"I understand what you want to know."
Sylvester's right index finger tapped lightly against the solid wood counter—a habitual gesture whenever he was truly deep in thought.
Dan Heng's eyes widened slightly, focusing with complete attention, waiting for Sylvester's answer.
As someone who's also in the know, Stelle also straightened her posture, listening intently to their exchange.
March 7th, seeing even Stelle become so serious, grew inexplicably flustered. She hurriedly pulled out her camera—she didn't quite understand the situation, but she had to record it.
Qingque set aside her register sheet, her expression troubled. Though Dan Heng's situation remained classified at the higher levels, the turmoil of the Ambrosial Arbor incident had spread far and wide. As a librarian of the Divination Commission, she had pieced together enough clues to more or less guess his identity.
Sigh… I never went looking for trouble. So why do these huge problems keep finding me? I just wanted to be a normal slacker civil servant…
Amid the silent, shared anticipation, Sylvester finally spoke.
"If you seek a way to completely sever yourself from your past… I can tell you—it exists."
Dan Heng's face changed sharply. His body leaned forward, mouth opening to chase the answer. But before he could speak—
Sylvester's voice cut in first: "But the one you're thinking of did not receive such a thing. In fact, no one ever has."
"…Huh."
The words died on Dan Heng's lips. His gaze flickered as conflicting emotions spread through his chest.
Was it disappointment? Or the flicker of lingering hope? He couldn't tell. The situation with the High-Cloud Quintet was far too tangled—no path seemed walkable. His avoidance was less cowardice, more… bewilderment.
Sylvester's voice lowered, his eyes sharpening. At least, that's how Dan Heng felt—like his very heart was being dissected.
"If I were you, I'd be grateful never to have received such a thing. Or rather—be grateful that after undergoing rebirth, you still retained your memories from before."
"Why?" Dan Heng's voice rasped with dryness, but the words left him without hesitation. Even he was startled by his own urgency.
Do I… really care this much?
But Sylvester spared him the self-doubt. "Because your understanding of it remains. Because your strength remains. That means it isn't just a mess you've inherited, or a debt you're doomed to carry. It's also an opportunity."
The tapping finger stilled. He raised it before his eyes—between himself and Dan Heng.
"As long as you're alive, you still have the chance to turn it all around. You still have the chance to finish what remains unfinished."
"To place upon it—a perfect ending."
"A… perfect ending?" Dan Heng echoed blankly.
He didn't know if that was truly what he wanted. Yet strangely, the fog of confusion in his heart began to clear. Something long-lost stirred in his chest—like the restless spray of waves when he had split the sea with the Imbibitor Lunae's power.
"Hu~." He exhaled a long breath. "I'll remember your words."
Walking toward the shelf, he paused and asked, "And her? What state of mind is she in now?"
Of course, he meant Jingliu, caught within her cycle of reincarnation.
Sylvester smiled. "Better than you. At least she knows what she wants to do."
"…I see." Dan Heng didn't press further. His gaze fell upon the trash cans before him, and a vague feeling welled up.
Perhaps… they might offer some clue to his future.
Heh. That wouldn't be so bad.
For the first time, he felt a flicker of anticipation for what a Curio Trash Can might hold.
He opened one.
A flash of green light. The can shimmered, then slowly faded from existence.
Dan Heng stared at his empty hands, then glanced around. Nothing.
He blinked, turning back to Sylvester.
Gone was the solemnity of before—his eyes now shouted plainly: Are you kidding me? You playing me?
Yet Sylvester showed no embarrassment. On the contrary, he clapped the counter. "Congratulations, Mr. Dan Heng. You've drawn the very first of its kind from my shop. Extremely lucky."
"Lucky? For an empty can?" Stelle couldn't resist snapping. "He dropped a million, just to watch green light for free? Could've gone to the corner store, bought a lamp, and stared at green glow 'til his face turned green."
March 7th had been about to interject, but Stelle's analogy threw her off. Still, she rallied: "Err, crude words but she's spitting facts. Boss, we're not stingy, but if you're forcing an empty can into a Curio… that's just lame."
Seeing their doubt, Sylvester remained patient. "You misunderstand. This wasn't an empty can. It's what we call a Title Curio."
"Title Curio?" The group exchanged puzzled looks.
