Chapter 8: Connections Already Cast

Even though he stayed up late, Aomo's wake-up time remained stable, leaving time for breakfast, so he could catch the first half hour of the subway rush hour.

At this time, the train car was far from crowded, but the subway line to the west district was always busy, so the two newly arrived students could only stand.

"So why are you sighing... You just don't want to talk about horse girl topics, do you?"

A few seconds after the subway started moving, the center of gravity gradually stabilized, and Bi Ze dared to let go of the strap, standing beside the perpetually steady Aomo and asking in a low voice.

They stood at the connection between subway cars, and not far away, in the middle of another car, stood a horse girl wearing a Treresen uniform—that was why Bi Ze lowered his voice.

Their innate qualities are several times those of ordinary people, and even their hearing is exceptionally sharp; at least Bi Ze, who calls himself a horse girl player, understands this.

However, he didn't recognize who she was; otherwise he wouldn't have so innocently looked elsewhere.

"Could it be that you're sighing in admiration of your extraordinary brain circuits?" Aomo glanced at him wordlessly, then unconsciously glanced at the horse girl, "Maybe you could apply for the Department of Ancient History next year."

He had a slight headache.

His keen perception constantly expressed a stabbing sense of danger, making it hard for him to ignore the horse girl's wild oppression that was not deliberately restrained from inside out.

She indeed didn't need to restrain herself; Bi Ze and the other passengers seemed completely unaware, and for him, stuck in this awkward state, it was hard not to focus his attention on that horse girl who often hung out at several pool halls and was a past derby champion.

Having looked up so many races, he would naturally remember the appearances of many horse girls, and that unique hair color—brown with a white patch in the middle—was especially hard to ignore.

She was practically a retired horse girl, with plenty of free time, and combined with her astonishing physique forged by training, it was only natural that what she could learn included combat.

Aomo had no doubt that the aura he sensed could be converted into combat power, but perhaps she wasn't doing it intentionally, and he shouldn't overreact.

At this moment, Bi Ze's natural tone in continuing the conversation actually helped him shift his attention more smoothly.

"Is the hatred that deep?" Bi Ze unexpectedly understood Aomo's earlier words, shrinking his neck, "How's your homework going?"

As a student who had already given up early, Bi Ze didn't even plan to do his homework, let alone turn it in; caring about this topic-shifting method seemed rather stiff.

Stiff as it was, Aomo had also grown tired of scolding this guy, so he simply went along with his topic: "Speaking of homework, did you hear any rumors yesterday?"

"For example..." Aomo considered Bi Ze's tendency to jump topics, still decided to speak clearly, saying with an uncertain tone, "Time travelers?"

"What do you mean?" Bi Ze's expression became slightly more serious, "Any incident?"

"No..." Aomo gave up.

He had originally thought that preparing this material for time travelers in the middle of the night without explanation likely meant some urgent late-night event; he was curious, but he couldn't ignore the possibility that secrecy was truly needed, so he didn't just blurt it out,

He also thought that Bi Ze's social circle was quite active nowadays; although it didn't mesh with the senior-year cramming classmates, after class he could still strike up conversations everywhere, so his information should be fairly reliable, allowing some expectations of him.

But the facts showed he severely underestimated Bi Ze's thought process; upon hearing the words 'rumors' and 'time travelers,' this person's mind concluded not 'maybe some transfer students will return to the class,' but 'are there any criminal cases involving time travelers nearby!'

It was really an overly ambitious line of thought, leaving Aomo completely unable to cope.

"Not? What exactly is it?" Bi Ze seemed completely unaware of Aomo's mental exhaustion, even starting to analyze on his own: "Yesterday... yesterday, we were still talking about homework, oh, homework!"

Well, it's not completely reckless; at least he'll look back.

Aomo likes observing and is good at it; his foster father said he had strong insight and knew how to use this advantage, and his predictions of horse girl races were also based on this.

By collecting race data while observing the condition of horse girls running on the recent track, he makes predictions.

This is a very tedious process; Aomo, whose mind lacks crystals to aid thinking, obviously has talent.

