"My dear friend, do you know how much I missed you? Though that burning red cloud swallowed your body, your voice and smile still remained in my mind..."
At the Survivor Daily newspaper office.
Har sat by the window on a small stool, holding a half-empty bottle of liquor as he belched and recited poetry in awkward grammar.
Usually, nobody paid much attention to him.
Most of the newspaper staff believed he was merely looking for an excuse to drink during the day. Flattering him brought no benefits and would instead get them trapped listening to his endless rambling all day, leaving them unable to finish their work.
"Did your lover die?"
"Lover? Hic, how shallow! This was written for my best friend—" Har let out another belch. He had only gotten halfway through his drunken reply when he suddenly froze.
Someone was standing in the doorway of the newspaper office.
He had a backpack on his back, with an assault rifle hanging beside it. He looked exactly as he had when he left more than a week ago, without a single visible injury.
Har froze.
It was not just him. Every employee in the office froze as well, the rustling of pages and scratching of pens abruptly stopping.
The entire newspaper office fell silent.
"F-Fang Chang!"
Har excitedly rose from his stool, set the bottle on the wooden windowsill, and hurried to the office entrance.
Seeing the tearful expression on his face, Fang Chang could not help feeling awkward.
"Could that have been written for—"
"It was written for you! By the Spirit of the Sand Sea! When I saw that tragic battle report, I-I thought you had died!" Har grabbed his shoulders and shook him forcefully, his excited voice incoherent. "This is wonderful! You're still alive!"
Fang Chang