CHAPTER 631: CHAPTER 142 FANTASY AND REALITY

Bologue leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and pondered. Taking advantage of the current leisure, Bologue tried to recall his experiences before joining the military, making those hazy days gradually clear in his mind.

Just like film unearthed from ruins, he cautiously wiped away the dust to restore the true face of history.

Palmer leaned to one side reading a book. To pass the boring time, he brought many books and was reading them one by one according to his customized reading plan. Bologue hadn’t expected that he had a reading plan; Palmer always seemed like the type who would read whatever he had.

Aimou sat at the end of the train, admiring the scenery along the way. This was her first train journey, and what others found boring was for her filled with novelty every second.

Geoffrey and Lebius stayed in their small cabin, studying their actions upon arriving at Free Port. The last trace of Group Ten was within Free Port, and it was uncertain what difficulties they would encounter on their path.

Yuriel was in the deepest part of the carriage. As the Communication Officer of the action team, she intensely managed communications, confining herself within that enclosed space, working tirelessly day and night.

Yuriel would almost never step onto the front lines, avoiding all extraordinary conflicts to steer clear of the threat of death. However, that didn’t mean her job was easy. On the contrary, she needed to transform herself into a hub, connecting the vast information network, and each activation brought considerable mental strain to her.

Time passed silently, a hint of red emerged on the horizon, the train headed into the night, under the pitch-black canopy, countless sparks rose on the distant horizon.

The babbling sound of water came from beneath the night, extremely loud. Even if Bologue couldn’t see the river, he could hear its presence.

Looking down at the map, if Bologue’s judgment was correct, the nearby river was also a branch of the Rhine River.

The grand river named Rhine originated from the Mountain Ridge, flowed across vast lands, and finally reached Free Port, rolling into the sea.

With the river’s erosion, the land Bologue passed through was flat and fertile, suitable for agriculture, known as the Land of Fertility.

The Land of Fertility...

Noticing this name, Bologue’s expression was complex. Thinking back, when he passed through here years ago, it was entirely a scorched earth, rich in death.

Sixty-seven years have passed, the land once full of trenches and chevaux-de-frise now flourishes with crops, everything has changed beyond recognition.

The train let out a loud whistle, interrupting Bologue’s thoughts, the scenery outside the window flew by, and the lamp-lit platform came into view as the train temporarily stopped at the next station.

Some passengers got off while others boarded; the crowd was bustling and no one noticed the carriage at the end... well, not everyone.

A man, fearing attracting the attention of Bologue and the others, only glanced at the carriage from the corner of his eye.

His expression was serious, a breeze passed by, the man wrapped his brown coat tightly around himself, picked up his suitcase, and squeezed into the train with the other passengers.

The train rumbled back to life, the man sat quietly in his seat, waiting until the train entered the wilderness before he began to move unhurriedly.

Ewen woke up, rubbing his eyes vigorously. The passengers around him had already changed, and now a stranger was sitting opposite him.

The moment their eyes met, the man avoided Ewen’s gaze, while Ewen seemed not to care about the man at all, quickly scrutinizing him.

This was Ewen’s bad habit; he always liked to observe others and imagined their stories in his mind based on their appearance, demeanor, and style.

Even after entering the carriage, the man still hadn’t taken off his hat, trying his best to keep his face hidden in the shadow of the brim. Coupled with swiftly avoiding eye contact, Ewen thought the man might be averse to socializing.

He wrapped himself tightly, even the exposed palms were gloved, holding the suitcase tightly in his arms...

Ewen thought perhaps the man wasn’t just avoiding socializing; by protecting himself so rigorously and avoiding others’ eyes, he might also be avoiding trouble.

His mind began to wander, and Ewen imagined stories related to the man in his head, using him as a blueprint.

As a poet, Ewen needed reality as the foundation for creation, embellishing it with some fantastic imagination... Reality was too cold, and a story written in the same cold manner needed gentle fantasy to temper it.

What could be in the suitcase?

