Chapter 84

Chapter 84

"Your requested items have arrived. Should I have them sent to your room?"

Faceless was in the kitchen when he got the message. He paused while slicing bread. According to the estimate, the delivery was supposed to arrive around six tomorrow afternoon. It was early. Faceless finished slicing the bread, then replied, "No need. I'll come over now."

He placed the plate and milk on the table, hurriedly instructed Ye Mo, threw on his cloak, and left.

The logistics department was on the top floor, where they stored many precious supplies. Faceless took the elevator up and was there quickly. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could.

Faceless's body tensed for an instant before quickly relaxing. "Zero Three, why are you here?"

The one who opened the door was a young man. He showed no surprise upon seeing Faceless. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, as if he had known Faceless was coming.

"What? That's how you greet your partner? I came all this way to see you."

Faceless brushed past him. "I'm busy."

Zero Three was used to Faceless's attitude. He shrugged, appearing utterly unconcerned and relaxed.

Faceless walked straight over to the person in charge inside. The person immediately stood up and said in a low voice, though nearly everyone could hear, "Hello, the items you requested are with Lord Zero Three."

Faceless glanced back. Zero Three was leaning by the door, smiling. "See? I heard about it and rushed over to deliver it for you without wasting a moment. And this is how you act? Truly heartbreaking."

Faceless stood still for a few seconds, then walked directly towards the door, passing Zero Three.

He only heard Zero Three's voice after he'd walked some distance: "How boring. Just give it to him."

Faceless stopped then, quietly letting out a sigh of relief.

Someone retrieved a small box from the shelves in the room and handed it to Faceless.

Zero Three glanced at it disinterestedly before looking away. He probably knew Faceless wanted some leftover data and items from a certain lab. Since the project had been declared a failure many years ago, these things were basically worthless and easy to obtain.

"What do you want with this stuff? It's all disgusting things."

Faceless didn't respond. Zero Three had always hated the organization's experiments, likely because he himself was a product of them.

But Zero Three didn't press the issue. He habitually twirled a small knife. "I'm here on a mission too. A King Insect has nested here. A discarded nest was recently discovered, but it has already relocated. The higher-ups want us to abandon this outpost and pull out. I came specifically to pick you up. So? Touched?"

Faceless tilted his head slightly. "When are we leaving?"

Zero Three put the knife away. "Anytime. Let's leave tomorrow. This place is boring as hell."

Faceless glanced at him. "You could check out West Street. There's a fighting arena there, no holds barred, life or death. The kind of activity you like."

Zero Three immediately picked up on that. "How rare for you to bother with small talk. You still want to stay here for a while?"

Faceless didn't speak again. Zero Three had seen Ye Mo. Or rather, anyone here with access to outside information had the potential to recognize Ye Mo.

He took the box and left, returning to his room. Only after securing all three locks on the door did Faceless relax.

He crouched by the door, opened the box, and rummaged through a case inside, pulling out several vials of the neutralizing agent.

Ye Mo had just finished eating and was washing the dishes. He came out of the kitchen and sidled up to Faceless, who happened to be taking out the vials, unwrapping the secure packaging, and carefully inspecting each one.

Ye Mo looked at the needles sealed in the bags with a touch of awe. "Are you sick?"

"No, these are for you."

Faceless put the vials back and looked at Ye Mo. "One injection today, another in a month, and the final one six months later."

Faceless's gaze unconsciously drifted towards Ye Mo's arm. Ye Mo instinctively covered his right arm.

Faceless's gaze paused, then naturally shifted to Ye Mo's left arm, offering a rather unconvincing reassurance. "It won't hurt."

Ye Mo hesitated. "Is it necessary? What is it?"

Faceless faltered. He looked away from Ye Mo's shoulder, staring at the blank wall before speaking. "It's a vaccine. Prevents a contagious disease. It's the right age for you to get it."

"Alright then."

Upon hearing this, Faceless immediately stood up, retrieved the medical kit from the cabinet, prepared the alcohol and cotton swabs, then opened the sealed bag, took out a vial, and attached the needle.

Ye Mo looked at Faceless. "Should we call a doctor?"

Faceless straightened up and moved a bit closer to Ye Mo. "It's fine. I can handle a simple injection."

Ye Mo then slowly began to move. He was wearing a hoodie. Lazy, he pulled one arm out of the sleeve, exposing his shoulder. He turned sideways, not looking at Faceless, his gaze shifting around before finally settling on the photo frame on the table.

After the cold swipe of alcohol came a slight sting.

Faceless's hand was steady. He slowly injected all the liquid into Ye Mo's body, then pressed a cotton swab on the spot for a while. "I'll be a bit busy recently. Stay here quietly. Don't open the door for anyone. I'll restock the food once more."

