Flora was startled by the noise and poked her small head out from under the covers, her hair disheveled and her eyes bleary with sleep.
She looked toward the source of the sound and saw Ashley sitting by the window, teasing a fiery red big parrot.
“Eh? Is this a dream…?”
Ashley didn’t hide anything from her roommate. She turned her head and winked at her before continuing to peel open the small, exquisite black envelope with her slender fingertips. As the letter paper unfolded, the silver lines etched on its surface extended inward and unfurled into elegant floral patterns.
The handwriting was graceful and flowing.
Dearest Ashley,
I am about to set off for Rift City in the north.
I heard there’s been a deep dive return after more than eight years. Legendary captain Smedley, who holds the fourth seat at the Hundred People Assembly, and his Long Conch have surfaced from the black waters. Among the ancient relics they brought back, there might be archaeological discoveries of profound significance. I hope they can verify some of my hypotheses and unravel the mysteries of this world.
How did the sky fall?
How did the Red River erupt?
Before there was soil, what did the worm-like, wriggling creatures called humans eat as they crawled?
The truth lurks in the dreams of the suffering…
…
I have a bad premonition. Everything is turning for the worse.
Be careful of those who draw nourishment from chaos and death.
That’s all for now.
Missing your little fang that once nibbled my fingertip again,
Xixi Sacharia
P.S.:
I’ve made some improvements to the Cadaver refining method, mainly to increase efficiency and reduce side effects. I hope it helps you.
The attached miniature paper was printed with densely packed tiny text, filled with numerous formulas and annotations.
Ashley took out paper and pen, and wrote a reply under the moonlight.
Xixi wasn’t on the wanted list, so communicating with her wasn’t illegal. That recipe was an improvement on the Jenkins Family’s secret biotech, vastly different from the Cadaver production methods available on the market. Even if the Tribunal intercepted it, they wouldn’t understand what it described.
The quill pen traced out elegant, rounded script. After finishing, she blew on the ink to dry it, folded the letter, sealed it with a bit of rice paste, and handed it to the parrot.
Ashley wanted to offer it some snacks, but she had none.
“I should have robbed a bank during the day. Then I’d have tasty hazelnuts and peanuts… No money, no money.”
Ashley gloomily narrowed her eyes.
On the small bed behind her, Flora stared in a daze. The blanket had slipped over her slender shoulders down to her waist, and she wrinkled her little nose slightly from the chill.
In her eyes, under the mottled moonlight, a pretty loli sat at the desk. One hand propped up her cheek while the other flipped a nickel coin. The big parrot’s head swayed along with the coin rolling between her fingers—a scene that was oddly mesmerizing.
Ashley summed it up: there were three ways to make quick money.
First, bounty hunting. Capture fugitives who fled during their bail period and claim the reward. If a suspect who borrowed 300 gold pounds in bail loans to pay bail ran away, bringing them back earned a 5%-10% commission—15 to 30 gold pounds.
Union City’s currency system exchanged 1 gold pound for 240 pence, enough for forty bars of soap or a hundred tacos.
But fugitives weren’t likely hiding in the city, and her wristband restricted her from leaving.
Second, salvaging.
Ashley’s body hadn’t been modified for underwater work, so she could only do shallow salvaging for hard-earned cash. The upside was buying biotech cheaply to start building her own lab.
Third, house cleansing.
It sounded simple: spend a night in a house where someone had died, proving it was fine.
There were no easy, high-paying jobs with low barriers—they’d either been monopolized by the privileged or driven down to rock-bottom prices.
Besides, this world had no ghosts. Abnormal deaths often involved supernatural forces or unknown creatures. Without expertise, house cleansing was like being a guinea pig.
No matter the method, she needed productive tools…
Ashley crawled back into her warm covers and fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, the two lolis woke up in perfect sync, as if sharing a telepathic bond. They both wore matching blue-and-white pajamas, shivering in the cold wind, curling their toes together, crowding into the bathroom to brush their teeth, spitting toothpaste foam in unison, combing their hair together, putting on jackets, slipping into stockings, and stuffing their little feet into small leather shoes while hooking the heels with their pinky fingers…
By the end, Flora was deliberately mimicking Ashley’s actions. She found it inexplicably fun, her heart filled with joy and relaxation.
No need to mind others’ gazes, no need to lie to complete her daily good deed, no need to painstakingly guide those delinquent boys onto the straight path. The heavy pressure in her heart was gone.
Though she lacked freedom, she didn’t know what to do with it anyway. She had no specific goals.
–
Breakfast was cornmeal porridge mixed with shredded chicken, corn kernels, and cucumber chunks. The cucumber was overcooked, tasting just okay.
The two lolis slurped it down—one slurp for her, one for me—then their little mouths chewed like guinea pigs, lips moist and glistening.
“In the morning, I’m going to do volunteer work at the museum. Hourly pay is 8 points,” Ashley said.
“I… I want to go too,” Flora said timidly. She didn’t want to stay alone; following Ashley like a little tail was best.
“You haven’t done the prep work, so you can’t be a tour guide. You can only clean, and it’s only 6 points per hour. Do you know how to scrub toilets?”
“Ah…” Flora was at a loss, her face hesitant.
“Don’t force yourself. For a decent job, you need skills.”
Ashley scraped the plate clean with the spoon’s edge, then carried it to the sink.
This was the community cafeteria where the delinquents got their three meals a day. At mealtime, it was noisy like a duck coop.
Behind their backs, the delinquents called Flora the “Smiling Devil.” When she was squad leader, that positive-energy little face always wore a healing smile—but in a blink, she’d slaughtered Onna. It was terrifying.
“She must have smiled at Onna and said, ‘It’s nice weather today, so please go die.'”
“Scary.”
“That’s real. There are no saints, just hypocrites pretending to be.”
…
Flora was hounded by the rumors and fearfully huddled next to Ashley.
“I-I’ll scrub toilets!” she declared resolutely.
“Eh?”
“I don’t want to stay behind alone. Absolutely not!”
Flora shook her head frantically. She feared hearing her name, feared being stared at. Without Ashley, she’d collapse.
“Would you do anything to follow me?” Ashley suddenly asked.
Flora nodded like a chick pecking rice.
“Then that’s easy. Scrub those toilets hard.”
Ashley thought Flora’s willpower was weak, making her decisions and resolve feeble. Scrubbing toilets would rebuild her character. It wasn’t about the toilets—it was conquering her inner self.
–
Lavileti Slanted Street Old Museum.
“The spot where I’m standing now is the entrance to the Nocturnal Creature Museum. The first thing that catches your eye is a massive black monster—a variant creature from the Source Region called the Shriek Devil Crow.”
The loli tour guide wore an ad cap, her loose blue hair framing her pretty little face as she waved a small flag.
“What a cute little tour guide!”
“Look at that kid—so young and already guiding tours, with such a sweet voice. Not like you, who can’t even speak properly.”
“Little sister, tell us more about the Shriek Devil Crow!”
