Ain quickly manipulated his body, which had not been used for a while, and climbed up from the ground crookedly:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Factory Manager, I'm just... a little excited."
"It's all right."
The factory manager stood up and helped him to the chair in the office, then poured Ain a glass of water:
"I know you're very motivated, but you should also take more time to rest."
While Ain was dealing with the factory manager with his already somewhat unfamiliar words, he was calling out to the existence of another self in his heart.
He saw another self, one who was sitting on a high-backed chair with vines, looking down at him with an extremely cold expression.
He didn't know when his knees had gone weak and he knelt under the vine throne.
"Help me, help me..."
He felt his tongue was a little tied, but he also understood two things:
First, he could no longer leave his abilities behind. Long-term laziness and relaxation made it almost impossible for him to do anything.
Second, he has become addicted to his fantasy. Even though it is fake, as long as he keeps fantasizing, what is the difference between real and fake?
"Help you? Why?"
the man asked condescendingly.
"Because...because you are my ability, what's mine is yours. Helping me is helping yourself."
The Ain in my mind was crying bitterly, and even in reality, tears were left in the corners of his eyes.
His ability, or rather, Lachesis also saw this scene, so he began his final induction with a sneer on his face:
"No, I'm tired of sharing my body with you, unless..."
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