Chapter 1563 - 86: Master of French Fries_2

"What comes after?"

"I mean, after these hundred years, then another hundred, a thousand?" Bologue explained. "Don’t you understand yet? Palmer, whether it’s a hundred years, a thousand years, ten thousand years, in the almost eternal life of the undead, they’re merely fleeting moments."

Palmer pondered.

Bologue spoke sadly, "Whether you immerse yourself in art, science, contemplation, or anything else, they cannot consume your long life. In the end, you will still slowly fade, becoming a pale shadow."

"Sounds like being undead is really awful..."

"Yes, terribly awful. In the end, the only thing you can trust is your unyielding will," Bologue murmured. "But sometimes, even I wonder — can my will really endure such prolonged time without corruption?"

The two stared at each other until Bologue’s gaze made Palmer slightly uneasy. It was then he suddenly remembered that Bologue too was an undead.

Palmer murmured, "Is this the future you foresee?"

"Pretty much, quite despairing, isn’t it?" Bologue said indifferently. "But don’t worry, I won’t become that awful, at least not now, and I still feel that I am human; immortality is merely a tool to help me achieve my goals."

"But as you said, you’re also worried about whether you’ll change, whether you’ll turn pale, whether you’ll decay, just like what you once detested immensely."

The slow-witted Palmer finally empathized with Bologue’s state of mind at this moment. For the first time, he felt genuinely concerned for his partner.

Bologue remained silent, looking up to see a stray cat cautiously emerging from beneath a car.

"Wait a moment."

Bologue wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Palmer or the stray cat.

He left for a brief moment and when he returned, holding a large bag of fries, he shared half with Palmer and took a few sticks, tossing them towards the stray cat.

After a hiss, the stray cat disappeared from sight.

Bologue wore an expression of helplessness, "Ah, what a pity."

Sighing, Bologue asked, "Where were we just now?"

"I’m very worried about you, Bologue."

Palmer said seriously, yet his hands were rummaging through the bag. The fries were still warm, freshly cooked, at the best moment for tasting.

"Yeah, I’m worried about myself too. If I turned into what I despise, I’d surely be miserable."

Bologue grabbed a handful of fries and stuffed them into his mouth, speaking indistinctly.

"So my initial thought has never changed."

"What?"

"To redeem my soul, to return to being an ordinary person."

Palmer thought for a moment, then recalled that several years ago, when they were both first-stage Condensers, Bologue had mentioned wanting to find the Devil to redeem his soul from him and return to being an ordinary person.

"Wait a minute, wouldn’t that mean you wouldn’t be an undead anymore?"

Palmer’s voice raised in pitch, and a cat’s meow and hiss came from the shadows.

"What are you trying to say? You think giving up immortality is stupid?" Bologue laid back, his body stretched across several steps. "See, Palmer, that’s how it is with immortality. You realize it only leads to despair, but when it’s time to let go, you don’t dare to."

"Do... do you dare?"

"Hmm... I dare," Bologue shared his thoughts. "My state of mind has been evolving with growth. Initially, I despised immortality because of guilt, a strong sense of self-blame and self-destructive mentality."

Palmer knew this story, Bologue was the sole survivor of the Scorched Earth Wrath. Everything he was familiar with disappeared in the radiant incineration. It all haunted him like a nightmare, only improving these past few years.

"Now, the reason I despise immortality is what I’ve just said—I’m afraid, I’m afraid immortality will change the essence of my will, even though I think I won’t lose."

Bologue mocked himself, "Quite contradictory, isn’t it?"

"Indeed, very contradictory, extremely contradictory," Palmer set the bag aside, wiping his hands on his pants. "It reminds me of some extreme examples, like self-harm; the self-harmer isn’t truly trying to hurt themselves but is seeking self-punishment, releasing inner anguish, or seeking others’ care.

Just like a drowning man crying for help, yet only swallowing more and more seawater."

Their conversation fell into silence again. They each quietly ate their fries, Bologue was eating while looking for that stray cat, hoping to provide it with a decent meal, while Palmer was contemplating Bologue’s situation, and lamenting the fries were not as crispy as Bode’s.

That’s true, as an undead, Bode might have a decade’s worth of experience frying fries. Such a master of frying fries is unparalleled by any street vendor.

Palmer asked, "Do you think you can redeem your soul?"

Bologue squinted his eyes, recalling his essence as the Soulless, remembering the pure souls born from the New World Plan, and then recalling the gray white skeletons resembling him seen Between Nothingness...

"Who knows?" Bologue joked, "Devils are a bunch of stingy creatures; once in their hands, it’s likely irretrievable."

"Oh."

Palmer continued, "Then you’ll probably continue living forever, living to see the future you described."