Roselle jolted violently, the silver plate in his hand slipping to the floor. He stared in shock at the sky outside, which had somehow turned dim without his noticing. Red and blue lights flashed across it.
"!!!"
He was very familiar with this scene.
He had once had a chaotic, nonsensical dream with no logic whatsoever. In that dream, a man claiming to be a police officer from the Space-Time Special Investigation Unit had arrived in a flying saucer, saying that Roselle was guilty of extraordinary transmigration and numerous other crimes, and that he was to be arrested.
But that had only been a dream!
So why…
"Oh, so I'm dreaming now too?"
Roselle patted his forehead. "Daytime thoughts turn into nighttime dreams, huh?"
Sure enough, a figure soon walked toward him, chanting:
"Huang Tao-Roselle Gustav, I am Officer Edward of the Temporal Special Investigation Unit, badge number 1386. You are hereby arrested for illegal transmigration, illegal interference with world development, illegal residence, and 1,256 other charges.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used as evidence in court."
"…"
Roselle sighed and raised both hands. "Whatever. I'm tired. Let the world burn. Just do it."
However, the man simply stared at him without taking a single step forward.
"Hm? Why aren't you acting? What are you waiting for?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the silver-white uniform the man wore twisted and morphed into a trench coat. His helmet elongated into a silken top hat. And the face beneath the helmet—
Roselle's pupils constricted sharply.
"Klein?!"
"Klein Sparrow was merely an alias."
Edward approached with a smile. "My real name is Edward."
He paused. "You may also call me…Chairman."
"???"
Roselle felt his mind buzz and scatter into chaos. This dream was even more absurd than the last. What kind of nonsensical scenario was this supposed to be?
"You are not dreaming."
Edward said calmly, "And the last time wasn't a dream either."
Roselle pinched his thigh hard, and a jolt of pain shot through him. Not a dream?
No—
This was a supernatural world. Plenty of abilities allowed people to feel pain inside a dream.
Edward snapped his fingers.
The surroundings shifted instantly—sky and clouds swirling as skyscrapers rose from the ground. The two of them now stood on a bustling city street, with cars moving on one side and busy shops on the other.
Roselle opened his mouth wide and muttered, "…F**k. I am dreaming."
"This place isn't real," Edward replied, "but it isn't a dream either. Let's talk while we walk."
The two walked side by side, blending into the lively crowd. In the distant square, a giant panda sculpture sprawled across the façade of a tall building.
Roselle suddenly understood. "No wonder it felt familiar. That's the Chengdu Chunxi Road panda!"
Edward casually stopped by a passing ice jelly stall and handed Roselle a bowl of bingfen. "Remember a few months ago, the time you posted a reward in the newspaper, holding up a picture of Doraemon and naming it?"
Roselle nodded.
"I was the one who gave Bernadette the Pinocchio puppet. I was also the person you were looking for."
Roselle lowered his head and tasted the ice jelly, the long-lost familiar flavour spreading across his tongue. The distinctive Sichuan–Chongqing voices bustling around him blurred the line between what was real and what wasn't.
After a long moment, he asked, "Then why didn't you come find me back then? Were you afraid that, as a fellow transmigrator, I would strike at you?" He slapped his forehead, laughing self-deprecatingly. "What nonsense am I talking? You're a powerful high-sequence Beyonder. I would never stand a chance."
His mood grew darker, tinged with frustration. "So why bother telling me all this now? Trying to annoy me on purpose? From the very beginning, you approached me as Klein, using Dubois to get close—what was the point?"
"Did you ever tell me the truth? Not once! And I actually believed you…like an idiot."
"It can't be that you did all this just to toy with me, right? Watching me act like some overpowered protagonist and laughing behind my back—you wouldn't be that childish, would you…"
Roselle suddenly thought of the Misery Contest.
"No, you would be that childish!"
His anger surged again, and he began cursing nonstop.
Edward only laughed lightly. "It was to avoid influencing the future development of history."
"What does that mean?"
"Have you forgotten? I can see the future."
Roselle froze and stopped walking. "Then…in the future, I really will end up as miserable as you said? I really will end up with Bernadette…"
"Yes."
Edward nodded. "Those really are fixed points in history. They cannot be changed."
"But now that I know, what if I insist on changing them? Oh wait—you said last time that everything I do might actually be what causes that future to happen…Great. No solution. F**king hell!"
"Strictly speaking, it's because someone won't allow it."
