Time inside the clinic felt stretched thin—pulled long by the sticky stench of disinfectant and the low, steady hum of machinery.
Under the shadowless lamp's cold white cone, the operating area gleamed. Sensor leads ran from Qianye's arm and forehead like living silver vines, faithfully converting tiny bioelectric signals and energy fluctuations into dense, restless data—numbers and waveforms jumping and rolling across the monitors without pause.
At last, the long chain of precise, fussy tests came to an end.
The Black Doctor's slender fingers tapped rapidly across the control panel. With a few crisp inputs, she stopped the real-time recording. She leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes sweeping over curves and values that still shifted slowly—as if hiding endless secrets—and let out a long sigh that was unmistakably tinged with regret.
"Ah… what a shame, Qianye."
Her voice cut cleanly through the clinic's quiet, carrying a languid, almost intimate disappointment.
"You can't stay here longer… There are so many deeper interaction tests I haven't even had the chance to run."
As she spoke, she removed the glasses that always reflected a cold sheen. A thin mist from her focused breathing had fogged the lenses, blurring whatever churned behind her eyes. She picked up a special velvet cloth and wiped them slowly, carefully, as though cleaning glass could also tidy up thoughts that had gone slightly out of order.
Then her gaze returned to Qianye.
The boy sat quietly in the testing chair, looking distinctly wilted. The repeated energy manipulation and sustained mental focus had drained him. His head dipped a little, thick lashes casting a faint shadow on his lower lids—like a small bird soaked by rain, finally perching somewhere to rest, fragile and exhausted all at once.
Seeing him like that, the Black Doctor's lips rose into a soft, genuinely gentle curve.
Her hand lifted—natural, practiced, as if she'd done it a thousand times—and rested on his head. Fingers slid through his cool, soft hair. The touch was solid and real, the sort of contact that calmed nerves simply by existing.
"Even though… I very, very much want to give you a perfectly accurate conclusion right now," she said, voice lower, almost an ear-brushed whisper, "an answer that lets you finally breathe easy…"
"But, Qianye, you and I both know the truth: haste makes waste. Especially when we're dealing with a power like this—something we've never seen before… something that seems to have a will of its own."
Her eyes flicked back to the screens. The data stream kept scrolling. Some parameters rose and fell in a strange, periodic pattern; others looked like random noise, impossible to pin down.
All of it pointed to the same fact:
That pink energy inside Qianye—forced awake by someone else—was far more complex than any ordinary abnormality.
And the most direct "evidence" of that complexity wasn't just on those monitors.
It was inside her.
Almost without thinking, the Black Doctor lifted her left hand and pressed it lightly over her lower abdomen.
That was the exact location she'd identified during the last—and most reckless—test, the one where she'd demanded Qianye "go all out" and guide that pink power toward the point she'd indicated with absolute certainty.
She could feel it clearly: a foreign energy mass, faintly warm, subtly active.
It hadn't been rejected. It hadn't been broken down.
Instead, it had settled there—as if it had found a bed that welcomed it.
What was more unsettling… was that it wasn't inert.
It seemed to be working.
There was a tiny sensation beneath the skin—fine as the path of a needle stitching through cloth. Not pain. Something else. A faint itch, a delicate tracing, like an invisible pen moving steadily across flesh.
As if her body were a canvas.
As if that pink energy were ink.
As if something—some pattern, some symbol with its own meaning—was being drawn, slowly but unwaveringly, under her skin.
"Mm… heh."
A quiet laugh slipped from the Black Doctor's throat—so soft it almost didn't exist—threaded with scientific fascination…and a private, hard-to-name pleasure. Behind her lenses, her eyes narrowed, glinting like someone who'd just found a priceless specimen.
Interesting.
Terrifyingly interesting.
This power hadn't just rooted itself in Qianye.
It could leave behind marks on other people—marks that felt almost ceremonial.
This wasn't ordinary energy corrosion. It wasn't a simple case of mental contamination.
It was closer to a brand.
Or perhaps… the early shape of a deeper link.
Her fingers pressed lightly again, feeling that subtle movement. Ideas and plans swelled under the surface of her calm, like dark currents gathering.
Yes, it was dangerous—absurdly dangerous.
But the possibilities hidden inside that danger…
And the one-of-a-kind "connection" it implied between her and Qianye…
Made something inside her tremble with excitement.
