Ark Simulator, don't I have no physical form?

The man with the crossbow froze abruptly. He looked down in disbelief at the bullet hole that had suddenly appeared in his chest, rapidly spreading dark red blood. Then, the fierce light in his eyes was quickly replaced by blankness and death. He swayed, fell backward, and crashed to the ground with a thud. The crossbow also fell onto the polished marble floor with a crisp thud.

The coffee shop was deathly silent. Only the sporadic sounds of fighting and shouting from the street outside the window continued, but they seemed to be subsiding quickly.

Immediately afterwards, several figures dressed in dark gray uniforms, well-equipped, and moving swiftly and professionally rushed in from the entrance, spreading out in tactical formation to control the coffee shop's entrance and all directions. Their uniform armbands bore a clear black steel logo—Black Steel International.

The leader was a woman who appeared to be around thirty years old, with a stern face and short, neat black hair. She held a sleek submachine gun in her hand, wisps of gunpowder still rising from the muzzle. Her sharp gaze quickly swept across the shop, and after seeing the man with the crossbow lying on the ground and the panicked customers, she reported concisely into her earpiece: "Oak Coffee Shop, Sector C, threat cleared. One bandit killed. Hostage safe."

Her gaze lingered for a fleeting moment as it swept over Suri and Eyjafjalla. Suri's striking beauty and unusually calm demeanor, along with Eyjafjalla's still-shaken yet clung-to-Suri appearance, clearly caught her attention. However, her professional instincts compelled her to quickly avert her gaze and gesture to her team behind her: "Check the store's security, calm the hostages. What's the situation outside?"

"Team B reports: The street conflict is under control. Four gangsters have been subdued, and two are at large and being pursued. Preliminary assessment indicates it was a brawl between two local small gangs over a dispute over addictive drug trafficking, involving crossbows and homemade explosives. No civilians have been seriously injured," the report came clearly through the earpiece.

The female manager of Black Steel International nodded almost imperceptibly, put away her submachine gun, and addressed the still-frightened customers in the store in a calm and clear tone: "Gentlemen, you have been frightened. We are Black Steel International's security contractor, responsible for emergency response in this area. The threat has been eliminated. Please remain inside the store and do not go out for the time being. Our team will ensure your safety and assist the police in their follow-up work. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused."

Her voice was steady and strong, carrying a reassuring professionalism. The customers in the coffee shop, including the elderly couple and the young man in the corner, visibly breathed a sigh of relief. Although their faces were still pale, they were at least no longer as terrified as before.

Eyjafjalla let out a long sigh of relief, her tense body relaxing as she realized her back was soaked with cold sweat. She instinctively looked at Suri, only to see that he (in his lamb form) had somehow turned his gaze away from the window and was now calmly watching the crossbowman who had been shot dead, and his crossbow lying nearby. His face remained expressionless, as if the harrowing scene just moments before was merely an insignificant interlude.

He even had the time, in his calm and even tone, to speak to the still-shocked Eyjafjalla, his longest statement of the afternoon since "orange juice, room temperature":

"Colombian civilian weapons control regulations strictly regulate standard firearms, but there are loopholes in the regulation of 'non-standard' or 'civilian' dangerous goods such as crossbows, bows and arrows, and raw materials for explosives. In non-core security areas, such weapons are more readily available and less expensive, becoming common tools of conflict. Rapid reaction forces of private military contractors like Blacksteel International are an important supplementary force for maintaining surface order in such areas, but their service coverage and response efficiency are positively correlated with the region's ability to pay."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Blacksteel team members who were examining the bodies and comforting the guests, finally settling on Eyjafjalla's pink eyes, still tinged with fear, and calmly concluded:

"Therefore, high-end venues are not absolutely safe. They simply transfer some of the risks to monetary costs."

Eyjafjalla stared blankly at Suri, then at the corpse on the ground that the Blacksteel team had quickly covered with a tarpaulin, and at the chaotic street outside the window that was gradually being brought under control. The expensive Geisha coffee in her hand had long since gone cold, and its aroma had dissipated.