"Who? Don't tell me this world has some 'Heavenly Dao' or 'World Will' nonsense."
"That…" Edward paused. "Maybe it exists. Maybe it doesn't. I can't say."
He then explained, "What I'm talking about is an organisation whose goal is to resurrect the 'Lord Who Created Everything'. Their leader is a being whose strength is not far from the gods. He's been pushing this world along the path he envisions and calls it 'the trend of the times.'"
"And you are an important part of that tide."
Roselle's expression shifted, turning cold. "How honoured I am."
"So why reveal this suddenly now?" he asked.
Edward laughed. "For one thing, we've had a fairly pleasant time interacting these past weeks. For another, for Bernadette's sake. For another, because we're both transmigrators. And one more reason…I have a huge beef with the one driving the trend of the times."
Roselle snorted. "That last one is the real reason, isn't it?"
"That part is just the spark. Sabotaging his trend doesn't actually require me to tell you anything at all. In fact, keeping you ignorant would make you easier to manipulate."
"…"
He went silent for a moment. "Hearing you say that really makes me…feel powerless. So this is how the high-level players operate, huh?"
Suddenly, Roselle found the past decade of his "efforts" ridiculous. Even though he had used his many inventions to become the Church's "Son of Steam," won the king's favour, and risen to become one of Intis' most envied new nobles—seemingly standing at the pinnacle of life…
In truth, this was a supernatural world where strength mattered above all else. Position without power meant nothing.
And he had actually been proud of himself—imagining he was the protagonist!
Utterly laughable.
Edward continued, "Also, telling you everything you wanted to know was part of the deal when you helped steal the Antigonus family notes."
"You do keep your word. So, since you've told me all this, what do you plan to do next?"
"That, you'll learn in due time."
Roselle clicked his tongue. "Still putting on airs."
Edward shrugged helplessly. "Back to the main issue. I came today to say goodbye."
"Where are you going?"
"I am heavily injured and need to enter sleep."
"Oh."
Roselle's reaction was flat.
Because inside, he was deeply hurt—
He had believed that although he and Klein Sparrow weren't close friends, they were both fathers, and with Dubois and Bernadette acting as the bridge between them, they would eventually become real friends over time.
But now he suddenly discovered that Klein—no, Edward—had been acting from start to finish. Their already meager friendship disappeared instantly.
Injured? Sleeping? Possibly dying?
What did any of that have to do with him?
Good riddance. One mountain cannot hold two tigers. One world doesn't need two transmigrators.
Roselle said, "Since we're being honest, then answer the first question I asked you when we met."
"Can I still go back?"
Edward replied calmly, "Yes."
"That's all I need."
Roselle didn't ask how he could return. He knew that if Edward intended to answer, he would have explained it already.
"Wait—hold on."
He quickly realised another problem. "You said I'd 'find out later,' but you're about to sleep. How am I supposed to find out?"
"You will know."
Roselle raised a middle finger at him.
Edward snapped his fingers. The city, skyscrapers, traffic, and pedestrians vanished. They were back at Roselle's villa, standing exactly where they had been the whole time—without having moved even a single step.
"Tsk, that's impressive. Aizen's Kyōka Suigetsu, huh?"
Edward curved his lips. A plain-looking zanpakutō appeared in his hand as he chuckled. "That's right. It's a zanpakutō."
Roselle's eyes widened. "Holy—seriously? That's your cheat? Can you give me one? I'm not greedy—just give me old man Yamamoto's Ryūjin Jakka."
"Sure."
Edward casually handed him a wooden stick. "Raise it slowly."
Roselle examined the stick up and down, then yelled, "This is just a broken stick! You're screwing with me!"
Clang.
Edward lightly drew the zanpakutō and said, "Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."
"Roselle—forget everything I just told you. You will only remember it when you enter the Sefirah Castle, and each time you leave it, you will forget again."
Ding.
He sheathed the blade once more. It dissolved into countless starlit motes and disappeared.
"Farewell, Roselle. I wish you all the best."
A few seconds later—
Roselle's eyes trembled as he snapped awake. He scratched his head, puzzled.
"Huh? Why am I standing here? Just now…I…"
"What was I…doing?"
"And why the hell am I holding a broken stick?"
"…Well, the design is kinda nice. If I had this when I was a kid, every rapeseed flower within two miles would've been doomed…"
"No, that's not right."
He had the vague sense that he had forgotten something very important.
———
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