Title: Zenless Zone Zero: I am a Doctor, Not a Bangboo
Author: Wormwood of the Filthy (脏者的艾蒿)
The girl behind him let out a light, effervescent laugh—like bubbles rising in water—and released her grip. The tip of her tail, which had been coiled around his waist, slid away with agile grace. Like a true water sprite, she spun light-footedly to face him.
Ellen's crimson pupils shimmered like soaked gemstones under the sunlight, flickering with a cunning light. Her lips curled into a triumphant arc, and the beauty mark beneath her eye added a unique charm to her smile. Without allowing room for argument, she stuffed a strawberry lollipop—shrunk to less than half its size and coated in a crystalline, sticky sheen—into his mouth.
"I'm rewarding you with a lollipop I've already started," she said. As she spoke, her small, serrated shark teeth peeked out, adding a touch of wild cuteness to her demeanor.
Qianye subconsciously bit down on the candy stick, which still carried her warmth and faint tooth marks. A sticky sensation spread across his tongue. He looked up with a hint of helplessness at the shark-Thiren girl who always appeared and disappeared like a ghost. Her short hair, dyed with black and red highlights, looked sharp and layered. Behind her, that powerful shark tail swayed rhythmically and unconsciously, betraying its owner's excellent mood.
"At this hour," he began, his brow furrowing in confusion as his gaze swept over her maid uniform—outfit she wore even on her day off, looking ready for work at a moment's notice—"shouldn't you be in..."
"Class? Ugh, don't even bring it up." Ellen waved a hand dismissively. Her face instantly shifted into a vivid expression of intense loathing mixed with the relief of a survivor, as if trying to purge an unsanitary image from her mind.
"That genius management team at school... I don't know what nerve they snapped, but they spent a fortune to bring in a supposed 'epoch-making, fully intelligent ecological purification' toilet system!" (Note: This is based on the author's own painful experience. I hope you never have to witness such a horror.)
She scoffed and threw her arms out in an explosive gesture. "The result? We didn't see a new epoch, but this morning we certainly heard a collective 'BOOM!' Qianye, you should have seen the scene..."
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to share this "shattering" secret. The sweet, strawberry scent of her breath brushed against Qianye's cheek. "It was... an indescribable disaster movie. Yellow, brown... uh, 'contents' gushed out of every stall like fountains, merging into a river!"
"I was napping at my desk—I worked overtime last night and was dead tired—when I was jolted awake by Mona's scream; it was like a dolphin's sonar! I opened my eyes," she dramatically clutched her chest, her red eyes wide as if reliving the moment, "and saw a murky, nameless 'tide' surging from the end of the back door, accompanied by... uh, an incredibly 'rich' aroma!"
"My mind went blank. Instinct kicked in. I went straight into 'Roaming Mode,' grabbing Ruby—who was staring at the 'wave' in a daze—with one hand, and dragging Lin—who was trying to build a pathetic defense with her thick textbook—with the other. Mona reacted fast enough on her own; she screamed and jumped onto my back..."
"The four of us just 'Roamed' right out the front door amidst the screams of the crowd and that... hellish smell!"
She described the event at a breakneck speed, her shark tail twitching restlessly with the narrative. Finally, she let out a long sigh, as if she had just survived a true cataclysm. "Anyway, the school sent an emergency notice. Classes are canceled for the day, and they told everyone not to leak the news... Ugh, Ruby was furious, she kept saying she'd expose the school. This time, even Lin didn't stop her."
"But we decided it was best to go home and change first. Even if we didn't get splashed, it feels like the stench soaked into our clothes."
She lowered her arms, her red eyes refocusing on Qianye. The excitement faded slightly, replaced by a keen, searching look. Her gaze drifted to the glowing screen in his hand—displaying a message from Koleda—and the lingering gloom on his brow that seemed so out of place on this bright afternoon.
"And what about you, Qianye?" She tilted her head, her tail curving into the shape of a question mark. "Standing here like a statue with such a... well, 'bitter and deep' expression? What happened? Did someone stand you up?"
Her tone held understanding, along with a well-hidden sliver of tentative probing. Qianye nodded silently, his fingertip sliding across the screen to kill the piercing light. He didn't explain the situation with Koleda; he didn't have the energy to untangle that mess, nor did he want to bring that chaos to Ellen.
Ellen blinked knowingly. She remembered the last time at Lumina Square when their rare leisure time was interrupted by that young lady, Lucy. She also remembered her own guilt for not being able to help when Qianye was caught in a whirlwind of public opinion and potential danger. A mixture of regret and a desire to make amends welled up within her.