Volume 19, Chapter 1330: Rabbit Ears

Her carefully chosen "date" location, intended to avoid crowds, was ultimately disrupted by more direct violence. Meanwhile, Suri, even with crossbow bolts pointed at her and explosions imminent, calmly analyzed Colombia's arms control loopholes and the business model of private security companies.

At this moment, Eyjafjalla realized with absolute clarity that the world she had entered—Tremont, Columbia—was far more complex and, more…dangerous than she had imagined. And Suri, it seemed, had long since become accustomed to it all.

Black Steel International's intervention was like a highly efficient surgical operation, swiftly and professionally removing the "lesions" caused by gang fighting in Oak Coffee Shop and its surrounding neighborhood. The body was removed, the bloodstains were cleaned up, and the frightened customers, after brief questioning and reassurance, were politely told they could leave; further matters would be handled by Black Steel International in coordination with the local police. The entire process was calm and orderly, minimizing the aftermath of chaos and continued disturbance to the general public.

However, the sudden gunshot, the cold glint of the crossbow bolt whizzing past the glass, and the thug falling to the ground, quickly losing his life… these images remained deeply etched in Eyjafjalla's mind. When she walked out of the coffee shop, holding Suri's hand, her fingers were still a little cold, her palms damp with sweat. The lingering smell of gunpowder and faint stench of blood on the street, along with the distant, faint wailing of police sirens, all reminded her of the unknown undercurrents lurking beneath the glamorous surface of Trimont City.

Suri (in his lamb form) remained almost indifferent to everything. He took Eyjafjalla's cold hand in return and calmly led her through the street area temporarily controlled by the Blacksteel members, toward a relatively quiet street corner. His hand was as cool as ever, yet strangely it carried a calming power.

“It’s alright,” Suri said briefly, glancing at Eyjafjalla’s slightly pale face. “The stress response is normal. She just needs some sugar and rest.”

His words of comfort still carried Suri's characteristic, biologically-based, calm analysis, but to Eyjafjalla at that moment, they reassured her more than any gentle words. She knew that with Suri there, everything would truly be alright.

This unpleasant incident seemed to bring a somewhat hasty and alarming end to Eyjafjalla's meticulously planned "date," which aimed to avoid crowds. For the next few days, she obediently stayed home, either burying herself in her thick geological studies, or quietly staying beside Suri, watching him "work" (though she couldn't understand it), or sitting together in the villa's clean backyard, reading and enjoying the early summer afternoon breeze and sunshine. The thought of going out was temporarily suppressed by the lingering fear from the chaos.

A few days later, one evening, the doorbell rang again at the villa.

This wasn't a housekeeping service, nor was it an uninvited guest. Through the access control screen, Eyjafjalla saw a young, unfamiliar woman standing at the door.

She appeared to be in her early twenties, tall and well-proportioned, dressed in a simple yet elegant off-white knit sweater and light brown trousers, topped with a soft camel-colored cardigan. She exuded an intellectual and gentle aura. Most striking were her long, flowing hair, a golden-green hue like a mixture of flowing honey and tender new leaves, cascading smoothly over her shoulders and gleaming warmly in the evening light. Even more remarkable than her hair color were the pair of long, fluffy, light brown rabbit ears on her head, now slightly turned as if listening for any sounds from inside the doorway.

The Cartesians.

Eyjafjalla was taken aback. The Cartesians weren't particularly rare in Colombia, but it was uncommon to see someone like the woman outside the door, with such outstanding气质 (qi zhi, a combination of temperament, bearing, and presence) and such a refined and elegant appearance. Especially her pair of flexible rabbit ears, which gave her a touch of liveliness amidst her gentleness.

"Excuse me... who are you looking for?" Eyjafjalla asked hesitantly into the intercom.

The woman from Carter's outside seemed relieved, offering a polite but slightly apologetic smile. Her voice, gentle and pleasant, came through the intercom: "Good afternoon, sorry to bother you. I'm Dorothy, your neighbor at number 118. I just moved in a few days ago and thought I should say hello to my new neighbors. Is the house home?"

It turned out to be the new neighbor. Eyjafjalla felt a little relieved. Oak Street was full of detached houses, and although the neighbors weren't as close-knit as in apartment buildings, it was common for new neighbors to come over and say hello. She glanced at Suri, who was sitting on the living room sofa and seemed completely oblivious to the doorbell, hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door.

