Data Synchronization Progress: 49%
Vera slowly begins peeling her second apple of the day. She's grown accustomed to it, using it as a trigger to draw out her memories.
Just like that night before the Punishing outbreak, she's once again fabricating a story from her past to achieve some purpose.
The apple peel is suspended under her knife, hanging by a thread. After briefly considering her "outline," she begins her tale.
I never even had parents. I lost both of them when I was very young.
What are you apologizing for? I don't want to hear it.
Not exactly a happy beginning, right?
Are you trying to comfort me?
Vera lets out another laugh.
Suit yourself. I couldn't care less what kind of novel I'm living in.
Anyway... I was passed around between distant relatives since I was little. When one family didn't want me, I'd go to the next. Then I'd bring them "bad luck" and get sent away again.
Anyway I was passed around between distant relatives since I was little. When one family didn't want me, I'd go to the next. Then I'd bring them "bad luck" and get sent away again.
Apparently my parents left me quite a fortune, so even though they didn't like me, my relatives would stick around for a while because of the hefty inheritance. I've seen plenty of shameless people fighting over money.
Fortunately, I was still touched by the lingering light of the Golden Age. Once I was a bit older, I found a way to get away from those people.
Back then, no one could have predicted the approaching Punishing disaster. All people saw before them was an era of unprecedented peace.
In those days, most people were planning for a more stable life, myself included. My grades and physical aptitude were pretty good, so I chose to enter a formal officer academy—quite different from the mercenary systems of that time. Long story short, I had a stable career path.
Mm-hmm, I could get away from those annoying relatives, move into government-provided dormitories, and if my performance was good enough, maybe even get stationed somewhere peaceful and cushy as an officer for a few years...
What makes you say that? Do I look like the serious, studious type?
Well... you're half right.
She weighs her words carefully, the boundary between her fabricated "outline" and the "truth" she experienced gradually blurring into ambiguity.
When it came to academics, I was quite diligent. I also considered myself cautious in other matters.
For example, back then I received invitations from many consortia and institutions. Just by signing contracts with them, I could have gotten substantial material support, enough to replenish the assets that were spent and "plundered" after I chose my academy.
I didn't accept any of them. On one hand, I believed that "there's no such thing as a free lunch." I always felt that someone might use those contracts to do something harmful.
—But in retrospect, it wouldn't have mattered much. That "sign the wrong contract and you're dead" environment only became widespread after the Punishing outbreak. Order and prosperity often go hand in hand, a quality that the Golden Age was in no shortage of.
As for the other reason... haha, I thought I was so impressive, with my own unique survival strategy—when really, it was just about fighting to be number one in everything, creating more options for myself. That's all.
...They were all trash. They barely qualified as "choices"—it was just me reacting to my circumstances.
Vera narrows her eyes slightly as memories resurface, slicing through a piece of fruit peel.
How should I explain this to you... At that time, some of my classmates from well-off families aimed to graduate into logistics or similar positions. But such comfortable futures required finding someone else to "shoulder the burden" in more demanding locations.
Then there were those with leadership skills and charisma whose life goal was simply to climb as high as possible. They didn't care about going to the frontlines, all that mattered to them was being the ones who held the most power. These types usually had their "factions."
So... all sorts of classmates and comrades took notice of someone like me: excellent academic performance, but no background, no family, and few friends.
At first, they "bestowed" their invitations upon me, mostly under the pretense of sharing mutual benefits, expecting me to join them with grateful reverence.
Oh? Eager to jump in with an answer?
Vera glances at you, goes back to the fruit and continues peeling.
You're right, I was too "uncooperative" for my own good.
They got irritated and started placing little "harmless" stumbling blocks in my path—making me slip up during training, or causing trouble during minor operations, then slapping me with the label of "malicious competitor."
While I was struggling in their spiderweb, they'd use the same tactics against anyone willing to associate with me.
It was a predictable outcome—I traveled alone, and in the end, I left alone. In between, all kinds of people walked with me for a while, only to part ways for various reasons.
The fruit peel falls into the plate with a soft scraping sound, completely removed.
Back then, Vera might have indeed cut through the spider web, only to fall into an even deeper, bottomless pit.
Heh, there's no point talking about this anymore. Whatever order existed back then, the Punishing virus has torn it all to shreds.
Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you. What do you... think?
She suddenly realizes that her listener hasn't responded for quite some time.
She looks up toward the hospital bed, only to freeze in surprise.
Because she sees that the "little Commandant" from F.O.S. is still holding the apple slice she had cut earlier, not having taken a single bite, just furrowing their brow and staring intently at her.
A mocking laugh escapes her lips.
Haha? You actually believed that?
The Commandant is momentarily stunned.
At this very moment, Vera hears the words that man spoke many years ago echoing in her ears.
You made that up, didn't you? Just as a poor person can't imagine the limits of a rich life, your story is riddled with holes—you've never been loved.
Seeing the earnest expression on the Commandant's face, Vera tastes a hint of surprise within herself—she hasn't even realized that with each response from the Commandant, her narrative has been gradually becoming more and more truthful.
...I was just joking earlier. I wasn't lying to you. That's how the 【story】 really went.
Seeing the earnest expression on the Commandant's face, Vera tastes a hint of surprise within herself—she hasn't even realized that with each response from the Commandant, her narrative has been gradually becoming more and more truthful.
...Yes, it really is true. That's how the 【story】 went.
