Upon awakening from sleep, Bologue slowly climbed out of bed. This time, he wasn’t in a narrow single bed; he awoke in his own home.
The warmth of his body lingered on the soft quilt. Bologue sat up against the bedhead, light falling through the curtains onto his front, the air carrying a slight chill that made Bologue reflexively pull back into the covers.
He reached out to open the curtains—still the same familiar city, yet with a subtle difference: heavy snow fell like goose feathers, leisurely blanketing the streets in silver-white.
As cars passed by, the pure white snow was trampled into gray-black slush, strands of black interwoven with the silver-white world.
Winter had arrived, covering Oubos with snow.
Witnessing this scene, Bologue’s feelings were complex for a moment, filled with nostalgia.
The same city, the same day, yet some things had changed forever. Fortunately, Bologue had walked out of the shadows, with plenty of time to enjoy everything life had to offer.
He dressed himself, stood before the mirror, and tidied his appearance. Today was Vow Festival, a day of national celebration marking the birth of Oubos.
Yet on this day, Bologue had to go on duty... In truth, he wasn’t required to work. Lebius considerately gave everyone a holiday, with the sole requirement to wear Whistle, ready to execute sudden tasks.
But Bologue really had nothing to do. He felt it better to work, to keep himself busy, because once busy, his mind wouldn’t wander away.
Taking out the Key of the Crooked Path, Bologue opened a realm of the unknown and stepped inside.
"Yo! Bologue, happy Vow Festival!"
Serey greeted Bologue warmly as he emerged from the wine cellar.
Bologue nodded to Serey, reaching out to the wall, trying to suppress the dizziness in his mind.
The Key of the Crooked Path was convenient, saving him a significant amount of time commuting to work; the only downside was the nauseating sensation of spinning, which was tormenting. Despite feeling he’s getting used to it, when nausea surged, it was unbearably painful.
Sitting at the bar, Serey handed him a glass of water and a breakfast.
"You’re really considerate, Serey."
Bologue drained the water in one go, then picked up the fork and skewered the sausage on the plate.
Since starting work, Bologue usually passed through the Undying Club every time he visited the Cultivation Room. Over time, Serey got used to Bologue’s daily entrance, even placing bets with Wei’Er on which door Bologue would come through.
Apart from these, the Undead also thoughtfully prepared breakfast for him. Bologue did not refuse this orderly arranged life; he did not resist.
"Are you preparing for the party tonight?" Bologue asked.
Inside the Undying Club, everyone was busy. Serey was setting up decorations, Bode bringing in boxes of beer, and even Wei’Er was working, carrying flowers and scattering them in corners of the room.
Apart from these, some rare characters were also present at the Undying Club.
Scott... that statue, Serey moved it out and placed it at the entrance of the Undying Club, draping it with ribbons and holding a small sign with the time and details of the party.
The "old undead" remained his mummy-like self, sitting in a wheelchair, and Wei’Er dressed him up as a gigantic bouquet and placed him in the corner.
"Are you planning to officially open to the public?" Bologue asked.
The Undying Club wasn’t always closed; sometimes it opened briefly. Surely, to avoid alarming people, usually only Serey handled these things, with Wei’Er sometimes present but remaining silent, posing as a real black cat.
Moreover, occasionally, Serey would bring women back, similar to previous situations, the eccentric Undead would hide in their rooms.
But seeing this setup now, the regular members of the Undying Club had all emerged. If Geoffrey saw this scene, his blood pressure would undoubtedly spike, suspecting that these idle folks were up to something big again.
"No, it’s Vow Festival! For us, it’s a grand event once a year!"
Serey was extremely excited, his scarlet eyes slightly glowing.
Wei’Er howled together, jumping between chairs, even Bode hummed a tune, its melody carrying a sinister chill.
Bologue was accustomed to the neuroticism of these Undead, but seeing them collectively acting mad, with symptoms this intense, was a first.
"There’s a masquerade party tonight, the theme is Horrible Castle," Bode explained, "Everyone’s dressing up in all sorts of odd ways."
"So you undead don’t need to hide anything anymore, do you?" Bologue understood his meaning.
Bode nodded, with a touch of emotion, "After becoming undead, due to various limiting factors, it’s hard for us to integrate into the crowd; moments of cheering together are rare."
A hollow skull stared at him, and Bode said enviously.
"At times , I really envy an undead like you who can still integrate into the crowd in a human form, while we can only stay at a distance."