“Hello, Miss Dorothy. My name is Eyjafjalla, please come in.” Eyjafjalla stepped aside politely, subconsciously glancing at her new neighbor. Up close, Dorothy's features became clearer: delicate features, fair skin, and clear, gentle golden-green eyes that easily won one's heart. However, those rabbit ears that twitched gently with her movements were truly captivating.

“Thank you, Miss Eyjafjalla. I hope my visit has been uninvited and I haven’t disturbed you.” Dorothy entered with a smile, her demeanor elegant and composed. Her gaze, equally polite, swept over the entryway and living room, and when she saw Suri sitting in the living room, her warm, golden-green eyes rippled like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

Surprise, amazement, and a hint of undisguised, purely visual appreciation.

Suri (in lamb form) had already raised his head when the door opened. His gaze calmly fell on the doorway, landing on Dorothy, or rather, precisely on the pair of fluffy rabbit ears on Dorothy's head that swayed naturally as she walked and spoke.

For the first time, his gaze, when facing Eyjafjalla, revealed a clear, sustained, and even slightly inquisitive "interest." Not in the person, but in those ears.

Dorothy clearly noticed Suri's undisguised gaze. Her smile faltered for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. She even raised her hand and gently touched one of her ears, explaining in a gentle tone, "Ah, this... is a racial trait. Caucasians have rather sensitive ears, I apologize for the sight." Her demeanor was poised and graceful, neither embarrassed by the gaze nor overly emphasizing it, demonstrating excellent manners.

However, Eyjafjalla's heart skipped a beat at Suri's focused gaze. Suri usually maintained a near-indifferent calm towards the people and things around him, rarely showing any clear interest in anything. But now, he was staring so intently at Dorothy's ear… Although she knew Suri's focus might be "academic," it was, after all, part of Dorothy's body! And Miss Dorothy… was indeed very beautiful, with a good temperament, and she was her neighbor…

Volume 19, Chapter 1331: What do you think of her?

A subtle sense of crisis crept into Eyjafjalla's heart. She subconsciously took a small step forward, as if trying to block Suri's view with her body, though this action seemed somewhat futile in the spacious living room.

“Miss Dorothy, please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” Eyjafjalla tried to make her voice sound natural, attempting to steer the conversation away from “ears”.

“No need for that, I’ll just sit for a bit and then leave.” Dorothy smiled and sat down gracefully on the armchair. Her gaze returned to Suri, this time with more inquiry and curiosity. “And this is…”

“He is Suri,” Eyjafjalla replied immediately, her tone carrying a subtle, assertive assertion of sovereignty.

“Hello, Mr. Suri.” Dorothy nodded politely to Suri, her golden-green eyes still lingering with amazement, but more so with a pure appreciation for “beautiful things,” and a hint of curiosity about Suri’s overly calm, even somewhat “inhuman” demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m currently pursuing a PhD in Bioengineering at Trimont University. My advisor’s project is here, so I’ve temporarily rented the house next door and will probably be staying for a while. I hope I won’t be a bother to you.”

Trimont University! PhD in Bioengineering! Eyjafjalla's heart skipped a beat again. Not only was she beautiful and had a great presence, but she was also a top student, and a PhD at that! These... her qualifications were just too good! Although Suri definitely didn't care about academic qualifications, but...

“Bioengineering.” Suri (in sheep form) finally spoke, his gaze finally shifting from Dorothy’s rabbit ears to her face. A slight flicker of data seemed to appear in his dark eyes. “Research direction?”

Dorothy seemed slightly taken aback by Suri's direct question, but then her face lit up with the brilliance of a scholar discussing their field: "Currently, I'm mainly focused on optimizing cell differentiation and tissue regeneration efficiency under Originium Energy-directed induction, which spans both Originium Arts applications and basic life sciences. Speaking of which, Mr. Suri, are you also interested in this area?"

Her tone was natural, with the candor of academic exchange, but deep in her eyes, she still couldn't completely hide her interest in Su Rui as a "person." After all, Su Rui's appearance was simply too outstanding, and her calm, almost ethereal temperament was itself full of mystery and attraction.