So then, after listening for so long to this boring story of mine, did you learn what you wanted to know?
You didn't really ask much. With all your questions, were you trying to learn about the life of my "temporary teammates," or did you want to understand what the world looked like at the tail end of the Golden Age?
She casually places the sliced apple into the dish, as if everything she just shared had nothing to do with her.
After hearing her story and watching her nonchalant movements, the Commandant suddenly poses a "somewhat strange" question.
...What kind of stupid question is that? Do I look disappointed to you?
Or are you saying that if you input "experiences like these," the only possible output is "cynicism and world-weariness"?
You really are sheltered, aren't you? You haven't even graduated from F.O.S. yet. How many people have you actually met? How many situations have you observed? You're probably still stressing over exam scores every day—not all hardships will forge...
I'm not disappointed at all. Because I never expected anything in the first place. I've always known what human nature is really like.
It's precisely because of this that I don't think the Punishing had much impact on me—after all, humans are the same wherever they go. I merely jumped from one web into another.
Why are you so intent on dissecting me, little Commandant?
Vera viciously bites into an apple.
If I must say it, then I despise human civilization.
Vera viciously bites into an apple.
If I have to put it in words—then I despise human civilization.
Choose your words carefully before you speak. I don't want to hear any sanctimonious attempts at "reconciliation."
...
Grateful for what?
Vera finds herself confronted with yet another completely unexpected response—leaving her sarcastic comebacks with nowhere to land.
Over the years, she has tracked down traitors, interrogated "criminals," and confronted all sorts of people, with their responses always aligning closely with what she had anticipated.
Now, she finds herself repeatedly "thwarted" in this brief conversation, sinking into an unfamiliar silence.
...
(How naive... is it? Can this even be called naivety?)
...
You seem to belatedly realize "I've said too much to a Construct I've only recently met," and silently lower your head to nibble on an apple as well.
The two observe each other in silence, eventually reaching a peculiar kind of understanding.
...Taking care of you has truly been the easiest mission I've handled. However, rather than continuing to waste time on small talk, you should focus on how we'll reach the connection point to Babylonia next.
Once you've recovered a bit more, we'll need to get moving.
Vera checks the timeline Kurono assigned her. There aren't many days left. Before the deadline, she must submit those test materials.
Two days... or three. At the very least, we should wait until your stomach wound...
The bedside lamp suddenly flickers on with urgency, while alarms in the corridor outside the ward begin to wail.
WOOOOOO—
You respond to the alarm etched in muscle memory, immediately propping yourself up on the hospital bed and struggling to climb down while clutching your side.
Vera also springs to her feet instantly.
If they've spread all the way here, our rear defenses must have gone completely Haywire... I've never seen a Corrupted attack this ferocious before.
An unsettling intuition creeps into her mind, but she can't quite grasp what it is.
...Heh, do you understand what's happening—little Commandant? This attack you've unfortunately encountered is no ordinary one. Even if you run for your life, you might not be able to escape.
She tightens her grip on her weapon.
Afraid?
Don't move on your own, you're injured. Wait here while I check the corridor.
The sound of alarms is engraved in Vera's M.I.N.D. She steps toward the exit and reaches for the door of the hospital room.
—Are you sure you want to open that door?
...!
Vera places her fingers on the door. She hears eerie screeching from the corridor, followed quickly by the agonized screams of those who couldn't evacuate in time.
The shadow of the Punishing virus looms over the earth. There is nowhere that's absolutely safe anymore. This temporary medical station will soon transform into a hellish "inferno."
She has walked the surface for many years. Since that winter of 2160, she has witnessed countless massacres just like that snowy night.
...Forget it, change of plans. We're not leaving through the corridor. We're not that high up, we can use the window...
She stares through the small window in the door at the corridor, but receives no response from you for an uncomfortably long time.
Hahaha... I'm not running. Turn around and look. Just for a moment.
—Wait, what are you doing?!
She turns around with delayed realization. For a moment, she dreads seeing a scene reminiscent of that incident from years ago.
But she immediately realizes with dismay—yes, it's almost exactly the same.
You stand motionless, poised in a martial stance, tightly gripping a small fruit knife.
...
Your sharpness, too, will inevitably be dulled until you reach the tragic end that awaits you.
Hahahaha...
She bursts into sudden laughter.
My dear Commandant, are you planning to perform a suicide ritual for me? That's certainly one way to lift my boredom.
You stare at her in confusion, your eyes showing no recognition of her absurd question.
I thought you'd be different from those damned bastards, hahaha...
You don't understand what she's talking about. You just furrow your brow, grip the small knife tightly, and speak with determination.
...
You follow Vera's gaze to the fruit knife, seemingly understanding something.
No blood spraying everywhere, no snow and wind rushing through shattered windows, no corpse of a madman satisfied by suicide.
Just a lonely, vulnerable human who hasn't even graduated yet, without a proper weapon, injured and unsteady on their feet.
Yet this very same person insists on brandishing a laughably tiny fruit knife while solemnly talking about some "situation assessment."
And they even said: "Clear us a path."
Hahaha...
She feels like a "mad dog" who's been fighting in the sewers for years, suddenly encountering a "proper soldier" waving around an ID badge and a fruit knife.
...Hahaha... Hahahaha!
She wheezes, instinctively feeling that this winter would be unlike any other.
Alright—alright! The escape starts now, and no matter what, you better keep up with me, even if it costs you your life! Got that?!
