Chapter 79 079 An Unfavorable Situation

It must be said that he was indeed an elite selected from among the many members of ASA to participate in this operation. This nameless man (Verne was unable to get his name) was somewhat flustered at first, but he was able to quickly calm down and remain silent. However, in the few words he uttered during the questioning, which seemed calm and firm, it was clear that he was not without fear. In fact, his fear was only a thin layer of ice away from breaking through his defenses. It was likely that if there was even the slightest real threat, he would reveal everything he knew.

Verne knew that this was the person Romain Rolland had chosen, based on his observations over this period of time, as the most likely to reveal the information.

However, given that one cannot actually take action against this nameless gentleman (after all, he is essentially Romain Rolland), breaking through this thin layer of psychological defense is a somewhat difficult task.

So, to avoid these troubles, Verne simply brought out the ultimate weapon.

Under Verne's threats of "I'll smash your fingers with a shovel if you don't tell me" or "I'll crush them with pliers, you choose," Mr. Nameless nervously swallowed, his eyes unconsciously darting around, trying to relax.

Suddenly, his attention, which had been entirely focused on Verne, was diverted and then drawn to Defoe, who was standing by the door.

Seeing Defoe's gaze fixed on them, he suddenly felt as if his heartbeat had stopped.

That look was icy and chilling; it was definitely not the look of someone who wanted to obtain information.

A chill ran down his spine, and that gaze seeped into his blood. His brain, which had been trying to figure out how to escape, suddenly lost its ability to think. His lips, which had been trying to utter misleading words, suddenly stopped, and he could only tremble and utter a few incoherent syllables.

Seeing the man excitedly and expectantly playing with the dagger in his hand, he understood.

If the person asking him the question wants an answer, then the person watching... probably wants a rejection.

Only in that way will he be allowed to achieve certain goals through his own means.

And that material will undoubtedly be himself.

Just as the chill was about to freeze the clerk, Defoe glanced at him again, seemingly casually.

Although the gaze was directed in his direction, the focus was not on him, but rather as if it were looking through him at something else.

And he could guess without a doubt that what Defoe saw through him was only a corpse covered in torture.

(Defoe, his gaze unfocused and lost in thought about how to deal with the stray cats on the island: When we get back, I'm going to eat cat meat hot pot!)

In this chilling terror, he heard himself utter his reply.

He felt no regret or remorse; he simply admired himself slightly for still being able to speak in complete sentences.

While taking notes, Verne silently looked up at the person who was speaking haltingly and whose whole body was trembling uncontrollably.

Verne: ...The ultimate weapon seems a bit too good, is that a problem...?

Silently muttering a few complaints about the "Defoe-style horror experience" adding another victim, Verne, who had grown somewhat accustomed to Defoe's terrifying aura, turned his attention to what the currently nameless clerk was saying.

However, the more Verne listened to his story, the uglier his expression became. Although it was still far from being as bad as Defoe's, it was still a terrifying expression among ordinary people.

A trembling, innocent ASA clerk: What am I going to do? Am I about to be turned into a hamburger patty? QAQ

I wonder what strange things this person has been imagining.

The more Jules Verne gathered intelligence, the more he felt the UN was in a precarious situation. He looked at the notebook filled with intelligence entries and sighed helplessly.

Across from Verne, the jittery clerk exclaimed: "I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die! Is he going to make a move?!"

Verne slammed the book shut, the crisp click of the hinge sending a shiver down the spine of the poor clerk.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation, sir. This… well, I don’t know who you are.” After putting the book down, Verne patted the clerk on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful once-over.

Clerk: Ah, it seems we have to take action...

Jules Verne clicked his tongue in amazement at the clerk's expression.

He didn't do anything, so why is he so scared?

—So it must have been Defoe who did it.

After mentally shifting the blame to Defoe, Verne felt much better. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a clear voice: "True heroism."

The still-unknown clerk froze noticeably for a moment, and the next instant, sand flew down on him like a collapsing sandcastle, gradually revealing Romain Rolland's slightly tired face beneath the sand.

"Thanks for your hard work."

Verne quickly untied Romain Rolland and helped him to his feet.

One of the drawbacks of perfect imitation is that physical exertion and injuries are all directly proportional. The fact that Romain Rolland's physical strength is dozens of times better than the target of the imitation does not make the exertion during the imitation insignificant, nor does it make the wounds disappear when the ability is deactivated.

"I feel completely exhausted and somewhat dehydrated. My heart is pounding like I've just finished a marathon, and what's even more amazing is that the lining of my clothes is soaked with cold sweat." Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Romain Rolland expressed his displeasure at the unpleasant feeling. "So, Verne, what did you do to scare him like this?"

"What else could I do?" Verne asked casually, glancing in Defoe's direction. "To save trouble, I went straight for the 'ultimate weapon'... but the effect seems a bit too good?"

"It's definitely too good."

Feeling weak from the long absence, Romain Rolland abandoned his plan to leave immediately. After gesturing to Verne, he sat back down in the interrogation chair.

After catching his breath, Romain Rolland looked at Verne as if he had just remembered something.

"So, what's the situation?"

Upon hearing this, Verne sighed.

"To be honest, it's terrible."

As he spoke, Verne picked up the notebook from the table and handed it to Romain Rolland, who had regained some of his strength.

"To summarize briefly—in short—they basically 'derived' it all."

"I think I'm about to develop PTSD from their so-called 'reasoning'."