"What's going on with Gallagher? Why is his body starting to turn transparent?"
March 7th looked at Gallagher's increasingly illusory body and asked in surprise.
"Did you really have to go this far? As a Fictionologist who believed in mystery, you exposed your own foundations. Your existence has become like duckweed without roots—you're about to fade away."
Sunday frowned as he looked at Gallagher's body turning transparent, unable to understand.
"Fictionologists—I heard they're a faction that specializes in causing trouble and opposing Fuli, the Aeon of Memory. They devote themselves to distorting history and facts, fabricating all sorts of things to mislead people."
Himeko looked at Gallagher and shared the intelligence she knew about Fictionologists.
"That's not wrong. Mianmian and I were both fabricated by me. In truth, I'm just a patchwork of assorted pieces. I imagine the wing-headed kid figured it out long ago, didn't he?"
Gallagher looked at Sunday with a smile, not forgetting to give him a nickname.
"I think Chicken Wing Boy sounds better~"
Sparkle cheerfully hid behind Theresa and mocked him.
"No, no, Brother Seven-Rest or Old Day would work too!"
Theresa also happily tossed in a jab, leaving everyone struggling to hold it together.
"Pfft—my brother has more and more titles now."
Ms. Nightingale covered her mouth and chuckled, making Sunday look helplessly at everyone.
"Indeed. When I first met you, I sensed a familiar incongruity. Why would one person carry more than a dozen, or even dozens, of different auras?"
"Now, my question has been answered."
Sunday looked at Gallagher, whose body was becoming ever more illusory.
"Heh, I'm not surprised either. As for why I went this far..."
"Let me ask you, wing-headed kid. What was your original plan? If this Aeon of Binding, Ms. Theresa, hadn't turned this place into such