Chapter 564: with translation of chapter title

NO. 146: That night, he didn't grow up! (x

"Pff…"

The stifled laughter that couldn't be contained actually came from Texas beside him.

"Hahahaha, you… you two, ah, no, I have to share this with everyone in the public group later."

The unrestrained laughter, even proclaiming it would be spread widely, was obviously the Seraph's remark.

The reactions of those bystanders obviously couldn't match the silence of the person involved.

When Aomo's one sentence left Lapland speechless, that cold, dangerous, lone gangster aura was gone.

Only a foolish dog's bewildered nature remained.

Chasing another wolf that has strayed from the pack is itself a bewildered expression; when she says she's just Texas and you say you're Lapland, paying attention to her doesn't mean you've found your future or established your place.

You merely understood the essence of your struggle with her, but the path you truly ought to walk still needs to be found by yourself.

But if you keep fixating on her, you're actually going down the wrong path.

You still haven't found your place; you're just using her as your anchor.

You no longer look that crazy, nor are you as obsessive about everything Texas, no longer so 'ill'.

But that lesion will instead be hidden deeper.

You are still a bewildered wolf; independence isn't because you have the qualities of a new king, but because you have nowhere to return…

Aomo didn't linger in observing the information this person revealed in his dazed state; he merely raised his hand toward the skewers on the table, as if to bury the matter.

But the other person also leaned back at that moment, propping against the chair with a somewhat carefree ease, and asked: "Go on, what help do you want?"

"I haven't decided yet; you can go ask Texas first." The little boy waved the skewers, not really wanting to continue speaking.

Even though the latter part of the work went unexpectedly smoothly, allowing the late-night snack segment to take place before midnight, for a child's body this time is still long past bedtime.

Sleeping early is how you grow taller, right?

The energy consumption is quite severe, causing frequent fluctuations between ages 11 and 13.

It relies on eating and micro-naps.

"There's something I shouldn't need to say," he said, turning back and pointing with the iron skewer at her and the wine bottle beside the Seraph, "You two work it out yourselves."

"All right!" The Seraph, who had regained the cheerful air from earlier laughter, let out a call with the flair of a street performer from the Great Yan.

"Little Aomo, watch this! My Lei Sis can blow bottles with that Ghost Sir!"

"I'm watching," Aomo said, his expressionless face showing his distrust.

Then, half an hour later, Aomo poked the Seraph's head with the back of the iron skewer:

"Hey, can you walk?"

"Yes, definitely… uh, yes, of…," the Seraph slumped on the table moaned, "I am… a Seraph!"

"You can't even have a gn battle sword, still exia." Little Aomo, who had withdrawn the iron skewer, somewhat troublesomely dragged that guy off the chair and propped him up.

The subtle height difference is his main hindrance to movement, but even so it's not exactly difficult; rather, it's somewhat nostalgic.

He nostalgically recalled how he once used this height to prop up an adult figure as tall as 1.83 meters, and now his action synchronizes with that from eight years ago; standing by the car door, he flung the eighty- to ninety-pound item in his hand onto the back seat with an explosive toss.

Someone already dizzy doesn't deserve to complain about worse dizziness, and even complaining about needing to be gentler with girls is meaningless; back then Aomo tossed his foster father onto the back seat just like that, showing that distinctions of closeness and gender meant nothing to him.

Truly a pioneer of equality in the new era.

"... Thanks for the trouble, but I could have come myself."

Texas, who had just fastened Lapland's seatbelt on the other side, was startled by the Seraph suddenly flung over, but still proceeded to straighten her body and buckle her seatbelt.

"It's fine, I'm used to it; a bit more efficiency is good." Aomo, standing by the car, was about to go to the passenger seat when he saw a familiar face in strange attire approach.

"You've changed a lot, Mr. Linton."

"Your change isn't small either, Mr. Giaolo."

Giaolo, Federico Giaolo, codename Undertaker, a Rutlan like the Seraph, i. e., the so-called 'Angel'.

He and Aomo had only one encounter, namely the operation in front of the Withering Sculpture Exhibition Hall back then.

In that operation, Aomo acted alongside the team dispatched from Rhode Island, but he harshly 'bullied' while simultaneously serving as driver, intelligence officer, monster consultant, and captain.

The Undertaker was one of the team's members.

Indeed, that operation saw the enemy's power expand too quickly, leaving many team members without a chance to shine, yet he still got to know all the members and even earned the right to permanently monitor the Rhode Island forum.

And through that monitoring he further learned about those members' conditions and recent situations.

Among them, the Undertaker, this young man with silver hair whose thought process is very 'male Bourbon' and somewhat mechanical, seems to have constantly been dispatched by Rhode Island, causing many engineering department staff and logistics specialists to worry about him.

Yes, according to intelligence gathered by Aomo, the Undertaker's appearance highly matches Rhode Island company employees' aesthetic, to the point that there have been records of multiple opposite-sex colleagues pursuing and confessing to him.

