CHAPTER 626: CHAPTER 137 PREDETERMINED PROPHECY

Order Bureau, Field Operations Department, Special Operations Group office.

Bologue sat in a familiar position on a familiar sofa, with a familiar partner leaning beside him, his head tilted back in a familiar way, looking like he was dozing off.

In the familiar office, his familiar team leader was working in a familiar posture, the room filled with that familiar silence, Yuriel brought coffee with a smile, quietly asking if he needed some.

Everything was so familiar, like replayed scenes from a movie, similar to every previous day, indistinguishable in any way.

Yes, the familiarity was comforting...

Bologue’s peripheral vision was fixed on Lebius, sensing in this familiar atmosphere a slight discordant noise coming from Lebius.

Like some kind of premonition, Bologue felt that something unfortunate was about to happen, and just as this thought crossed his mind, Palmer suddenly woke up.

Palmer sat up straight, staring blankly ahead, his body awake but his consciousness taking a moment longer. After a dozen seconds, he looked at Bologue with a somewhat fearful expression.

"Why do I feel something’s off today?"

Even the unlucky Palmer noticed something was wrong, and Bologue was certain some major event was happening today.

Just as Bologue was about to ask Lebius, the office door opened and Geoffrey entered with Aimou.

Now all members of the Special Operations Group had arrived, even the often unnoticed Yuriel was present.

The usually spacious office suddenly felt crowded. Bologue nudged Palmer, trying to make room for Yuriel, who just smiled and stood beside them.

Palmer looked slightly panicked, maybe due to his own Blessing, Palmer sometimes felt like a Prophet, able to foresee impending disasters.

Indeed, something unfortunate was about to happen.

Palmer clutched his stomach, pretending to be in pain, wanting to quickly flee this oppressive place. Just as he got up, he saw Geoffrey standing guard at the door, like a wall, blocking everyone’s exit.

"We’re doomed, Bologue."

Palmer slumped back onto the sofa, saying weakly.

"Is everyone here?"

Lebius put down the documents, glanced around the office, made eye contact with the team members, and nodded affirmatively.

Bologue asked, "Is there something happening today?"

"Yes, some matters."

Lebius picked up a stack of file folders, and Yuriel took them and distributed them among everyone.

"Everyone, we’ve worked together for so long, but it seems we’ve never done anything together," Lebius coughed a couple of times, trying hard to look like a leader, "We have a team-building activity coming up."

Bologue’s expression changed slightly, while Aimou’s reaction was worse, repeatedly seeing crosses in his eyes.

"What if Lebius invites us to an amusement park?"

Echoing last night’s conversation in his mind, Aimou covered his face and shouted, "We’re doomed! There’s a suicidal mission waiting for us!"

"If no one has any objections, you can all disperse, pack your bags, and we’ll prepare to depart this afternoon."

Though he said no objections, Lebius’s words, in any interpretation, allowed no refusal.

Bologue sighed; his stern team leader was indeed trying hard to become approachable, even attempting to issue tasks humorously.

Regrettably, Lebius, in this aspect, was like Bologue. The more humorous they tried to be, the more frightening they became.

The group was already clearly aware that this was not a team-building exercise but an urgent mission with significant importance, requiring the full mobilization of the Special Operations Group.

Except Palmer, who didn’t grasp Lebius’s humor at all.

Opening the file folder, Palmer pulled out a train ticket with his information and the destination on it.

"Wow, Narrow Countries? I haven’t been there in a long time... and it’s still Free Port? I should buy a swimsuit."

Palmer flipped through with excitement, not expecting to encounter a team-building right after a vacation.

"Wait, what’s this?"

The smile on Palmer’s face vanished, as inside the file folder, besides the train ticket, there was an ID.

After a simple check, Palmer found the ID information was fabricated.

Palmer looked blankly at Lebius, then at Bologue, and the others.

He did not understand why such things were needed for travel. Strictly speaking, they were civil servants of the Rhine Alliance and should receive high-level treatment everywhere they went, so why sneak around...

Now Palmer’s expression was like a meerkat, clutching its little paws, hunched on a mound, blankly gazing at the boundless prairie.

Not everyone understood Lebius’s humor, he sighed, then spoke.

"The specifics of the mission, we’ll discuss on the way."

...

Oubos, Central Railway Station.

As one of the key transportation hubs of this city, the Central Railway Station was always crowded, with foreigners from all over moving back and forth; some just arrived in the city, while others were about to leave.

Like a confluence of ocean currents, bringing people from different worlds together briefly, they smile at each other, then part ways, never to meet again.

