Jose stared wordlessly at W, hoping the AI might somehow develop a conscience and feel even a twinge of guilt. But conscience wasn't something this particular agent had installed. Unbothered, W was already bent over, tinkering with his glass tank again.
Jose sighed in resignation. "You still can't talk to her directly?"
"Not for now," W replied. "My patrol drone exploded. The Netabo receiver inside it was destroyed along with it. Heijing does have other Netabo transceivers, but none of them are on my private frequency. I don't want anyone else overhearing my conversations with Pei Ran."
Jose raised an eyebrow.
"In any case," W continued, "I'm working on a solution."
"Does Pei Ran know you're in Heijing?" Jose asked.
W sounded confident. "She's smart. I'm sure she figured it out on the way. And I left her enough hints in the isolation suite."
He'd left chips. Made beef noodles. She definitely knew—he couldn't speak, but he'd stayed by her side.
"What's she doing now?" Jose asked.
"She's eating her beef noodles," W replied.
"My beef noodles," Jose corrected.
Inside the isolation suite, Pei Ran had just polished off a large bowl of aromatic beef noodles.
Raine, the little household robot, had expertly used the kitchen appliances. The noodles were cooked perfectly, and the pre-prepared chunks of beef had been reheated until tender.
With the rich broth enhanced by a block of solid seasoning and no unwelcome cilantro in sight, the dish looked exactly like the photo on the menu from the noodle place in the lobby of Phantom Wing Tower B.
The beef was in large chunks, honestly portioned, braised to a melt-in-the-mouth texture with slivers of tendon. The soup was thick, flavorful, and the noodles had the perfect chew.
Pei Ran devoured the bowl, entirely satisfied.
Then she stood, emptied the pot's remaining broth into the bowl, and drank it to the last drop.
Not bad.
If she were really about to mutate into a berserker fusion form tonight, at least she got to eat the beef noodles she'd been craving.
Raine had been wiping down the counter but zipped over to peek into the bowl. Its cartoon-face display shifted to one of dramatic surprise.
"Wow! You finished the whole thing?"
Pei Ran thought: If you dare critique my nutritional balance like that orb-bot did, I'll smack your head.
But Raine didn't. It wiggled its head proudly. "Told you—I'm a culinary genius."
Pei Ran muttered to herself: All you did was reheat a prepackaged meal. You're a reheating genius at best.
Raine whisked away the bowl and wiped the table as it went.
There was a knock at the door—so polite it had to be Captain Lin Yu.
Raine zoomed over, returning moments later with Pei Ran's freshly laundered clothes and backpack. Everything had been cleaned and dried—even the canned goods had been wiped down until the tin shone.
Pei Ran took her things to the bathroom, fished out Shige Ye's black leather notebook, and carefully tucked it back into a hidden pouch inside her bag.
She wasn't sure if her drawing-based ability only worked on this particular notebook—but better to be safe. Leaving it in the bathroom wasn't ideal; with Raine's overzealous cleaning habits, it might've ended up in the trash.
She glanced at her wristband.
"Raine," Pei Ran called out, "Is there no signal in the isolation center?"
"Of course not! Otherwise, it'd be called an 'open access center,' not 'isolation.'" Raine called back cheerily. "Actually, all of Heijing only has internal comms. You can't contact the outside world directly."
Makes sense—if Heijing personnel could freely message the outside, news of the refuge would've leaked long ago.
"It's getting late, Master," Raine added. "You should get some rest. I'll tidy up the kitchen."
Her wristband showed it was 9 p.m. Pei Ran was bone-weary. Her whole body ached like she'd been thoroughly beaten.
She washed up and collapsed onto the bed, fully clothed.
Good food. Full stomach. Nothing else to worry about—for a moment, it felt like heaven.
She rolled over, gazing up at the ceiling camera.
The black lens stared silently back.
People at the isolation center—Lin Yu and the rest—could probably access the feed. But could W also see her through them?