Her tone softened unconsciously. With a hint of tentative expectation, she lightly tugged on the lace trim of his sleeve. "It just so happens I'm free now. And you... look like you're 'coincidentally' idle? Why not... accompany me for a walk? Consider it compensation for last time's regrets."
She leaned forward slightly, her red eyes fixed on him, shimmering with a light of hope—much like a child yearning for an affirmative answer.
And Qianye, having been stood up, truly had nowhere else to go. The wasteland of confusion regarding his own power that was growing in his heart needed something external and vibrant to temporarily cover it. Seeing the unshielded expectation in Ellen's eyes, her sincerity acted like a breeze, scattering some of the haze in his mind.
He nodded. A thought suddenly flashed through his mind—perhaps that vast, silent sea that could hold everything could temporarily calm the waves within him.
"If you don't mind..." he spoke softly, his voice a bit clearer than before, "I'd like to go to Epice Harbor."
The air was salty, moist, and carried the distinct brine of the deep sea, mingled with the faint scents of fuel, rust, and seawater-soaked timber. Invisible salt crystals seemed suspended in the air, clinging to the skin and creating a slight tightening sensation.
At dusk, Epice Harbor was shrouded in a hazy, warm-toned glow. The setting sun was like a massive, molten gold fireball slowly sinking into the horizon, painting the sky in rich layers of orange-red, golden-pink, and a gradient of lavender purple.
Massive cargo ships sat like sleeping steel giants moored at the deep-water docks. Their hulls were mottled with rust and the erosion of crashing waves, silently recounting memories of long voyages battling storms. Their steel skeletons traced cold, hard silhouettes of immense power and industrial beauty against the evening glow. In the distance, the low, long drone of a ship's horn—like a whale song—intertwined with the noisy, rising cries of seagulls, composing the harbor's unique and rugged symphony.
Ellen took a deep breath of the raw sea air, squinting her red eyes in satisfaction. She stretched her body fully, even her shark tail swaying comfortably. "Feels good... even the air tastes like freedom." She grabbed Qianye's hand; her palm was warm, with faint calluses. "Let's go, let's go! Let's check out that pier first!"
The two strolled along the wooden walkways at the edge of the dock. Beneath their feet were rough, weather-beaten planks with dried seaweed and tiny shell fragments embedded in the cracks. Small fishing boats that had just returned were nestled against the dock, their hulls rising and falling with the gentle waves. Wet fishing nets hung from masts, emitting a strong, fresh scent of fish.
By the pier stood a row of simple but lively stalls selling various snacks and hot drinks. Ellen was drawn to a stall giving off the tempting aroma of frying oil. She pulled Qianye over and bought a large box of freshly fried, golden-crisp fries sprinkled with fine sea salt. The steaming fries were packed in greaseproof kraft paper; they were so hot she kept switching hands while huffing to cool them down.
Just as she picked up a fry to enjoy, a few bold seagulls—the self-proclaimed kings of the area—caught the scent. They dove down with flapping wings and piercing shrieks, attempting to snatch the easy meal from her hands.
Ellen's eyebrows shot up. A flash of offended annoyance crossed her red pupils. She simply flicked a hot fry from the bag with a casual snap of her wrist. The fry shot out like a bullet, whistling through the air with a faint whoosh, and struck the greedy beak of the loudest, lead seagull with pinpoint accuracy.
"GAH!" The seagull let out a pained, startled squawk, tumbled in the air, and beat its wings in a pathetic retreat. Seeing this, the others circled away dejectedly, not daring to approach again.
Ellen gave a triumphant "Hmph" and popped the "ammunition" fry into her mouth as if nothing had happened. "Qianye, want a taste?" she asked muffledly.
Qianye took a fry and placed it mechanically into his mouth. The crispy exterior and soft, steaming interior burst between his teeth—salty, savory, and rich—but he ate without truly tasting it. His palate seemed walled off by his thoughts. His gaze drifted past the bustling pier toward the infinite deep blue sea in the distance, shimmering with golden fragments under the setting sun.
After finishing the fries, Ellen noticed that Qianye wasn't particularly interested in the noise and crowds of the dock. She followed his gaze and saw him staring at the lonely lighthouse standing in the distance. On a whim, she tugged at his sleeve, which was fluttering in the sea breeze. "Want to go over there? It looks quiet. Should be good for... spacing out."
Qianye nodded. They left the noisy area and headed toward the lighthouse. In the fading light, it presented a silent, steadfast silhouette. The lighthouse itself appeared ancient and sturdy. Large patches of its white paint had peeled and discolored under the twin assaults of time and salt spray, revealing the dark, rough masonry beneath—a look full of historical weight.
