VII: Mr. President, The Heartthrob Will Walk You Home!

"Tch. Look at you, sleeping so soundly while I'm having a hard time reading your handwriting." Dylan stares at Ulysses, who is napping in his chair, with a pair of sharp eyes. "You should write properly, yeah?"

Fate is playing with Dylan. He said to himself that he will stay here even if they end up staying until eight in the evening. And now, it's already 7:43 pm, almost eight!

However, there is still a piece of good news in the flood of unfortunate events. He managed to input every word of every page of Ulysses' barely readable 13-page handwritten report. He also printed it and placed it in the folder with his handwritten report.

He dropped it in his desk, creating a sound that echoed in the entirety of this small office. Hoping this would wake him up.

One... two... three... No reaction.

Ulysses didn't even move a single muscle, not even slightly opening his eyes. There's no sign that he'll wake up any time soon.

This didn't make Dylan give up. he picks up the fo