"I'm not really an alcoholic." Logan Smith shook the magazine in his hand. "Reading at home is also a great way to entertain myself."

And it also helps me feel calm and relaxed... he silently added in his heart.

Audrey Miller nodded, looked at Logan Smith in that corner, and said, "Why are you sitting so far away? Are you trying to act pitiful, weak, and helpless?

"Come over here. You need good lighting to read at night, otherwise it will hurt your eyes."

Audrey Miller really says a lot of strange things... Even though I understand the words "pitiful," "weak," and "helpless" individually, putting them together just sounds odd, not like normal usage... Logan Smith was long used to Audrey Miller's way of speaking, so he picked up his chair and moved to the desk.

Under the bright desk lamp, he and Audrey Miller sat on either side, quietly reading their books, occasionally chatting a bit.

The sound of breathing, pages turning, and the night wind sometimes blowing past the window—all was soothing and peaceful.

...

After saying goodnight to Audrey Miller, Logan Smith returned to his own room.

He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair as usual, not trying to bring the "Scepter" card to bed.

This was to avoid arousing Audrey Miller's suspicion, since his sister had said she would keep an eye on him at all times.

Logan Smith was about to step toward the bed when he suddenly had a thought and stopped.

His eyes shifted as he adjusted the chair, which was usually placed at an angle, so that it now faced directly toward the window.

Then, he got into bed and turned off the kerosene lamp on the cabinet beside him.

After falling asleep normally, he didn't know how much time had passed before Logan Smith suddenly jolted awake, regaining consciousness.

Once again, he saw the bedroom shrouded in a faint gray mist.

Prepared for this, Logan Smith calmly looked around and noticed something:

The chair he had deliberately set straight before going to bed was still angled in the dream, just as it always was.

In other words, the bedroom in the dream doesn't strictly correspond to reality; it might come from the deepest impressions in my subconscious... Although he wasn't sure what this meant, Logan Smith felt it was something worth remembering.

He walked to the window, braced his hands on the table, and looked outside.

The mountain made of reddish-brown stone and red-brown earth, along with the circles of collapsed buildings around it, once again appeared before his eyes.

It was so quiet here, it felt dead.

Time passed quickly. After hesitating for a while, Logan Smith finally made up his mind:

Tonight, I'll do a preliminary, limited exploration!

His past life of wandering had given him a certain ruthlessness.

He didn't go downstairs and enter the ruins right away, but instead opened the cabinet and started putting on more clothes.

It wasn't because he felt cold, but rather to increase his "defense" a bit this way.

After putting on a cotton jacket and pants and draping a leather jacket over himself, Logan Smith moved his body a bit and felt he couldn't add any more—any more would obviously affect his agility.

That was more important.

As he was adjusting to his current state, a thought suddenly flashed through Logan Smith's mind:

This is my dream, isn't it? Shouldn't I be able to have whatever I want?

With a mindset of trying it out, he began to mutter softly:

"I want a breastplate, a pistol... I want a breastplate, a pistol..."

The room filled with faint gray mist remained unchanged.

Looks like it doesn't work—this dream really is special... Logan Smith calmed his disappointment, opened the bedroom door, and stepped into the hallway.

There were no lights here; it was dim and gloomy.

Logan Smith opened the doors to Audrey Miller's bedroom and study one after another. The furnishings inside were slightly different from reality, but generally the same. The biggest difference was that neither scene had Audrey Miller in it, as if everything was frozen in a gray stillness.

The first floor was the same.

Logan Smith began searching for a weapon for self-defense. Familiar with his home, he quickly found two options:

First, a nearly two-meter-long fork with a steel tip. As Audrey Miller would say, as long as the target doesn't have a ranged weapon, this thing is absolutely useful and highly effective.

Second, a rather sharp, iron-black hand axe.

An adult's answer would be to take them all... Logan Smith suddenly thought of something Audrey Miller often said, but in the end, he didn't do that.

Because tonight was just a preliminary exploration—what he needed was stealth, caution, almost to the point of sneaking.

Bringing such a long weapon would definitely slow him down and make him easy to spot.

Logan Smith let out a slow breath, bent down, and picked up the axe.

He straightened up and, in the faint gray mist, walked step by step toward the door.

Silently, he opened the front door.

Chapter 10: Blood

Stepping out the door, Logan Smith felt as if he had entered another world.

Before him was no longer the familiar village of Cordu, but a dark red mountain and circles of collapsed buildings surrounding it, together forming a bizarre ruin.

Thick, pale fog hung high in the sky, blocking the light. The ground was broken and strewn with rocks. Carrying his axe, Logan Smith moved forward cautiously, unable to find a single place along the way to hide himself.

No weeds grew here, and there was no sign of trees.