Chapter 30: Too Bad, Getting Ready to Glare

"?"

Generally speaking, when someone throws out a question mark, it's not that they have a problem, but that they think you have a problem.

This theory fits Aomo perfectly; indeed, when the other party doesn't intend to say anything to explain, he can even throw out an inverted question mark!

"?"

"Don't mess with the terminal! Even if you're looking at me like that, I actually don't know what's going on."

"After all, I really felt like I was at the end of my rope then, and I didn't even have a chance to ask you for help."

What a useless answer, just like a teammate who watches a death replay in a game and still can't figure out how they died.

They only chatter by the spring, making you consider muting your teammate's voice chat and turning your gaze to other living people.

"Why isn't he dead yet?" "How the hell is this brat talking!"

How to put it? Seeing the corpse was rather sad, but the current situation... Aomo really can't regain even a trace of his previous emotions; instead, he feels a bit aggressive after being toyed with.

Confidentiality regulations, claiming the corpse and person—is that it?

All the way speaking in riddles, what's there to keep secret?

Every year, the number of people who die accidentally but manage to reassemble their souls, continue living in another way, or even, after passing layers of approval, obtain a quota to be resurrected with rebuilt flesh numbers in the hundreds of millions.

In this regard, there are laws that bind to limit population inflation and wandering spirits,

This kind of thing that could be openly displayed can still be kept secret...

Aomo raised his hand, wiped his nose, then looked at the silent safety bureau worker and said directly: "Can I just take the corpse and the person?"

"..." The worker, hearing that, froze a moment, looked at Aomo with some astonishment, then glanced at Morrison on the light screen beside him.

"See, I told you my kid doesn't need you to prepare all that." The spirit in the screen twitched its brows, utterly proud.

"You're proud as hell, is that how you raise a kid?" The worker and Morrison aren't close; they just built a little rapport in this collaboration, willing to preside over Morrison's 'aftermath' for him, never expecting that the son Morrison never mentioned in detail would turn out like this.

Time was limited; I only asked about the other's age and living situation, so I drafted a long monologue in my head.

Considering what spiritual development, what Taiji rhetoric, what Spring and Autumn brushwork—all to keep things secret and dissuade the other from learning the truth.

Nineteen is a very delicate age.

Legally already an adult, body and mind can bear some responsibility, but still young.

It's the kind of age that can bear responsibility, but only a little.

Still an age of youthful vigor, even impulsive and reckless—just look at how many college freshmen these days still have immature minds, and the weird news never stops.

That's why the worker pondered how to speak to soothe this kid, letting him accept reality without wild fantasies.

This incident is quite a problem; although the directly involved criminals have all been executed, merely breaking the knife without finding the knife-wielder doesn't count as resolved—if we let a fantasizing kid run around, it'll only be a tragedy.

As for directly telling the truth...

The confidentiality regulations explicitly include the families of fallen personnel; this option wasn't even considered at first.

Not only must we conceal most of the content, we also have to embellish parts of the case situation; fortunately, the 'deceased' is willing to cooperate, and though the worker finds this troublesome and unfamiliar, it's only natural—he braces himself, determined to face the youngster's sorrowful and resentful questioning under a surprise inspection from above.

Result... result...

Result: he felt as if punched by the Crimson King, sensing he'd skipped an entire stretch of time.

At first sight he could sense the other's heartfelt sorrow; back then he was just a somewhat strong-willed youngster, trying to appear tough in strangers' eyes, but after Morrison appeared, his response began to diverge from the usual youngster's thought process, especially now with his decisive efficiency.

Even knowing the foster father didn't truly die, he should still have questioned the culprit, wondered about the cause of death, and been curious about how the case would be handled.

How did he manage to bypass all that and, with astonishing restraint, produce such a decisive response?

Could Morrison's stated age be fake? Is this kid also a vampire who keeps his youthful looks due to bloodline? His actual experience and appearance don't match.

Such an unexpected turn left the worker at a loss.

"Uh, ah, sure," the worker, rarely speaking haltingly, but still remembering the original plan to tidy up the case, reached out and pulled from thin air a two-inch square paper box: "Please accept this floppy disk; it's a small part of Morrison's action logs, plus two paper documents, helpful for understanding... his cause of death and the background of this incident."

"Sounds really weird," Morrison on the light screen beside them stroked his chin.

I find it weird too... the worker muttered to himself: "Also, please note the account notice: the Two Worlds Safety Bureau will deposit Morrison Lindon's death benefit into your account within a day; don't confuse it with the death insurance he bought while alive."

"And also..." seeing Aomo silently accept the box, the worker, noticing the atmosphere growing heavy again, coughed and added: "Morrison refused a ceremonial funeral, intending to become an alchemical spirit; as his sole registered next of kin, you have the right to interfere with his decision—for instance, by becoming an electronic spirit."

"Ah? Why are you telling him that! What gives a little punk the right to meddle in a decision pondered over for 107 years of wisdom!" Suddenly Morrison flared up, causing all three present to glance sideways.

"As you see, the rights I mentioned are indeed effective," the worker said.

"Indeed, you can tell," Aomo gave a slight nod, "I understand he wants to attach to an object, becoming a so-called instrument spirit or magic device to keep me company."

Just like that nagging old grandfather who follows you around, in the transmigrator's memory it's an overly classic ancient tradition.

"Wow, you kid can still say such cheesy lines," "But I refuse, let him be an electronic wraith." "You little brat!"

Electronic wraiths, according to last year's spirit statistics table, 70% of spirits choose this lifestyle: after undergoing a round of enhanced data-compatibility spirit modification, they go to an electronic world designed for spirit information, or more plainly, a game world.

Every year, so many living people immerse themselves in the game world to the point of neglecting reality; having a game world for the dead to get lost in is also natural.

Even as disembodied spirits specialized in data compatibility, electronic wraiths have an experience even deeper than the market's top-tier full-immersion gear; as long as the game is realistic enough, it's tantamount to living a second life online.

Of course, it also allows spirits to occasionally leave the game, pick other game types, chat with relatives, or supplement recovery, etc.; since spirits aren't immortal, if they go mad, electronic police will conduct a raid.

However, if they don't go mad and honestly experience life, a spirit's lifespan can exceed that of the living; especially long-lived species can get used to immortality, whereas including humans, whose average lifespan is under a hundred years, most actually can't adapt to eternal spirit life and will eventually request euthanasia.

At least they've lived enough; choosing to leave voluntarily isn't regrettable, but with Morrison being a vampire, he could probably linger long in the electronic world—maybe even wait for Aomo to come down and keep him company.

But Morrison clearly had objections to Aomo's decision.

After all, he'd painstakingly gathered his sense of resolve, decided to properly shoulder the 'foster father' duty, and become a spirit following Aomo to face society together.

He even decided exactly what alchemical form to take—just a ring!

That bat‑emblem ring or skull‑ring, inspired by the *Garo* tokusatsu series Aomo once watched with him, called Zharuba's wand‑type magic device, Morrison thinks it's perfect—except he'll have to feel the other's sweat every time Aomo shakes hands with someone.

He's made such a huge sacrifice! This brat's one sentence just erased him!

It's just like an unfilial offspring who can't wait to kick the old geezer into a nursing home!