Ark Undead

In the end, I didn't ask.

So he lay back down on the bed and tried to close his eyes to rest.

But he had only closed his eyes for a short while when he felt himself wake up. When he opened his terminal, he found that only an hour had passed.

Unable to fall asleep again, he remained awake until dawn.

After Scout woke up, Greyhound couldn't help but ask Scout about the time again.

What's the date today? What time is it now?

Under this torment, Scout repeatedly told Greyhound the current time.

Scout even said that if Greyhound continued like this, he might talk to Kal'tsit about changing rooms.

They might also mention checking on the greyhound's mental state.

Greyhound himself knew the problem was big, but he simply couldn't find the root of the problem.

Logically, the dream should have ended, and he had successfully left it. Now he should be preparing for the final battle with the dream's master.

But he couldn't concentrate at all.

Scout glanced at the time, then stood up and said to Greyhound.

"Dinner is served at six o'clock. I'm a little hungry. Do you want to go to the cafeteria together?"

"No need, the food prepared by the chef Rhodes Island sent this time is simply not good enough for me...?"

Greyhound glanced at Scout, and the words Scout blurted out made him chuckle.

"What's going on? I remember this conversation happened yesterday too... but it feels like so much time has passed."

To be honest, the fried fish and beans yesterday were really delicious. It was also thanks to the sweet and sour sauce that Greyhound ate a few more bites, so he wouldn't be so hungry in bed that night.

"Suit yourself, I'm going now. I'll definitely let you try Rhodes Island's special nutritional meals later."

Scout then turned and left the room, heading towards the cafeteria.

After Scout left the room, Greyhound felt that time was passing even more slowly.

After trying to sleep for a while with my eyes closed in bed, and finding that it had no effect, I still had the idea of ​​going to the cafeteria.

After all, there are more people over there, so if I go there, I won't feel so bored being cooped up in the room.

So he grabbed the terminal, turned off the automatically turned-on screen, and headed to the cafeteria.

The time displayed in the upper right corner of the screen before he turned it off was [time].

6:03.

As before, when Greyhound arrived at the cafeteria, the eeriness and unease in his heart finally subsided a little.

He skillfully picked up the plate and went to get his food.

Today's meal was still fried fish and beans, and even the same sweet and sour sauce as yesterday.

"Why is it fried fish again?"

Greyhound couldn't help but complain as well.

"Did one of the Victorian chefs find a new job in Rhode Island?"

Would you like some sauce?

The Rhodes Island operator shook the spoon in his hand and asked Greyhound.

"Of course, thank you. Could you please make me a little extra sweet and sour sauce?"

The greyhound responded politely, and then, after picking up the plate and turning around, it saw W again in a familiar spot.

It was only at these times that Greyhound would always see W sitting alone around a large table, with no one wanting to approach her or learn about her past.

So the greyhound skillfully came over to W, gently patted her shoulder, and then tossed the plate onto the table.

"Oh, another one alone."

W paused for a moment while cutting the fried fish, and responded without looking up.

"Ah."

Ignoring the familiar conversation, Greyhound cut the fried fish in half, dipped it in the sweet and sour sauce, and put it in his mouth.

This pure, unflavored sweet and sour taste brought the greyhound pure joy.

At least when eating fried fish, you can have something sweet. After all, it's impossible to provide special sugar on a ship to cater to your mood.

W still eats very quickly; a piece of fried fish doesn't last more than a minute in her hands.

"You ate so fast today too. What are you in such a hurry to do when you get home tonight?"

Greyhound couldn't help but ask.

W looked up, still chewing on fried fish, her cheeks twitching, which was quite cute.

She waited until she swallowed what was in her mouth before speaking.

"It's nothing, but it's more comfortable to be alone than in this depressing place."

W skewered another piece of fried fish before she put the scrap fish into her mouth.

She looked at the greyhound with some suspicion, then warned him.

"Don't ask me what time it is. You've been asking me this every day before meals for the past two days. I almost thought it was some kind of strange ritual or code."

"Ha...no, no."

The greyhound quickly waved its hand, indicating that it wouldn't ask such a stupid question.

Only then did W feel relieved and continue eating the fish.

The greyhound chewed on the fried fish in its mouth listlessly, chewing for almost half a minute without swallowing.

The sweet and sour sauce had been almost completely broken down by saliva, and Greyhound even thought that the fried fish tasted like the patty soup sauce he had drunk before.

It's strange, I feel like I've had the same thing on the ship these past couple of days.

The greyhound instinctively searched its memory, but after a long time, it still couldn't recall when it had taken the medicine.

By the time Greyhound came to his senses, W had already stood up with the plate.

Greyhound ignored W.

But the knife on W's plate seemed to have some grease on it. It slipped off the plate when W stood up with the plate in her hand.

Greyhound instinctively raised his right hand to dodge the knife attack, watching helplessly as the knife bounced twice on the table.

Then the blade slid down the edge of the table, blade down, and slammed hard against the floor.

ding ding ding...

The knife swung on the ground a few times before settling down.

Before W could even ask Greyhound, Greyhound bent down and picked up the knife from the ground for W.

"Thank you."

W said thank you to the greyhound.

But as Greyhound got up, he stared blankly at the knife in his hand, lost in thought.

Greyhound?

W didn't know what was wrong with Greyhound, so he called out to him again.

Greyhound then came to his senses and chuckled as he put the knife back into W's plate.

"What happened? How could the knife fall down like that?"

"How would I know? I guess some oil spilled in."

W ignored this simple question.

"I'm full, I'm going back to my room now. You can keep eating."

Watching W place the iron plate in his hand on the recycling table, Greyhound turned back and stared at the knife and fork in his hand.

For some reason, the greyhound completely lost its appetite at this point.

He seemed to have grasped something, but in reality, he had grasped nothing at all.

After thinking for a long time without any results, Greyhound could only continue cutting the fried fish in front of him, eat it hastily, and return to his room.

Later, Greyhound restrained himself from asking the time until he familiarly picked up a book, intending to reread it.

Scout returned to his room.

Just like a few days ago, Scout also returned around this time.

According to Scout, he had something to do to help Kal'tsit, so he wouldn't go straight back to his room after dinner.

When Greyhound saw Scout return, he spoke.

"Scout".

"Don't ask me about the time, everything else is negotiable."

Before Greyhound could even ask, Scout got straight to the point.

"Ask whatever you want to know."

Greyhound choked for a moment; he had actually meant to ask what time it was.

But Scout's words shut him up.

There was nothing he could do; Greyhound just wanted to talk to someone, so he simply asked casually.

"What did Kal'tsit want to talk to you about these past few days? Come to think of it, I haven't seen Kal'tsit at all. What's going on with her?"

Scout didn't have anything to hide from Greyhound.

After putting the documents on the table, I sat on the bed and skillfully picked up the books placed on the bedside table.

He turned the pages as he spoke.

"I need to retrieve some documents from the last two floors. They're supposedly experimental equipment that Kal'tsit needs. One elite operator isn't safe, but too many aren't appropriate either. So these past few days I've been teaming up with Logos to go down to the lower floors and get some things."

"Didn't they say we weren't allowed to go down to the lower levels? It's very dangerous."