Suri (in lamb form) did not answer Dorothy's question directly. Instead, she turned her gaze back to her rabbit ears and calmly asked, "In your research model, are the differences in the auditory system and motor nerves of the Catterans compared to ordinary people considered as variable parameters?"

Eyjafjalla: "..." She knew it! Suri's focus was always so "unique"!

Dorothy was visibly taken aback for a moment, but then chuckled, her furry ears twitching slightly with her laughter. "Mr. Suri's question is very... professional. Indeed, the differences in physiological structure between different races are fundamental variables that cannot be avoided in bioengineering research. The range of auditory frequencies, the precision of ear muscle control, and their correlation with nerve reaction speed in the Catterans are all very interesting topics. However, my research currently focuses more on the cellular and molecular levels; macroscopic racial physiological differences are not yet considered as core variables. Mr. Suri seems to have a great understanding of racial physiology?"

“I have some knowledge of it.” Suri (in lamb form) replied simply and calmly. He seemed to have only received an answer to an interesting question based on appearance, and then stopped exploring, returning to his almost “standby” calm state. His gaze turned to the deepening twilight outside the window, as if the brief conversation about racial physiology had never happened.

Seeing this, Dorothy wisely stopped the conversation. She was intelligent and perceptive; she could sense Suri's seemingly polite but actually distant attitude, as well as the subtle wariness and barely perceptible...possessiveness in the eyes of the silver-haired girl beside her (Eyjafjalla).

She understood perfectly well, but didn't say anything. She was no stranger to the idea that striking looks and a unique charisma could attract attention and even cause minor trouble. She was only visiting out of politeness as a new neighbor, with no intention of developing a deeper relationship, especially since the other party was clearly a young "couple" (or at least appeared to be) in a close relationship, while her own demanding doctoral studies and research projects already occupied most of her energy.

So, Dorothy exchanged a few more pleasantries, inquiring about nearby amenities such as the nearest supermarket and pharmacy, her manner gentle and polite, leaving no room for criticism. Eyjafjalla gradually relaxed and answered her questions one by one. She could sense that although Dorothy's attention was occasionally drawn to Suri (which was hard to avoid), overall, the other woman's gaze was clear and restrained, and her words and actions were very measured, showing no inappropriate intentions or unpleasant enthusiasm.

About ten minutes later, Dorothy politely got up to say goodbye.

"I'm so sorry to bother you today. We'll be neighbors from now on, so please take good care of me." Dorothy stood at the door and said with a smile, her long golden-green hair gleaming softly under the porch light, and her rabbit ears tilting forward politely.

"You're too kind, Miss Dorothy. Please take good care of me as well," Eyjafjalla replied politely.

Dorothy took one last look at the quiet, seemingly isolated silver-haired boy in the living room, nodded to Eyjafjalla, turned and left, her figure quickly disappearing behind the courtyard gate of the neighboring villa, number 118.

Eyjafjalla closed the door, leaned against the cold door panel, and let out a sigh of relief. That brief meeting of just over ten minutes had felt more mentally taxing than reading a whole day.

She turned and walked back to the living room. Suri (in sheep form) remained seated on the sofa, his posture unchanged, as if the visit of his beautiful neighbor—a woman of exceptional bearing, profound knowledge, and with captivating rabbit ears—was merely a trivial interlude. He didn't even look away from the window.

Eyjafjalla walked to Suri's side, but instead of leaning closer as usual, she stood in front of him, her pink eyes fixed on him, her tone carrying a hint of jealousy and interrogation that she herself didn't realize:

"Suri, what do you think of... Miss Dorothy?"

Suri (in lamb form) seemed to have just turned his attention away from the window, his dark eyes calmly looking at Eyjafjalla, seemingly puzzled as to why she had suddenly asked this. He thought for about a second, then gave a very "Suri-esque" assessment:

Volume 19, Chapter 1332: A Rare Case of Lying in Bed

"The Katz tribe, a PhD student in Bioengineering at the University of Trimont. Their auditory and motor systems may be superior to human benchmarks. No obvious threat has been identified. Their social intentions are routine neighborhood etiquette, with no need for in-depth interaction."

