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墨書 Inktalez
"Well," Clinton said slowly, nodding his head while squinting slightly, a forced smile stretching across his cheeks. He gently motioned for Freyr to sit down. "Alright, my child, let's sit down and speak openly like friends. Of course, the best outcome is to discuss everything without reservation. If there's anything you're hiding from me, I assure you I won't hold today's words against you."
Freyr selectively walked over to the chair and sat down. "I have nothing to hide, at least not from you." Looking at the man with a face full of flesh, Freyr felt a significant weight lift off his heart. He had encountered too many scheming individuals who raised their eyebrows at him, some climbing higher on the shoulders of others, filled with calculations. How could such people be trusted with his back?
However, upon meeting Clinton for the first time, he was struck by an impression of warmth laced with insincerity. Initially, he had little good to say about him, but now that he had become Clinton's student and was bound by discipline, he set aside his noble pride and bent down to listen to his teachings.
"If that's the case, then our three-and-a-half-year relationship will be quite pleasant. You know, when I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were special," Clinton said leisurely as he lit a cigar and took a puff before teasingly adding.
Freyr looked around, pretending to be puzzled as he glanced at Clinton. "Aren't we meeting for the first time right now?"
"Of course! That's why you're special. You know? Many people in the team are dissatisfied with you; it's only because of my recommendation that they haven't acted against you. From this perspective, I've recognized your independence, and I want to cultivate you into a leader. I could even let you lead the entire Ice Dust Team," Clinton continued.
"Coach, how can I repay you for this?" Freyr awkwardly chuckled.
"No, no, no! This isn't flattery; it's praise. I see great potential in you. Besides, I'm more at ease with you leading this team than anyone else. I wouldn't even glance at others," Clinton said while shaking a finger.
"Alright, I understand. I'll work hard on the training projects to repay what you've discussed today," Freyr quickly stood up, his eyes shining with sharp determination.
"Good! I've been honest; now it's your turn," Clinton promptly threw out a sensitive topic.
Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense. Freyr raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips slightly as if holding back something unspeakable.
(This guy is clearly trying to win me over from the start; on one hand, he's flattering me to serve him; on the other hand, he wants me to reveal my inner thoughts while acting nonchalant about it—this is a true schemer. It's better for me to keep my guard up; if he catches me off guard, all my efforts could go to waste.)
After hesitating for a moment in his thoughts, Clinton continued smoking his cigar, seemingly giving Freyr enough time to think without interrupting him.
Freyr shook his head; he was beginning to realize just how deep Clinton's cunning ran. It became clear from the very first sentence that he was there to listen as a student under the coach's guidance—not to share personal matters for others' understanding.
After a while, Freyr broke the silence, clearly the first to speak. "Um, Coach, I really don't know what else to say. If you're free, I'd like to go join the training."
Changing the subject was undoubtedly the easiest thing to do, but Clinton was no ordinary person. He could see through Freyr's bitter thoughts as if his eyes could probe into his mind. As those eyes scanned him up and down, it felt as if his inner self had been laid bare, causing a wave of numbness to ripple through his body.
(This Old Guy is also a Telepath. I'm completely exposed here. No, I need to clear my mind of all thoughts; I can't let this Old Guy figure me out.)
Freyr focused intently, instinctively locking eyes with Clinton. He immediately noticed a seductive glint in those captivating pupils, and his mind quickly fell into a Void state. In this state, aside from a few personal matters that had happened to him, there was nothing else related to people, objects, or his fate.
Clinton took a slight breath. He brushed off the cigar ash clinging to his fingers and took a deep drag before saying, "Since you don't want to, I won't force you. Just be mindful of your training load; don't overdo it."
"Okay, I will. Goodbye, Coach." With that, Freyr stood up and instinctively reached for the edge of the door. He bowed deeply under Clinton's smiling gaze before closing the door and slipping out.
Once the door slammed shut behind him, he took a deep breath. A thin layer of sweat quickly formed on his skin. His earlier actions had been somewhat unfocused; it felt as if his body was subconsciously controlled. If he hadn't forcibly cleared his mind and activated the Gene Chain just now, he would have struggled even more against the intense pressure that left him feeling slightly exhausted.
He knew he could never share his private matters with anyone else. Clinton's subconscious control over his thinking stemmed from a desire to understand the real him. It was akin to not revealing one's true feelings in person; that sensation of being probed mentally was reminiscent of tactics used by spies. Spies typically do not speak or use body language to detect lies; instead, they directly investigate the brain through mental awareness—one can lie verbally but cannot hide their true thoughts.
As he pondered this, he felt a twinge of fear. Clinton was not just a coach for a team; it would be best to avoid meeting him alone in the future. At that moment, he had just released himself from the Gene Chain; time was limited. Although each use of the Gene Chain improved his control over it, if his physical condition remained as it was now and if Clinton deliberately prolonged their conversation, it would be incredibly difficult for him to leave that office unscathed.
