"Afternoon... Were they in a hurry to see me?"
"I don't think so. They just hoped that if you came, they wouldn't have to waste your time."
Hesta's steps faltered for an instant, but soon returned to normal.
After she entered the conference room and took a seat, the entire room dimmed. Flowing red light paths once again emerged on the wide wooden table before her.
"I came today because of Kendall." Hesta got straight to the point. "You said there were some things that had to be discussed face-to-face. Now I'm here. If there's anything you want to refute or advise me on, go ahead."
"Hello, Hesta. We have nothing to refute or advise you on. We only have a piece of information to provide."
"What?"
"Kendall was diagnosed with Gray Marrow Failure Syndrome a few weeks ago, and was already admitted for treatment last week. Because the illness is progressing rapidly, we have transferred her to the underground medical unit at Awad Prison—some of her work may be handed over to you next."
"What syndrome...?"
"A neurodegenerative disease," the voice of Office No. 2 explained. "At first, the patient only feels tired and listless. Later, obvious symptoms of delayed speech appear, while the amount of time they remain awake during the day rapidly decreases. Immunotherapy and anti-inflammatory treatment have shown no clear effect. Given her current condition, I'm afraid—"
"Her days are numbered?" The moment the words left Hesta's mouth, she realized her voice not only lacked even the most basic empathy, but also carried a kind of mocking disbelief.
"I'm afraid so."
"How long do you expect her to live?"
"No more than a few weeks."
"What will be done with her body afterward?"
"Cremation."
Hesta was silent for a while. "...Let's talk about what work you