A heavy iron door with peeling paint stood slightly ajar, letting out a tooth-grinding creak when pushed. Qianye pulled out a key. "Oh, Old Tang gave this to me. I helped him out once."
After explaining this to Ellen, Qianye inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and opened the iron door. The interior was narrow and enclosed. A spiraling iron staircase rose steeply; each step produced a hollow, heavy echo that was magnified in the silence, feeling as though every footfall landed directly on a heartbeat.
They climbed the cold, rusted spiral stairs one after the other. Qianye led the way, his steps unusually heavy, as if carrying a thousand-pound burden. The tower was filled with the distinct smell of thick dust, old rust, damp stone, and decaying wood. The air was stagnant and cold. Ellen followed, her pace maintaining her characteristic rhythm—seemingly lazy but actually precise—though she instinctively lightened her steps in the claustrophobic space.
When they pushed open the iron door to the circular observation deck at the top, it felt like leaping from narrow imprisonment into infinite freedom. The powerful sea breeze slammed into them without obstruction, like a heavy fist, carrying a bone-deep chill and abundant moisture. It instantly disheveled Qianye's silver hair and blew his wide robes tight against his body, making them flap loudly. The hem of Ellen's maid skirt billowed violently; she had to press it down with her hands as her black-and-red hair danced wildly in the gale.
In the distance, the massive Hollow shimmered with brilliant, kaleidoscopic colors under the sun's rays. Qianye stared at the Hollow without blinking, while Ellen silently closed the door.
The platform was surrounded by a chest-high metal railing that grew colder as the sun continued to sink. Time flowed quietly between the tireless rise and fall of the tide. The last golden sliver of the sun was swallowed by the horizon. The sky's color shifted rapidly from warm embers to deep indigo-purple, finally covered by a night sky soaked in ink-blue.
The first star flickered timidly at the edge of the firmament, followed by more and more, scattered across the heavens like crushed diamonds. The lights of the harbor turned on one by one, forming a warm belt of light that reflected on the pitch-black sea in shimmering, broken golden echoes. The navigation light at the top of the lighthouse hummed to life. A solid beam of light, seemingly capable of slicing through the night, began to rotate at a steady, lonely pace—resolutely piercing the heavy darkness to guide those lost at sea. When the light swept across their faces, it brought a brief flash of heat and blinding brightness.
Qianye's hands gripped the metal railing, which was now ice-cold from the sea wind. His knuckles had turned white from the force. He didn't notice. He was only thinking about everything he had experienced at the "underground doctor's" clinic.
The words of inquisitive interest and secret pleasure echoed in his mind like a vicious curse, magnifying: "Charm," "Ether Manipulation," "Truth Serum," "The power that suits you..."
Did these pink powers—lurking deep in his bloodline, uncontrolled, possessing a will of their own—already distort the true will of everyone around him, just like this invisible sea breeze? Koleda's seemingly temperamental yet awkward care; Ellen's quiet, apologetic company; even the bonds he shared with those at Victoria Housekeeping and Belobog Heavy Industries...
Were the warm connections he thought were born from shared experiences and true emotions actually just a beautiful illusion caused by the "polluting" attraction emitted by this eerie power? Was he himself a walking source of disaster, constantly tampering with the true intentions of others?
This thought was like a cold, barbed chain wrapping around his heart, tightening until it brought a suffocating self-loathing and a bone-deep fear. He was afraid to verify it, and even more afraid that the results of such a verification would negate every warm memory he cherished as a cold hallucination.
Behind him, Ellen saw every subtle reaction. She saw him staring at the lifeless, pitch-black sea, his eyes dimming like dying embers. She saw his straight back slump imperceptibly under an invisible weight. As time passed, the gloom in Qianye's eyes did not scatter; it grew heavier, even flashing with a spark of acute pain.
Ellen sensed it keenly. His desolation was a deeper agony—one stemming from the heart, a torment regarding existence itself. As he gazed at the dark sea that swallowed starlight and hope, his body began to tremble uncontrollably. The chill came from the depths of his soul. In the face of this absolute vastness, silence, and darkness, the cruel questions of truth versus falsehood, self versus other, and existence versus meaning were magnified to the extreme.
They were like countless invisible hands trying to push his thin silhouette off the railing into the void. Loneliness and fear poured into his chest like cold seawater, making it hard to breathe.
Ellen walked quietly to his side. She didn't look out at the mysterious sea; instead, she focused with worried intensity on his tense, pale profile. Then, without warning, she reached out. Her warm palms gently cupped his ice-cold cheeks. Her movement carried a tenderness and resolve that brooked no refusal, turning his head so he was forced to face her.