The massive canopy of steel and glass looks from afar like the rib cage of a monster, half-buried in the sand after death.

People crawl over its carcass like ants.

As a ticket clerk, the woman sees countless faces every day at the counter, but among all the faces she’s seen, this man’s gives her a feeling she’s never had before.

The woman’s heartbeat quickens a little as she works with her head lowered, while observing the man out of the corner of her eye.

The man’s appearance is not outstanding, rather quite ordinary, but there is a mysterious aura about him, like a book waiting to be read, making the woman irresistibly want to know him.

Opening the man’s ID, Erwin Flesher, that’s his name.

Continuing downward, the woman shows a surprised expression, raising her head to gaze at Erwin’s face, her eyes full of disbelief.

Erwin knows why the woman shows such an expression, he’s encountered such reactions many times along the way.

"People often say I look quite young, I just have a good mindset and keep up with my exercises."

Erwin smiles at the woman, sheepishly scratching his gray-white stubble.

The woman nods in agreement, he’s someone whose age is hard to determine, as time has interwoven gray strands into his blond hair, and his face appears aged, marked by the knife scars left by time.

There’s not a hint of the aura of aging or death on Erwin; he’s full of vitality, his back straight, standing like a warrior ready to throw a punch at any moment.

Especially when Erwin smiles, he doesn’t look like an old man of considerable age at all; instead, he’s no different from a young man, as if he possesses a magic power that can deceive time.

The woman sincerely hopes that she can look like this when she grows old.

Taking up the stamp, she leaves a red mark on Erwin’s ID. Usually, the woman finishes work quickly in less than ten seconds, but this time she deliberately slows down, sketching Erwin’s appearance with her peripheral vision.

Erwin seems somewhat downcast, covered in dust, the hem of his coat torn, carrying a heavy suitcase as if he’s come from far away, weary and travel-worn.

During the wait, Erwin takes out a small comb to tidy his messy hair a bit, and simply adjusts his attire, trying hard to look somewhat presentable, but no matter how hard he tries, the sense of dilapidation permeates endlessly.

To this, Erwin can only pucker his lips in resignation, for a wanderer like him, presentability is a luxurious word, though Erwin doesn’t care too much about such things.

Every day, countless outsiders arrive at Opus, countless faces drift away like sand, forgotten in an instant.

But today, this outsider named Erwin is different. Just a few brief conversations, a few exchanges of glances, and Erwin has left a profound impression in the woman’s heart.

No matter how she slows her actions, time continue to pass unrelentingly.

Desperately, the woman raises her head. After all, the information on the ID is too little; she wants to know more about Erwin, but she understands it’s impossible. Once she hands the ID back to Erwin, she’ll never see him again.

This was their first meeting, and also their last. There are many such people in this world.

As if driven by a sudden impulse, the woman suddenly asks, "What is your job?"

Erwin is puzzled, "Do you still need to ask this?"

The woman suddenly becomes clear-minded, realizing her mistake. She shouldn’t trouble a traveler just because of her silly thoughts. Just as she’s about to apologize, Erwin says.

"A poet."

Erwin ponders for a moment, as if to confirm that he hasn’t used the wrong word, nods to himself, and reaffirms.

"That’s right, I’m a poet."

"A poet?"

The woman finds it unbelievable. In this day and age, the term poet is already a distant and unfamiliar one.

"Surprising, isn’t it?" Erwin sees through all the woman’s hidden thoughts. "Indeed, in this era of rapid development, things from the olden days hold little meaning anymore."

The woman tries to keep Erwin for a few more minutes, even just a few more seconds, to let this splash of color leave a deeper mark in her life.

She asks, "So... are you traveling in search of creative inspiration?"

"Hmm, sort of, but... not entirely."

Erwin suddenly leans forward, his hands on the counter, as if about to reveal a secret, he whispers.

"I’m searching for immortality."

"Immortality?"

The woman is taken aback for a moment, then bursts out laughing, "Is this the romance of a poet?"

Erwin looks very much like a drunk uncle in a bar, talking about outlandish things, yet the woman doesn’t dislike it. If possible, she would like to chat with Erwin about these absurd fantasies until the next morning, but she knows it’s impossible.

Handing the ID to Erwin, it’s time to say goodbye.

The woman says, "Goodbye, Mr. Flesher."

Erwin waves at the woman; he’s said farewell to many people along the way and is skilled at leaving.

"By the way, can I read your poetry?"

The woman asks eagerly, but by then, Erwin has already walked quite far. The woman is extremely saddened, blaming herself for forgetting such an important thing, but just then, a distant voice comes from the crowd.

"You will read it."