Ye Mo hummed in agreement. "I can't open it anyway. You always lock it."

Faceless fell silent. He quietly held the cotton swab until Ye Mo felt his injection site might have already healed, then he removed it and tidied everything up.

"You might feel a bit unwell later. Go take a nap."

Ye Mo hummed again. Whether it was psychological or not, he gradually began to feel drowsy and weak in his limbs.

It was overcast outside today, with a light drizzle—perfect for sleeping.

Faceless escorted Ye Mo into his room, placed water and some food on the bedside table, and set down the tray. Only then did Faceless notice that Ye Mo's room was quite different from before.

An empty can, now filled with soil, was sitting on the cabinet, carefully nurturing a tender green sprout.

There were originally two pillows on the bed. Now, one of them was placed beside Ye Mo, hugged in his arms as he curled up under the covers, forming a small lump under the blanket.

They were all very subtle changes. But these changes gave Faceless a sense of vibrant life. His own stagnant, lifeless existence was slowly beginning to flow amidst these subtle transformations.

Faceless leaned over to check on Ye Mo once more, then withdrew from the room.

Faceless closed the door and sat down at the table, putting the vials away again. He divided the remaining three vials into two portions for storage.

Two more injections. During this time, he needed to hide Ye Mo well.

...

Four or five people walked down the street, carrying filming equipment. One man walked backwards in front of the camera.

"This is Garbage Planet X543, in the Drift Star Sector, located within one of the areas affected by the Insect Tide. Although it's a garbage planet, many people live here. The planetary governing body approved our application. Now, we'll film some random things to give you an idea of this place. After planning our route, we'll start a live stream for everyone."

The man lowered his voice, speaking to the camera. "Actually, we have two locals accompanying us. They're following behind. Our filming has to be done under their supervision, you understand. But I think they can also show us around."

His companion chimed in. "I think this place is similar to the remote planets back home, just older. But there seem to be more guards here. Doesn't feel that dangerous."

"That's because we're in the central district."

The man explained to the camera, "The central district is where the garrisoned troops from all the nations on this Garbage Star live. I'll go ask them if they can show us around elsewhere. I specifically exchanged for the currency used here earlier."

He quickly walked over to the few people following not far behind, then returned. "They agreed to take us to the outskirts, but they suggested we hire more bodyguards. Even though I don't think it's necessary, I agreed."

The group traveled by hovercar to the outskirts, where the distant garbage mountains were clearly visible.

Upon arriving at their destination, they were immediately stunned: crowded buildings and people living like rats among them. It had just rained, the ground was still damp, and a faint, fishy stench lingered in some places.

They were too conspicuous; everyone around was staring at them, hardly even trying to hide it.

No one rushed up to them immediately, probably because the guide and the others were with them.

The man looked up at the tall, narrow buildings and took a few steps back, bumping into a child. He instinctively apologized and turned to check on the child, but the kid had already disappeared into the crowd.

The guide watched coldly, "Your thing's been lifted."

The man felt his pocket—the pocket watch he had kept there was gone. Only then did the guide and the others step forward, surrounding them.

"Over there is West Street, with quite a few shops open. It's relatively safer for rich folks like you. Want to take a look?"

The group exchanged glances and eventually agreed to the suggestion.

They walked a short distance before entering a shop.

The camera focused on the man. "I chose this at random. This seems to be a curio shop?"

The man hesitated. The place was filled with all sorts of odds and ends, no two exactly alike. Every wall and shelf was crammed with items.

The shopkeeper sat behind a counter piled high with goods and glanced over at the remark. "All picked from the junkyard. Who knows, there might be treasures among them."

"Pretty interesting."

The man casually picked up a small statue, then put it down, scanning the shelves for other items. A companion leaned in. "Check this out. I think this might be something good."

It was a broken sword, now only the hilt remained. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with intricate carvings, yet holding it felt perfectly fine—even comfortable.

"There are words carved on it."

Everyone gathered around, and the camera followed. The hilt was covered in large patches of dark stains, and the shop's lighting was too dim to see clearly. One person traced the letters with their fingers, barely making out the inscription.

"Cyril... Cyril Grass."

As soon as the words were spoken, the group fell silent. Finally, one person broke the quiet. "Nowadays, counterfeiters dare to fake anything."

The atmosphere eased slightly.

The man looked at his companions. "You didn't actually think it was real, did you? That's so silly. It's obviously fake—the sheen alone is different. This one's so dull. Besides, when the young prince went to the Rift Front, this sword was still at his waist."

They visited a few more shops before returning to their lodgings and uploading the day's footage to the StarNet.