A lovely morning found the two of them collapsed awkwardly in a dark alley, one sitting beside a garbage bin, the other inside it.
Bologue mimicked Aimou’s motion, gazing skyward.
Cumulus clouds spread over Opus, blocking the light behind their gloom, yet countless gaps between clouds hinted at a golden glow, like a streak of hope cast into absolute darkness.
"I remember Palmer. He said if Secret Energy·Wind Source continued to advance, he could also gain some ability to fly... I really want to fly into the sky to see if there’s such a place called the Celestial Kingdom."
Recalling this, Bologue continued, "I mentioned this to Palmer, and he laughed at me for being a fool. Humans have already developed planes and conquered the skies; there’s nothing above the clouds."
"But I think, maybe they haven’t flown high enough? If only we could break through the clouds, beyond the sky... I believe something must be waiting for us there."
Finished speaking, Bologue looked at Aimou in the trash bin, where strange-colored liquids seeped from garbage bags, emitting a nauseatingly acrid smell.
Aimou lacked a sense of smell and was unfazed by it, while Bologue had encountered worse scents in trenches, tolerable for him as well.
"Can you be quiet for a moment?"
The voice came from inside the garbage bin; Aimou was currently annoyed with Bologue.
Bologue let out a laughter that begged for a beating; he couldn’t help it, the whole scene was just too dramatic.
Unsteadily standing up, Bologue reached for the edge of the garbage bin and flipped himself inside.
With the addition of Bologue, the bin became suddenly cramped.
"Scoot over, make some room for me." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel⦿fire.net
Bologue nudged Aimou, and the two were like quarreling over a couch, though the garbage bin was so small there was no room to move, leaving them pressed closely together.
"This is such a terrible feeling. I thought I could control my own fate, but even with control, I can’t defy anyone."
Aimou spoke desolately; everything she relied on was based on the resets of time reversal, but now, besides herself, there was Bologue, a wanderer in the crevices of time.
Like a false identity she had once used, it all ultimately returned to nothingness.
"You know my wish, so what about you, Bologue? What do you want to do?"
Aimou turned her head to look at Bologue next to her, who found her in every time reversal, tirelessly like a dog chasing a Frisbee.
Bologue said, "If I told you I came to save you, would you believe me?"
"Save me? Bologue, you sound like a hopelessly good person, completely unlike the impression I have of you."
"Well, after so much fighting and killing, I do want to try something different," Bologue reminisced, "It was a suggestion from a friend of mine; she said my power could be used not only for destruction but maybe to save others as well."
"So you’ve come to save me? Do you think I’m so lowly that I need your salvation?"
"Isn’t that the case? Look at your pathetic state."
Bologue surveyed Aimou lying in the garbage heap; she looked pretty bad, covered in scratches and dents, which of course were all marks he left.
"This sounds too arrogant."
Aimou shook her head, sarcastically saying, "There’s a lot of people in the world who need saving, no need to waste your time on me."
Bologue retorted, "But that’s different. I don’t know them."
"What are you trying to prove, Bologue? Prove that because I know you, I will be saved? How conceited."
Aimou racked her brains for words she could wield as weapons, "Oh, poor Aimou, thank goodness you know a Savior, or you wouldn’t be worthy of rescue!"
Bologue smiled, putting an arm around Aimou’s shoulder, and Aimou didn’t resist. She knew resistance was futile; she couldn’t defeat or drive away this damned Undead, even after time reversal, he’d stubbornly follow her.
Aimou had never been so troubled by anyone.
"Someone once asked me a similar question: there are so many bad guys out there, I can’t beat them all. My answer was, I’ll first knock down the ones I can see, then go after the invisible."
Bologue spoke with firm resolve.
"It’s the same for you. Yes, knowing me, Bologue, makes you worthy of rescue, it’s a miracle. I’ve come from afar to save you because I see you. So what if it’s arrogant, so what if it’s conceited, do you think I care about these things?
And you’re discussing such an issue with an Undead? You must be the one with the problem!"
Bologue’s impudent remarks left Aimou at a loss for words, and he continued.
"This is a vast world where individual fate means nothing in the face of it; be it you, or I, it’s the same, cold and ruthless.
But with a prefix, it’s different. In Bologue’s world, individual fate still means nothing, except for you... You are different; you are worthy of being saved."
Aimou hugged her knees, curling up, looking at the sky, saying nothing.
"Aimou, you are... a fragile, curious, quirky, self-abased life form.
You need something to make you believe you are loved, recognized, you even crave a trial that, once passed, would grant you some kind of qualification, and this qualification would sustain you through all the hardships.