Threat

"However, this is just a way of classifying them based on their origin to make combat easier," Liz continued. "Secondary Chelated Beings, being foreign invaders, are usually unfamiliar with the local personnel and terrain, making them relatively easy to eliminate. Primary Chelated Beings, on the other hand, have lived in the incident area for a long time and have a deep understanding of the local environment, making them more stealthy and cunning, thus posing a higher combat difficulty."

Hesta understood. "Is it the same on the Wasteland?"

Liz paused, then shook her head.

"The situation on the Wasteland... well, it's a bit different.

"Chelated Beings appearing on the Wasteland don't need to be divided into primary and secondary categories; even if they were, it would be meaningless. For most of the Wasteland, by the time people realize the chelation disease has invaded, it's already too late. Some will try to escape, while others will wait, until everyone eventually falls ill.

"But if the notification is timely, and the Quicksilver Needles and United Government teams can arrive before the overall outbreak, they can provide treatment and evacuation—but maintaining this communication is very costly, as there's no electricity on the Wasteland, and everything relies on horses and people.

"A situation where an entire region of the Wasteland is affected is called a Chelated Tide," Liz said softly. "However, hunting Chelated Beings in remote areas far from settlements is often less restricted than in habitable zones, so it's easier to deal with."

Hesta realized her question was a bit ill-timed. This somewhat cruel answer was, in a way, a reflection of Liz's own experiences. She had unintentionally dredged up painful memories.

Liz fell silent for a moment, then closed her book with a snap and set it aside. "Get your computer."

"...What for?"

"I'll encrypt it for you. I should have done it yesterday, but I was too busy and didn't think of it..."

Seeing Hesta's confused expression, Liz briefly explained the reasoning.

"So, you're saying there's a possibility Shawn could see my network activity?" Hesta asked.

"Theoretically, yes. But the base has disabled all of Shawn's devices for the past two days, so he shouldn't have the tools."

Hesta pondered for a moment. "...Okay, wait for me."

For several days, Shawn couldn't use Calvin's computer—Calvin had placed his computer directly in the base's library.

And the two of them had never had such a prolonged cold war. Several times, Shawn tried to strike up a conversation using casual excuses, only to be avoided by Calvin just as he was about to speak.

After several unsuccessful attempts to probe, Shawn gave up. He finally realized that unless he was prepared to have a long talk with Calvin, he wouldn't be able to pretend that conversation never happened.

He felt a sense of resentment, but had nowhere to direct it. Calvin had started preparing for their first real combat mission next month, but for the first time ever, he hadn't pulled Shawn along for training. Shawn took to using various sick leave and personal leave excuses to skip all the short-term simulation battles. To his surprise, the base approved all of them.

Suddenly, he had a lot of free time.

About a week later, the base suddenly upgraded his credit rating again, from D to C-. Although Officer Molly had personally spoken to him, warning him to turn over a new leaf and behave himself, regardless, the rating increase meant that both he and Calvin could move back into the student dormitories.

This had initially sparked a brief moment of caution in Shawn. After leaving the observation area, he didn't bother Hesta for several days.

But soon, Shawn figured out the reason behind it. Starting that week, large crowds of civilians began gathering outside the base, chanting slogans like "Set her free" and holding up high images of Hesta with her flaxen hair. Shawn, with nothing better to do, stood on the main building not far from the main entrance, looking down at it all as if watching a play.

He sensed a hint of "appeasement" from his own experience. It was likely that Molly, and even higher-ranking leaders of the base, didn't want to, or were even afraid of, generating news about someone bullying Hesta within the base at this particular time.

But he wasn't afraid.

Shortly after Shawn moved back to the student dorms under the guise of "migraine" to "recover," he found a perfect opportunity to sneak into Mrs. Lavette's ground-floor duty room. Mr. Weir, assuming she must have been extremely annoyed by the protesters during this period, had arranged to go shopping in town with her one afternoon, planning to leave at a certain time and return before five.

However, Mr. Weir hadn't specified the exact day in the email; it depended on his remaining workload for the week.

This didn't stump Shawn, though. Every day after noon, he'd pull up a chair and sit by the corridor window, reading. The L-shaped path outside the apartment was usually deserted around midday. Whenever a shadow passed below, he'd glance up at his watch.

Soon, he spotted Mrs. Lavette, dressed to the nines. She was wearing a pale yellow solid-colored coat and a floral dress, her hat adorned with a grass-green veil tied around silk flowers. On her feet were a pair of brown low-heeled shoes, and she carried a small black handbag.

Shawn watched Mrs. Lavette disappear at the end of the road, then began estimating the time on his watch. He imagined Mrs. Lavette slowly traversing the entire base, heading to the underground parking lot on the west side, where she would meet Mr. Weir. They would sit in the car, and as the engine started, they would drive further and further away.

When the distance he'd anticipated passed the point where she might think, "Did I forget something at the apartment, I need to go back," Shawn closed his book, casually went downstairs, and reached Mrs. Lavette's door. He used a pre-prepared universal card to open the electronic lock.

Mrs. Lavette's computer password was very simple: Lovett4576_

This was probably the most perfect password she could conceive of, as it included uppercase letters, lowercase letters, numbers, and special symbols. The only problem was that Mrs. Lavette's computer username was also Lovett4576.

But looking on the bright side, at least she would never face the predicament of being locked out of the system because she forgot her password.

Shawn skillfully brought up the windows he needed and soon, his eyebrows rose—Hesta's last valid search data was from around 9 PM on the Sunday of the week before last.

It seemed Liz had already upgraded her.

Shawn keyed in new commands with great interest to view Hesta's few search records. This was probably the only thing that had piqued his interest in the past week, causing the corners of his mouth to curve upwards.

However, this malicious smile quickly froze on his face. Although Hesta had opened many pages, the search topics she entered were very concise:

How to buy small knives suitable for hiding? How to forge an alibi? If a minor under twelve commits intentional homicide, what penalty would they face if discovered?