Chapter 1642: with translation of chapter title

NO．257：I've run out of patience!

Although the act itself is of great significance, its execution takes only a few seconds.

When Narita Shiromitsu's initial worries and anxieties never turned into actual spoken confession, Aomo Lindun could only discern that the other party was reluctant to share their inner thoughts.

Considering that in thought there is an unconscious turn toward oneself, that matter is largely still related to oneself.

What could that be?

Aomo is always skilled at combining the information gathered from observation onto people, and in doing so drawing out the intersections between people, while those intersections also come together to form a facet of a story.

He can rely on more observation and inference to complete that facet, covering the backside that cannot be seen by observation alone, gradually piecing together the full picture of an entire story.

This is the reason why what he thinks in his heart is always more than what he says, and also why, although he usually prioritizes efficiency, he still shows extreme patience at times—because most of the time, this series of processes requires time.

It takes time to accumulate more information, verify hypotheses, eliminate errors, and re-establish lines of thought; this process itself, for Aomo Lindun, possesses an unfailing interest.

While enabling him to further understand others, it also constantly refreshes his cognition of the world formed by these people.

This endless stream of freshness is where his interest lies, and also a potential sense of gain, making him willing to engage with any unique person, extreme person, even criminals.

All of these serve to enrich experience, enrich knowledge, and enable a more comprehensive understanding of society and the world.

It is also a whetstone that allows oneself to become as good as possible compared to yesterday.

And in the accumulation of these twenty years of life, he already has some achievements.

He can already, based on brief observation, determine the character, relationships, life history, and even recent work and some brief experiences of 'certain people,' which is already akin to the methods of a detective novel protagonist.

But it is still only some achievements.

Because those 'certain people' themselves constitute an extremely small interval, definable as the realm of mediocrity.

Work follows a fixed routine, daily life is without waves, thought follows inertia, ideas are ordinary—if one could persist for decades or even centuries, this mediocrity could become extraordinary, but for now, mediocrity is just mediocrity.

Seeing through these people's thoughts and feelings is not worth celebrating; their thinking and behavior are so templated, hardly worth mentioning, like a novice tutorial level—although most of society consists of groups drifting above and below this state, in other words, mastering this point is enough to make your life run smoothly and your career stable.

But that premise also requires that you yourself are equally mediocre.

This is obviously a paradox.

Because if you are a mediocre person, you could not develop such habits and abilities; and if you are not mediocre, you could not constantly associate with mediocre people.

This is precisely the reality in which Aomo Lindun finds himself.

He lives in a world where entertainment, work, and cases intertwine, everything as if ever-changing, and he also comes into contact with people of any age whose experience is extraordinary and hard to judge by common sense.

He naturally cannot be satisfied with his current accumulation.

Rather, his current accumulation is indeed far insufficient to cope with the present situation.

Even thanks to the blessing of multiple women in his family, the efficiency with which Aomo's 'database' fills its biggest gap is already remarkable, yet the client groups represented by the central trainer and the mercenary agency still exhibit an extraordinary diversity.

That is precisely the diversity that still prevents him from responding with ease, and part of the cause stems from his own being a fan of horse-girls, a loyal old fan of a few specific old Triple Crown winners.

This is somewhat noticeable.

Not only the high school girls, but also those few in the adult group seem to have made some resolution, as their recent weeks' attitudes, styles, and overall manner of interacting with others have greatly differed from before.

It's hard not to notice.

This overly coincidental timing reflects a behind-the-scenes consensus of mutual exchange, and even earlier, when Sirius frankly expressed his feelings, he realized that his fan filter had become the crux of a mistaken judgment.

But he has no way to resolve it.

He also cannot precisely excise memories to restore himself to the factory setting of 'not a horse-girl fan,' nor can he simply rely on subjective thought to dismantle the fan filter; he can only, when needed, try to extract the characteristics of the idols he wishes to analyze and apply them to a person without the filter for inference, in order to achieve relatively normal functioning.

That is obviously not very reliable.

The extracted characteristics are incomplete, so the gap between simulation and reality will cause the speculation to be riddled with errors and omissions.

Thus, Aomo is like reliving the early stage of his life, returning to a state where he lacks confidence in any speculation, unable to instantly see others' thoughts, merely recording those results temporarily during observation and thought, then focusing on the present.

"…Trainer."

"You say."

He looked toward the Chazuo approaching now, which is a microcosm of the high-school horse-girls that Aomo needs to pay attention to simultaneously.

Entering the fiercest competition too early, facing the collapse of ideals too early, realizing too early that one is not the whole world.

This world will not even immediately respond to your call, because others are also calling.

—Among these, the situation of Manchester Chazuo is even relatively good.

Because she actually does not have, like Mippu Bourbon, the initial setting of aiming for the classic Triple Crown as a goal.

Within the whole team, her attitude toward running is the most casual.

There is no dream that must be realized on the track, no consideration of seeking an extreme in running, and no urgent insistence on making someone win a trophy.

She is merely chasing a shadow.

She is chasing the shadow that a 'friend' once showed her, which seems always to run ahead.

Like a spiral, each time she thinks she has caught up, 'she' appears again ahead, wearing similar clothes, having a similar silhouette, as if revealing her future self.

It is as if saying you will run here, that is where you ought to be, thus making it hard to stop the pursuit, even if you win, you cannot be satisfied.

Whether in training or on past tracks, 'she' will be there.

With a leading stance that is hard to catch up to, only the final burst of the last leg after reaching the final stretch can barely keep pace, and in others' eyes, it nearly overlaps with the black shadow summoned by her innate talent.

However, in the Gaoyue Prize and Jidong Derby tracks.

She finds it hard to see 'her'.

Being drowned out by too many runners ahead, and overlapped by Duìyou running ahead, only when the whole group of runners is torn apart, each scattering at different distances in the final stretch, can she lock onto 'her's' position, then, in steps that closely follow but rarely surpass, she misses the champion twice by a hair.

She failed to surpass 'friend,' yet watching those people pass by like Mercedes, that humiliation is far more silencing than handing over a trophy, leaving her in silence, engaging in countless uncontrollable random thoughts.

Extreme, dangerous, directed at others, directed at oneself—ultimately, the trainer came up with a simple yet crucial summary.

—Just a vanguard, just a beginning.

Although the understanding of failure has some deviation, its core meaning is already enough to give those random thoughts a sufficient breakthrough.

That anticipation toward Senlinbaoxue classmate is also a place she can understand.

After all, it's different from Suzi, who is considered worth noticing only when she has a request; Manchester Chazuo has always been observing and watching the people around, even if they don't seem like they'd intersect with oneself.

As a classmate, Senlinbaoxue caught her eye; she once sighed at that over-the-top, swaggering arrogance—an extreme of confidence bordering on conceit that, though on a different path from Suzi's, was essentially the same.

What the trainer probably hopes to see isn't some unimaginable, overly pretentious Manchester Chazuo, but rather the kind of perseverance that, despite being continually outdone in the trials, still dares to face each challenge.

Manchester Chazuo understands this clearly and distinguishes the difference, but……

What exactly are these seniors doing?

Watching these days when she urgently needs to catch up on lessons, the university department seniors and the seniors from several batches prior, who even harass the trainer with high intensity, even her gentle self cannot help but feel anger rise, prompting her to voluntarily apply to join, to run on the same track as those seniors she once respected, repeatedly cutting off their interaction with the trainer.

…Do they even know what they're doing! Have they ever seen a real trainer!?

Holding such anger, on the two-person training field that Suzi and Aizhi deliberately created, she is their representative, dragging the trainer's somewhat scattered attention.