Abandoned and left to rot, slowly watching life slip away, unable to form any bonds with others, walking alone toward the end of death—this was the fate every Infected was destined for.
Looking at these Infected, Orson stopped on his way to the examination room.
—Getting a blood Originium concentration test would probably take quite a while, right? I don't have much time to spare, and even if I got an answer, nothing would change.
In that case, he might as well take this time, even if only for a moment, and bring something different to these people living in the cracks.
Even if it was only a moment of self-deception, he had to give them a little more motivation to keep living.
Orson walked over to the Infected and randomly handed out the lily-of-the-valley flowers in his hands.
Once he had drawn the confused gazes of many people holding bouquets, Orson cleared his throat with his virtual vocal cords, stepped onto a raised platform, and began to speak—
"Everyone's here, so today I'll perform a couple of crosstalk routines for you. Crosstalk is..."
After all, Orson had claimed that his specialty was "performing crosstalk" when he interviewed for Reunion. This was called staying true to his original aspiration.
Nayin, Nayin, Let's Talk Trash About the Old Man Together!
At Azazel Clinic, "laughter" was hardly a common thing.
Thus, when she heard laughter coming from the underground area, the girl Nayin immediately poked her head out curiously and followed the sound.
"This Koschei's father, old Mr. Wang—"
"Boo—!"
Nayin noticed that the Infected patients who usually only curled up in corners were now gathered around a young man in a suit, sometimes egging him on and sometimes bursting into laughter.
Nayin was not a "good child" in the literal sense. Normally, she would have gone over, picked someone at random to question, or simply demanded to know what that suited young man was doing.
But because she was also curious about the strange performance in which the young man played two roles by himself, Nayin leaned against the railing and, before she knew it, began listening to his "strange performance" as well.
About thirty minutes later—
"That'll be all for today, everyone. We'll chat again next time."
Orson copied the gesture and gave a formal bow, bringing this "artistic performance from Yan Country" to an end.
Although the Infected around him would soon return to their original lightless lives, at least they would remember today—a small event slightly different from all their other miserable days.
Alina had once told Orson that whether it was despair or hope, those sudden bursts were actually formed by the accumulation of countless "ordinary" moments.
Orson had fortunately stopped Talula's "final" descent into despair, but to prevent "the next outbreak," he decided he would keep filling her future with ordinary days that could resist despair, days she could remember with a smile.
"Are you from Yan Country?"
Nayin leaped down from a railing three people high and approached Orson, who was preparing to continue observing Azazel.
"Hm? Uh, good question. Nominally, I'm Ursusian, but I have the heart of someone from Yan Country—assuming Yan Country in YJ's setting really is like China."
Orson was briefly taken aback by the little girl who had suddenly appeared, wearing a gas mask and flowers in her hair, before explaining.
" I don't understand what you're talking about. Hey, are you a new doctor?"
Nayin looked Orson over curiously.
"I'm an Infected here to see a doctor, though I probably don't have time for an examination right now. My name is Orson. What about you?"
Orson introduced himself and held out his hand to Nayin.
"Nayin. If you're Infected, why are you so optimistic? You're completely different from everyone else."
Nayin did not shake his hand, instead voicing her question.
"There are lots of different kinds of Infected. Ones who can lead everyone forward, ones who like carrots and vodka candy, and ones who can spear me all the way to Lungmen..."
That was not a metaphor. Orson knew perfectly well that if he confessed to FrostNova today, he would probably appear in the sky over Lungmen four hours later.
"I don't get it. Anyway, everyone who comes here is Infected, and every single one of them always looks miserable."
Nayin complained with both hands clasped behind her head.
"Nayin, are you Infected too?"
"Yeah. I've lived here for a long time. The old man never lets me go out, but I'm not going to listen to him. Sometimes I sneak out! Once, while he wasn't at the clinic, I even went to hang around at a school outside!"
Nayin wore a proud smile, and Orson expressed his wholehearted approval.
"The old man is so boring. He's always nagging me to be careful, not trust strangers, saying society is dangerous and all that. I'm not a child anymore!"
"Exactly! There should be limits to caring for children. Otherwise, it's just excessive control."
Orson knew that the fastest way to get close to a child was to complain about her guardian together.
"And that old man, no matter what he's doing, always has this lifeless expression. Just looking at him puts me in a bad mood!"
"Exactly! A parent's mood affects their child. Does a guy like that not even understand something so basic?"
"Right, right! He's already so old, yet he always wears leather pants when he goes out. Sometimes I'm embarrassed for him!"
"Exactly! An old man with no self-awareness... Wait, the old man you're talking about..."
Halfway through agreeing with her, Orson vaguely sensed that something was wrong.
"It seems your Oripathy is not too serious, Orson. Also, as a parent, I do indeed appear to be quite a failure."
When Orson came back to his senses, Hegre was standing before him at some point. The former Ursus general vividly demonstrated what "oppressive presence" meant.
"Ah, Old Man! This is Orson. He says he's here to see a doctor. He's a really interesting guy~"
Nayin greeted Hegre without the slightest psychological burden. From the look of it, she had said plenty of bad things about him before.
