According to Geoffrey, this damned place, the Great Rift, has been in chaos for decades. No matter how hard you try, you can’t change it in just one or two days, nor will it completely slide into the Abyss just because you didn’t put in enough effort for a day or two.
Order is an interesting thing; even in a madhouse, it has its corresponding rules, even if those rules are bloody.
After saying these words to himself, Geoffrey showed that damn smile and then rejected Bologue’s overtime request.
"This is a rare opportunity, Bologue, you must seize it."
Geoffrey’s hellish words kept swirling in his mind.
Bologue sat in the sidecar of the motorcycle, looking blankly at the night view of Opus, letting the cold wind blow through and scatter his thoughts.
"Relax, Bologue, Belli isn’t a monster; she won’t eat you," Palmer shouted loudly while riding the motorcycle, trying to cover the engine noise, "Tomorrow is not some experiment; she just asked you to pick up the gear."
"Will you go with me?" Bologue countered.
"I thought you didn’t care about anything. Why are you afraid now?" Bologue mocked.
"It’s not about being afraid or not," Palmer said somewhat embarrassedly, the motorcycle slowed down and stopped at the red light, and he lowered his head to speak to Bologue, "How should I say it... I’ve been banned from the Sublimation Furnace Core."
"Mm-hmm, Belli issued a harsh warning that if I dared to go to the Sublimation Furnace Core again, she’d sink me into Furnace No. 4."
Bologue didn’t understand. Palmer was a cheerful and very easygoing guy; Bologue thought he got along well with people, but over time he found the situation to be quite different.
Every time he went to the Crow’s Nest, people showed him sympathetic eyes whenever they heard Palmer was his partner. A few times he even encountered Church, Palmer’s former partner, who seemed surprised to see him alive and kicking.
"Are you doing okay lately?" Church asked with concern.
"Hmm? Pretty good." Bologue couldn’t understand what he was asking about.
Not only did Palmer have conflicts with the Crow’s Nest, but he also seemed to have made an enemy of Belli, which made Bologue infinitely curious about his partner.
Faced with Bologue’s questioning, Palmer appeared somewhat embarrassed, pondering before stammering.
"Just... went to the Sublimation Furnace Core once and accidentally... caused some... minor problems," Palmer’s tone suddenly became firm, "Yes, minor problems, just some experiment failures, after all, exploring unknown truths, failures are quite common, right?"
Bologue was stunned for a few seconds until the green light came on, and the motorcycle roared forward, awakening him.
Bologue sighed, face in hands.
"I didn’t want it either, but I’m just this unlucky, what can I do?" Palmer yelled loudly, "If I could find that damned Devil, I would definitely stab them a few times."
Bologue’s expression was complicated, unsure of what kind of face to make.
Lately, he and Palmer had been operating within the Great Rift, encountering many unfortunate events, like the sudden break in the aerial corridor a few days ago. Thankfully, both wore the Arm of Adaptation, and the grappling hooks were particularly useful in the complex environment of the Great Rift.
Or fighting hordes of Demons on a cliffside building when suddenly the twisted structure collapsed.
Such things are quite common in the tuzzling crossroads; these bizarre buildings have no stability at all and may collapse anytime, but when Bologue crawled out of the rubble, relying on the Secret Energy·Summoning Hand to open a hiding spot on the cliffside, he couldn’t help but glance at Palmer.
Within two weeks, these incidents were countless; Bologue was already used to them, and later didn’t even see it as unlucky, just as unexpected situations encountered during field missions.
Right, unexpected situations, that’s it.
Only now did Bologue realize that perhaps all of this was Palmer’s "Blessing" at work, and in endless misfortune, he had become accustomed to it all, even viewing it as normal.
"Habits are truly a terrifying force."
Bologue shook his head, muttering to himself.
The motorcycle gradually stopped, Palmer glanced at Bologue, then asked.
"Are you getting off here? Is that okay?"