Eyjafjalla: "..." This answer is very Suri Cruise. Objective, calm, comprehensive, and completely ignoring all the "conventional" attractive points of Dorothy herself, such as her appearance, temperament, and knowledge, focusing only on racial characteristics, academic identity, and potential physiological differences, and finally summarizing it as "no threat" and "no need for in-depth interaction".

This instantly dissipated most of the slight jealousy and sense of crisis she felt, and she even felt like laughing. Sure enough, expecting Su Rui to evaluate someone, especially a man's "charm," with "normal" eyes was simply a pipe dream.

"And... what about her ears?" Eyjafjalla couldn't help but ask, recalling Suri's focused gaze earlier. "You seemed... quite interested?"

Suri (in lamb form) nodded, her frankness bordering on the audacious: "Hmm. The Carter race's overt racial traits, mobility, and sensitivity data are valuable. (Want to pet her.)"

As expected… Eyjafjalla was utterly speechless. Suri's focus was always on the strangest things. His observation of Dorothy's ears was probably like a biologist examining a rare specimen or an engineer looking at a precision part—purely academic and functional.

The last knot in her heart was untied. Eyjafjalla breathed a sigh of relief, but then remembered Dorothy's identity—a PhD from Trimont University. She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Miss Dorothy is a PhD from Trimont University… so could she know about Columbia University's geosciences program? Or, will we run into each other often in the future?"

This was what she was truly worried about. Although Dorothy seemed like a nice person and her feelings for Suri appeared to be purely admiration, they were, after all, neighbors and from the same university town. What if they ran into each other frequently in the future…

“The main campus of Trimont University and the Columbia University campus are 3.7 kilometers apart as the crow flies, and belong to different academic management systems. The probability of students and faculty interacting on a daily basis is less than 7%. Dorothy Heywood (note: the surname Dorothy mentioned in her self-introduction) studies bioengineering, which has no direct academic connection with the field of geology. Therefore, the probability of you interacting outside of specific social occasions or collaborative projects is extremely low.” Suri (in lamb form) calmly presented the data analysis based on geographical location and academic discipline.

After hearing this, Eyjafjalla felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Not the same university, and completely different research areas—that was good. Although Miss Dorothy was her neighbor, as long as they didn't see each other often, there shouldn't be any problems.

She finally relaxed completely, walked over and sat down next to Su Rui, subconsciously snuggling into his arms and whispering, "It's good that they're not from the same university... Otherwise, what if she keeps coming to you to discuss 'racial physiology' or 'Originium cell differentiation'..."

Suri (in his lamb form) felt the girl's closeness in his arms and heard her muttering with a hint of relief. A barely perceptible data stream flickered in his dark eyes. He raised his hand and, as he had done many times before, somewhat awkwardly and gently patted Eyjafjalla's head in response.

Outside the window, dusk settled, and warm lights shone from the neighbor's house. A small, internal "alarm" triggered by the new neighbor's visit was quietly defused by Suri's overly rational (or rather, "unromantic") analysis. Life seemed to return to its peaceful routine, except that subconsciously, Eyjafjalla felt a subtle sense of relief towards her PhD neighbor with his long, golden-green hair and pretty rabbit ears—"It's so good that he's not from the same university, even though he's a nice person."

Summer morning light always arrives uninvited, carrying a touch of impatient heat, filtering through the thin curtains and casting dappled shadows on the oak floor. Birds chirp among the sycamore branches outside the window, announcing the start of a new day.

Inside the master bedroom at 119 Oak Street, a languid tranquility still prevailed.

On the large, soft bed, Suri (in his lamb form), unusually, didn't get up before Eyjafjalla woke up, nor did he usually sit quietly by the window "processing information." He lay on his side by the window, his long silver hair scattered messily across the dark pillow, a few strands playfully clinging to his smooth forehead and cheeks. His usually calm, all-seeing black eyes were now closed, his long silver eyelashes casting a small fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyelids. One arm rested casually at his side, his breathing even and long, as if he were still deep in sleep.