"It seems," she said at last, withdrawing her hand and putting her freshly cleaned glasses back on, her tone returning to its usual cool depth—though the flame of interest still danced unmistakably behind it—"I'll need to be more patient. And I'll need to… get to know this uninvited 'resident' a great deal better, Qianye."
She smiled faintly.
"But so far, you've already given me plenty of surprises—truth-extraction, memory viewing, ether manipulation… and…"
She leaned closer to his ear, warm breath brushing his skin, and her voice dipped into teasing mischief.
"Most importantly… charm. Mm. A very fitting ability for you."
"Doctor—! I'm not—"
"Alright, alright." She patted his head as if soothing a sulky cat. "I know. You're not that kind of person."
Then she added, softly, almost gently—yet with a quiet inevitability:
"But not everyone gets to choose what kind of person they'll become."
She clapped her hands once, crisp and decisive.
"You should leave now."
Qianye blinked. "Huh?"
"It's not because I'm unwilling to keep you longer," she said, eyes sliding toward the side table. "It's because your phone rang."
A smile tugged at her lips—too knowing.
"Honestly, you're lucky. I set a password for you… and you never changed it."
Qianye's eyes widened, instantly defensive. "You—"
She ignored the protest completely.
"That contact you saved as 'Grumpy Little Bear'…" Her tone turned amused. "Why are they screaming at you nonstop to hurry up and 'make it up' to them?"
Several weeks earlier, New Eridu's reconstruction boom had surged like an ether storm whipped up by the unseen will of Hollow Zero, hurling heavy contracts into the lap of the now-red-hot White Star Heavy Industries.
As the young president of this rapidly rising company, Koleda had spent those following weeks like a rivet welded into the worksite—day and night bouncing between dust-choked construction zones and machine-roaring foundations.
Her bright red twin tails were often sprinkled with pale concrete dust, bouncing behind her as she barked orders. The specialized workwear she wore had frayed at the elbows and knees. She swung her heavy hammer, shouted until her voice went hoarse, and drove Anton, Ben, Grace, and the rest of her dependable crew like a living engine—turning stacks of blueprints into steel skeletons rising at the city's edge.
For weeks, the Black Swallow worksite and several new communities echoed with the same chorus: relentless machinery, crisp metallic clanks, and Koleda's high-powered, no-nonsense voice cutting through it all.
She poured nearly every drop of herself into cold concrete and crossing rebar, like a tireless worker bee guarding and building its hive.
The turning point came when cooperation with the Three Gates Group stabilized.
Thanks to Grace's successful deep optimization of the prototype "Groi" logic core, White Star's existing intelligent construction machines underwent a near rebirth in efficiency.
The tunnel borer, Gleiter; the grabber unit, Hans; the pile driver, Friday—across the board, productivity jumped by almost forty percent while failure rates plummeted.
When the tsunami of orders finally got digested and landed smoothly under this upgraded machine power, the brutal pace of those weeks at last loosened into something rare.
A buffer.
Floodlights went dark. The deafening worksite roar faded, temporarily replaced by wind and the distant hum of city life.
An unfamiliar quiet settled over White Star's offices—so quiet it almost felt wrong.
And it was precisely that quiet—brief and precious—that let Koleda crawl out from under mountains of reports, schedules, budgets, and drawings.
She threw herself into her oversized president's chair and, almost on instinct, logged into the chaotic swirl of the Inter-Knot.
At first she scrolled mindlessly—until the algorithm fed her a few old news fragments with words that stabbed like nails:
"Dangerous Individual: Qianye.""Public Security Bureau.""Wanted."
Time froze.
Koleda's red eyes snapped tight. Her small body went rigid.
A delayed, burning regret—sharp as a red-hot steel pin—punched straight into her chest.
When Qianye, someone she acknowledged as important—someone she had plans for—had needed help most, when he'd been isolated and cornered…
She had been welded to her own blueprint world, completely unaware, offering not even a finger of support.
"…I didn't even know," she whispered. Her fist clenched at her side until the knuckles went pale, nails biting into her palm.
Then, flooding in right after regret, came something unreasonable and fiery:
Anger.
The wanted notice was gone now. The storm had passed.
And yet he hadn't sent a single message to say he was safe—not even a line.
Not to her. Not to White Star.
Was she so irrelevant in his mind that she didn't even deserve to be told?
