Volume 4 Chapter 119: Runaway Imagination

Inside the Night Garden—now missing Noil Arlens—Amy Flurin (alias Shaimi) let out a dramatic sigh. Noil had bolted out of the establishment at blinding speed, practically kidnapping that terrifying woman Noelle, robbing Amy of her chance to grill him about the Floating City Pharmament.

Amy’s dream was to become a novelist. She worked at the Night Garden to pay the bills, but she didn’t hate it. Chatting with customers gave her endless material, and the pay was decent. With strict rules against creepy patrons, it was the perfect job for gathering story ideas while earning cash.

But even at the Night Garden, visits from legends like Spirit Wind and Azure Doll were rare. When these parties arrived, Amy’s heart nearly exploded. These were the heroes who’d toppled the Floating City Pharmament, one of the world’s three calamities! Hearing their tales firsthand would be gold for her writing.

Most staff flocked to the table with Spirit Wind’s members and a rugged, eyepatch-wild hunk. Amy snorted—typical of the club’s lax vibe—but luck landed her at Gulf Cordius’ table instead. The Azure Doll’s Captain was there too!

Gulf was easy to talk to, so Amy expected smooth sailing… until she crashed headfirst into a brick wall of awkward.

The problem? A black-haired, dead-eyed guy oozing “I’d rather be napping” energy. His slouchy posture, bored smirk, and utter lack of presence screamed “generic NPC.” Yet here he was, sitting with legends. Why?

Gulf made sense—he was ex-Fierce Lions. The eyepatch hunk was eye candy. But Noil Arlens? He radiated “mediocre office worker,” not “hero who saved the world.” Amy’s writer instincts twitched. This had to be a plot twist.

And oh, how right she was.

Beneath that “I forgot my coffee” glaze lurked the true mastermind behind the Floating City’s fall! Why hide his deeds? Because true heroes don’t crave fame! They fight in shadows, shun praise, and let lesser men steal credit! Amy’s brain short-circuited.

Her imagination went nuclear.

Noil’s “lazy bum” act? A genius disguise! His dead-fish eyes? Calculated misdirection! Even if he was genuinely apathetic, that just made him cooler—a laid-back savior who shrugs off glory! Amy’s mental fanfiction spiraled: He’s PERFECT protagonist material!

But wait—the “heroine” with him? Unacceptable! A proper heroine should be sweet, supportive, and not a terrifying loose cannon. Amy’s pen itched. If no worthy love interest existed… she’d fill the role herself. Obviously.

Amy’s delusions soared, veering wildly off-course.

Yes! She’d support this shadowy hero from the shadows herself, chronicling his exploits in her novels. They’d become sensational—propelling her to fame. One day, during an interview about her bestselling series, she’d coyly reveal:

“Oh, my stories are all based on real events. The protagonist? He exists. Meeting him changed my life—for the better, of course~”

“Could you tell us who he is?”

“Why, he’s my husband—my hero.”*

“Hehehe… ehehehehe… this… this could work… amazing…” Amy giggled, her eyes glazed and cheeks flushed.

“Yikes… this one’s cracked too,” muttered Second—the woman in sunglasses and a sharp suit—as she sipped champagne. The Azure Doll Captain (First) nodded silently. Neither’s words reached Amy, now fully lost in her fantasy.

THUD.

Grey Aren clambered back through the window frame, dripping sarcasm instead of canal water. “Takes after someone, doesn’t he?!” he barked, lighting a cigarette.

“Self-deprecation again?” Second smirked as a crystalline ping echoed—Grey’s lighter flaring.

“Ugh… still pissed she cut our fun short. Where’s the kid?”

“En route. So?”

“Whaddya think?”

“Of?”

“Noil. First time chatty-chat, right?”

Second removed her sunglasses, loosening her hair. “Well—”

“H-heh… huh?”

Amy’s fantasy crumbled as Second’s face snapped into focus.

No.

Those eyes… that bone structure…

She looked exactly like Noil Arlens.

“Thank the stars he got your looks but not your personality,” Second snorted.

“Personality’s not yours either,” Grey shot back, their banter dripping with decades of… something.

Amy’s brain short-circuited. Her vision blurred, thoughts scattering like dropped marbles. Around her, the entire Night Garden staff stood eerily silent, eyes vacant.

A cheerful voice sliced through the haze:

“Wow, long time no see, everyone~!”

“The signal came a bit earlier than planned,” someone remarked as footsteps echoed through the ship.

Amy, however, was beyond caring. Her head felt like a balloon, her thoughts refusing to form. The voices around her sounded distant, like echoes from another world.

“Mint! Long time no see. Still as cute as ever~”

“Oh, stop it. I’m practically an old lady now.”

“Nonsense. You’re still—”

The voices faded into static.

“Hey… you… Noil… what’s…”

“…Hmph…”

“…Stop… cornered… finally…”

Fragmented words reached Amy’s ears, but only one phrase stuck:

“—The Circus Troupe.”

And with that, her consciousness snapped like a thread.

◇

In a dark alley, far from prying eyes, I pressed my forehead to the ground, apologizing with every fiber of my being.

“I’m so sorry.”

The recipient of my groveling? Noelle, of course.

Back at the Night Garden, I’d realized staying any longer would turn the place into a warzone. So, I’d seized a split-second opening, slipped free from Shaimi’s grip, and dragged Noelle outside. If you asked me to do it again, I’d fail. Honestly, I was running on pure adrenaline—I barely remembered how I got here. All I knew was that I needed to apologize. Why? Instinct, mostly.

“…Why did you even go to that place? I already know most of it, but I want to hear it from you,” Noelle’s voice loomed above me.

“Uh… Dad said… ‘Let’s go’…”

“Yeah, figured. So? How was it?”

How was it? What kind of question was that? Was she asking for a review? What was the right answer here? Someone, please tell me.

“Did you have fun?”

…Lying would probably backfire. I could feel it.

“Not really—”

“Thought so.”

……

Wow, that was fast.

“What about the girls? Cute, right?”

“I—”