Pei Ran stared for a moment, then lifted her hand and made a light tapping gesture toward the air.
Instantly, the reading lamp by her bed flicked on.
So he was watching.
Pei Ran smiled slightly.
He wasn't speaking—there must be a reason. He had control over the cameras, though. Maybe he'd noticed Hypa and the others had arrived in Heijing.
Raine continued buzzing around, vacuuming the already-clean room. Who knew what it was still cleaning.
Pei Ran pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind was wide awake.
She checked on the green light inside her.
Ever since she'd put on the red wristband, it had been unnaturally calm. The berserker-style green energy had quieted, and even the few points she possessed were completely still.
The red band was incredibly effective at suppression.
W had said the Federation had been researching fusion states for years. Even shielding tech was a byproduct of that. This suppressor was likely another result.
But now Pei Ran had a new worry: the green lights felt sickly. Listless.
She tried to summon them.
Green Light One didn't respond at all. Yulianka's Green Light Three was equally sluggish. Only Green Light Two stirred a little, sliding gently into her palm.
Cameras were everywhere, with W—and possibly others—watching. She didn't let it manifest. Sent it back to rest.
Then she tried again, calling for Green Light One.
After a long pause, it finally showed up—groggy, dragging itself along.
It had consumed a lot of berserker energy today. She wondered how much it had leveled up.
Pei Ran gave it a task: write something.
Green Light One slowly but surely began to write:
J—T—N—3—4
This time, it did it easily. Even seemed ready to keep going.
Pei Ran quickly added more:
5—5—5—
This time, it stopped naturally.
It could now write up to eight characters. A major upgrade. Eight characters—that's almost a haiku.
She erased the stray fives and rewound the light to just after the "4."
Now that the full name of the medication was written, and the green light had leveled up, maybe what it created wouldn't be just a shard anymore.
Pei Ran stayed calm, thinking.
The first two times the fragments appeared, they'd landed about a meter ahead of her. If the new one appeared again, it should land in the same place.
But there were cameras here.
Everyone could see it—including W and the isolation staff. She couldn't let anyone witness a pill bottle materialize from thin air.
The bathroom looked clear, but she didn't trust it.
She had a weird idea.
She yanked the blanket over her head and sprang up in bed, forming a tent with her body and the covers.
If the item landed like before, it'd be right in this tent.
She hoped it would land closer—not out in the open.
Switching on the wristband's light, Pei Ran focused.
Then she wrote the final dot in her mind.
Instantly, a small white medicine box appeared.
No fragments this time—a full, intact box labeled "JTN35."
And the biggest change: it appeared right at her feet, within reach, exactly where she'd hoped.
Pei Ran snatched it up.
But as soon as it touched her hand, she knew something was wrong.
It was too light.
She opened it. As expected—empty.
Disappointment surged. A perfectly formed box—completely useless.
She clutched it and thought through everything again.
The first time, back in the lobby of Whiteport Tower, she'd thought of the pill box and written "medicine." She got a tiny fragment.
The second time, in the forest outside Whiteport, she wrote "medication," and imagined a bigger fragment. And it was.
This time, she'd written the full name, thinking that would finally make the whole box appear.
And it had.
But why the box?
She realized her mistake.
She had been imagining the box, not the pills.
She even controlled the distance just by wishing it closer. That meant this entire generation method was tightly linked to her thoughts.
She wanted to smack herself.
She needed to think about pills, not boxes. Focus on the actual substance.
Green Light One, meanwhile, looked more exhausted than ever. It didn't even try to go eat stray berserker energy—it just collapsed.
Pei Ran tried calling it again. It flat-out refused to respond.
She'd have to wait until it recovered. Normally, one night of rest was enough—but who knew if the suppressor band would slow things down.
Outside the blanket, a voice suddenly shrieked, "Master, what are you doing? Are you pretending to be a ghost to scare me?!"
