Chapter 496: Let Me Forget My Grudge? You Might As Well Just Kill Me!
Boothill leaned back in his seat, took a sip of malt juice, and crossed his legs.
Watching the bullet screen comments, his mood gradually brightened.
"Hell yeah, baby!" he said.
"I'm just gonna see what the fudge this mastermind is up to, and then put a bullet straight through their head—send 'em right to Order's Ena!"
"This fudge-ass mission is just that simple!"
Boothill let out a sharp whistle.
On the screen, the picture grew increasingly blurry.
It looked like the so-called link was about to succeed.
Even March 7th chimed in from the side, amazed: "No way, for real? Could he actually be a natural at this?"
The screen faded completely to black.
Subtitles appeared.
[ And with that, all sounds drifted far away— ]
[ Alas, the sensory isolation set in a little too quickly. He wasn't even able to hear the young girl's question in time, which might have prompted him to reconsider his reckless venture. ]
Immediately following that,
The voice of BananAdvisor 71 chimed in.
"The answer is simple, young lady. This gentleman…"
"Wants to return to the past more than anyone else present."
The moment those words were spoken,
Boothill—who had been leisurely chilling with a smirk on his face—froze entirely!
His smile locked dead on his lips!
His heart even skipped a violent beat.
A tiny figure flashed in his mind.
She had just barely learned to walk.
She would vigorously slap away at a small wooden guitar, giggling at the discordant plucks of the strings.
Yet that memory…
Was swiftly swallowed by the deafening artillery fire of the IPC's warships.
And at this moment,
On the massive screen,
Color began to seep back into the scene.
It was still Scorchsand's Dreamflux Reef.
Yet unlike before,
There were no other club members around, nor was March 7th there. It was as dead quiet as a graveyard.
All that stood before him was a single television set.
To be precise,
It was BananAdvisor 71.
......
"Hmph. The crumbiest dive bar I've ever seen has more class than this dump. And you call this a holy revelation?" Boothill scoffed disdainfully.
"Conjuring up some pretty, phony facade is a cheap trick, entirely contrary to the gospel the Slumbernana Monkey wishes to impart unto the world."
"Countless members have stood where you are, seeking something. Truth, bliss, peace of mind… the usual tripe."
"Alas, there are no answers here, only a single inquiry—would you be any more miserable for it?"
...
"???"
"BananAdvisor 71 is giving off totally different vibes now."
"Holy baby, you're actually holding a lecture here?"
"So this is what people go through before getting turned into monkeys?"
"Is this the psychological breakdown stage?"
"I don't believe any pile of honeyed words could convince someone like Boothill to willingly become a monkey."
"If even Boothill can't hold out, then none of the others stand a chance."
"Let's see what kind of twisted tricks this dream has to make people surrender themselves to monkeydom."
...
"If I were to ask you to quit malt juice, what is the very first thing that comes to mind?"
"To pour yourself a glass, of course, isn't it? Even at this very second, that is precisely what you are thinking."
Right ahead,
Two distinct thoughts materialized.
"Don't try that crap on me. A classic is a classic."
"Come on, pal, can't think like that. Gotta mix in something fresh once in a while."
Both were fleeting notions flitting through Boothill's consciousness.
"If that dependency on the beverage had never existed from the start, this question would naturally never arise, and along with it, both opposing thoughts would vanish into nothingness."
"Pray tell—would you be any more miserable for it?"
Following BananAdvisor's calm narrative,
The two thoughts evaporated.
Boothill blinked, genuinely caught off guard.
"[ …Holy banana, what's going on? That craving completely vanished. ]"
"[ Daring to rummage through my skull like this… no wonder the Synesthesia Beacon went all haywire. A hunk of junk like this couldn't pull it off alone. Where's the bastard pulling the strings? ]"
Up to this point,
Boothill's core resolve remained unshaken; he was still dead-set on dragging the mastermind into the daylight and blowing their brains out.
Yet BananAdvisor suddenly pivoted the topic.
"Next, let us turn our gaze to far more intricate matters."
"For instance, your burning hatred. Your hatred toward the IPC."
As the words fell, figures of IPC employees flickered into view ahead.
......
Back in the real room,
Boothill slammed his fist down hard on the table.
He shot straight to his feet!
"Tell me to let go of my hatred for the IPC?!"
"Son of a nice baby! What kind of Wubbaboo fudge is this?!"
"If I don't fudge you up with a bullet right now—"
Before he could finish his sentence,
Boothill choked on his words!
On the screen, BananAdvisor asked: "Now, just as before, imagine a scenario that does not exist in reality—"
"If a man living entirely for vengeance were stripped of all his hatred, what would become of him?"
"Would you be any more miserable for it?"
His on-screen self retorted: "Holy banana, what kind of crock of shit are you preaching?"
Yet in the very next instant,
His expression unexpectedly relaxed into sheer cheerfulness!
"Wait… what's happening? Actually, I feel pretty darn good right now. Yeah, who gives a flying banana anyway?"
BananAdvisor clapped its hands in satisfaction.
"Splendid. You truly are an exceptional pupil. Let us proceed to the next lesson…"
"Galaxy Ranger."
"Of course, I recognize that hatred is not an ember easily extinguished."
"This shall be the most arduous lesson of all, and so, I shall remain by your side. Next…"
[ If you were to sever all worldly ties, forgetting every connection you ever held to this mortal realm… ]
"Mister Ranger, would you be any more miserable for it?"
[ This is the defining moment, and the man known as Boothill knows it full well. ]
[ Or perhaps… the man formerly known as Boothill. ]
Reading those subtitles,
Boothill clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.
He nearly ground his teeth to dust!
If he truly got brainwashed,
Forgetting his burning hatred, abandoning everything he ever stood for…
Reduced to some carefree, mindless cowboy… or a dumb monkey.
A fate like that,
Was worse than death itself!
He wished he could throw himself right through the screen and pump a bullet into his own hesitant head!
Yet that was obviously impossible.
The narrative of Honkai: Star Rail reflected an alternate reality.
This might very well have been his original destiny!
His eyes glued to the display,
He kept watching!
......
Confronted with BananAdvisor's inquiry,
Boothill tilted his head up.
A look of sheer bewilderment settled on his face.
"I… I ain't quite catching your drift. Though… you look pretty fun to hang around with."
As he spoke,
That signature, deadly edge in his voice—the tone that normally sounded ready to blast someone to kingdom come—gradually softened into complete gentleness!
What's more, his nametag had shifted into "???"
It seemed to foreshadow
That the Boothill standing there was no longer Boothill at all!
He even warmly greeted the BananAdvisor standing before him!
"Pleasure to meet ya, pal. What should I call ya?"
BananAdvisor responded: "Though this is hardly our first meeting, regardless…"
"You may address me as Professor Primon."
The moment that name dropped,
The bullet screen erupted into an absolute frenzy!
...
"IT'S OVERRRRR!!"
"I knew this BananAdvisor smelled fishy! It was Professor Primon pulling the strings remotely the whole time!"
"Boothill's name literally changed to three question marks!"
"NOOOOO, STOP IT!!"
"His tone got so pure and innocent?!"
"His memories are regressing…"
"This is Mr. Boothill's final appearance, RIP [ crying ]"
"Don't tell me even a Galaxy Ranger is gonna be turned into a damn monkey?!"
"We're doomed, it's Professor Primon, there's no saving anyone now!"