"Dennis! Dennis!"

The familiar call echoed around him. Dennis could feel someone pushing his body, but he didn’t want to respond. He just pretended not to feel anything, tightly closing his eyes, curling up in the trench.

The booming sound of explosions went off nearby. Dust repeatedly pounded against him. He could feel warm liquid flowing over his skin. More so, in the murky depths of the trench, he could sense some corpulent rats scurrying quickly past.

"Dennis!"

The call rang out once more, each shout like a heavy hammer pounding on Dennis’s heart, cracking his will, heart, and dignity.

"Shut up!" Dennis yelled inwardly, his eyes tightly shut. "Shut up, Bologue!"

"Dennis?"

The shouting suddenly turned gentle. Dennis squinted, and through his blurred vision, he could see a thin figure standing in front of him, wearing tattered clothes stained with blood. A steel helmet full of scratches and dents sat atop his head, and in his hand, he held a rifle with a bayonet affixed to it, blood slowly dripping from the tip.

Dennis couldn’t see his face, but he knew the person must be looking at him with eyes full of disgust and contempt.

Indeed, his pretense was truly laughable, mimicking unconsciousness while his body involuntarily trembled. Just the thought of deceiving himself brought Dennis a deep sense of shame and humiliation, yet he lacked the courage to stand up.

"Don’t disappoint me, Dennis," the man continued.

The only response from Dennis was continuous trembling and silence, leaving the man utterly disappointed.

"Bologue! Where’s Dennis!" another voice shouted.

"He was knocked unconscious by the bomb," Bologue lied for Dennis, "looks like he passed out... I can take over his duties."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure."

"Alright."

At the commander’s order, soldiers began to gather. They would stage an assault to break through the enemy line, a death march where many would fall on the way.

When the loud horn sounded, Dennis heard overlapping roars, and the receding footsteps moved away from him. He opened his eyes and saw that familiar figure quickly disappearing into the thick smoke from the explosions.

This was the last time Dennis saw Bologue. Later, he heard their charge succeeded, not only breaking the enemy’s line but also advancing deep to the high walls of the Holy City...

"Dennis."

The call sounded again, overlapping with the voice in his memory. After a moment of daze, the scorching air dissipated, and the frantic scorched earth vanished, leaving only a steadily moving car and Ivan sitting across Dennis.

"Bologue Lazarus," Dennis muttered, "I thought I’d never hear that name again."

Ivan asked, "Can you tell me the story between you and him?"

"That was over sixty years ago, and he’s already dead," Dennis didn’t understand, "we were just nobodies, forgotten by history..."

"No one has forgotten you," Ivan said seriously, "I can’t tell you why, but we need to know your story with him, it’s incredibly important."

Ivan emphasized the words, and Dennis’s expression froze. In his eyes, Ivan’s were as radiant as dazzling jewels.

For a moment, the overwhelming pressure vanished from his heart, and Dennis felt an inexplicable sense of security from Ivan, as if he could confide all his secrets.

Ivan asked, "Bologue’s existence seems to cause you pain, why is that?"

Dennis spoke almost in a daze, "Maybe... perhaps it’s the split between self-expectation and the real self."

Ivan nodded to himself, "Self-discrepancy."

As an interrogation expert, Ivan was well aware of this psychological condition, where a person’s attitude and emotions towards themselves are in conflict with their actions and behavior.

A person might believe they have certain traits or values, but their actions and behaviors are inconsistent with those traits or values. This self-inconsistency often leads to internal conflict and distortion, negative emotions like inferiority, anxiety, depression, self-doubt, and fear.

Ivan hadn’t expected that Bologue would cause such psychological issues for Dennis.

It’s like an extreme perfectionist, filled with excessively high expectations of oneself, leading to a huge gap between inner feelings and outward expressions, and making one unable to accept their own shortcomings and deficiencies, which eventually leads to a breakdown.

Ivan was curious about why Dennis felt this way.

