Chapter 1534: with translation of chapter title

NO．149：How could there be so many impossibilities

Clad entirely in black, from a distance only his full armor shone with a blood‑red light that flickered on and off.

He appeared unusually tall and sturdy with broad shoulders, and faintly, the outline of horns could be seen growing from his forehead…

As he left the Grand Puppet Theater, he spotted a pair that was hard to ignore, but he did not halt the stride of his escort vehicle.

Clearly, in judging urgency, he gravitated toward the silhouettes on those six quartz transfer platforms.

Nishizaki Yutaka, Federico, Sirius, Mujina, Biquetus, Holleya—such battle records all fell under Arturo's name.

Although, as the theater director said, the mental contamination was not high—just a simple stirring of deep‑buried feelings by that dot‑matrix diagram sister's piano notes—each became somewhat withdrawn, but among them… uh… three of them.

The point is those three ladies.

Exactly, the three ladies.

When he was no longer consumed by urgent battle conditions and environmental analysis, he naturally had to confront this problem that came rushing in like a relay race.

Although calling her 'Miss' poses no problem, it's actually preferable to address her as 'Miss' to win her favor, but Aomo's concern now lies elsewhere—in a solemn declaration.

He had once candidly promised one of the three that he would tie up those months of waiting during some spare time; now he isn't truly idle yet, but an accident has already occurred—someone who ought to have naturally come along, bringing the other two (or being brought by them), then being swept up by Arturo Miss's piano notes and their long‑repressed feelings…

This really is the sort of thing he had put aside back then, but confronting it now gives him a double headache.

But obviously it still must be faced.

After all, this time the piano's effect was genuine, and everyone's memories are truly intact.

Indeed, the moment he stepped off the stage, the black‑haired, black‑eyed black angel approached, staff in hand, lauding his formidable will and lauding that her previous piano notes had been wholly repelled—though this occurred at the Rhein Life Sereya director's side, and even though she had deflected the notes, she had not deflected the flow of emotion.

In other words, although she failed to provoke the other into an extreme display of resolute will, Arturo Miss still sensed the pattern deep within Sereya's heart, just as she had during her first encounter with Tressia and Aomo.

However, that black angel's empathic ability is clearly not as pure and hidden as the former Demon King's, so for her, the current Aomo Lindun remains an unobservable black box—enough to pique her interest and express anticipation for their next meeting.

Yes, she had no intention of going to the hospital with him.

Likely due to trust, or perhaps simple detachment, or maybe the stage‑adjustment topic she had just tested was the most appealing, she allowed her cold‑faced, taciturn cousin and this group of people to be bundled off to the hospital together.

Regardless of the reason, Aomo let out a slight sigh of relief.

Because, in his view, the difficulty he'll face next doesn't require an audience.

Especially this sort of audience—people he's just met and had a bit of interaction with, which is only slightly better than strangers.

Of course, having no audience is best.

Although these days of experience in the public‑figure arena have already granted him a rare composure and patience surpassing most of his peers.

He is now able to stay steady, unmoved by public gossip.

But this is obviously not just his affair.

A lady from a conglomerate who entered the security system, accumulating experience and rank, trained to become the Teqiju Juanzhang, yet never once talked about love—a career‑oriented mind.

One who, in the sense of life's meaning, is still a newborn less than two years old.

And one who has drifted through multiple industries, each with its own deeds and its own infamy, a weathered multi‑identity person…… Holleya really is the most out of place among them.

With a max‑level build she mingles in the fish pond, yet always stays within a certain progress range; rather than saying she has odd shortcomings, it's more that Aomo is too good at defending.

A person whose looks and figure hit your sweet spot, openly showing affection and enthusiasm, constantly looking for chances to ask you out, able to play the type you like, without doubt after the outing they'll want to continue with a meat‑eater follow‑up, from work to private leisure they're constantly brushing up their presence—this kind of goblin‑chin‑scratching premise should only be a big do special do!

But some demons, ah, can turn the impossible into possible for you.

Don't rush.

That legendary demon hunter, you don't rush first.

I'm not talking about you.

Speaking of Aomo, put down your brother's plastic chair.

Alright, setting aside the howling gale that just passed, when that silent accompaniment ended after a check and prescription taking ten‑plus minutes, Nishizaki Yutaka and Federico likewise had no intention of post‑match review or discussing gains; each simply found an excuse, said they'd head back for online chat, and hurried off, after which Aomo couldn't tell whether they'd sensed trouble or simply couldn't calm their mindset.

Usually, that deep‑buried emotion is some regret, some entanglement, some pain; once such thoughts are exposed, what follows is either pain or a resolve that must be voiced.

Arturo's piano can make people sink or rise, but reality's complexity makes that rising not absolute—your resolve, your decisiveness, may not let you escape the predicament.

Undeniably, when that long‑suppressed emotion is finally released, there will surely be a feeling of relief, a heavy exhalation.

But after exhaling that breath, inhaling another is also quite common.

You haven't truly escaped the predicament.

You begin to face a new predicament.

Just like those similarly silent ladies.

Of course, not including the Sirius symbol.

That Sirius, who just fought the virtual avatar of the otherworld uncle in the den, is full of vigor; at first, mixing among a crowd, he seemed like an optimist mingling with pessimists, looking east and west with vigor, yet not understanding.

But he also feels great about himself, his appearance like a silly dog shaking its head and sticking out its tongue.

Makes Aomo think of Lappland.

Thinking of this wolf with such an arrogant, overbearing nature, perhaps they'll all end up on the same road called 'silly dog'.

Aomo begins to worry about Narita Hakujin's future, just like worrying when a Thunderbolt character will break the mold; he hopes everyone's cool, badass impression can strive to hold value, not collapse too quickly.

But he doesn't really have the leisure to think about these things, because the situation changes too fast; just after the silly‑dog Sirius left Nishizaki Yutaka and Federico, it seemed to have caught a whiff of something.

Of course, it could also be that he remembered.

After all, when she fought the Moon‑Chase symbol, this side was also shouting on the public channel; if she had even the slightest distraction, she ought to have heard it.

Just remembering itself isn't much; even if he caught a whiff, at most it would be a few more people pointing at Aomo and commenting.

Aomo is also pretty used to Sirius's aggressiveness toward him, and doesn't think she'd suddenly go crazy laughing at those three ladies who aren't very familiar.

But…

When this person, as if sensing a clue, falls into thought, then immediately his eyes widen in surprise, and the gaze directed at him is not narrow or mocking, but angry.

Then Aomo would have to reflect back, fingers interlaced.

Then he would place both hands on his forehead, sinking into confusion.

Finally he lifted his head and raised his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He somewhat wanted to hold a cigarette.

Although he basically doesn't know how to smoke.