Chapter 193: 192 Dream-Seeking Wristwatch and Final Request

Two days later, at dawn, in the old district of the capital, Patriot Avenue.

In a district where sanitation was generally poor, nighttime security was chaotic, and garbage trucks visited only once a week on average, Patriot Avenue was an absolute exception.

It had a garbage truck passing daily, specially assigned patrol guards from the Police Department, and walls repainted three times a year without fail.

Yes, unlike other streets where no one cared for twenty or thirty years—even if the paint completely peeled off—Patriot Avenue not only had dedicated sanitation measures but even underwent frequent, luxurious repainting, so clean and tidy it seemed utterly out of place for an old district street.

As for the reason…

As a street rebuilt with special funding from the Finance Department to honor soldiers who fought bravely in the National Defense War, Patriot Avenue was not only the face of the King and Parliament but also the residence of countless soldiers discharged after being wounded in the war six years ago—naturally deserving of special treatment, and no one questioned this.

Unfortunately, these public privileges seemed unable to resolve the widespread poverty among discharged soldiers, and the glory of having fought for the nation did not spare them from violent beatings by patrol guards when they urinated against the walls after drinking.

…

"Stop! Damn it! Pull up your pants!"

After hastily kicking the drunk man standing by the wall to the ground, the two patrol guards stared at the fresh urine dripping steaming down the crimson wall, their expressions bordering on tears.

Dammit, again—right in my patrol zone. My salary's probably getting docked again!

Seeing the drunk man sprawled on the ground, his pants stained halfway through being kicked down, the two guards glanced around the empty street and moved in, kicking and punching him with clenched teeth.

"You bastard! This wall was painted to honor the heroes of the National Defense War!"

"That's the third time this week! Damn it! Can't you piss somewhere else?"

"Beat him!"

After kicking him for a while, seeing the drunk man curled up silent, the two guards—sure to lose pay—still weren't satisfied. They dragged him over to the urine stain, tossed him a rag, and ordered him with furious faces to clean it up.

But when the drunk man staggered to his feet, he didn't pick up the rag reeking of urine. Instead, he reached into his pocket, gripped something, then his throat bobbed—he let out a wet, guttural "huh!" and spat a thick, yellow-green phlegm straight onto the freshly painted wall.

Immediately, with a soft "ding," a wrought-iron combat commemorative medal—only awarded to those who fought in the National Defense War and bearing the feather of a robin—was "spat" onto the memorial wall alongside the phlegm.

"Patriot Avenue? Hah!"

…

Unfortunately, still a little short.

Watching the three hands on his watch twitch incessantly but ultimately stall in the "Human" zone, never reaching the "Anomaly" zone, the old man across the street with downturned lips shook his head, then said to the middle-aged man across the table:

"This man is decent—he has a painful past and intense emotions, closely approaching the standard for becoming an Anomaly, possessing the potential to make the 'seed' sprout."

"But his soul isn't pure enough; it's cluttered with too many chaotic thoughts. To give birth to a true Anomaly, he needs a deeper, more soul-crushing pain—an utter despair that will drag him into the abyss…"

"Does he have family?"

"Yes."

Looking at the drunk man being kicked by the two guards, the middle-aged man—whose temples had begun to streak with gray—fell silent for a moment, then replied:

"Old Bagins's wife died of illness, but he has a twenty-year-old son who joined us three years ago and now handles procurement of daily supplies."

"Oh?"

Hearing this, the naturally sorrowful-faced elder lifted his eyelids slightly, intrigued:

"How's their father-son relationship?"

"Terrible."

The middle-aged man—or rather, the rebel leader—hesitated, then shook his head:

"Old Bagins suffered many wounds in the National Defense War six years ago—his right leg was pierced by nail rounds, his abdomen injured by a whale-oil bomb dropped from an airship, leaving him with unbearable itching and numbness during rain, snow, or damp weather, forcing him to drink constantly for pain relief."

"The kingdom's discharge bonus was never much, and most of it he drank away. So when his wife developed liver disease, she couldn't afford treatment and died within two years. After that, he drank even harder, often beating young Bagins when drunk, and young Bagins despised his father intensely."

"That's truly pitiful."

After gazing pityingly at the drunk man across the street, the Water Bearer Director sighed:

"Too bad—if he had a son who refused to abandon him, who kept trying to care for him, it might have worked."

"Then, if the last person who refused to give up on him showed utter disappointment—or if we engineered a small accident for his son, snuffing out the last flicker of light in his heart—we could harness the resulting pain to purify his soul."

"Under the scouring of extreme, swollen despair, his soul would shed all impurities, leaving only the purest obsession at one moment—and thus truly escape the ordinary, crossing the threshold into Anomaly. But now…"

Looking at the "Soul" needle stuck below the Anomaly line on his watch, the Water Bearer Director shook his head:

"Impossible.

If I'd acted when his wife first died, I might have pushed him over the edge. But after all these years, his soul has gone completely numb, coated in thick dust—it no longer meets the criteria for becoming an Anomaly."

"I see…"

The middle-aged man sighed along with him, then stood up:

"Then let's go see the next one. Over the years, I've met many who might become Anomalies. Since you came to me once in a while, let's just see them all together!"

"I'm sorry, but there's no time."

Glancing at the wristwatch on his other hand, the Water Bearer Director shook his head:

"An internal inquiry targeting me is about to begin. If I fail it, I'll be subjected to memory extraction by the Bureau—I must return early to prepare. I don't have time to review them one by one."

An internal inquiry by the Cleanup Bureau?

The middle-aged man froze, then frowned:

"What happened? Aren't you one of the twelve most powerful Directors? Why are you being investigated? Who can even question you?"

