Tim was left dizzy by Schiller's contradictory statements. Just as he wanted to press for answers, Schiller had already stood up to stoke the fireplace.
So he could only exchange a glance with Pamela. Some of their suspicions were inconvenient to voice right now, so they both left the table. Tim went to the kitchen to see whether there were any ingredients.
Pamela went upstairs to tidy the rooms.
Someone had clearly lived in this house recently, and they had kept good habits. The place was neat and orderly, many things had been replaced recently, and there was instant food in the cabinets.
It was evening again. Tim cooked some pasta, and just as the meal was ready, Schiller came back carrying firewood. Once the fireplace was lit, the damp chill from the nearby sea vanished completely, though the fire made the room somewhat dry.
After dinner, his blood sugar rose, and the room was a little too warm. No amount of water Tim gulped down helped, so he suggested taking a walk on the beach nearby. But he was, after all, an ordinary person, and this place was unsafe. Worried something might happen to him, Pamela put on her coat and went with him.
At first, Tim really did head down the mountain, but when he reached the edge of the beach, he turned around and headed back.
"You're not planning to eavesdrop, are you?" Pamela asked. "You won't succeed. Schiller has Gray Mist..."
"Not anymore." Tim lowered his voice as he walked. "I'm sure he doesn't have a Symbiote right now."
"How can you be sure?"
"This one isn't like the professor. He pursues efficiency. If he had a Symbiote, he wouldn't use a less efficient method unless it was the only thing he could do."
"Even if