It was already dusk.
Gray Serpent had drawn many sketches. Crumpled sheets littered the floor, and his pencil had been worn blunt. Rather than improving, every drawing looked like a first attempt—the clumsy strokes, the composition devoid of any essentials, as though proclaiming Gray Serpent's utter mediocrity in artistic creation—he could not even draw a little flower properly.
It should not have been this way.
Whenever he looked away from that flower, his memories would slip away.
The flower's shape, fragrance, and color were like flowers glimpsed through fog. Once he looked away, every memory of it vanished completely. Coupled with its exceedingly ordinary appearance, no one ever noticed it.
But Gray Serpent was different.
His body had been modified, and many mechanical components had been added to his brain.
With a brain unlike that of ordinary people, Gray Serpent's memories faded somewhat more slowly. He tried to draw its shape, but always failed as his memories slipped away.
Still, that did not matter.
After such long years of waiting, Gray Serpent knew all too well how laughable human memory was. Sometimes, it even deceived itself.
Both the aboveground and underground portions of this plant had been thoroughly scanned, and the relevant records had been stored in the archives. Every offshoot produced through division was also completely under the surveillance of World Serpent.
Now, he had received news that one of the offshoots had died.
The people of Schicksal had arrived.
It was not yet time for World Serpent to step onto the stage. Everything had to be handled with caution.
There was no harm in offering appropriate assistance.
Gray Serpent stared at the flower and set an alarm for half an hour later. Its note read: Check File No. 29. Based on his speed, plus the time he would