Endless Debt

"Did I sleep the whole day?"

Sitting at the dining table, Palmer glanced at the pitch-black night outside the window and rubbed his drowsy eyes vigorously.

"Seems like it, maybe it's a hangover, or perhaps the fatigue after the promotion ceremony..."

Bologue served bread and sausages, piling them haphazardly on the table, making it look quite sumptuous.

After sharing a place, they had to think about eating and drinking. After a brief discussion, Bologue took on the responsibility of cooking. It's not that Bologue knows how to cook, rather he's afraid that with Palmer's luck, the kitchen would explode.

They had just moved in not long ago, and Bologue certainly didn't want to move to a new place so soon.

Bologue seemed organized, but when it came to food, he was always the sort of person who made do, having lived through the madness of 'Scorched Earth Fury,' Bologue was easily satisfied with food—so long as it filled his belly.

For this reason, Bologue's cooking was very basic, mostly fast-food items that just needed a little heating.

Palmer picked up a fork and started eating bite by bite. Having done nothing, he clearly couldn't complain about anything.

"Next time we could consider inviting Aimou," Palmer said, mouth full, his words muffled, "she seems to be researching culinary skills or something."

"Do you think it's reasonable to have someone over to cook for us for no reason?"

Bologue spread jam on his bread and bit off a corner.

Palmer paused and scrutinized Bologue carefully, his eyes filled with unspoken words. Unfortunately, Bologue was too lazy to sync his thoughts with Palmer, unwilling to guess his intentions.

"I encountered something strange today." Bologue swallowed his bread.

"What is it?"

"I keep feeling like someone is watching me."

"Watching? You mean like a stalker or something?" Palmer was surprised, "Who would be so reckless as to dare to stalk you?"

"No...it's hard to describe, just like someone is watching me from somewhere."

Bologue pondered for a while and gave a vague answer.

"Is that so?" Palmer replied earnestly, "I don't quite understand."

"Forget it, it'd be an issue if you did understand."

Bologue waved his hand, not interested in continuing the discussion with Palmer, wondering whether he was being overly sensitive, or if guessing Overlord Xilin's past today had made him suspicious.

Through the clean floor-to-ceiling window, an endless cluster of buildings stood on the ground, in the colorful lights and shadows, in the dark corners, a pair of eyes was observing Bologue from afar.

This was beyond the limits of human vision, yet he could clearly see Bologue's every move, even discern his words from Bologue's lip movements.

A crazed laugh echoed in his throat, a palm pressed against the wall, fingers slowly converged, nails deeply embedded, scraping off large pieces of dust.

"I saw him! I saw him!"

The man's voice was joyfully suppressed, and in response, a surge of satisfaction released within his body, the feeling was so delightful that this tired, weary flesh felt somewhat relaxed.

In the man's wildly crazed eyes, seemingly connecting to another world, tiny details were continuously magnified, densely packed chairs began to unfold.

"Bologue... Bologue Lazarus..."

The wickedly frenetic presence reclined on a chair as always, watching the huge screen before him, able to clearly see Bologue's actions at this moment, shared through the man's vision.

As the image continued to enlarge, the screen began to split, Bologue's various angles revealed before him as if numerous invisible cameras were observing Bologue.

Hands clasped together, squeezing forcefully, even the joints turned slightly pale. He struggled to control his joyful emotions, the constant vibrations resonating from the depths of darkness, as if some colossal entity rejoiced exuberantly.

"Please present the perfect story to me."

He whispered, preparing to further observe Bologue's actions when he suddenly recalled something else. He pressed the remote, and the image began to switch, a familiar figure appeared before him.

The figure wore a ridiculous mascot costume, with a dog headpiece, ears drooping down. At the moment he observed the figure, the figure detected him as well. Sai Zong slowly raised his head, a hoarse voice sounded.

"Get lost, observer."

The moment the words reached the observer's ears, the image shattered, withering like a mirror. Vaguely, the man's painful cries and wails were heard, followed by the sound of liquid being compressed and splattered, along with the teeth-grinding sound of bones being crushed...

The observer's smile froze slightly on his face, he muttered to himself, "Your temper is still so volatile."