The morning sunlight fell perfectly on half of his face, gilding his already perfect features with a soft golden edge. It made him look less aloof and cold than usual, and more like a rare, youthful purity and tranquility. His signature little ram's horns, curving backward, also appeared as smooth and warm as jade in the morning light.

Eyjafjalla woke up first. She opened her eyes groggily, her pink eyes still a little blurry, and instinctively snuggled closer to the warm (or more accurately, the consistently cool but reassuring) source beside her. Then, she noticed Suri's difference.

Suri was still asleep.

This realization instantly jolted Eyjafjalla mostly awake. In her memory, Suri's schedule was almost rigidly regular, and her sleep duration seemed to be much shorter than average. It was extremely rare for her to remain sound asleep after she woke up like this.

Was it because I stayed up too late yesterday "processing" those complex financial data? Or was it simply... because I wanted to stay in bed?

Eyjafjalla gently sat up, careful not to disturb the person beside her. She lay on the pillow, tilting her head, scrutinizing Suri's sleeping profile with an almost greedy intensity. Sunlight danced on his face, revealing the fine, almost invisible downy hairs on his cheeks and his skin, as smooth and delicate as the finest porcelain. His sleeping face was serene, his brow relaxed, his lips slightly pursed. Gone was the almost inhuman, absolute calm he possessed when awake; instead, it exuded a…strange vulnerability, or rather, an unguarded gentleness.

Ayjafjalla's heart was instantly filled with an incredibly tender emotion. She quietly and carefully reached out her finger, wanting to touch Surina's eyelashes, which appeared exceptionally long in the sunlight, but her fingertip stopped just before touching him, afraid of actually waking him.

Volume 19, Chapter 1333: Eyjafjalla still has some talent.

In the end, Eyjafjalla simply traced Suri's outline with her gaze again and again, deeply imprinting this rare, sleeping Suri in her mind. After a long while, she tiptoed and very slowly lifted a corner of the blanket, sliding off the bed as quietly as possible, her bare feet touching the cool floor.

Looking back at the still-sleeping Suri, Eyjafjalla couldn't help but smile, a gentle and satisfied expression spreading across her face. Suri can sleep in too… This realization made her feel that Suri seemed a little closer to that distant, mysterious, omnipotent image, or rather, a little more "real."

She gently closed the door, went into the bathroom, and quickly and quietly finished washing up. After changing into a comfortable light-colored loungewear set, Eyjafjalla stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection with slightly flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and gently patted her face.

"Alright, Eyjafjalla, Suri's sleeping in, so you'll have to prepare breakfast!" She mentally encouraged herself. Since arriving in Tremont, Suri had basically been "taking care" of all her meals, or ordering takeout; she had almost never cooked herself. Although back in Cumberland, she only knew how to make the simplest, filling dishes, the thought of preparing breakfast for Suri, who was still in bed, filled her with a sweet sense of responsibility.

The kitchen was spacious and bright, fully equipped with brand-new, high-end brand-name utensils. Ayjafjalla opened the huge double-door refrigerator, inside which various ingredients were neatly categorized and stacked, mostly beautifully packaged imported foods she didn't recognize, along with some fresh-looking and expensive fruits and vegetables. Suri seemed to have a regular source for these.

Eyjafjalla's gaze swept over the unfamiliar ingredients, finally settling on a bag of oatmeal, a carton of fresh milk, a basket of eggs, and a loaf of toast placed deep in the refrigerator. These looked rather "common," so they shouldn't be too difficult to prepare, right?

She decided to make a simple Western-style breakfast: fried eggs, toast, two cups of heated milk, and oatmeal. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

Without further ado, Eyjafjalla tied on her apron (a remnant from her previous housekeeping job) and first placed the toast slices into the very high-end-looking built-in oven. Based on her limited experience using ovens, which she remembered from her time in Cumberland, she set it to medium heat and a timer… hmm, five minutes should be enough, right?

Then, she started preparing the fried eggs. She took two eggs from the refrigerator and gently tapped them on the edge of the counter—perhaps a little too hard, as the egg white and some shell fragments gushed out. Eyjafjalla hurriedly poured the egg white into the frying pan (she remembered that frying eggs required oil?), and quickly grabbed the oil bottle. She poured in a little too much oil, and the pan immediately sizzled and splattered, causing her to gasp and quickly step back.

