This World Is Seriously Ill

Then, with the crisp beep of the automatic toaster, soft, fluffy slices of bread popped up on their own.

Kevin untied his white apron, spread strawberry jam evenly over the bread slices, and filled a glass with fresh milk. The fruit salad, served as a garnish, was not only colorful but also extremely appetizing.

With everything ready, the twenty-year-old big brother, exuding a warm, homey vibe, gently knocked on Angela's door.

After a faint rustling sound, the little girl, dressed in a light blue button-up school uniform and a white pleated skirt, groggily rubbed her sleepy eyes as she got out of bed.

This adorable little klutz stumbled her way into the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast.

Outside the door, Kevin handed her a toothbrush with toothpaste already applied, a towel soaked in hot water and wrung dry, and other essentials, one by one, to the drowsy girl who was nearly burying her little head in the sink.

Though she had enjoyed this five-star service for a month and a half straight, mornings had gradually become less unbearable for Angela, who once had a bad habit of sleeping in.

By the time Kevin had neatly combed her short, light brown hair, the girl's initially hazy, sky-blue eyes had turned lively and clear.

But Angela's bright, spirited little face instantly dimmed and lost its luster when her gaze fell on the two still-empty seats at the dining table. Her delicate mouth pouted, full of grievance and dejection.

Kevin crouched down, lightly tapped the little girl's nose, and gave a gentle smile.

"The tutor has important work to finish and really can't get away. But this morning, a signed mystery package arrived. Let's open it together."

Under the little girl's slightly skeptical yet hopeful gaze, Kevin solemnly presented the square package hidden beneath the dining table.

Just as Kevin handed a beautiful butterfly knife to Angela, the box suddenly shook violently. The girl, already a bit suspicious and nervous, was startled.

But at that moment, a pair of warm hands gently patted her shoulder, then held her trembling hand steady. Encouraged, the unfolded butterfly knife lightly cut open the ribbon-tied gift box.

"So cute!" When the outer cardboard was removed, the disappointment in Angela's eyes seemed to melt away instantly.

Inside the cylindrical cage, two brown and one chubby, dark-furred hamster stared back with round, black eyes, curiously inspecting their new home.

"To our little angel, Anje—may you be happy every day, healthy and joyful. —From Daddy and Mommy."

A warm greeting card tucked under the cage completely evaporated the last trace of resentment in the little girl's heart.

"Then, Your Highness, the esteemed little angel Anje, are you ready to shelter these three subjects within your domain?" Kevin raised his right hand to his chest, bent his knee in a bow, and asked with a deliberately serious expression.

"In the Lord's witness, I swear to protect the weak!" The little girl tightened her pretty face, straightened her back, and made a solemn vow.

"Alright, no time to play. Eat up." Kevin set the hamster cage aside.

Then, he flicked the girl's smooth forehead with his finger, pointed at the still-warm breakfast, and put on a stern face, ready to supervise her meal and prevent any sneaky attempts to pour out the milk.

"Wait! Teacher Kevin, your gift!" Angela suddenly remembered something, raised her fork, and ground her teeth at the boy.

"Clever little one..." Kevin crossed his arms, gave a helpless, faint smile, and tilted his chin toward the plate beside hers. "You already used it just now, didn't you? A girl needs to learn to protect herself."

"You actually gave a dangerous and evil blade to a lady!" Under Kevin's teaching, the once shy and quiet little girl had grown quite articulate.

After a few teasing remarks, she picked up the exquisite butterfly knife again, its outer pattern shaped like angel wings, and a hint of dissatisfaction showed on her pretty face.

But the way she carefully tucked it into a hidden compartment in her schoolbag was clearly a case of saying one thing and doing another.

After chewing and swallowing the last piece of bacon-wrapped bread from his own plate, Kevin raised his wristwatch and winked at the little girl. "Friendly reminder: thirty minutes until class starts."

Oh no—today Teacher Maggie was on duty. That stern, rigid lioness from the convent!

Angela's face turned pale at the news, and she immediately sped up her eating. But her good upbringing ensured she maintained graceful manners even while wolfing down her food.

After ten minutes of frantic preparation, Kevin locked the door, drove his beloved blue Beetle out of the garage, picked up Angela, and weaved through the flat, wide roads of Raccoon City.

Luckily, America's sparse population made Kevin's drive smooth and easy. By the time the mini Beetle pulled up in front of the school, there were still a full ten minutes until class.

"You! Crouch down!" Just as Kevin was watching the little girl walk toward the school gate, Angela suddenly stopped, turned around, and pointed at her tutor with her hands on her hips, her small face tight with seriousness and coldness.

Seeing time ticking away and the bell about to ring, Kevin helplessly raised both hands in surrender, then obediently crouched in front of Angela.

The little girl cupped his cheeks, then quickly leaned in and pecked him on the forehead.

"Thank you, Teacher Kevin. This is my thanks in return..." A faint smile curved at the corners of her lips. As Kevin stood stunned, she turned and ran quickly into the school gate, her face beaming with a pure, sweet smile.

