The whole ordeal had taken most of the night.
By the time everyone delivered the three reckless pioneers, drained of all their spiritual energy, to the infirmary and handed them over to the doctor on duty, the hour hand on the wall clock had quietly passed one in the morning.
After confirming that the three were merely suffering from spiritual exhaustion and would be back on their feet after two days in bed on nutrient drips, Daitokuji waved with a smile and urged everyone to hurry back to their dorms and catch up on sleep.
At the fork outside the infirmary building, Jaden yawned and waved goodbye to Yūki. Hayato was already struggling to keep his eyes open, while Syrus Truesdale followed behind with his head lowered, saying nothing. He hurried away without so much as a goodbye.
Watching their retreating backs, Yūki smiled without taking it to heart, turned around, and strolled back to his villa dorm alone through the thin layer of snow.
He pushed open his bedroom door.
A rush of warm, dry air greeted him, instantly dispelling the chill clinging to his body.
Yūki casually locked the door behind him, took off his cold outer jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, then settled comfortably into the leather chair at his desk.
Click.
The desk lamp cast a warm yellow glow, illuminating the corner of the desk.
Yūki reached inside his clothes and retrieved the card he had only recently subdued from deep within the storage case at his waist.
Under the lamplight, the image on the card came clearly into view.
Against a deep purple background stood an artificial body constructed from interwoven steel machinery, piping, and a biomechanical shell.
Its face was covered by a thick, cold alloy mask, with exhaust