Luckily, he was well aware of Sai Zong's temper. He pressed the remote again, the image began to shift, transitioning to an endless expanse of wilderness, lush green grass filled every corner of his view, and then came the distant sound of a train whistle.

The observer saw the train speeding by, flashing past on the cold tracks, a faint echo of merriment emanating from it, as if an endless celebration was ongoing.

...

Having tidied up the dining table, Bologue and Palmer gathered together, sitting in front of the sofa watching the videotape. Neither spoke, focused on the content of the film.

Bologue enjoys this kind of atmosphere. He'd wanted to set up a home cinema here long ago, and without realizing it, all those small desires have been realized one by one.

Thinking back to the scene when he got out of prison and looking at the present, Bologue sometimes can't help but sigh — live long enough, and some wishes will definitely come true.

The piercing music matched with the bloody scenes, while the violent protagonist cut open the security door with a chainsaw, and amidst the screams, turned his enemies into a pile of minced meat.

Palmer pointed at the film, "This guy should have sawed the legs first, that way he could incapacitate them."

Bologue retorted, "But he doesn't need any captives, so sawing anywhere is the same."

"That's true..."

It was a strange image. Two people, from a professional perspective, watched the film while commenting on its professionalism.

Near midnight, the film ended. It was a low-budget violent film, basically just a few necessary lines of dialogue mixed with various actions and gore... If there were more cold jokes, Bologue thought this film would resemble a true record of his daily work.

With this thought, Bologue suddenly asked Palmer, "Do you want to make a film?"

"What?"

Palmer turned on the lights and tidied up the videotape; he hadn't heard Bologue's words clearly.

"Nothing."

Bologue waved his hand - making a film requires strong expertise, something far out of reach for an amateur like him. Yet, it's one of Bologue's unfulfilled dreams.

Serey had told him that as an Undead, Bologue should wish for more things, so his long remaining days would have things to do, instead of being like Serey, wasting endless time in alcohol.

Playing with the radio, Bologue adjusted the channels, searching for Dudel's broadcast.

On non-working days, Bologue's life was very routine. He would routinely listen to Dudel's radio every night, making him and Dudel the most familiar strangers there could be.

Accompanied by the screeching electric noise, the lines he had heard countless times echoed.

"Hello listeners! I'm Dudel, your loyal friend broadcasting twice a day, welcome to our program!"

For some reason, every time Bologue heard Dudel's opening line, he was tempted to laugh.

On the other side, Palmer poked his head out. He often listened to Dudel's radio show, shouting to Bologue, "Turn it up!"

Bologue turned up the volume. This floor had only their household, so they didn't have to worry about disturbing neighbors.

"Before we begin our music appreciation segment today, I have a major announcement to share with our listeners."

Palmer came over, plopped onto the sofa and joined Bologue in listening.

"A few days ago, on behalf of the 'Gray Mist, Industry, and Delicious Shrimp Crackers' radio show, I interviewed Mr. Gab Jay."

Gab Jay?

The name sounded somewhat familiar to Bologue, while Palmer expressed slight surprise. He seemed to understand the meaning behind the name.

Bologue asked, "Who is Gab Jay?"

"You don't even know who Gab Jay is?" Palmer was amazed, "Then you really are quite ignorant."

"Cut the crap."

"Gab Jay is a very famous author, he wrote 'Night Hunter.'"

Upon hearing this, Bologue realized where the sense of familiarity came from. It turned out that 'Night Hunter' was sitting on his desktop, just a few pages read.

Bologue found the story quite interesting. He wanted to find time to finish the series.

"But Gab Jay hasn't written a new book in almost ten years, many people thought he was dead. It's normal if you're unaware..."

Palmer continued, but before he could finish, Dudel interrupted him, thoroughly shocking Palmer.

"During the interview, Mr. Gab Jay revealed that he has been working on a new book for the past decade, which will be published soon."

Dudel's voice was very calm, like a news broadcaster, as if he was announcing an extremely ordinary message.

Palmer was stunned on the spot.

Bologue patted Palmer, "Are you alright?"

After a brief delay, Palmer sprang up from the sofa, like a monkey, spinning and jumping, and excitedly grabbed Bologue's shoulders and shook him vigorously.

"Gab Jay! New book!"

He was excited like a monkey winning a banana.