Then, against the backdrop of the howling gale and the rotating beacon of light, she stood on her tiptoes. She pressed her forehead firmly against his—no gap remaining. Instantly, the contact of their skin sent a strange, electric sensation through him, piercing the frozen fear. He could clearly feel the warm blood flowing beneath her skin and her steady, rhythmic breath brushing against his nose and cheeks.
Ellen closed her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered like startled butterfly wings. Through this most primitive, direct, and unreserved contact, she was transmitting a silent, steadfast, and warm strength.
Qianye's body stiffened. He instinctively tried to pull back, but her hands held his face with gentle firmness. His momentary struggle dissolved into the incredible warmth and peace radiating from her forehead. His bowstring-tight muscles gradually relaxed, and the uncontrollable trembling subsided.
The howling wind and the hum of the lighthouse motor seemed to drift away. The noisy world was walled off, leaving only the warm, real sensation at his forehead and their synchronized breathing. After a long while—as if the river of time had pooled there—Ellen pulled back slightly, though her hands remained on his face as if afraid he would fall back into the darkness if she let go.
Her forehead was slightly flushed from the pressure. Her red eyes, caught in the intermittent sweep of the beacon, were clear as water. There was no trace of jest or laziness in them, only a pure, unreserved concern and resolve. That light was brighter than the city's sea of stars and warmer than any navigation buoy.
"Qianye," her voice was soft but carried a heavy weight, clearly piercing the roar of the wind. "I don't know what's bothering you, or what's torturing you."
Her thumb gently, soothingly stroked his cold cheekbone. The movement was a bit clumsy but filled with unshielded sincerity. "But if possible," she said, each word slow and deliberate, "I hope you can tell me. If it's pain, let me share it with you. If it's a problem, let me solve it with you. If it's... love..."
She paused for a heartbeat, a fleeting, complex emotion flickering in her eyes—a shy meteor in the night sky—before being covered by a deeper, more steadfast tenderness. Her voice grew even softer but remained as unyielding as stone. "Even if... the object of that love isn't me, I still hope I can be the one... who helps you. I don't want to stand far away, powerless to do anything when you need me, like last time."
The wind at the top of the tower continued to roar, trying to tear apart anything fragile. The great beacon light continued its tireless cycle, illuminating the way for ships but failing to light the confusion close at hand. But on this small platform, time truly seemed to freeze.
Qianye stared blankly at the girl's serious, almost sacred face. He felt the warmth from her palms dispelling the biting frost in his heart. The icy wall built of fear, doubt, self-negation, and fatalism shattered into dust with a silent roar. He took a deep, greedy breath of the salty, cold air, as if purging all the stagnant fear and gloom from his chest.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. The thick mist in his gaze had scattered, revealing a flicker of trust beneath the exhaustion. He looked at her and finally spoke. His voice was dry and raspy from the long silence, trembling with uncertainty at first, but growing steady under Ellen's focused gaze.
He still hid many things—the night in the underground cell, the woman named Sarah, and where he had hidden afterward... Even now, he had reservations. It wasn't out of selfishness, but rather because he couldn't bear to remember those details and instinctively avoided them.
Instead, he spoke of the nightmare that had haunted him since leaving the clinic—the awakening of that strange pink power, the uncontrollable "Charm," and the agonizing fear that all his cherished connections were built on a lie. He poured it all out to the girl whose forehead had pressed against his to drive away his winter.
And Ellen simply listened, silent and patient. One hand still cupped his face, while the other slid down to firmly clasp his cold hand, continuously transmitting her warmth and silent oath. The lighthouse beacon swept over their huddled figures again and again, stretching, rotating, and overlapping their shadows on the platform, casting them out toward the infinite night sky and sea.
Despite his intention to be brief, it still took Qianye a long time to explain everything.
"My worries are a bit bizarre... or rather, it's just self-pity, isn't it?" At the end, Qianye gave a self-deprecating laugh.
"No, Qianye. This isn't self-pity..."
"Ellen..."
Qianye wanted to say more, but in the next moment, that warm sensation returned—this time in a different place. Feeling the "little shark" tentatively exploring between his lips, Qianye slowly closed his eyes.
However, at that very moment, a sudden wave of drowsiness crashed over him. Before he could react, Qianye collapsed.
"Qianye?!"
Ah, why is my body failing now? Ellen... I haven't even properly responded to her feelings yet...
Before plunging into unconsciousness, Qianye felt a surge of regret. Then, his consciousness began to sink once more...
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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