Looking at the young gentleman across from him, George took a deep breath and asked with some pleading and hope:
"Kind gentleman, could you stay a little longer so I can sleep here for a few minutes to replenish my strength and strive to qualify for the next entry into the workhouse?"
After a few seconds of silence, Nimrod sighed silently and smiled: "Of course."
In the afternoon approaching July, the sunlight didn't seem so scorching, but rather had a warm feeling.
Those rays of sunlight penetrated the restaurant's old transparent windows and fell on the middle-aged vagrant who was resting his head against the wall, curled up in his seat, making him unconsciously show a trace of satisfied smile.
Without disturbing the sleeping George, Nimrod leaned back in his chair, looking toward the old decorative flower basket above the dining table. He silently raised his hand to adjust his left eye monocle and suddenly murmured in a voice only he could hear:
"Adam, George III, the Night, capital, colonial era, industrial era... What kind of demon did Roselle create? No, even without him, this demon would have been born. His existence only accelerated this process. The development of the era is predetermined, always accompanied by sacrifice and suffering."
He felt sympathy and sorrow for George's experience, but more than anything, helplessness, because there were far too many people like George throughout the entire Loen Kingdom and even the entire North and South Continents.
And all this suffering ultimately stemmed from those beings standing at the pinnacle of the extraordinary. They wantonly manipulated the tide of history, manipulated the world's direction, using the lives and suffering of common people as chips in their games.
Just as Nimrod was lamenting this fucked-up world and preparing to order another coffee, his spirituality suddenly stirred, and he looked toward George, who was still sleeping but whose face had become twisted with fear.
The next moment, George, with a terrified expression and some sweat on his forehead, suddenly woke up, sat up, and gasped heavily.
"Had a nightmare?"
Nimrod put down his coffee cup and asked calmly.
"Yes, yes. I haven't slept well for four consecutive days. I don't know why, but these past few days, every time I fall into deep sleep, I have the same nightmare. They are so real, as if they're right in front of me."
George rubbed his head and said bitterly:
"In the dream, I always see my Winona sitting on her tombstone. She's wearing that dress embroidered with flowers that she liked most, holding our child who has rotted beyond recognition in her arms. She just smiles like that, quietly gazing at me."
"You said you've been having the same dream these past few days? In the dreams you always see your wife and child?"
Hearing George's account, Nimrod raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, probably because I miss them too much."
George wiped his eyes and said somewhat chokingly.
Hearing the confirmation, Nimrod reached up to adjust his monocle and opened his spirit vision.
Three seconds later, Nimrod closed his spirit vision. In the examination just now, he found that the other person's etheric body and mental body had no problems.
"Strange."
With his angel-level spirit vision, he actually hadn't discovered any problems with the other person?
After thinking, Nimrod pinched his monocle, and a mysterious, complex symbol that was difficult to understand suddenly flashed in his right eye.
Across the table, George, who was curled up and basking in the sunlight, suddenly lowered his head, his eyelids closed, and re-entered his dreams.
This was the nightmare ability Nimrod had recorded from the Nightwatcher team captain in Pritz Harbor. With his current position and ability, if he wanted, he could force all living beings in the entire Tingen into dreams.
In the hazy dream world, Nimrod stood in mid-air wearing classical wizard robes, looking down at the live scene below.
At this time, George had fallen to the ground and was looking with terror at the figure sitting on the tombstone in front of him.
That was a lady with a sweet face, wearing a dress embroidered with flowers and a white silk round-brimmed sun hat. In her arms was a child that was mostly rotted, with its skeleton exposed.
"A very typical nightmare, nothing strange about it."
Looking at the scene presented before him, Nimrod stroked his chin, not sensing anything unusual.
Suddenly, his spirituality stirred, and his gaze fell on the child that was almost completely rotted.
The child's body had rotted beyond recognition, with large patches of pale skeleton exposed, giving a somewhat horrifying feeling at first glance.
On the neck of the child where the spine was exposed, a pendant hung quietly on a silver chain.
At Restaurant "Pasol" at No. 1 Victory Square in the North District of Tingen City, as the afternoon approached and foot traffic gradually decreased, Nimrod, sitting at the table by the window, opened his eyes and showed a slight smile.
He had already found the cause of the other person's nightmares. The pendant hanging around George's child's neck had serious problems and was very likely a mid-sequence sealed artifact.
For unknown reasons, it had actually begun affecting the surroundings through blood connection after being buried for so long.
What he found strange now was why this suspected sealed artifact had only begun affecting the surroundings through blood connection after being buried for so long.
"Interesting."
Standing up, Nimrod reached out to wake the sleeping George and led him out of the restaurant.
A few minutes later, George followed Nimrod into a street blocked by tall buildings, without sunlight, illuminated only by the dim light of a single gas lamp.
Looking at the gentleman before him, George tightened his grip on the bag of white bread in his arms and carefully asked:
"Kind sir, thank you for your help today. Is there anything else you need me to do? As long as it doesn't violate the Kingdom's laws, I can do anything."
Chuckling softly, Nimrod reached up to adjust his monocle and looked at George:
"The things I scheme are all dangerous and almost all violate the Kingdom's laws. They're not things you can participate in. Don't worry, I brought you here only to avoid others' attention, not because I have anything for you to do.
The only thing we need to do next is solve your nightmare problem."
"This... how can nightmares be solved? Are you perhaps a psychologist, sir?"
Hearing Nimrod say he wanted to solve his nightmare problem, George was somewhat puzzled. This kind of mental problem should only be solvable by psychological doctors, right?
And this kind gentleman who had helped him didn't seem like a psychological doctor.
"Haha, a psychologist? No, I'm a traveler."
Hearing the other person mistake him for a psychologist, Nimrod laughed, reached out to grab the other person's shoulder, and pinched his monocle.
Immediately, their figures became distorted and transparent, disappearing into the deserted street.