The next morning, when Bishop Gilbert appeared in the dining room, he looked more like a ghoul than any of the capital's venerable clergy.

Ford saw that he had a pale face and looked listless, as if he had encountered some serious problem that was beyond his comprehension. He couldn't help but ask with concern, "Didn't you get enough rest yesterday?"

He had no direct conflict with the Vatican, and having been educated by the Federation since childhood, he had a natural liking for Bishop Gilbert - even though a being said to be an evil god sat next to him, long-standing habits could not be easily changed.

Bishop Gilbert looked slightly hesitant, as if he was considering whether to say it or not.

Igor maintained his persona and made a joke at this point: "Mr. Langman hasn't come downstairs either. Did the two of you both suffer from insomnia last night?"

"No, I just...cough." Gilbert coughed several times, looking extremely embarrassed. "For some reason, my dagger suddenly became very active last night. Even if I put it on the bedside table or on the ground, it would keep trying to cut me. That's the main reason why I didn't get enough rest."

"...Are you seriously injured?"

"It's not too serious. Although I lost a little blood, I'll be fine after a while of rest," the bishop said. "However, this is the first time I've encountered something like this, and I have no recollection of what happened last night. If I could recall even a little, perhaps I could figure out what happened."

His expression was full of: If I can figure out why this dagger went crazy, I will definitely stay away from allergens next time.

You don't remember anything, and upon waking up, you found yourself covered in wounds and bleeding profusely? Did you come downstairs so late because you were constantly comparing the wounds and finally confirmed that the dagger was the real culprit?

Even though he was full of respect, Ford felt speechless and even understood why Gilbert had such a troubled expression.

If it were someone else with poor mental fitness, he would probably have been frightened to the point of having a mental breakdown.

"I've locked it in a box now, hoping it won't break the lock and run out."

Then Gilbert began to worry about Mr. Longman Griffin, who still had not come to the restaurant for breakfast.

"Isn't he also in trouble?"

Azathoth drawled, "He doesn't have the same troublesome dagger as you do."

“…Ah, that’s true.”

Igor quickly looked up and glanced at Azathoth's expression.

God was apparently indifferent and knew nothing about all this.

Instead, it confirmed that something had indeed happened.

And Azathoth is definitely the source of the contradiction.

Another child in the old house, Langman's youngest son, Terry, was halfway through breakfast when he started clamoring to see his father. For the past two days, Langman had been too busy trying to please this incompetent child to satisfy his own agenda, and Terry's relationship with Langman blossomed. He looked like a young tree that had been dry for years, suddenly nurtured by a father's love.

Gilbert was too polite to disturb the host who was resting upstairs. When Terry suggested that he go see his father, the bishop immediately agreed: "I'll take the child upstairs to see him."

The people in the restaurant watched them go upstairs.

After a while, Igor asked cautiously, "What happened to him?"

"I don't know." Azathoth said indifferently, "He should still be alive, but his mental state is not guaranteed."

The color drained from Ford's face at a visible rate.

"what happened?"

Hugo scoffed, "I knew it."

He happily picked at the bacon on his plate. The chef at the Griffin Mansion, unaware he wasn't human, had prepared a breakfast for the android. Hugo, fearing rust on his internal organs, didn't dare eat too much, so the kitten took a couple of bites of each dish and set it aside.

Erica: "Hugo, can you give me the few pieces of bread left in your basket?"

The android looked at her in surprise and immediately agreed: "Okay, do you want ham and milk?"

It's nice to be a human cub. Hugo thought happily as he watched Erica puffing out her cheeks and eating like a hamster.

At this moment, there was a sudden sound of something heavy falling from upstairs.

Seeing that no one else was showing any signs of alarm, Ford almost thought he was making a fuss. He pondered for a long time, and finally, his conscience took over. "Is Langman Griffin really alright? Should I contact the hospital?"

"—I'm fine, idiot." Langman's usual annoying voice rang out from the stairs. The man with waist-length blond hair strode to the main seat at the table and sat down. He glared at Ford with a sharp, impatient look on his face. "Forget about Terry's compensation. After breakfast, do what you need to do. I'll arrange for my secretary to take you away."

Before Ford could respond, Gilbert hurried over, pressed his shoulder, and mouthed to Langman with his back to him, "Don't be impulsive. I don't think he's acting normal today."

What exactly is wrong?

Ford thought expressionlessly, isn't this just exposing his true nature in front of the public?

Gilbert pointed obliquely to where Langman's finger was.

Ford looked in the direction and found that Langman was staring at the fork in his hand with a serious expression. For a moment, he seemed to want to hit it hard on the empty plate, but he was trying so hard to suppress the impulse that the little finger of his right hand was shaking constantly.

