Bologue opened his eyes, rubbed them, and got out of bed. He had always been a highly disciplined person, waking up at the same time each day, whether it was a workday or a day off, like a perfectly functioning machine.

Pulling open the curtains, warm light filled the room, bringing a long-awaited sense of warmth, spreading a cozy feeling over him.

It's been half a month since the terrible vacation in the Wind Source Highlands. Thinking back now, it all still feels like it happened yesterday. Bologue briefly reminisced, slipping on his slippers to wash his face and brush his teeth.

By the third day back, Palmer had been discharged from the emergency treatment at the Border Sanatorium. He then collapsed on the living room sofa, constantly lamenting and reminiscing about his hometown.

Perhaps this was what they call homesickness.

Bologue could understand Palmer, but only a small part of it.

The Wind Source Highlands was indeed a nice place, but for Bologue at present, he didn't wish to live there long-term. It was a beautiful land, where everything was wonderful, but ultimately, it didn't belong to Bologue.

All of Bologue's life traces were left in Oubos, Oath City, this bizarre and twisted city that continued to expand madly, was his real home.

In the morning light, Bologue stretched his body vigorously, loosening and stretching his muscles, feeling the full strength, after which he changed clothes and went downstairs for a jog along the street.

Bologue could be considered one of the first to awaken in this city. The streets were empty, with hardly any people in sight. Only after Bologue finished his run did the city slowly come to life.

Returning to the apartment, Bologue opened the fridge, took out ingredients, and began making breakfast in the kitchen. He ate simply—bread with jam, and some fried eggs and sausages, with a glass of chilled juice for himself.

Picking up the plate, he placed his breakfast on the low table in front of the sofa. He turned on the radio, and after a brief hiss of static, the timing aligned perfectly, and a familiar voice rang out.

"Hello, listeners! I'm Dudel, your loyal friend broadcasting twice a day. Welcome to this program!"

At the moment he heard Dudel's voice, Bologue felt unprecedented relaxation.

From waking up till now, everything had proceeded precisely according to schedule, with every activity firmly within his control.

In this brief period, Bologue felt like the master of all things, dictating their operation.

Bologue closed his eyes, leaning back on the sofa. This feeling was so great that he felt a tinge of sadness at the thought that the precise schedule would soon be disrupted.

Dudel's opening chit-chat concluded, leading into the music environment. As the first song played, Bologue turned up the volume, humming along with the radio, and walked to Palmer's door, knocking several times until awakening sounds emerged from within.

Palmer opened his eyes, red-streaked with blood vessels. Since talking to Vasilina, it felt like he had untied part of his psychological knots, and he hadn't been drinking excessively in this time.

It could also be because Serey wasn't home recently.

After being discharged, the first thing Palmer did was head to the Undying Club intending to ask Serey why. But Wei'Er said that just as they left, Serey also went out and still hadn't returned.

Raucous music blared from outside, giving Palmer a headache. He always felt Dudel's morning show had low listenership due to his choice of music.

Palmer thought that on a warm and gentle morning, one should listen to soothing music to relax, and not heavy metal rock, as if heading out not to work but to battle.

But then again, Bologue wasn't a normal person, and their work was not much different from fighting.

Palmer turned over, pulling the blanket over his head. Unlike Bologue's precise to-the-minute schedule, Palmer lived casually, sleeping when tired and waking naturally.

He still wanted to sleep a bit more, but the increasing volume outside was like a heavy hammer pounding on his door. Palmer tossed aside the blanket, gazing dazedly at the ceiling.

Palmer yawned heavily like a tractor starting up, the rumbling sound fully waking him, and he abruptly sat up.

"Good morning."

Palmer greeted Bologue while scratching his belly, then sat beside Bologue on the sofa, starting to eat breakfast.

Palmer speared a sausage, stuffing it into his mouth, "Is there anything planned for today?"

"As usual, patrolling the area," Bologue said, "Aside from that...the Minister summoned me."

"The Minister?"

"Yes, Minister Nisanel."

Palmer was a little surprised, not expecting Bologue to be summoned by that mysterious guy.

Bologue said, "Something work-related."

Upon hearing work, Palmer lost all interest, continuing to spear and stuff food into his mouth.

Palmer suggested, "Speaking of which, Bologue, can you make something different for breakfast?"

Bologue asked, "Tired of it?"

"A bit."

Bologue rejected Palmer's suggestion, "Someone who contributes nothing isn't qualified to make demands."

If not for feeling a little bad eating alone, Bologue wouldn't have planned on bringing any for that lazy dog Palmer.

After finishing the meal, the dishes were piled in the sink. Palmer wouldn't do anything else, but he would at least wash the dishes.