Stelle squinted. "Wait—you mean… the trash can gave Dan Heng a nickname?"
"What? That's ridiculous!" March 7th's face twisted in disbelief.
Sylvester shook his head. "Not so simple. A Title Curio is like a buff in a game. Invisible to the eye, yet very real. Different titles grant different effects."
At that, the others nodded in dawning realization.
"So, what's Dan Heng's title?" March 7th asked eagerly.
It was indeed intriguing. If she could pull one, what would it be? Universe's No.1 Beautiful Girl?
Sylvester rubbed his nose, a little embarrassed. He hadn't lied, but… this one was indeed special.
"Abbreviated, it's called… the [Stoic Killer]."
"Oh! Stoic Young Dragon paired with Stoic Killer? It's a perfect match! Bet it boosts combat power, right?" March 7th's eyes sparkled.
"Mm. Boosting combat power… you could say that." Sylvester's voice was weak, trying to mask his awkwardness.
"Oh! Then is there a title like… Baseball Hero of the Galaxy?" Stelle was already getting excited for her turn.
Dan Heng, however, felt an ominous premonition. "…That's the short form? What's the full name?"
Sylvester's Adam's apple bobbed. At last, he admitted: "[Chicken-Soup Stoic Killer]. Grants double stomach capacity for chicken-soup with cold noodles."
Yes. A "double boost." Truly a great enhancement… in its own way.
"Pfft!" Stelle burst out laughing.
"Haha—ahhha—" March 7th couldn't hold back either. She turned away, clutching her mouth, snickering through her nose.
Between giggles, she stammered, "S-sorry, Dan Heng—hah—I really am—pffft!"
Dan Heng's brows twitched, lips trembling. He fought hard, building mental walls, barely holding back the urge to curse aloud.
What kind of title is this?!
At least it didn't float above his head. If it really displayed like in games—he'd be laughed out of the galaxy.
He imagined a duel: A burly warrior roars, "Who are you? State your name!"
The Stoic young Dragon glares back, voice booming: "I am of the Xianzhou Luofu—the Chicken-Soup Cold-Faced Killer! And you are?"
The burly woman throws back her head, laughing thrice. "Ha! I am the infamous Baseball Hero of the Galaxy! Prepare to die!"
Oh, dear Aeons…
Dan Heng felt his soul shrivel.
"Fortune rises and falls. A streak of bad luck is perfectly normal." Sylvester tried to comfort him. "Compared to drawing a negative Curio—or worse, a black Curio—this is still… considered to be lucky. Probably."
"…Mn." Dan Heng forced a breath, conceding just enough to accept it.
But as he turned back toward the trash cans, his earlier hope—that they might illuminate his path—was completely gone.
After all, his dream had never been to become a glutton.
Yet fate had its whims.
He lifted another can, and the moment it opened—
Blinding golden light consumed his vision.
For a moment, he was stunned. Then realization struck.
This… is it?! One of the rarest of all Trash Cans?
"Whoa! A gold Curio! This is it—this is the jackpot!"
March 7th fumbled with her camera, frantically clicking shutter after shutter. Whether the photos came out or not didn't matter—she had to capture everything.
"This… is a gold Curio?" Dan Heng gazed at the small black orb in his palm. His heart, though calm on the outside, was pounding.
In the sunlight, the orb refracted shimmering colors.
"Shopkeeper Sylvester—what is this?" He turned urgently to Sylvester.
"Not only the shop's first Title Curio, but now a gold Curio as well. Mr. Dan Heng, your luck is… extraordinary."
Sylvester accepted the orb, his face tightening with a trace of gloom. "But truthfully… I wish you hadn't drawn this one."
Still, he did not intend to conceal the truth. Whether to use it, and how—that was Dan Heng's decision alone.
Locking eyes with him, Sylvester said: "Didn't you just ask if something exists that can completely sever the past?"
Dan Heng's eyes flew wide, emotions surging.
Sylvester was right—this was what he had once yearned for. But only moments ago, he had begun to nurture a new resolve, a fresh perspective on his path.
And now, at this very juncture, it appeared before him.
"[Orb of IX]," Sylvester pronounced its name. "As the name suggests, it bears the unique power of the Aeon of Nihility."