In the dark, damp room, Joseph stared blankly at the words on the wall.
The stench brought by the acid rain had yet to leave his room, but another downpour had already descended from the sky.
Nostramo's rain showed no mercy to the workers. In fact, aside from the nobles, it showed mercy to no one.
So perhaps the stench would never leave.
Just like the torn wound left in the palm of his left hand by the factory machinery—even after it healed, the scar would remain, along with the spasmodic pain that flared up from time to time.
Joseph looked at those words without saying a thing.
Three lines of black writing occupied a small portion of the rotten wooden wall.
Lie had spaced them far apart, leaving a long gap between every character. Joseph could understand that, but he could not understand what they meant.
Still, that did not stop him from looking at them again and again, then dipping his finger in acid rain and trying to recreate them on the wall.
Unlike Joseph, Lie had a quick mind. He was different from most of them, capable of remembering many things.
For instance, the guards' shift rotations at the factory, or how to exploit certain loopholes to get extra food rations. But the fact that he could remember these words still came as a shock to Joseph.
He still remembered the shock he had felt when he first heard the news, along with a certain hidden pleasure.
In truth, it was the latter that had remained vividly etched in his memory, even overshadowing the shock.
He did not know what that emotion was called, but he knew what it was.
Seeing them die made him happy. Happier even than receiving a full food ration.
"Joseph!"
Someone was