In the past, he might have considered the profession of 'Detective,' but looking at the present, the joint development of technology and superhuman abilities has increased case-processing difficulty by geometric multiples, resulting in:

The simple cases are especially simple—just check the surveillance and it's done.

The complex cases are also especially complex. High-tech crime combined with high IQ may also bring some strange abilities; even the famous deductive method is based on understanding things. If there truly exists someone in this world whose vast erudition touches countless fields, they would probably be a long-lived longevity species.

Anyway, Aomo, who is only 19, is not up to it.

Even if he reads widely and uses search engines well, his knowledge can at most reach the limit of an 'ordinary' person.

But this world has been insulated from the ordinary since the moment time travelers appeared.

Fortunately, Bi Ze is still within the realm of ordinary people, even though his thoughts often resemble those of an alien.

His existence actually reminds Aomo of a horse girl, one named 'Huangjin Chuan'.

Actually, this is a rather arbitrary statement; after all, compared to that remarkable girl, Bi Ze still isn't free enough, but Aomo believes in his potential.

It's still just 'Helloworld' less than six months in, with some constraints, not yet fully unleashed; give him one academic year, and he will surely burst forth with excellent or even outstanding alien flair, you know!

I also don't know if Bi Ze knows that Aomo holds such expectations for him, and whether he would be moved to tears.

If it's this Bi Ze, then he definitely can—no, he absolutely can, easily can, you know!!

"I haven't heard of any fellow townspeople..."

At this moment, the still-growing alien could only think like a normal earthling (x

"Although they're both time travelers, they're not necessarily from your world." Aomo rigorously reminded Bi Ze about the inappropriateness of the term 'fellow townspeople.'

"It doesn't matter; anyway, even if there really are time travelers, unless they're truly from my world, there's indeed no need to notify me, let alone others."

Bi Ze said this, then saw Aomo staring at him blankly, somewhat surprised: "... What's wrong?"

"... Your thought process, why can it be so normal right now?" Aomo murmured.

"What do you mean 'this time'? I've always been normal!" Bi Ze exclaimed indignantly.

"We've arrived, let's go."

"Hey you! First admit that I've always been normal!"

"Normal people don't need this kind of admission."

The two gradually drifted apart, their backs slightly noisy, while the Sirius Symbol still standing far away, holding onto the strap, gazed at Aomo's back, with a hint of surprise in its rose-red eyes.

Looking at the uniform style of Establish Gate Middle School, he seemed lost in thought.

Whether it's that initial glance or the content of their conversation, it's quite interesting, belonging to a realm ordinary middle schoolers wouldn't encounter.

Although unknown now, he will surely become famous someday.

Such a little interlude put her in a good mood; looking at her phone, the line message from Ludaofu Xiangzheng also gave her some talking points.

"I stayed up until three before sleeping; you at least owe me two meals, and breakfast doesn't count."

In the second-floor office of Teaching Building No. 3 in Jie Men District Establish Gate Middle School, Aomo yawned and handed a stack of papers to the shadow elf druid before him, whose appearance matched that of Mafaliao.

The so-called matching meant a sturdy build, pointed ears, antlers, hair and beard equally vivid green, though at least the attire lacked wild release, and he wore the proper formal uniform of a discipline officer in all seriousness.

He is also Aomo's homeroom teacher.

Only when someone holds both the positions of teaching director and homeroom teacher is it worth a student taking seriously a message sent in the middle of the night.

After that, other students would probably start trying to trade for a get-out-of-jail-free card for rule violations or some leniency on their grades, or even a few nice words in front of their parents, but Aomo obviously doesn't need any of that.

He is a fringe figure in class, a fringe figure at school; his grades aren't T0 study‑god level but he counts as a T1 study tyrant, and as for parent issues—needless to say, Morrison has never successfully attended a few parent‑teacher meetings; it's the parents who need to be "grilled" by the teacher, not the student.

So the compensation he asks for is very material.

Buy me a meal. jpg

To increase persuasiveness he deliberately yawned, and with his lingering dark circles he could deal two blows to the other's conscience.

"Fine, fine, fine," the other party, obviously conscientious, took the paper, flipped through it hastily, and handed it to another teacher: "Trino, make a full copy."

