40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 10 10. Food and the Ghost Philosopher
Food is important.

Without food, a person's most basic survival needs cannot be discussed.In fact, a well-dressed and civilized man becomes, after a time, a ferocious beast if he does not have a full stomach.

In other words, even the vengeful spirit of Nostramo needs to eat.

After all, he is not a real ghost now, how can he not eat?

The cold wind whizzed by, blowing Kalil's cloak and black hair, and the ghost squatted at the other end, looking down blankly from the front.If he is not performing tasks, he will have this expression most of the time.

However, a one-and-a-half-year-old child should have this kind of expression, shouldn't he?
Generally speaking, the gargoyle on the edge of the tall building is a good observation point, overlooking the many scenery below.However, correspondingly, if you choose it, you have to bear the cold it brings.

The so-called high places are too cold, I am afraid this is the reason.

Khalil took a deep breath and picked up a large mass of black goo from a plastic dinner plate in front of him.It looks like poison or something unidentified in the sewer, but it tastes like
Truth be told, there are times when Khalil would rather have no taste.

The ghost turned his head, and he saw that Khalil's expression gradually changed from serious to a weird twist after a difficult swallow.

This made him tilt his head involuntarily.

"Why do you want to eat that kind of thing?" Ghost asked puzzled. "And you always eat."

"Because I'm an ordinary man—and besides, I haven't improved the food conditions, and we have no money, ghost."

Khalil swallowed the thing stuck in his throat with difficulty, and replied like this. "The most important point is that I need to eat, and at least one meal a day. Unlike you, one meal every three days is enough."

Ghost thought for a moment, then nodded.

He didn't hear any malice in Khalil's words, at most there was only a faint mockery, which was even aimed at Khalil himself.

Moreover, Youhun himself does eat once every three days.

Khalil closed his eyes and sighed—the bad taste of the nutrition cream made him want to throw up.

He had just returned from a six-hour job, and that was his little pay for the short break.

He cleaned up the building with the air filter on the top floor. Except for a few innocent people, most of the people inside were corrupt officials and their gangsters and bodyguards.

Khalil killed them, but did not distribute the money they hid to the poor.He dispersed them and set a fire to burn all the money away.

Common people cannot take this kind of money, and it is best not to take it.

"Do you still want to eat?" Ghost asked.

"Of course. Cherishing food is a virtue." Khalil replied.

His expression is still calm, but it doesn't mean he really wants to eat.

In fact, he is now very thankful that the balm turns into a viscous fluid after being soaked in water.If it is another kind, then he may also need to light a fire.

The light yellow nutrient paste is as hard as a brick.It won't be broken by a knife, and the blisters won't soften. If you want to eat that kind of thing raw, unless you are a saw-toothed beast outside the city, it can bite through steel.

However, there are plenty of sawtooths that people can eat, and they don't eat such things.

"Why don't you eat mice?" Ghost asked with a frown. "If you're worried about germs, you can take out the guts and burn it to char."

Khalil's cheek twitched.

".Ghost, don't tell me that you've been secretly catching mice and eating them recently. I'm obviously going to get a lot of nutrition cream every three days!"

"...Nutrition cream is not good, but mice are delicious, and the mice are very big."

Ghost turned his head and began to talk about him from left to right. "Also, they usually come and go in groups, and you can get a full meal if you catch a few of them."

"That's not why you eat rats!"

Khalil said seriously, and at the same time picked up a handful of black sticky substance with his fingers, and the feeling of touch made his abdomen twitch.However, he just ate it anyway.

Without even hesitating.

No matter how unpalatable it is, this thing is food.And, in a place like Nostramo, it's relatively clean.

"But, in my opinion, mice are better than nutrient cream, Khalil." Ghost persuaded hesitantly. "You should really think about rats."

"...Remember, Ghost, you are a human! And humans don't eat rats!"

"You lied, I know a lot of ways to cook rats, who would invent so many ways to make them delicious if people don't eat them?"

As Ghost spoke, he smacked his lips, as if he wanted to use his imagination to restore the mouse dishes in his mind.

"I'm not lying."

Also, is there something wrong with the guy who created you?
Khalil frowned in disbelief.

Why would he stuff your brain with knowledge of how rats cook?
"But those mice look really delicious."

Ghost said.He squatted, turned his head with a little longing, and glanced at the scenery below the gargoyle.

Neon lights split the sky as usual, and vehicles roared past not far away.The bronze gargoyle they were crouching on was lucky not to have been corroded by the acid rain.

Ghost likes it very much, and is stroking its head with his hand, feeling the regularity.

His body temperature is also gradually warming the gargoyle, and gradually, the place it touches is no longer so cold.This kind of positive feedback made Specter began to lengthen the time that the palm stayed on with great joy.

Khalil noticed this, and based on his understanding of the ghost's habits, he knew that if nothing unexpected happened, the ghost would choose to look down here for the next few days.

He behaved innocently and childishly, as a child would do.

And Khalil knew that what was hidden under this innocent appearance was a monster that could subvert the whole world just by growing up with time.

As for the ghost, he didn't answer, Khalil was very afraid that his imagination would play a role when it shouldn't be used.

Eating nutrition cream itself is already a kind of torture. If you want him to imagine a mouse that has been roasted into charcoal or a steamed mouse that has been peeled off when eating the nutrition cream
His face twitched.

"What about them?" Ghost suddenly asked.