"I'll contact the doctor." Obviously something else must have happened upstairs, otherwise Gilbert wouldn't have such a worried expression. "Could you please wait here for a moment and help me keep an eye on him?"

After Ford nodded, the bishop walked away with his mobile terminal.

He turned around and found that Azathoth was supporting his chin and observing Langman's movements with interest.

The god asked, "What do you see?"

For some reason, Langman seemed to be afraid of his voice. Although he kept his head down, he answered honestly, "Grilled octopus legs."

Igor: “…”

"Why would my chef cook this kind of food so early in the morning?" Langman looked angry and disgusted. "Deduct his salary! No, just replace the chef! What about Laura? Shouldn't the secretary be at work before nine in the morning?"

His secretary rushed over after hearing the news: "I'll contact the new chef right away."

Langman said coldly: "Did you buy Coke again yesterday?"

Secretary: "...What's wrong, boss?" Can't I even buy a Coke?!

Langman: "I estimate that you have gained more than a pound."

“…”

The secretary's boss laughed at her loudly: "Do you think nothing happened just because you didn't weigh yourself? Even alpacas are smarter than you!"

The secretary said firmly, "So I'm going out now... Is there anything I need to bring back?"

She was actually asking about the guests at the Griffin mansion, but Langman still took the initiative and answered: "Bring me an order of octopus balls, the kind without the octopus legs."

Igor began to wonder whether it was Azathoth who had done something, or whether this man had simply gone crazy from the stress.

Ford had given up thinking and began to beat himself up in his mind for worrying about Langman twenty minutes ago.

Finally, Hugo couldn't help but ask Azathoth, "What did you do to him?"

Azathoth thought for a moment and replied, "A part of his soul was permanently left in last night's dream."

Then he took the list from his pocket and pushed it in front of Igor.

"He wrote this last night."

Hugo quickly scanned the document with his "eyes", then closed his eyes and remained motionless, probably going to the Star Network to look up information.

Igor took it hesitantly and stared at the densely packed words on the paper for a long time.

Azathoth, who had been doing this for so long that he was no longer good at it, asked, "Is there something wrong?"

Although he could guarantee that Langman was telling the truth, his understanding wasn't necessarily correct. It was more reliable to leave the work of reasoning and summarizing to Igor, and Azathoth was fully aware of this.

"No, nothing." Igor stuttered, "You... I..."

He closed his mouth again and organized his words.

Result: "Thank you, I appreciate it very much."

Azathoth noticed Igor's expression, a mixture of excitement and annoyance. The gray-haired young man was still trying to make amends: "I'm not being perfunctory. I truly feel that this list is very important to me. Even if you say it's just spoils of war, I still..."

Azathoth ignored his words.

No matter what Igor said, his intense emotions flowed through the connection between them into the god's heart—or should I say, his stomach? In short, Azathoth was once again enveloped by the warm feeling of fullness, a kind of happiness that came from sleeping in the depths of the ocean until waking naturally. This lazy feeling of fulfillment satisfied the god, and he suddenly felt that enduring such a long period of boredom last night to achieve this goal had been an extremely correct decision.

Time is common, but Igor's positive and intense mood swings are not common.

In order to find his delicious snacks, Azathoth felt that he should work harder.

So, amidst the sirens of the approaching ambulance, the Evil God asked Igor, "Who's next?"

Igor paused.

He was both moved and amused. He pointed to a line of small characters specially marked on the list and said, "It should be Viscount Joyce. Do you remember Nixon's article called 'Analyzing the Possibility of Igor Sullivan's Treason Based on His Conflict with Viscount Joyce Five Years Ago'? We read it on the interstellar pirate ship."

He reminisced as he spoke, "Joyce used to be the deputy director of the mecha R&D department. Her full name is Shirley Joyce. She has now been promoted to the position of director. My mechanical leg, which can adapt to small-scale cold weapon combat, is one of the results of her research."

"At first I had a pretty good relationship with her. She often came to visit my house for a while and my sister Wendy liked her very much."

"But then Wendy disappeared when she went to visit her in the capital...and it seems she was kidnapped."

Igor took a breath and continued, "I realized Shirley might not be completely unaware of this 'accident,' so I had a big argument with her. Nixon believed that my sister Wendy's disappearance was one of the factors that led to the growing conflict between me, the federal government, and the Chief Consul. He felt that my current situation was not only because the Chief Consul, after initially achieving success in supporting civilian officials, was ready to abandon me, a pawn who had made such great contributions. Now it seems that this matter is indeed not simple."