Ewen speculated, from the man’s actions, it seemed the suitcase was very important to him. Coupled with his style and behavior, Ewen imagined the man as a bomber.

Hmm? The identity of a bomber seemed reasonable, matching the man’s various behaviors.

Ending his fantasy, Ewen stretched his body forcefully, letting his tense muscles relax.

Taking a notebook from his pocket, Ewen quickly jotted down his imagined character, simultaneously greeting the man.

"Hello there."

Ewen enjoyed doing this, fantasizing about the man’s story before talking to him, to see what the man’s true identity was like; he loved the contrast between fantasy and reality.

"..."

The man slightly raised his head, and under the brim of his hat, his gaze emerged. He remained silent.

Seeing the man unresponsive, Ewen started another topic, "Friend, are you going to Free Port too? It’s such a great place."

The man was unwilling to converse with Ewen, simply nodding with no words.

"Hmm? Okay."

Ewen jotted down various reactions of the man in his notebook, then added a question mark.

Throughout Ewen’s journey, he had met many people and created numerous characters from them. Some were willing to share their travel stories with Ewen to reveal their true selves, while others were like the man before him, silent and reserved.

In these situations, Ewen didn’t want to force anything; everyone has their privacy.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward. Feeling sorry, Ewen smiled at the man, then got up to leave. His nap left him a bit hungry, and he planned to get some food in the dining car ahead.

The man’s peripheral vision kept fixed on Ewen until he left the carriage, then turned his focus back to the suitcase before him.

If he hadn’t repeatedly confirmed that Ewen was just an ordinary person, the man might have thought he exposed himself the moment he boarded the train. He sighed in relief. After relaxing for a moment, he tensed up again.

The man grabbed the suitcase and stood up, walking through the narrow aisle toward the back of the train.

With every step closer to the train’s rear, the pressure in the man’s heart increased, as if monsters lived at the tail of the train and he was about to step into their lair.

As an Alchemist, it was the first time the man was responsible for negotiations, especially with the Order Bureau.

After passing through several carriages, the man quickly reached the train’s end. The door was locked, as expected. He knocked on it, like visiting a friend, making a dull sound.

"Who are you?"

A cold voice came from behind, and a chill swept over the man’s neck. He took a deep breath to stay calm. Truly worthy of being Field Staff from the Order Bureau, he hadn’t even noticed the approach.

The other party’s quick response suggested they had noticed him the moment he approached.

The man slowly placed the suitcase on the ground, raised his hands, and spoke to himself.

"I am Duwa Archel, coming as a representative of the Order of Truth."

"Why have you come?"

Something hard pressed against Duwa’s back, which he guessed was a gun. The muzzle slowly moved, resting over his heart. Any slight movement from him could lead to his heart being pierced from behind.

"For the original object. You’re chasing that item too, aren’t you?"

Duwa knew he couldn’t outsmart the Field Staff, not to mention he wasn’t capable enough—just a temporarily reassigned Alchemist. A few hours ago, he was still tinkering with his experiments at home.

"The Order of Truth has intelligence related to it, and you will need it."

"Oh? So, what do you want to get from us?" The other party asked unhurriedly.

Duwa unexpectedly hardened, "I need to discuss this with your captain personally."

Fearing mistrust from the other party, Duwa continued, "The related intelligence is here in my suitcase."

The other party picked up Duwa’s suitcase but didn’t open it immediately.

In the silence, Duwa felt the protrusion on his back move away, and the other party lowered the gun, allowing Duwa to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, the other party grabbed the suitcase and walked past him.

If Duwa wasn’t mistaken, the other party still held a banana in their hand.

Bologue pushed open the door and gestured for Duwa to come in. The few people inside had already noticed the conversation outside and sat silently on chairs, with an oppressive atmosphere pressing toward him.

Duwa already regretted taking on this task. He usually avoided these Field Staff, but now he had to share a room with them, making him restless and uneasy.

"Make yourself comfortable."

The relaxed-looking Bologue handed the suitcase to Lebius, then found a seat and sat down, peeled the banana, watched Duwa, and ate it bite by bite.