Tangze: A Little Nostalgic

Tang Ze Zhao merely said a few simple words to her, as though Vermouth's presence did not matter at all, then pushed his wheelchair toward the other side of the room.

Though he was clearly the victim, imprisoned and robbed of his identity and life, he seemed calmer than Vermouth, the one who had discovered him. She could not tell whether he had already gone through a mental breakdown and entered a more peaceful state, or whether he had simply given up completely and stopped caring.

That reaction, somewhere between composed serenity and lifeless resignation, left Vermouth unsure how to respond.

She silently looked at the chains scraping across the floor as Tang Ze moved, then at the bandages faintly visible beneath his hem. In the end, she could only shift her gaze and inspect the basement.

For a basement, it was remarkably spacious.

Near the entrance were several coffee tables, a kettle, and some low, accessible furniture clearly designed with the user's condition in mind. There were a few books and a soft beanbag chair as well.

The room farther inside had a somewhat mismatched style.

Beside a simple single bed stood four or five sets of medical equipment. All kinds of monitoring devices were present, taking up a large amount of space. It looked exactly like a special-care ward, even an ICU. Scattered IV supplies and oxygen masks hung near the head of the bed.

An extremely conspicuous device resembling a hyperbaric oxygen chamber stood in the corner beside the bed. Vermouth could not identify it, but she could not help thinking of Noah's Ark's control terminal—the so-called holographic game pod, the "Cocoon."

The central counter held a great many medicines and medical instruments. There was even a surgical light and a microscope eyepiece.

Looking only at this