"Just for this reason... Do you think it’s laughable?"
Aimou observed Bologue’s reaction. It was the first time she expressed her thoughts to someone else, and more importantly, all this time, Aimou hadn’t interacted with many humans.
"There’s nothing laughable about it; such matters can be considered humanity’s ultimate question."
Bologue shook his head with a smile, appreciating Aimou’s self-awareness, and continued.
"Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going?"
"I’ve read such words in books, but I don’t quite understand them." Aimou’s understanding of books was still somewhat superficial, unable to grasp deeper meanings.
"Actually, I don’t fully understand either. Some say it’s the past, present, and future, while others say it’s the summary of a human life." Bologue explained.
"Recognizing who you truly are, what you live for, and what you’re willing to die for... At least now you know who you are, congratulations, Aimou."
Bologue gazed at Aimou standing amidst the piled up broken bodies; in the gray coldness, she was like a splash of vibrant color.
Aimou said softly, as if self-hypnotizing; the more people affirmed her, the more real she became.
"And what about the rest?" Aimou excitedly turned to Bologue. This was the first time she was acknowledged, filling her with immense joy.
"The rest? You mean where you come from? Where you’re going?"
Speaking on these matters, Bologue also fell silent. Such philosophical questions typically lack clear answers.
Bologue knew who he was. He was the Evil Spirit, punishing those who violated the iron laws of justice. But as for where he came from, that was a genuine mystery.
He was still unclear why he came to this world, which also remained Bologue’s greatest secret. As for where he was going?
"I don’t know. Few people can figure these out. More often, everyone lives in the present, leaving these worries for philosophers to handle." Bologue said, but quickly added.
"But, you see, I am the Undead. If nothing unexpected happens, my fate is without an endpoint."
"So, you mean you don’t have a ’where to go’?" Aimou asked.
"Perhaps so. Like a road movie, I’m driving on an endless road. Wherever I stop is my endpoint."
"A type of film... Haven’t you seen a movie?"
"No, apart from regular check-ups at the Border Sanatorium, I’ve hardly moved within the city," Aimou spread her hands, revealing herself, "I’m too special, easily noticed."
This was true; every time Aimou went out, she disguised herself thoroughly to avoid direct observation by others.
"Hmm... Then your life truly feels full of regrets." Bologue felt heartache for Aimou who hadn’t seen a movie.
"Are movies really that good?" Aimou was tempted by Bologue.
"These things can extend human life."
Discussing movies, Bologue became serious; besides punishing villains, movies were one of his few hobbies.
"Extend life?" Hearing about life extension, Aimou’s eyes lit up but soon calmed down, "How could it be possible? Human lifespan is predetermined, even if it can be extended, it can only be achieved through some extremely expensive Alchemy Potion."
Aimou cared a lot about life and death, for which she had acquired much relevant knowledge. Unfortunately, she was an Alchemy Puppet, rendering potions useless to her.
"A different kind of life extension."
Bologue explained, but after saying a few words, he was choked by the smoke and dust in the room, coughing repeatedly.
"Let’s change places to talk... I don’t mind, but don’t you feel standing here is like standing in a morgue? A morgue for Alchemy Puppets." Bologue used a peculiar metaphor.
Upon hearing this, Aimou finally realized it, and the halo in her eyes dimmed. Her fear of the place wasn’t just due to its deathly vibe but the presence of ’corpses.’ Should Aimou be destroyed one day, she would likely become one of them.
The two came to the table, with Teda not home, allowing them to talk casually sitting across each other at the table.
Bologue liked this place quite a bit, its space felt larger, without such oppressive feelings.
In actuality, the entire Alchemy Workshop felt to Bologue similar to a "Cultivation Room," or perhaps all these Void Realms shared similar traits.
Closed, absolutely closed.
There were no windows here, walls sealed everywhere, and many places were quite cramped, constantly disturbed by humming sounds.
Normal people living here would mostly develop some mental illnesses, but fortunately, Bologue wasn’t that fragile. He was highly adaptive and had become accustomed to working under pressure.
"Rather than extending life’s scale, it’s more about making finite life more meaningful." Bologue tried to express his thoughts to Aimou.
"Like an ordinary farmer trapped in a mountain farm all his life, spending a mundane existence in toil without ever leaving this land. But what if there were movies?"
Bologue grew more excited as he spoke; sharing something he loves with others felt very pleasant.