had vanished. He smoothed his messy blond hair back, his expression turning ice-cold, like a layer of frost covered him.

Bologue found it difficult to associate the Serey before him with the one from moments ago. He could only console himself that all Undead were like this, just like lunatics who couldn’t control their emotions or actions.

"What’s the matter, Serey," said Bologue bluntly, "you look like you want to kill me."

"Are you joking? This is the Undying Club."

Serey’s voice carried a hint of amusement, yet his facial muscles were like dead, showing no change. "’Kill’ an Undead?"

Bologue sighed, pulling up a chair from the side to sit across from Serey.

"Go on, what’s up?"

Just out of the tiger’s den to fall into the wolf’s mouth, Bologue was used to it, appearing unexpectedly calm. As for Serey... Bologue didn’t think Serey would make a move on him. Not to mention the restrictions the Undying Club imposed on him, even if it did come to blows, with the technological gap of the Alchemy Matrix, Bologue was confident he could stand against this old fossil Serey.

Serey just wanted to show his stance to him.

He was serious, not joking with him.

Serey asked, "Who did this to you?"

"Are you concerned about me?"

Serey stared intently at Bologue, "Bologue, you really lack a sense of humor. You don’t even understand when to joke."

"I just think the atmosphere is a bit too serious at the moment. Maybe a joke would lighten things up. What do you think?" Bologue retorted.