Bologue didn’t know what to say, so he just smiled at Bode and said.
"Happy Vow Festival, Bode."
Bode nodded vigorously, barely taking a few steps before stumbling almost to a fall, a whimpering sound came from under him, and Sai Zong was biting Bode’s calf forcefully.
Cursing, Bode kicked at Sai Zong’s dog’s head forcefully, but this obviously couldn’t stop Sai Zong, and before long, the Undying Club was once again in an uproar.
Bologue smiled and shook his head, and at that moment, Serey called out to him.
"Are you spending the evening with Palmer?"
"No, I’ll be staying at the base tonight."
Bologue waved his hand, he didn’t want to join the crazy drinking party and wake up with a splitting headache the next day. He often saw Palmer in such a state, sometimes even throwing up as he walked.
Fortunately, the Great Rift is a place that accommodates everything, so it probably wouldn’t mind if Palmer threw up a bit.
Pushing the door open to leave, when he arrived at the "Cultivation Room", even the usually stern and oppressive Order Bureau had a rare touch of relaxation. Bologue first went to Lebius’s office to report on the current situation and inquire about the progress of the task.
"There’s still no progress on Yas’s side?" Bologue asked.
"No, but it’s certain that the Gray Trade Association hasn’t left the Great Rift; they must be brewing something in the dark."
Lebius frowned and said that if the Gray Trade Association was causing trouble every day and keeping them busy endlessly, he wouldn’t mind, but now the entire Great Rift was as quiet as death, and no one knew what was lurking in the deep water.
"These damn guys, making me have no holiday even," Geoffrey complained from the side. On this important holiday, he had to work overtime with Lebius.
"You don’t have anything going on anyway, do you? Or are you saying you want to join the young people’s drinking party?" Lebius said, "Geoffrey, leave the space for the young people; showing up there would just make everyone uncomfortable."
Geoffrey was at a loss for words by Lebius’s remark, he looked at Bologue, and Bologue waved his hand, "I don’t mind that much, but Palmer does often say that drinking with you feels like having a gathering with the boss, unable to let loose."
Geoffrey sighed, though they were colleagues, each person’s social circle was different, and he asked, "And you, Bologue, how are you planning to spend it?"
"Going to the base to be on duty, just like you, with nothing else to do," Bologue answered.
After exchanging greetings, as usual, he took the elevator down to the Deep Nest Courtyard, and then took the subway to Qiushang Town, arriving at Teda’s Alchemy Workshop.
Apart from his own work content, Bologue felt he was no different from an ordinary office worker, commuting by car, transferring stations, clocking in to work.
No matter how strange the life, after enough repetition, it becomes routine, sometimes when passing some shops, Bologue would stop to buy something.
Life was extremely normal, yet extremely abnormal.
Bologue pushed open the door; the Alchemy Workshop was eerily silent, with only the mechanical hum as its sole sound.
Looking around, Bologue didn’t see Teda’s figure, as he had said earlier, Teda would be going out during the Vow Festival.
For the arrival of the Vow Festival, there was no decoration in the Alchemy Workshop, as if the place was unrelated to the holiday, which Bologue found a bit strange. Even the stern Order Bureau would hand out candies to employees at the front desk today, and even the Great Rift, that ghostly place, had people putting up vibrant lights to set the holiday atmosphere.
But this place was like it had been abandoned, and if Bologue hadn’t shown up, there wouldn’t be any guests today.
Bologue didn’t think much of it; he directly headed towards the small base hut. On the way, he passed by Aimou’s repair station. Aimou seemed to be still sleeping, lying quietly there, with several mechanical arms resting on her body, slowly moving, adjusting machinery and correcting the Alchemy Matrix.
She must be optimizing herself or maintaining, and the intricacies Aimou dealt with were too complex for Bologue to understand.
After standing at the door for a moment, Bologue didn’t disturb Aimou. His job wasn’t to accompany an Alchemy Puppet to understand human nature, but to monitor the movements of the Great Rift and Teda.
He pushed open the door to the small base hut, organized files and equipment, and Bologue tried hard to find something to do for himself, but since he was usually quite diligent, it wasn’t long before he found himself idle.
After hesitating for a while, Bologue lay flat on his single bed, trying to relax his tense mood. Today was the Vow Festival; he reminded himself there was no need to be so stressed.
People need to relax, and so do the undead.