"Uh... Hello. Well, nice to meet you. I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
As for Orson, he did not even dare raise his head and could only recite greetings from a first-grade English textbook.
"I will not participate in any of your actions."
Inside a room in Azazel's underground clinic, Hegre spoke in a calm but unquestionable tone.
"No matter what you value about my past, I can only tell you that those things no longer exist. As you can see, I am merely an idle old man in a private clinic—and an unqualified parent."
—The old man holds a grudge more than I expected...!
Orson wiped away his sweat, but still opened his mouth.
"We want to change the plight of the Infected, and in fact, we are already doing so. Your clinic is connected to the Infected forces in Chernobog. I hope you can help us. It will be extremely important for our next actions."
"Please leave."
"If the old nobles take power, this clinic's existence may be threatened!"
"I have the ability and channels to protect this clinic. You need not worry about that."
"Patriot Bojokasti is also in our ranks."
Orson invoked Patriot's name, but Hegre was only slightly surprised before returning to his unruffled expression.
"My answer is already clear, Orson. Please leave—now, I do not wish to involve myself in any conflict. The only thing I want to do is protect the people within my reach, as well as Nayin."
"..."
Orson opened his mouth, but ultimately did not continue arguing.
"I understand."
Orson sighed, then left the room.
Just as he had said, this general had completely abandoned his former glory and fighting spirit. He had utterly lost faith in every organization, in Ursus itself, and now only wished to protect the light he could see with his own eyes.
"Sorry, Orson. The old man scolded you, didn't he?"
After Orson left the room, Nayin tilted her head and apologized to him, then skipped into the room.
"..."
Orson watched Hegre wrap an arm around Nayin in the room, his face wearing a helpless yet peaceful warmth, and smiled with relief and helplessness.
He did not know what old Mr. Hegre had experienced, but he understood that if his current life was the "happiness" Hegre believed in, then Orson had no reason to force him to change that warmth for any reason.
—That said, without the support of Chernobog's Infected, it will be difficult for us to guard against any hidden measures Baikal may have left within the city.
As Orson considered what to do next, several Infected beside him took the initiative to greet him.
"Isn't that the young guy from earlier? Come to think of it, what exactly are you here for? Seeing a doctor?"
"Something like that, though I hit a wall."
Orson nodded in response. He noticed that the Infected who had previously looked lifeless now wore slightly happy and curious expressions when they saw him.
"Hit a wall? Well, anyway, if you come back to see a doctor, remember to let us know. That thing called crosstalk was pretty interesting. See you next time, then."
"Yeah, see you next time... Got it."
Orson froze for a moment, then smiled back at the Infected.
See you next time—he had merely told those Infected a few jokes from his original world, yet it was enough to make them interested in tomorrow again.
The "treasures" these people possessed had long since been stripped away, and what Talula wanted to do was give color back to their pale lives.
When he reached the exit following the route Hegre had pointed out, a wave of dizziness suddenly surged through Orson's mind.
This was not unusual for Orson. Usually, he only needed to tune his white score to return to normal.
"Ah... Damn—"
But this time was different. Before Orson could materialize his white score—his soul—his body had already fallen straight to the ground.
Azazel B1 Medical Room.
"The cause of his coma is severe mental exhaustion. This young man has gone nearly a year without proper rest."
In the medical room, a doctor named Ziegler frowned as he looked at Orson's temporary examination report.
"As for the Originium concentration in his blood, honestly, if you hadn't told me he was that recently famous Silence of the North, I would have assumed he was merely a severely infected Oripathy patient with less than a year to live. There are not many Originium crystals emerging on the surface of his body, but his internal organs are already showing signs of crystallization."
Doctor Ziegler glanced at Orson lying on the bed, then looked toward Hegre after finishing his assessment.
"So, what should we do?"
"Send him back to the Rostov family. This young man still has his battlefield."
Hegre looked at Orson as he answered.
Hegre knew of the Silence of the North, a figure recently discussed heatedly among the Enforcement Team, but he had not expected his true demeanor to be so approachable. He had even performed a curious show for the Infected. Even Nayin was deeply interested in it.
This young man treated the world without either servility or arrogance. In this era, that was truly rare.
"Then where is your battlefield, General?"
"..."
Hegre did not respond. He merely took out a pocket watch and looked at the somewhat worn photograph inside. The little girl in the photo was Nayin, the most precious treasure entrusted to Hegre by his close friend before his death.
His close friend, himself, countless soldiers and commanders—these people had given everything for Mother Ursus, only to have it all taken from them by those noble politicians in the end.
"I am no longer a general. There is no battlefield here, only an inconspicuous clinic."
Hegre closed his pocket watch. He heard Nayin's voice in the distance after she had gotten herself into trouble.
Change this world?
...That was no longer something I should think about.
Talu Sister Reconnected!
When he opened his eyes, Talula's concerned face was before him.
"..."
Orson closed his eyes and tried again.
When he opened his eyes, Talula's expressionless face was still before him.
Orson closed his eyes, preparing to try again—
"If you're awake, stop pretending to sleep, Orson."
Before you continue