The crew, or rather... the Unfettered Poetry Society.

Bologue looked at the blood-stained head, even as death approached, the man's face still held an expression of immense joy, as if what awaited him was not death, but a kind of sacred Celestial Kingdom.

"Tell me more about the part concerning the Unfettered Poetry Society."

Bologue was already being watched by the Unfettered Poetry Society, even experts couldn't understand what these unrestrained lunatics wanted to obtain from him.

"Sorry, the Order Bureau... no, the entire Rhine Alliance's Secret Societies don't know much about the Unfettered Poetry Society, even about the Devil lurking behind them, whom they worship, we are unclear."

Lebius told a lie, a benevolent lie; they knew which Devil controlled it all.

"We only know that the Devil, much like the name of the Unfettered Poetry Society, changes his honorific with the passage of history.

World Observer, Connoisseur, Bystander, Grand Recorder..."

One revered title after another was uttered by Lebius.

"Many Devils have interfered in the mundane world, and through these traces, we can track their existence, but... the Bystander is different."

Ultimately, Lebius chose to call him "the Bystander".

"All our understanding of the Bystander comes from the Unfettered Poetry Society. As for the Bystander himself, no one has ever seen him with their own eyes... at least that's how the records describe it."

Lebius said, "Some people even doubt the Bystander's existence, believing he is merely a figment of the imaginations of the madmen from the Unfettered Poetry Society, yet these madmen, or rather poets, indeed bear traces of demonic power."

The story he told was true, at least until Lebius was allowed to know of the Bystander's existence, he also thought the Bystander was merely a fanciful legend.

The Bystander is not a legend; he exists in reality, hidden deep within the Order Bureau, in an inn bathed in daylight, observing the war between humans and Devils, and with his siblings, as the ultimate Bystander.

Bologue recalled Serey's story, where those madmen completely ignored wealth and power; what they yearned for was a perfect play, collecting countless poems, chanting tales from afar...

Poetry, paintings, books, and even movies today are all carriers of stories.

"Just as the Crimson Sect sacrifices flesh and blood to please the Crimson Queen, the Unfettered Poetry Society is sacrificing 'stories' to the Bystander, right?" Bologue calmly analyzed.

"You're quite right; that's indeed the case. You can view this world as a massive stage, with the Bystander being the only member in the audience, and all the Unfettered Poetry Society seeks to do is devise and perform exquisite stories to earn the audience's applause."

As Lebius explained to Bologue, he also murmured to himself inwardly.

"That's why the Bystander chose to cooperate with the Order Bureau; in order to see the grand show the Order Bureau presents for him, he doesn't even mind opposing his siblings, even though they have never been united."

The existence of the Bystander, within the Order Bureau, is top secret, and few know or even believe that as a Devil, he chose to remain there due to the Order Bureau's empty promises.

Unfortunately, neither Lebius nor Nesanel knows what exactly the Order Bureau promised him, the only informed person being the current Director.

The current Director...

Thinking of this, Lebius felt a headache coming on. He tried hard to recall the appearance, name, everything related to the current Director, but his mind was blank, followed by a shrill buzzing.

When Lebius escaped the stinging pain, his gaze turned a bit dazed. Bologue waved his hand, "Boss?"

"I... I'm sorry, I got distracted."

Lebius rubbed his head; he couldn't remember what he had just been thinking, nor did he understand why he had gotten distracted.

"Where were we?"

Bologue reminded, "The Unfettered Poetry Society's purpose."

"The purpose of the Unfettered Poetry Society? This involves their concern with 'stories.' In order to weave satisfactory 'stories,' the Unfettered Poetry Society acts like Devils; they rarely take the initiative to intervene in anything and are more like a minstrel, photographer, recorder, observing the occurrence and end of events.

Therefore, among the devotees derived from Devils, the Unfettered Poetry Society is considered relatively gentle, unlike the Crimson Sect which is violent and insane."

Lebius's voice turned severe, "But that doesn't mean they're not threatening; sometimes they will stop at nothing for the sake of an impeccable story."

"Like spying on me, right? They think I possess some kind of narrative potential?" Bologue asked; being targeted by such a group was no good thing.

"Perhaps, due to the Unfettered Poetry Society's kind of frenzied nature, our records about them are few, not even their internal structure is clear."

Lebius shook his head, "There are still many unsolved mysteries in this world, and the Order Bureau doesn't have a definitive understanding of every force."