Though the card sounded very much like her parents' tone and handwriting, Angela could spot the subtle differences at a glance.

And knowing their habits, the annual, unchanging plush toys would have been their predictable gift. This playful hamster cage could only have been carefully chosen by him.

Kevin touched the kiss mark on his forehead and gave a helpless smile.

A month and a half ago, he had only just begun to earn the trust of Dr. Charles and his wife. Now, he had gradually become Angela's close tutor and caretaker.

Because of a disability from her early childhood, the girl had grown up introverted and quiet. Later, thanks to her father Dr. Charles's research, the T-Virus was developed, capable of awakening her bodily functions and repairing genetic fragments.

Though the physical defects in the girl's shell had been erased, the longing for her parents' love in her heart remained unfilled.

Thus, this well-behaved girl had always seemed quiet and mature on the surface, but lacked the vitality of a child. Unfortunately, her parents, bound by circumstances beyond their control, could never fully take on the responsibility of caring for their daughter's body and heart.

However, when a certain gentle, shy son of an old acquaintance—someone children naturally adored—appeared as a part-time instructor at Raccoon City University, Professor Charles gradually pushed his neglected daughter into that person's care.

After all, the Umbrella Corporation's underground Hive and the virus research progress in each sector required his expertise, and his wife had also been forced to join the R&D department.

Rather than expose his daughter—this "weak spot"—too much to the Umbrella Corporation's gaze, it was better to entrust her to this tested son of an old friend.

As for the girl's safety, setting aside whether that slender boy harbored any ill intentions, Angela, injected with the T-Virus, was not as fragile as she appeared. She could more than handle self-defense.

Moreover, the entire Raccoon City was under Umbrella Corporation's surveillance. Even though, at Charles's strong insistence, they didn't interfere too much in his daughter's life, any unusual move from this kid would not escape Umbrella's notice.

But his tutor in that "History of Biological Evolution" elective probably had no idea that the so-called "son of an old acquaintance" was merely a false memory implanted into his brain by some mysterious entity.

Kevin's covert activities had never ceased, though the target wasn't Angela but his own employer, the Umbrella Corporation.

After Kevin safely saw the little girl through the school gates, the blond man at the street newsstand tugged his cap brim and casually tucked the magazine back into the glass window.

The black cab driver leaning against his parked car on the roadside stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette and tossed it into the trash.

At the same time, a Latina fitness woman in a black tracksuit and headphones paused her morning jog, then continued forward.

Observer J.D. Salinas, Commando Captain James Shade, and female operative Rain Ocampo—all familiar faces he'd already clocked.

But did they really need to deploy a full Umbrella commando squad to monitor his time with Angela?

Kevin felt helpless, and as luck would have it, these guys were all tied to the future Umbrella Hive crisis in one way or another.

Trying to get into Umbrella through Dr. Charles was a pipe dream. Kevin returned to his Beetle, rolling up the window as he mentally mapped out his next move.

Looked like he'd have to keep scouring the area around Raccoon City and find the entrance to the underground research facility "The Hive" as soon as possible, because the person he needed to exchange fluids with should be in the castle at the Hive's entrance.

Thinking of that harsh and eccentric condition, Kevin's eye twitched. Trying to take down that combat monster of a female tyrannosaurus was practically asking for death.

But to escape Raccoon City before the Biohazard Crisis broke out, he'd have to brave any fire or sea.

Southwest was today's patrol zone? Kevin glanced at the map marked with pencil circles and symbols, tucked it back under the car seat, and turned the key to start the engine.

Three days left until the T-Virus outbreak, and the mutated strain could even spread through the air, infecting the whole world in months.

So if he didn't want to spend his days with those zombies, he'd better get out of "hospitable" Raccoon City before the key events hit.

The frustrating part was that Kevin could only follow the task's requirements and find the key story characters to get his "residence permit" in this world sorted.

Somewhere deep down, his survival instinct told him that if he didn't find someone in time, the consequences would be brutal.

Of course, Kevin hadn't started with such noble ideals. He'd always tried to leave Raccoon City.

But every time he reached the city's edge, his heart clenched violently, and that fear of having his soul and thoughts stripped away inch by inch was maddening.

So, like Don Quixote charging at windmills, he had to force himself to try and change this crazy world.

Lost in thought, Kevin drove the blue Beetle down the wide road, the city's steel jungle fading behind him.

The lush scenery along the Acre Mountains, filtered through the hazy, thin mist under the sunlight, mixed into dark, oppressive tones, as if a monstrous beast lurked deep in the mountains, waiting to devour life.

As a visitor from another world, Kevin's real memories seemed shrouded in thick fog, never clear.

He only remembered this was a fake world built from games, movies, and the like, with a rough impression of the main plot.

But it wasn't as simple and fun as a game—it was real and vivid. He could feel pain and the threat of death, so no matter what came, he just wanted to live. That's all.

