"What I have deduced about the situation is roughly like this."
In the ward, Bologue sat upright, like a student delivering an academic report.
Mamo sat up on the bed, his head lowered, resembling an old man. Numerous infusion tubes were attached to him, making him look like a machine waiting for repairs.
"I don't think this is a random opportunity," Bologue hesitated.
"What do you mean?"
"The moment we discovered the truth is not a coincidence, but seemed like it was scheduled by someone," Bologue brewed his words for a moment, then continued, "as if... someone had long devised a grand plan, and we are all just a part of it, executing different tasks at each time point."
"Be more specific, my comprehension is somewhat poor right now."
Mamo said as he rubbed his head, still dazed from the pain, only to have his sanity shattered by the truth of the Secret Source. Now Mamo's mind was in a mess, and it was difficult for him to think through whatever Bologue was saying.