"No problem."

"Two transmigrants?" Watching the office assistant walk away, Aomo, still standing where he was, was clearly curious.

The homeroom teacher didn't mind satisfying his curiosity, after all organizing "early‑education teaching materials" for transmigrant students is something Aomo has done three times already, including Bi Ze's copy, making this the fourth time; if it were an intern instead, their internship report could fit in plenty of praise.

Moreover, Aomo is just a temporary helper discovered among the students, and the homeroom teacher thinks highly of his potential; young people who have dreams and are willing to put in effort are always satisfying.

"A cybernetic teenager named Dawei Madingnesi and a spirit‑medium girl named Ge lei are both decent‑looking kids; you'll see them soon."

The homeroom teacher lifted a hand to brush the heavy‑looking antlers on his head, and his jujube‑red face, reminiscent of a Guan Yu statue, relaxed a bit.

"They aren't from the same world, but they each have companions here, which also spares us the trouble of arranging lodging."

"Ge lei? No surname?" Aomo noticed something particular.

"The names transmigrants give themselves aren't worth probing into," the homeroom teacher said, calm and composed.

"Indeed."

Aomo nodded, thinking that even if transmigrants called themselves pink fluffy bunnies, it could be understood as the state of affairs in another world.

But a moment later his face grew a bit grave: "They won't be assigned to our class, will they?"

"Right here in our class," the homeroom teacher said, his eyes flashing with a pale blue light, the authority of the teaching director evident without effort, "You do like knowledge of other worlds, don't you? Since you're aiming for the Two Worlds Safety Bureau, early contact with transmigrants is a good thing."

"Look, Bi Ze is always hanging around beside you."

"Is that the point?" Aomo said helplessly, "The college entrance exam is just a few days away—this semester is basically over. To put it figuratively, who would add a new character right before a drama ends?"

"What's that called again? Kamen Rider Zi-O," the teaching director said, trying to keep up with the youths' tastes.

"Take it away, take it away!"

But from the youths' reaction you can tell he's barking up the wrong tree.

"Not... what can you teach them in just three days? Besides, the other students are all buried in college‑entrance‑exam prep, and with classmates mostly not wanting to deal with them, their experience isn't just pure imprisonment."

"Everyone's starting to care about the new classmates—what a good omen," the teaching director chuckled.

I'm done for—my homeroom teacher is also an alien.

I don't even live on the Moon or in the Mars development zone……

Aomo felt depressed, and then heard the office assistant shout, "Director, your document copies are ready," as he brought over two stacks of paper.

"You haven't been this casual before," Aomo said after the office assistant left, looking up at the homeroom teacher flipping through the copies, "What are you scheming?"

"Not really—I said they each have companions here, right? One is a mercenary agency called… Edge Runner, yes, that's the name," the homeroom teacher nodded, "You might not have heard of it, but the other is quite famous—you certainly won't miss the clock tower that stands together with our school in the West District."

Aomo raised an eyebrow: "Clock Tower?"

"Yes, that's a major backer—it has branch towers in several districts of Terra, and this one here is also a branch tower."

"Although it's a branch tower, it's also working directly with the Source Energy Academy to prepare a few new subjects for the Magic Department…

The teaching director seemed to care a lot about the Magic Department; the conversation drifted off until he noticed Aomo's "can we skip?" look, paused, then patted his shoulder.

"Anyway, one of them has a team background, the other has a major backer; the school is just temporarily taking them in, and when the people coming to fetch them arrive, they can handle things themselves—it's hardly imprisonment."

"How long until then?" Aomo asked.

"The mercenary agency is right in the North District of the Boundary Gate; they should arrive in an hour or two. As for the girl's acquaintance at the Clock Tower, they have to come from the Clock Tower headquarters, passing several major districts—even with phase‑emergency protocols they'll be delayed a while."

"... Sorry, I got it wrong."

"Admitting mistakes is decisive—alright, I'll hand these two documents to them; go wait in the classroom for self‑study, and those two youngsters will be coming to find you soon."

"Okay, homeroom teacher, goodbye."

"Go on, polite kid."