The quality of dishwashing depended on Palmer's mental state; if he was muddle-headed from sleep, Bologue would have to wash them a second time himself.

If not for their partnership, from a co-renter roommate perspective, Palmer was undoubtedly a deadweight.

"It's okay, he won't live much longer anyway."

Bologue often comforted himself this way.

Palmer picked up the newspaper. Though not one to care about current affairs, Palmer enjoyed the strange and unusual sections which always brought him a lot of enjoyment.

Sweeping through the lines of text, a black and white photo of a whale stranding caught his eye. Palmer read the words beside it. This used to be a cheerful section, but today Palmer couldn't quite smile.

Bologue asked, "What's wrong?"

Palmer handed him the newspaper, "An unlucky whale got stranded."

Bologue looked at the black and white picture and words, as Palmer's voice mingled with the radio broadcast.

"This whale seems to have gotten lost, separated from its pod, and has been lingering near Free Port.

The fishermen called it Char. Char is a very strange whale. Free Port is filled with terrifying whaling ships. People have scared and harmed it, yet it refuses to leave, as if searching for something.

It often rushes ashore during high tide and gets stranded on the beach. Thankfully, each time it manages to escape, but this time it failed."

In the black and white photo, Char could no longer be said to have just rushed ashore. Nobody knew how it had managed to, but it surpassed the beach and even approached the dense forest.

This time Char couldn't return.

"Many people liked this strange whale. They sprinkled water on it, trying to help it return to the sea, but it moved stubbornly forward... and unsurprisingly, it met its demise."

Such complex matters should not be contemplated so early in the morning, but Palmer couldn't help wondering about the mindset of the whale named Char when it rushed ashore.

Bologue, still his meticulous self, straightened his outfit, while Palmer picked up the car keys, spinning the keychain endlessly around his fingertip.

He opened the door and made a "please" gesture to Bologue.

The vehicle drove out of the parking lot, heading towards the Order Bureau as they chatted idly in the car.

Bologue asked, "Did you get anything out of Church?"

Palmer had indeed mentioned his suspicions regarding Church afterwards, but Bologue hadn't paid much attention due to its lower priority.

"No," Palmer shook his head, "Unlike those who spill their life stories in casual conversation, Church is tight-lipped."

"If he doesn't want to talk, you can't force an answer... You know, he's an Iron Whistle; torture doesn't work on him."

Enduring enemy torture to protect critical information is a compulsory course for every Iron Whistle.

"Huh? You were also an Iron Whistle, but how come I couldn't tell?"

Bologue questioned, remembering their first meeting with Palmer. This guy couldn't keep a secret to save his life; he'd answer whatever was asked.

"It's different, really. I'm just more flexible. As long as it's false information, the opponent gets what they need, and I don't have to endure physical torture. Isn't that a win-win?"

Bologue cast a sidelong, disdainful glance at Palmer.

"But how to put it... I guess everyone has some psychological issues to some extent."

Palmer raised one hand, gesturing wildly in the air metaphorically.

"Maybe Church has his troubles too, but he doesn't want to tell us. I think we shouldn't press him too hard on such matters. Maybe someday, he'll open up and talk with us."

"Let's hope so."

Bologue recalled things about Church. He had always had a good memory, but when it came to Church, everything was covered with a vague fuzziness.

If not for Palmer bringing him up, Bologue wouldn't normally think of this person, as if he didn't exist at all.

Palmer honked the horn aggressively, interrupting Bologue's thoughts. He rolled down the window, leaned out, and yelled at the car in front.

Spending so much time with Bologue, Palmer seemed to be showing signs of road rage.

"Calm down," Bologue advised.

Palmer hated the congested morning traffic. "You're not the one driving!"

"I would like to, but I don't have a license."

Bologue spread his hands, indicating it wasn't his problem, "You wouldn't want the car impounded, would you?"

"Have you ever thought about getting a driver's license? It shouldn't be difficult for you, right?"

Palmer couldn't understand. Bologue had top-notch driving skills, like a bull on the road, but unless necessary, he always sat in the passenger seat.

Bologue shook his head, explaining to Palmer, "You need to think like this, Palmer, if I also take on the driving, then what's your value of existence?"

After saying that, Bologue strained his expression, almost writing "apart from driving, you're useless" on his face.

Palmer's face fell instantly, staring ahead as silence filled the car for a long while.

"Want to play table games tonight?"

"Where at?"

"Undying Club."

Bologue recalled his recent schedule. Except for the conversation with Nesanel, nothing important...

Life is like this; not every day is exhilarating. Most of the time, it's like now, chatting about irrelevant topics in heavy traffic, passing the time.

"Alright."

Bologue replied.

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