Seeing Bologue's solemn, serious expression, Lebius proceeded to comfort him, "Focus your energy on the promotion ceremony; this part I will inform the Crow's Nest to see if they have any recent discoveries."

"No... nothing, I just find life so wonderfully strange."

Bologue was silent for a moment, then revealed a smile.

"It's only been shortly after the holiday, and work has found me, inevitably making me suspect if I'm truly destined for a life of toil."

"An Undead against a busy life, huh? Then you'll have plenty to keep busy with," Lebius said, reminding him, "Take that head with you, and just find any place to dispose of it."

Bologue and Palmer left the office, yet Lebius's expression remained solemn. He picked up the landline phone and dialed a number.

"Minister, in order to appease the observer, the Unfettered Poetry Society's actions have already commenced. I want to know..."

"This matter has nothing to do with the observer."

Nesanel's voice was indisputable.

Lebius's words paused, his eyes gleaming, he retorted, "Are you certain?"

"I'm certain, if you don't believe me, feel free to ask the observer yourself."

The receiver emitted a crackling sound, shortly thereafter another familiar bizarre voice emerged, he said, "Yo, Lebius."

Lebius's expression froze.

"I admit, I truly desire Bologue's gaze, but I won't betray my rules, which means... it's just the Unfettered Poetry Society wanting to do this themselves, I will bestow a blessing upon them according to the rules, as for how you wish to handle them, do as you please.

Whether it's killing them all, or locking them in the Black Prison, or using more cruel methods... don't hesitate! I have no objection, don't worry too much about my thoughts."

If it weren't for knowing beforehand that the other party was a sinister devil, Lebius might have thought he was chatting with a kind friend.

Devils seem to be like this, indifferent to their followers, just like the Tyrant's attitude towards the Gray Trade Association and the wayward paths.

Devils don't exist because of followers, but rather the followers need devils for support.

"Is there anything else? Lebius."

The observer's words carried a hint of amusement, he never masked his fondness for Lebius, among his many "gazes", the observer always deemed Lebius as the finest.

Lebius silently hung up the phone, leaned against the chair back, lifted his head, brows furrowed together, his heart lingering with unresolved worries.

"He is a devil... a disgustingly sinister devil..."

Like an incantation, Lebius continuously whispered, reinforcing his hatred for the devil within his heart.

...

"So... does this really have nothing to do with you?"

Inside the cinema, Nesanel released the receiver, the landline subsequently vanished into the shadows.

This cinema, and even the entire House of the Rising Sun belonged to the observer's domain, just like the Tyrant extending the wayward paths, within his domain, these devils were truly omnipotent.

"Indeed."

The observer turned his head, myriad faces flickered across his visage, they all wore a strange smile together.

"You know me, Nesanel, I've always been too lazy to manage my followers, their devoutness stems merely from our aligned thoughts.

As for the protection I provide to my followers, you know the rules, this isn't within my control."

Nesanel reached out from the observer's embrace and snatched a handful of popcorn, unceremoniously stuffing it into his mouth, few dared to snatch food from the mouth of a devil as he did.

The observer boasted, "Unlike my frenzied siblings, my protection is still quite attractive."

Devils bestow two types of powers upon mortals, those who offer part of their soul and are deemed valuable by devils, they become debtors, receiving the devil's "blessing."

Debtors are recognized by devils as possessing value.

The other type of power is "protection," through the Contract School condensers, these contractors establish a link between mortals and devils, gaining the devil's power as a form of protection by worshipping and offering their soul.

For instance, the Corrupted Sect's Protection·Bloodthirsty Healing, relying on the consumption of flesh, grants flesh a strong self-healing ability, even reaching the extent of an Undying Body.

"Rather than protection, I'm more concerned with the so-called... aligned thoughts?"

Nesanel didn't know much about the observer, this devil was too indolent, resulting in few traces left in the mortal realm, probably only the director barely grasped his entirety.

The idea of humans and devils having aligned thoughts sounded too intriguing.

Nesanel faintly recalled something similar, he tentatively asked, "Are you referring to the thing the Unfettered Poetry Society has pursued from ancient times? Not only them, it's also something you desire."

The observer smiled and nodded, myriad visages nodded along with him.

Nesanel's inquiry might clarify what exactly the observer desires, "What exactly is it?"

The observer fell silent for a moment, he turned to gaze at the large screen, chaotic images whirled, stretching from hundreds of years ago to the present, transitioning from dark alleys to gilded halls.

His voice was solemn and dignified, proclaiming that singular true name.

"It is... the Endless Poems."

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