"Yes, today’s purchasing day," Bologue got up and stepped out of the sidecar, took off the helmet, and returned it to the sidecar, "Are you planning to rest tomorrow?"
Palmer wasn’t planning to go with him to the Sublimation Furnace Core; letting him act alone in the Great Rift wasn’t realistic. This guy was exhausted; he’d probably sleep at home all day.
"Yeah, sleep all day, no one can make me get up."
Palmer said determinedly; the actions in the Great Rift were somewhat interesting, but besides interesting, it was endless torment: complicated terrain, rampaging demons and devils, poisonous gases...
The mind needed to remain taut every second, maintaining this state for long made Palmer feel like he was nearing a mental breakdown. Comparing it to before, he loved his previous job, at least he was working in the city, and when tired he could take a rest at the coffee shop on the street corner.
"See you the day after tomorrow!" Bologue waved to Palmer.
The motorcycle gradually disappeared into the street, Bologue recalled his previous fantasy about the assigned vehicle, but he was directly arranged into this damned place, the Great Rift, where cars wouldn’t work.
Stepping into "Charlie’s House," which was the old goods store Bologue frequently visited, his so-called purchasing day was to come here and select some items.
Pushing the door open, Bologue greeted the shopkeeper behind the counter.
"Long time no see, Bologue, you haven’t come for half a month, right." Charlie recognized Bologue at a glance.
Charlie couldn’t fail to recognize Bologue; his demeanor was truly unique. When Bologue was in a crowd, it was hard to pick him out, but when he was alone, the sharpness of his aloof aura was palpable, striking your eyes.
"Work has been busy lately; I finally had time to come and check," Bologue went straight to the shelves, "Any new goods?"
"All over there; better pick quickly, I’m closing soon." Charlie said.
Bologue waved his hand, signaling he heard.
Covering his nose, he dusted off the dirt and selected several records from the lot, also spotting some strange things in the corner.
"What are these, dolls? Are you collecting this kind of stuff too?" Bologue picked up a rabbit doll from the carton; it should’ve been white but had become gray with dust from sitting in the corner for too long.
"Guess how I got these goods." Charlie didn’t directly answer Bologue’s question but countered.
"Someone sold you old goods... I remember there’s a centralized second-hand market in Opus; besides these, you should source there too." Bologue said.
"Pretty much, but you know, Bologue, many goods aren’t really second-hand; more like the belongings of the dead."
"Belongings of the dead?" Bologue asked, puzzled.
"When someone dies, their family doesn’t know how to handle their belongings. Some are kept as mementos, while less important things are sold as second-hand. Many goods come this way."
Charlie shrugged, wearing a peculiar smile as he addressed Bologue.
"Of course, when selling, people don’t say they’re the belongings of the dead; it’s all just second-hand goods. How does it feel, are you scared?"
"No." Bologue shook his head.
Charlie was somewhat surprised; many customers gave different evaluations when knowing this, but unanimously, everyone felt some unease. However, from Bologue’s face, Charlie couldn’t see any emotional fluctuation.
No fluctuation is good; Charlie didn’t know about Bologue’s work. Leave aside belongings of the dead; even if the room were full of corpses now, Bologue wouldn’t even blink; he might even carefully inspect to see if there are any living people, then dart them with a knife.
"Sold second-hand goods, huh? Selling off one’s belongings sounds like dying another time." Bologue said softly.
"It’s a necessity," Charlie said helplessly, "Some people need money; some need to escape pain. Everyone makes different choices."
"Some might keep these things, maintaining the illusion nothing has changed." Bologue said.
"Who knows? If there are such people, I don’t know them; after all, I’m a second-hand goods dealer."
Charlie said, laughing heartily, as he reached for the item Bologue had picked, then said,
"But such a person must be trapped in a whirlpool of grief, unable to extricate themselves."
Bologue pondered for a moment, said nothing.