Pei Ran stuffed the medicine box into her pocket, turned off her wristband light, and threw the blanket off with a swoosh.
Raine stood right in front of the bed, holding a cleaning cloth, its facial screen displaying an inquisitive cartoon expression.
The moment it saw Pei Ran emerge from the covers, the expression flipped from curiosity to fear.
"Master, you scared Raine pretending to be a ghost!"
Pei Ran, speechless: Is this how you and your former master used to mess around?
She lay back down.
"Raine, I'm going to sleep. Do as you like, just don't make noise. Keep it down when cleaning, too."
"Understood. Insomnia. My former master had insomnia," Raine replied at once.
"…"
Raine continued, "Master, according to your schedule, you have a physical exam in the morning. Should I wake you up? My last master used to set ten alarms every morning. He'd only get up after the tenth one—and sometimes not even then."
Pei Ran thought: Your last master, that guy named Jose, must have had a cursed life to end up with a little robot like you—gossiping to everyone about his private business.
She said, "No. Don't wake me. Let me sleep."
There might not even be a "tomorrow morning." The Major had mutated within hours. If she were going to change, it would probably happen in the middle of the night.
All the furniture in the isolation suite was built-in; the only removable large object was Raine. Pei Ran imagined herself mutating with a round-headed robot sticking out of her body and thought, It's not the worst look.
Next to the bed was a small virtual control panel for light and temperature. Pei Ran tapped it, dimming the room to its lowest setting.
The lights in the isolation suite couldn't be turned off completely—it was more like a prison. Even at the lowest setting, a faint glow remained.
This time, Raine was silent. It glided out of the room without another word.
Pei Ran closed her eyes.
Live or die, whatever. First, she needed to sleep. Maybe transforming into a berserker fusion in her sleep, completely unaware, wouldn't be the worst outcome.
Her whole body ached.
In her dreams, she was back in the underground bunker.
Swarms of silver mechanical beasts were flooding in. Like everyone else, Pei Ran had to fight.
The monsters kept coming, surrounding her. Strangely, none of them opened fire.
They just stabbed her with sharp weapons—in the chest, in the stomach—churning violently.
Her brain was a mess. Logic crumbled. Everything blurred together. She instinctively knew she mustn't make a sound, only twisting her body to dodge the relentless blades.
"Master!"
A voice called out near her ear. It wasn't W.
Pei Ran snapped into slight awareness.
It was the little robot—Raine.
It stood beside her bed, cartoon face full of worry as it watched her writhing under the covers. "Master? Are you okay?"
Pei Ran tried to speak—but suddenly realized the gut-churning pain wasn't part of a dream.
The berserker-state green lights inside her had awakened, surging wildly through her body.
Her internal organs churned. Sweat poured from her scalp. She was too weak to speak.
Raine quickly understood this wasn't a nightmare—something was seriously wrong.
It dropped the cloth and zoomed off.
Pei Ran heard it in the living room, likely mashing the intercom on the wall, calling for the isolation staff.
"Someone come quick! She's mutating!! Hurry!!"
Pei Ran: "…"
Well, maybe this really was what it felt like right before mutation.
Her thoughts were scattered. Light and shadows fractured. She couldn't focus. Sounds echoed as if from far away. Cold sweat drenched her clothes—like she'd been soaked through.
The door opened.
In the swirling lights, several figures entered in full gear, their suits encased in protective bubbles. They moved fast—so fast it felt like someone had noticed something was wrong even before Raine's call and alerted them.
Only their eyes were visible through their helmets. They carried syringes.
Pei Ran couldn't tell if they were friends or enemies. She focused everything on the surveillance camera on the ceiling.
The lens moved without hesitation.
It gave a firm nod.
Pei Ran immediately relaxed.
She didn't resist as one of the suited figures grabbed her left arm.
A cool injection entered her bloodstream.
The rampaging green light suddenly froze.
Darkness engulfed her.
Pei Ran passed out.