Her thoughts leapt—uninvited—back to that time deep in the Hollow when they'd fought side by side, relying on each other.
And to that "agreement" she had practically forced into existence, the one he'd begrudgingly accepted under pressure:
"If you call that many people to help, then you owe me that many times—in person, one-on-one, properly. Got it?"
Her cheeks warmed without permission.
A volatile mix of grievance, anticipation, wounded pride, and genuine worry twisted together until she couldn't sit still.
She jumped out of her chair and paced before the huge desk covered in city maps, boots hammering nervous tap-tap-tap rhythms into the polished floor.
That restless state lasted two full days.
She even held a blueprint upside down during a site check, drawing a bewildered scratch of the head from Anton: "Boss… you okay? You look exhausted."
In the end, the urge to ask him directly—and to remind him he'd promised—overpowered the thin veneer of executive dignity she was trying to cling to.
But she couldn't just storm over and demand answers. That would look like she cared too much, like she was desperate.
She needed something "natural."
Something "official."
Like… a meeting justified by "subordinate concern" and "business partner relations."
She finally decided one evening, with the sunset gilding the metal filing cabinets in her office.
With a rare kind of awkward resolve—almost like marching to her own execution—she shuffled down the corridor and pushed open Grace's perpetually oil-stained door.
The storeroom smelled of machine oil, solder, and fresh-cut metal.
Grace was facing away, marveling at a newly arrived high-precision mechanical arm from the Three Gates Group, orange eyes shining behind her goggles as she muttered in near-reverence:
"…This transmission structure… this wiring layout… it's beautiful. I want to take it apart and see the servo modules inside…"
"Gr-Grace… sis…" Koleda's voice came out an octave lower than normal. Her eyes wouldn't settle anywhere, fingers twisting the hem of her work jacket.
Grace dragged herself out of mechanical ecstasy and adjusted her goggles, staring at Koleda in surprise. In Grace's experience, Koleda only had two modes: explosive foreman, or iron-willed president.
This shy, stammering thing?
Rare.
"So," Koleda forced out, "if… if I needed to meet someone… a really important business partner… what should I wear that… looks presidential… but doesn't feel… too obvious?"
The last words were almost swallowed whole.
Grace's eyes sharpened.
"Oh." She cut in immediately, too fast.
"Koleda, you're not trying to sneak off alone, are you?"
"What?!" Koleda detonated on the spot. "No! Don't talk nonsense! I'm not doing that!"
Her ears, however, were already glowing red enough to steam.
Grace didn't bother poking the paper-thin lie. She just smiled sweetly and—without giving Koleda an ounce of choice—dragged her out of the storeroom, ignoring the furious sputtering.
"Koleda, you know me. I'm not letting you sneak off alone. So sorry! Unless you take me with you, don't ask me for anything."
"I—hmph! Let go! I'm going to find him!"
"Too late." Grace's grin turned downright smug. "You think I'm letting you escape now?"
Lumina Square.
Staring at the latest message she'd just sent on Knock-Knock—again—Qianye fell into profound confusion.
It was the eighth message today with roughly the same content, except the tone had become steadily more explosive:
"Emergency came up! Next time! Next time for sure!"(emoji: furious pounding the ground)
He genuinely could not figure out what Koleda was in such a hurry over… or why she kept canceling so abruptly.
He was still standing there, dazed, when suddenly a pair of hands slid over his eyes from behind, blocking his view.
At the same time, something soft curled lightly around his waist, and warm breath brushed his ear.
A lazy voice purred:
"Guess who I am~?"
Qianye froze for a beat, then immediately recognized it.
"Ellen?" he blurted. "When did you get here?"
"Correct." Her tone carried unmistakable satisfaction. "Reward time."
Then, before he could react, she pressed something into him with breezy entitlement:
"Here—have a lollipop I already ate."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 150)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter190)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter105)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter225)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 195
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 170
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/5
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 225
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 210
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/30
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 115
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 130
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 90
My Harem Is Indescribable 85
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 90
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 100
Still playing traditional Honk 69
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 75
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 60
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 55
Transmigrated as Sukuna 71
Checking In in Demon Slayer 75
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 80
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 66
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 58
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 65
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 63
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 59
Why did they assign me to Uma 55
MYGO Beauties 56
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 45
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 49
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 36
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 35
The Uma Musume Who Became 30
I'm Definitely Not the King of 35
After Maxing Out Every Class 35
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