"When I was young in Redwood Town, I was very popular. I was tall, mighty, talkative, and lively, whereas Bologue... he was a solitary child, always by himself."

Dennis continued to tell, "I didn’t have much interaction with him, but I really disliked him."

"Why?"

"His gaze."

Dennis tried to describe that feeling, but as time passed and circumstances changed, he could barely remember the reason for all of this. Looking back, it was ridiculous.

"Everyone else praised me endlessly, but only he always had that indifferent look," Dennis laughed at himself, "When you’re young and proud, you constantly think about others’ opinions. When he looked at me like that, it felt like my self-esteem was hurt."

"What brought you together?"

"War, the madness of scorched earth fury. I enlisted with Bologue, and luckily, we were assigned to the same unit, although we lost each other in between, we still managed to meet alive."

Dennis paused his narrative, seemingly organizing his words, and suddenly began to convey his feelings, "Have you ever had that feeling? Under excessive confidence and pride, there’s a sense of being the ’main character’.

I was like that, I experienced countless battles. Amidst the intertwining of blood and fire, my rank was gradually rising, and I often fantasized about the post-war scenes, that I would be hailed as a hero, returning full of honor."

Ivan said, "You became more and more arrogant."

"Yes," Dennis acknowledged, "I was heading toward destruction."

"It was a horrific battle. We had just captured the Fog Abyss Fortress and were advancing towards the Holy City. The enemy’s firepower was fierce, trenches like scars covered the scorched earth, and we tangled there for many months. The trenches were filled with corpses, rotten flesh, foul liquid, and rats gnawing on the bodies."

Dennis’s pupils gradually dilated, appearing as if his soul had departed. The depths of his eyes were filled with uncontrollable terror, even after all these years, the nightmares remained vivid.

"I could often hear the massive buzzing sound, it was swarms of flies sweeping across the battlefield. We piled countless corpses outside the trenches as cover for firing. Sometimes, a dead man’s head would be directly facing me, his pupils scattered into a gray, murky gel, with the edges of his eyes crawling with white maggots...

My proud mind was utterly crushed in that meat grinder-like hell. When the commander ordered us to charge, I realized it was a march towards certain death."

Dennis whispered, "I was terrified."

"Go on."

The voice caught in Dennis’s throat, his expression gradually twisted, as if something was crawling out of his throat, he looked like he was about to vomit.

"I closed my eyes and pretended to be unconscious, hoping to avoid charging. Bologue found me, he shouted for me to get up and lead them forward, but I no longer had that courage.

I was trembling with fear, which couldn’t fool Bologue. According to the law, Bologue should’ve executed me, but he didn’t. When the commander called out, he covered up my lie, and then he left without looking back."

Dennis suddenly laughed hoarsely, "What happened next, everyone knows. Those who broke through the lines and stepped inside the Holy City were all killed. But I instead survived by luck, received high praise, and was decorated with medals."

"But I know I should’ve died in that light too. I’m not a hero; I’m a complete coward."

Dennis’s voice was full of pain and pleading, "But they all call me a hero..."

Ivan coldly scrutinized Dennis, just as he had speculated, Dennis experienced significant self-division, the discrepancy between personal expectations and actual actions twisted his mind, becoming his nightmare that continues until today.

It was through Dennis’s such genuine performance that Ivan could ascertain the past of Bologue was real, he truly came from that already destroyed small town.

"I thought about compensating Bologue, trying to find his hometown and tell others," Dennis said painfully, "I’m so foolish. Redwood Town is gone, everyone is dead, how could I possibly find his hometown."

Ivan inquired, "Hometown? Isn’t he from Redwood Town?"

"Bologue indeed grew up in Redwood Town, but originally, his family was not part of Redwood Town; they came from outside. As for where they came from, his family never mentioned it, and Bologue also believed he was born in Redwood Town. Regarding this part, I heard from the elders in town."

Dennis’s words made the clear mystery gloomy once again.

"Bologue is a foreigner."