"Of course, the other Directors~"

The Water Bearer Director said with casual indifference:

"I've done so much out in the field these years. Though I've been careful—even never used my real face—I still left traces. The Cleanup Bureau is full of talent; someone was bound to notice something wrong."

"Or rather, it's surprising I've lasted this long without being questioned. Since the Serpent… uh… since that major event in the past, the world has grown increasingly chaotic, with many Outer Gods stirring, and the Bureau has lost many good agents. Otherwise, I'd have been exposed long ago."

"…"

"I don't know about those things."

The middle-aged man shook his head:

"I only want to know: roughly when will you return?"

"If things go fast, one or two weeks."

The Water Bearer Director added calmly:

"You should know—such a vast, loose organization as the Cleanup Bureau completing an inquiry into a senior member in one or two weeks is already astonishingly fast."

"And if it goes slow?"

"If it goes slow? Then I'll never come back, of course!"

As if recalling something amusing, the Water Bearer Director chuckled:

"The inquiry against me isn't just led by the top three Directors—it includes several Directors from the Zodiac Branches. If I don't survive it, I won't even get the chance to run—I'll be arrested on the spot."

"Hmm… let's set a two-week limit then. If I haven't returned in two weeks, assume I'm dead. Run, hide—your concealment skills are strong enough that the Bureau won't find you easily."

"…"

You're really… refreshingly blunt…

The middle-aged man let out a dry, exasperated sound, then said flatly:

"Then wait until you pass your inquiry and come back! I'll keep an eye on those people."

"Hmm… you don't necessarily need to wait for me to check their potential."

Hearing this, the Water Bearer Director pondered, then unexpectedly unfastened the strange wristwatch on his left wrist—bearing six hands—and tossed it to the rebel leader.

"This is the 【Dream-Seeking Wristwatch】. Originally, its ability was to fulfill dreams, but after my modifications, it can now assess whether a person has the potential to become an Anomaly—using just a drop of blood or a strand of hair as a marker."

As he spoke, the Water Bearer Director tapped the watch's face with his finger, pointing to the hands below:

"These six hands are grouped into three pairs: Past and Future, Body and Soul, Personality and Emotion. If one hand in each pair reaches the Anomaly range, the person possesses the qualification to receive the 'seed.'"

"Take that man across the street, Old Bagins—his 'Past' and 'Emotion' hands have reached the Anomaly range, but his 'Soul' hand hasn't. So he still lacks the condition for the seed to sprout and is unlikely to become an Anomaly."

Past and Future, Body and Soul, Personality and Emotion?

After carefully memorizing the meaning of the six hands, the middle-aged man stared at the three pairs of strange, intricately engraved hands and asked curiously:

"Why is it enough for just one hand in each pair to move?"

"Hmm… hard to explain… think of the world as a canvas, and every person as a brush."

The Water Bearer Director thought for a moment, dipped his finger in coffee, and drew a brown streak on the tablecloth, then continued:

"A person's past experiences and future trajectory are the strokes they've made and will make on the world; possessing a unique soul or extraordinary body determines the brush's technique—whether it's realism or abstraction."

"As for personality and emotion: personality dictates how a person treats the world; emotion is the world's feedback to them after they've lived through it—equivalent to the color of the mark the brush leaves on the canvas."

Seeing the middle-aged man's confused expression, the Water Bearer Director sighed:

"Put simply, these three pairs of hands probe: what kind of painting a person makes on the world, what technique they use, and what color pigment they apply."

"So if each pair contains one 'abnormal' element, it ensures the brush's painting is 'abnormal.' Then, with just a little help from me, this abnormal brush will paint a canvas named 'Anomaly.'"

"Do you understand?"

"I think so…"

The middle-aged man nodded uncertainly, then asked curiously:

"What if all six hands move? What kind of Anomaly would such a person produce?"

"If someone truly made all six hands move…"

The Water Bearer Director frowned:

"That would mean a painful past, a glorious future, a powerful body, a pure soul, a fanatical personality, and a mad emotion. Honestly, if you ever meet such a person, I'd advise you to run immediately."

"Huh?"

"If such a person exists—whether good or evil—they are destined to utterly transform the world,

unleashing an unimaginably terrifying wave.

The Anomaly they spawn would be like a masterpiece painted with the most brilliant, insane colors and the wildest, freest brushstrokes… or perhaps a canvas of total annihilation."

"…"

In short, change is terrifying, especially for people like you and me who aren't anything good; following behind him to stir things up would likely mean nine deaths and one chance of survival, while standing against him to try and halt the tide would mean certain death.

So if you ever actually encounter someone like him, don't think about anything unnecessary, don't do anything unnecessary—just run as far away as you can.

"Alright…"

"Also, this watch isn't just sitting here for nothing."

After glancing at the middle-aged man with a dazed expression, the Aquarius Director raised his hand and pointed toward the Police Department, his face serious:

"Besides probing others' potential to become anomalies, this device can also help you locate the anomalies I created… don't forget what you promised me!"

"You mean… the thing in that red-haired Director's drawer?"

"Yes."

The Aquarius Director nodded, his expression grave as he instructed:

"There's something extremely important to me, kept in that woman's drawer—roughly the shape of a photograph."

Normally you'd have no chance, but this time the person questioning me is her, so when the inquiry begins, you can slip into the Clearance Bureau through the 【Gate of the Other World】 while she's away."

Then, the hands of the 【Dream-Seeking Watch】 will automatically guide you to the photo I want—if you can successfully retrieve it and bring it back to me, I will give you a reward you'll find satisfactory."