Dragging his weary body away from the office door, he felt the fear of being probed gradually fade from his heart.
Meanwhile, in the office, Clinton pinched the bridge of his nose and mechanically adjusted something on the virtual screen in front of him. It seemed as though his fingers were methodically moving across strategic maps to pinpoint the next target. The virtual screen displayed an endless stream of information without any blind spots as Clinton gazed at the man's silhouette on the screen with a sneer and muttered:
"This guy managed to defend against my mental probing in an instant. Just because I can't access his thoughts doesn't mean I can't control him. You're special; that makes me even more interested in you."
Of course, he had no idea that these words were overheard by someone else. Freyr sneezed suddenly, feeling as if he had caught a chill.
Stepping out of Cambrian Hall, he had gained a new perspective on life after becoming a freshman. The recent events had been overwhelming, making him realize how monotonous his past life had been, causing him to miss out on many dramatic moments. Life felt like a tedious movie; with as many people as there were, there were just as many personalities. The happenings of today had taught Freyr a valuable lesson.
While trusting someone felt great, experiencing distrust and the unsettling factors that disrupted team dynamics was something he preferred not to think about, especially during critical times when the ugliness of human nature could amplify exponentially. Despite his efforts to change things, even when he was the only one left, he still had to confront issues he wished to avoid. This was the reality he faced—an existence where every individual brought forth various possibilities within the human social circle.
After completing his required courses and practicing kendo, he returned home to be with his wife.
Running back to their new home, which was still a villa, he noticed that the newly assigned bodyguards saluted him upon seeing him. These bodyguards were all retired soldiers whom Freyr had equipped with fully operational weapons. Although these were outdated arms, the bodyguards expressed their joy at being able to handle firearms again after leaving the military.
This was the essence of a man forged in iron; even though he no longer held the title of a soldier, he still felt the pride of being one.
“Dear, I’m back!”
As Freyr pushed open the door and called out, no one came to greet him. Instead, it was the butler who rushed out. Seeing the young master return from outside brought joy to his eyes, much like that of a parent seeing their child.
Who would have thought that an old man could still have a meal thanks to this family? The last invasion by the Zerg had left everyone on edge, leading to a complete overhaul of the bodyguard team. The old butler had experienced this calamity and now bore more wrinkles on his face. His smile radiated warmth; every time Freyr returned home feeling pressured, seeing that smile reassured him that his efforts were not in vain—that hard work would yield rewards.
“Master, Young Mistress hasn’t returned yet,” said the butler.
“Oh, I see.”
Freyr nodded and resignedly went upstairs to wash up and sleep, planning to have one of the servants wake him for dinner. Having gone through a calamity together, Freyr regarded these servants as family. The old custom of not dining together had long been discarded; now they all sat together for meals, creating an atmosphere that truly felt like family.
“I’m back.”
Around six in the evening, just in time for dinner, the servants had prepared the meal and were waiting for their master. Su Qian had just returned from Nursing School and took a bottle from the refrigerator to feed their baby. The child was not yet three years old and was due for weaning; however, Su Qian believed that the child's immunity was still weak and insisted on continuing to give him milk.
Freyr descended the stairs with sleepy eyes, his voice languid as he said, "I'm back."
Su Qian smiled sweetly and replied, "Yes, good evening, dear. Dinner is ready."
A group of people gathered around the table, the atmosphere lively and warm. Freyr felt a difference in the air; at that moment, he realized this was what it meant to be a family. He had grown fond of this feeling and wished to be free from loneliness. Completely bidding farewell to his past self was something no one could truly achieve. After all, everyone believes they are in the right.
After dinner, they headed upstairs to sleep.
The night passed swiftly.
The next morning, Freyr took Relock along for a run to school.
He woke up feeling sore all over. After having a bit of breakfast, he brushed it off. Although it would take time to adapt to his new body, the soreness was temporary. He needed to maintain his exercise routine diligently. Each morning run started particularly early, and he would warm up to ease the soreness, ensuring better breakthroughs during the morning Recovery Training.
Once warmed up, Freyr arrived at the playground in full gear—sun hat on, three fans in tow, and wearing a long skirt that fluttered lightly in the breeze. His long white thighs were exposed, and he occasionally flashed a smile at those running by.
Training commenced once again. Under the command's call, Freyr began to run swiftly, using his legs effectively. Having learned from past experiences, he refrained from sprinting with all his might right away; that would be akin to self-destruction since there was still a long way ahead and other assessments awaited him.
Long-distance running was one of the evaluations for Recovery Training.
Conserving energy was currently the most important task at hand.
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