When the Beetle passed a convenience store, Kevin felt thirsty. He parked his beloved car by the roadside, got out to stretch, and walked to a half-open door.

As he stepped in and pushed the door open, the metal bell hanging behind it chimed pleasantly. The ivy on the windowsill was a lush green.

The owner really had taste, Kevin thought as he turned his head and said, "A can of Coke, plea..."

But his polite words caught in his throat. His Adam's apple moved involuntarily as he swallowed hard, his smile stiff and dry.

"Th-this... what a coincidence? Wrong door, sorry..."

But just as Kevin turned to leave, a cold, thick, black object pressed against the back of his head. "Get back here. Down!"

A burly man with a ponytail and tattoos dragged Kevin down, and he lay on the floor with a grimace, hands on his head.

In contrast, the American citizens, used to this, assumed the perfect posture to show they were harmless and compliant.

Of course, the two patrolmen's bodies in the corner—one shot in the head, the other in the heart—had clearly sharpened their professionalism.

Buying a can of soda by the roadside and running into armed robbers at a convenience store? Again? Seriously?

It seemed the aftermath of his own existence's irregularity had flared up again. Kevin lay on the floor, laughing bitterly.

Since he was a time-space stowaway not fully accepted by this world, he stood out like a husky wandering into a wolf pack.

Until this problem was solved, Kevin's daily life would be incredibly eventful.

To be specific, not only was his luck terrible, but he also attracted hatred like a magnet, and he could be hit by random disasters at any time.

In just half a month in Raccoon City, he'd been through 3 robberies, 7 car accidents, and 12 gang brawls...

Facing such a terrifying Causality Weapon, the new Umbrella elite squad kept their distance from him, which actually made it easier for Kevin to move alone.

But what pissed him off more was that this guy was tougher than a cockroach.

After all this, even a few Umbrella agents secretly assigned to watch him ended up in the ICU, yet he was still bouncing around. Damn weird.

Wait, it couldn't be this coincidental, could it?

As Kevin lamented his bad luck, he glanced around with his peripheral vision and suddenly noticed the person next to him—a stunning woman with soft brown short hair, emerald eyes, wearing high boots and a red dress.

Chapter 3: The Bystander Caught in the Crossfire

Was that... Alice? Talk about finding something without even looking.

After double-checking, Kevin's lips first curled up, then twitched slightly. Sure enough, sticking with the protagonist meant danger everywhere.

The shopping cart behind the red-dressed woman was piled with wine, fruits, meat, and other daily items—clearly just out shopping.

Looking around, there was a trembling Latina mother and daughter on the left, a blond store clerk in an orange uniform on the right, and a middle-aged couple and a black woman shopping behind them.

But since this place was remote, the shoppers here were mostly poor residents on the outskirts of Raccoon City.

And besides, aside from the humanoid tyrannosaurus beside him—whose true identity was a high-ranking security department executive from Umbrella—there was basically no one else in the entire convenience store who could pose a threat to this "convenience store robber."

Unfortunately, this "brother" in front of him, gripping an M1911, kept a constant sidelong watch on the convenience store's interior, his movements professional.

Not only that, but he even had a grenade tucked into his trench coat, and he didn't bother hiding his face at all—clearly no petty thief robbing a convenience store.

According to his Mexican features, Kevin couldn't help but guess: maybe they'd stumbled onto a drug deal going down between traffickers.

And according to the usual ruthless style of drug dealers, they'd most likely kill everyone on the spot to silence them, so his life was now hanging by a thread.

For now, he could only hope this formidable lady beside him would unleash her power and take down the robber.

The robber paced back and forth inside the convenience store, occasionally checking his phone. As time ticked by, he grew visibly more agitated.

Damn cops! He'd only come here for a simple handoff, to see if that thing was really as valuable as the phone call had claimed.

But he never expected that while resting in the convenience store, he'd run into patrol cops who'd come in to buy drinks and breakfast.

His instinctive wariness made the two cops suspicious, so this contact person decided to strike first and took out the meddling cops on the spot.

But the other contact person never showed up. With the mission unfinished and his trail exposed, he could imagine what awaited him when he returned to the family.

"Buzz... buzz..." Three minutes later, the phone's dull vibration made the robber immediately move close to the door and window. After checking his surroundings, he answered cautiously.

"Change of plans. The handoff is canceled. Friendly tip: RPD has probably noticed something off in this patrol zone. They'll arrive in ten minutes. Get out fast."

The dry, distorted voice from the voice changer made it impossible to even tell if it was a man or woman, but the content made Gonzalez's forehead veins bulge.

"Fuck you! Where's the next deal address?" Gonzalez flipped the phone off, questioning the contact person about the next move.

Compared to the cops, the consequences of returning empty-handed were far worse. He didn't want to end up as food for the hunting dogs, or get tucked into an oil drum, sealed with cement, and sunk into the sea.

But all he got in response was the dead tone of a dropped call. That person had clearly abandoned this deal.