When they walked into No. 0827, Garcia seemed to have just taken a bath. She was wearing a red and white martial arts robe instead of her sportswear. Her cheeks were still rosy from soaking in hot water. Coupled with her excellent appearance inherited from the Wimbledon Family and her wet, shoulder-length gray hair, Garcia was a sight to behold.
"Would you like something to drink?" She swirled the glass in her hand.
He remembered the first time he came to her house, she still had a cold and distant expression on her face … Of course, it wasn't any gentler now.
"No, thanks," Roland said curiously. "Do you have a match today?"
"Have you ever seen an athlete change his clothes at home? Keeping warm before a match is one of the most important preparations for the athletes. " Garcia poured herself a glass of milk and sat down opposite him. "No matter how shabby the stadium is, there's always a locker room. Sometimes I wonder if your common sense has been eroded."
"Haha..." Roland laughed awkwardly. "I thought martialists were special."
"In the eyes of the public, it's no different from other sports, except that the process is more exciting and the prize is more generous." She shrugged. "I wear this training robe because I need to use my influence as a martialist."
"Oh? Are you going to shoot a commercial? "
"I'm going to protest!" Garcia said grumpily. "Don't you read the newspaper? The Clover Group is going to tear down the wall on North Tube Street today. If we don't stop them, their next target will be the tube-shaped apartment. By then, your home will be in ruins. "
Uh … He had almost forgotten about this. "Then … I wish you all the best."
"You —!"
"I'm a newbie who hasn't participated in a single match. I have zero fame and don't even have a trial robe." Roland pretended to be regretful. "Even if I go, I won't be of much use."
"You can do anything, understand?" Garcia pulled out a list from the tea table and slammed it in front of him. "Look at the list. How many of them are martialists? They're all residents of the apartment, but they're still willing to protest with me! If we choose not to speak up because we are not famous, then everyone will ignore our existence! "
Looking at Garcia's stubborn face, Roland couldn't help but feel a little touched. Whether it was in the face of the Invasion of the Otherworld or ordinary life, this seemingly cold woman was actually more passionate than most people.
Does she lack a place to live? Of course not. She was the daughter of a great family, a famous martialist, and a master of the Force of Nature. All of these factors were enough for her to easily buy a house in the city center. What she did was not for herself, but for the other residents in this old neighborhood. Most of them were ordinary people who received a meager salary every month, but could enjoy the benefits of the surrounding developed facilities. Once they were moved to the new suburbs, the quality of life would undoubtedly drop by several levels.
Although he knew that these were all illusions associated with the Dream World and that the residents in the apartment were all defeated people whose souls had been devoured by Zero, he was not sure if his original idea was correct as the world gradually changed in an unknown direction. In a sense, the indistinguishable illusions were no different from reality. For example, it was difficult for him to regard the radiant woman in front of him as an illusory shell. The longer he stayed in the Dream World, the stronger this feeling became.
Anyway, since he had brought the book back, he could just take it as a thank you gift and accompany her to walk around.
When Roland was about to agree, he suddenly saw a familiar name on the list —
"Barolotsim."
That was the name of the resident of Unit 0510, the demon.
Among all the information collected by the Taquila witches, this long string of characters was particularly eye-catching. Roland glanced at it and did not miss this message.
Roland's heart skipped a beat. The demon's name on the list meant that it would also leave the apartment and participate in the protest together with the martialist. It seemed to be an excellent opportunity to peek into the memory fragments of the demon.
"Ahem, I have an appointment with someone else in the afternoon... so I can only support you in spirit." He averted his eyes and pretended not to see the expectant look in her eyes.
If it had been an ordinary person, he would have exchanged the right to read the book for the support, but Garcia did not do so.
She just stood up angrily and said, "I should have known that talking to you would be a waste of my breath." Then she quickly walked into the inner room and came out holding an old red book.
At first, it seemed that she was going to smash the book in front of him, but in the end, she put it down gently because she did not want to. "This is the book that my master always mentioned. Now that you've got it, you can go now!"
Roland casually flipped the cover and found that there was no name in the column of the author, only the word "unknown".
"Does no one know who wrote this book?"
"Why would it be unknown if they knew?" Garcia replied stiffly. "Among the many books collected by the Association, the most famous thing about this book is not the content, but the person who wrote it. I heard that the person died before he finished writing, and the Association couldn't find any records about him. "
"He died while writing?" Roland was stunned. Did he die of a sudden disease? He had wanted to have a private chat with her. Half a century was not far away, and if he was lucky, the author should still be alive. But even if he was dead, there should be some news about him. At that time, the file system had been popularized, not to mention that the author was a martialist who had awakened the Force of Nature.
There seemed to be something wrong with this.
"What, are you afraid?" Garcia laughed at him. "Are you thinking of those cursed ghost stories? Don't worry, at least there's no evidence that anyone who has read it will die, or else I wouldn't have recommended you to be a martialist. Of course, if you don't dare to read it, I won't make fun of you, let alone publicize it. "
No, you definitely will...
Roland picked up the book and nodded to her. "Thank you."
"Humph." Garcia turned her head away and did not reply.
Returning to 0825 as fast as he could, Roland locked the door from the inside as soon as possible. The protest would officially start in the afternoon, so he still had several hours to satisfy his curiosity.
The title of the book was just as Garcia had said, "The Raison d 'Être".
The cover of the book was made of red kraft paper, which seemed to be wrapped in a thin piece of wood, so it looked very solid. Roland had thought that since it was related to God, the content must be mysterious and difficult to understand. Unexpectedly, when he turned to the first page, his eyes were attracted by the neat and beautiful handwriting.
On the right were words and sentences, and on the left were photos or abstracts with serial numbers. The two matched each other very accurately, as if this was not a book of predictions, but a rigorous thesis.
Most of the photos were yellowed, and the abstracts were basically from newspapers and magazines. Today, with the popularization of the Internet, it was very difficult to see handwritten documents and illustrations made with scissors and glue. The entire book exuded an old-fashioned atmosphere, but the content was surprisingly smooth and easy to understand. There was no sense of estrangement when reading it.
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