Even though they all ended in failure, it doesn't stop them from continuing to worry.

After all, the Cool Noodle Guy doesn't seem like the type to actively look for a girlfriend; everyone failed, everyone is equal, and everyone might still have a chance!

And now, the Cool Noodle Guy that Aomo sees has become even cooler.

Clad in what seems like a ceremonial robe from some culture, even the narrow, sharp, black-crystal-like wings behind him slightly expanded, and beside him hovered a strange mechanical drone.

Above it floated a black machine with a black halo, dark red patterns spreading across its surface, plus a pair of mechanical arms gripping a short sickle in its hand, the sickle bearing dark red liquid traces, making it resemble a death god's attendant more than an angel's follower.

The whole design exudes an ominous vibe, enough to draw glances from other patrons at the nearby street food stalls.

Some even lifted their phones, operating the terminals, clearly intending to record it.

By rights, Aomo should have run away at this point.

Those people taking photos could easily frame him in the shot; a few days later, when the pictures are displayed, it might not be admiration for the handsomely dressed Cool Noodle Guy, but rather showing off the child in the photo.

That gossip reporter's matter still isn't settled, and that PR assistant actually plans to go back and renegotiate the contract with him later!

But now…

Aomo's gaze lingered on the death god–like drone's sickle for a few seconds, after which he had to call out: "How about we talk in the car? This place isn't suitable."

The dark red liquid on the sickle is completely unlike mere decoration.

Good.

Straightforward and efficient, the undertaker's speech, while equally lacking in inflection, at least is not mechanical.

Meanwhile, mechanized mental activity and behavior are actually convenient at this time.

Of course, when he saw, following Aomo's raised-hand gesture, the sleeping Nengtianshi and Lapulande leaning left and right in the carriage, and then saw Dekesas on the driver's seat giving him a doubtful look, his single sentence still made Dekesas pause.

He said, "Sorry to disturb you."

Seeing Dekesas's reaction, Aomo became confident that her impression of the undertaker version was hardly different from his own.

We need to head back to the East District of the Gate; if your destination isn't nearby, we might as well make a long story short now.

All right, as you can see, I've returned from carrying out a mission; this task was assigned by the bishop of the Blessed Gospel Squad.

After I had subdued one set of targets, I saw from their plan design that the members of Penguin Logistics were also among the targets; I reported this to Doctor Luoxia, but he hoped I would inform you all nearby, and that's it.

I see...

After exchanging a glance with Dekesas, Aomo figured out why the latter two tasks had suddenly gone smoothly, and he felt a bit more at ease.

We should also thank you for helping us resolve the trouble.

"You're welcome; then may I leave?" he asked, glancing at the Nengtianshi who unconsciously tugged at the edge of his robe to wipe his mouth.

His desire to leave seemed quite eager.

But considering his personality, the reason for his eagerness to leave is more likely that he couldn't find a reason to stay.

Of course; I believe there will be an apology from Leimioule tomorrow.

"Understood, then..." He seemed to be recalling something, then still said in his usual monotone, "Wishing you all a pleasant night."

After saying that, he slipped out of the carriage, together with his uncleaned drone.

Left in the carriage, Aomo turned his head and asked: "Has he recently been taking some etiquette lessons?"

"Perhaps the doctor taught him," Dekesas said lightly.

No matter what, you can relax a bit now.

Is it that obvious?

You've been looking unhappy all along.

Don't describe people like a killer whale, but are you sure these few tasks will let your friend's city truly develop? What materials did he procure for trade?

Technology and thought; cities not reliant on the mafia are commonplace in this world, and far more complete in their construction frameworks than the other countries and cities of my homeland—this is the wealth he dreams of.

Hearing that, I really want to chat with your friend.

He's already gone back; that was the day I was looking for you, but I can relay this idea to you.

Then that would be a trouble for you, but before that, I have an improper request.

Aomo said, glancing at the light screen in midair.

On it, constantly popping up message windows; the first two were from Suzi and Bopang, after that it was all Qian's meaningless repetition.

【Will you come back or not!】

【Will you come back or not!】

【Will you come back or not!】

……

Are you trying to take my life or lure my soul?

"What?" Dekesas asked, activating the truck's operation mode.

Can I spend a night at your place? I can sleep on the sofa or on the floor, and I might not even go to bed early.

I still have to wrangle with the PR assistant, and also chat with the super agent about the nodes of the new universe; clearly I'm already in a child's body, yet I can't go to bed early.

Sure, I was already planning to bring those two drunks home too; the house isn't short on extra bedding.

Thanks.

Aomo muttered while tapping the light screen, not to reply to that repetition, but to prepare for an early duel with the PR assistant.

The reason he doesn't want to just sleep straight through for three days is that there are too many such trivial matters to handle; right now it's merely a return to the proper track.

But seven hours later after that.

When he had one hand covering his head and one foot kicking his face, and his own body was further trapped by an overly tight embrace, he couldn't help but wonder where his path had gone.