He was relieved that his question ended Khalil's imagination.

"Who?" Khalil asked.

"They, those who live in shanty towns."

"You want to ask them what they usually eat, don't you?"

Ghost nodded.

Khalil glanced at him, then stuffed the last piece—or rather, the last dollop of nutrient cream—into his mouth.After doing this, he didn't forget to stuff the plastic dinner plate into the inner pocket of his clothes.

He doesn't litter casually, not to mention, throwing objects at high altitudes is very dangerous.

In this way, Khalil answered the ghost's question vaguely while trying to swallow the so-tasty thing that made the taste numb with fear.

"Most people eat the same as me. This food has only been promoted in Nostramo in the last ten years. It is said that it is because a certain upper-class nobleman feels that it is unnecessary for the workers to eat too well."

After saying this, Khalil cleared his throat, trying to make his throat feel better so that he wouldn't be tormented by that sticky feeling again.

Of course, his efforts failed.

Facing Ghost's eyes, he said again: "As for whether they can eat enough, it depends on whether they work hard. If they are willing to work more than 18 hours a day, then they can still eat enough that day."

Specter's eyes widened. He didn't know much about the world. However, what he knew was enough for him to understand what this matter meant.

"That's why there are so many suicides...?" Ghost asked in a low voice.

Khalil smiled.He thought, you still haven't seen the truth about this ghostly place.People commit suicide not just because they don't have enough food or clothing to escape their misery, but because they see no hope at all.

And the nobles don't even care at all - for them, the workers die as soon as they die, and it is a good thing not to consume resources.

"No, it's more than that," Khalil said. "That's at best part of the reason."

"So, is it also because of the gangs?"

"They were just accomplices."

"So... it's the nobles' fault?"

"In a sense, yes." Khalil shook his head.

"But the root cause is still not with them, ghost. You once said that you thought the world was sick but you had no idea what the normal world was like."

Ghost was silent for a moment, and made his rebuttal: "...I have seen some clips, and those worlds are not the same as Nostramo."

More than just different.Khalil thought.

"What makes them different from Nostramo?" asked the ghost blankly. "Khalil, do you have an answer?"

I have, of course I have.

I have 1000 million answers to tell you, I can even write a book to tell you what to do.

I have too much time to think about this problem, those years floating in this world have made me see too many things
And these things are even heavy enough to turn a ghost who just wants to die into a philosopher.

But I can't, ghost.

Staring at him, Khalil said softly: "You have to find the answers to some questions by yourself, ghost, I can't tell you. Everyone has a different attitude towards the world, I don't want to affect you"

Although I have done so.I'm very sorry.

"Also—break time is over."

Khalil stood up and changed his expression in an instant.He fastened the tie of his cloak and swung his arm, a dangerous silver light flickering on his wrist.

"Who is it today?" Ghost asked.

"Scarlet Finale. Remember to say hello to them later, Ghost, they generously lent us two motorcycles last time."

Khalil laughed out loud and leaped straight off the gargoyle, followed by the ghost.

The gargoyle stared at all this coldly, and the little warmth left by the ghost on its head was disappearing at an extremely fast speed.
-
An elderly woman stooped and walked into a dark corridor.She has white hair, a little fat, and her legs and feet are a little awkward.

In the woman's hand was a silver dinner plate, very large, inlaid with gold rims, and filled with food.There were three huge steaks that were fried just right, soft white bread, thick soup, and a whole piece of delicate pastry.

The aroma is tangy.

If it is placed in the lower nest, there will probably be tens of thousands of people willing to fight each other for this delicious meal, and they will pay a huge price just for one bite.

There is a black metal base buried deep in her flesh and blood on the back of the woman, and a beautiful black mechanical arm extends from it.On top of the three sharp mechanical fingers, a candle was burning slowly.

She walked through the corridor, and the faint firelight gradually dispelled the darkness.Women walk slowly, but not because of age or legs.She did it on purpose.

There are portraits hanging on the walls on both sides of the corridor, men and women, dressed in expensive clothes, pale and painted.The dead people are inlaid in exquisite picture frames, and there are gorgeous reliefs on the edges reflecting the drawn light.

They all stared at the woman with empty eyes.She returned the salute one by one with great respect.

After 15 minutes, she finally left the corridor.Holding the dinner plate, the woman stood in front of the two thick gilded relief doors, and knocked on them heavily with her forehead.

There was a dull sound, and after three clicks, the door opened automatically.She entered a brand new, vast room.

The thick dark red carpet, eighteen crystal chandeliers and many bulky furniture and decorations make this place look resplendent and resplendent. It is more like a small palace than a room.

"My honorable count."

The woman bent down deeply, her white hair fell in front of her red and swollen forehead, and her voice was pious. "Your lunch has been delivered."

"Put it on the table."

A voice spoke from across the room, with a certain casualness, and the authority of a position of authority—it was worth noting that, apart from these things, his voice was hoarse.

The woman lowered her head, moved slowly, and came to a long mahogany table by virtue of her memory.She put down the plate, and then went straight to the door, intending to leave.

But the voice sounded again at this moment: "Two or ten minutes later, call Jando, Lena, and Irene. Their playtime is over. The Skelevoker family has a task to give them."

"Of order, my count." The woman turned her head, bowed respectfully, and then slammed her forehead on the door three times again. After it was opened, the woman left respectfully.

Her forehead was already bleeding, but no one cared, not even herself.

(End of this chapter)