After the oil cooled slightly, she carefully cracked the second egg into the pan (this time, learning from her mistake, she was much gentler). Then, looking at the two sizzling eggs in the pan, she was somewhat bewildered. What to do next? Flip them? When to flip them? To what extent to fry them?

She vaguely remembered that fried eggs should be golden brown on both sides. So, she picked up a spatula and tried to flip the egg. The first egg, with her clumsy attempt, broke open, and the yolk spilled out. The second was slightly better, but still crooked in shape. Moreover, because the oil temperature seemed to be out of control, the edges of the egg quickly turned a suspiciously dark brown…

"Ding!" The oven timer went off.

Eyjafjalla quickly put down the spatula and ran to open the oven door. A rich, slightly burnt aroma wafted out. The two slices of toast on the baking sheet had charred edges and a dark brown center—clearly overbaked.

"Ah..." Eyjafjalla gasped in frustration, quickly removing the baking tray with oven mitts. Looking at the two burnt slices of toast, she felt like crying. The fried egg seemed to be burnt too...

Finally, she hurriedly turned off the stove, put the two poorly presented fried eggs on a plate, and poured two glasses of milk into the microwave to heat them up. Looking at the plate of fried eggs with burnt edges and broken yolks on the counter, and the two dark slices of toast, Eyjafjalla fell into deep thought.

This... seems quite different from the warm and wonderful breakfast I imagined.

But there's also oatmeal soaked in milk! That can't go wrong, right? She remembered that in Cumberland, sometimes breakfast was just oatmeal with hot water or hot milk, very simple.

So Eyjafjalla found two clean bowls, scooped out an appropriate amount of oatmeal from the bag, then turned on the microwave, took out the heated milk, and carefully poured it into the bowls until the oatmeal was completely submerged in the warm milk.

Alright! Oatmeal soaked in milk, done! This is absolutely a foolproof option!

She looked at the two bowls of plain-looking but at least "normal" milk oatmeal, then at the disastrously bad fried eggs and burnt toast next to them. After hesitating for a moment, she finally decided—it was best not to let Suri see those two "failures." She quickly dumped the fried eggs and toast into the kitchen trash can, destroying the evidence.

Just as she finished doing all this, washed her hands, and was about to wake Su Rui up, she heard very faint footsteps behind her.

Eyjafjalla turned around and saw Suri (in his sheep form) already standing in the kitchen doorway. He appeared to have washed up; his silver hair was smooth, and he was wearing a clean set of dark gray loungewear. His expression was as calm as ever. However, his black eyes were calmly scanning the two steaming bowls of oatmeal with milk on the counter, before his gaze shifted almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second to the nearby trash can, whose lid had not yet been closed.

In the trash can, the two charred slices of toast and the broken fried egg still emitted a faint burnt smell, silently telling the story of what had just happened.

Eyjafjalla's cheeks flushed instantly, as if she'd been caught red-handed doing something wrong. She stood awkwardly behind the counter, her pink eyes avoiding Suri's gaze, and stammered, "B-good morning, Suri... I...I made breakfast...milk and oatmeal...it's simple, but..."

Her voice trailed off, and her head drooped, almost burying itself in her apron. Her carefully planned surprise (or perhaps shock?) had turned into a major disaster, and the person involved had witnessed the failure firsthand, making her wish she could disappear into the ground.

Suri (in sheep form) shifted his gaze from the trash can back to the two bowls of milk and oatmeal, then glanced at Eyjafjalla's embarrassed expression, as if she wanted to disappear on the spot. In his calm, unwavering black eyes, there seemed to be extremely subtle data streams flashing, as if he were rapidly analyzing the situation before him: the target individual (Eyjafjalla) attempted to prepare food, and the output (milk-soaked oatmeal) conformed to the basic nutritional intake model; however, the process was accompanied by the generation and disposal of secondary byproducts (caramelized carbohydrates and denatured proteins), indicating that the individual's skill proficiency in this area was below the basic threshold.