Chapter 22: The Gaze

Liz’s phone rang again. She answered, listened for a few moments, and quickly hung up.

“Sorry, I have to step out for a moment. Do you have any other plans tonight?” Liz asked.

“No.”

“Then come with me to the base hospital,” Liz said with a smile. “Rico’s special training is over, and I need to drop some things off for her.”

To Hesta’s surprise, the base hospital was not located in any of the buildings on the surface.

Liz took her to an elevator that descended deep underground. The metal car sank for a long time, and when the doors finally opened, what greeted Hesta was an entirely different world.

It was nothing like the weathered buildings above. The floors and walls were pristine white, and the hallways were bathed in such bright light that it was impossible to distinguish day from night.

According to Liz, they were now about 110 meters underground. The structures here were all welded from reinforced steel plates. Instead of resting on standard soil, the foundations sat upon nearly 2,000 springs, each weighing 4.9 tons—an anti-seismic measure capable of withstanding even the most violent explosions.

There were over a dozen such underground buildings on the base, each serving a different purpose, though for now, the hospital was the only place Hesta had clearance to enter.

After passing through three layers of sterilization and donning sterile gowns, they arrived. Liz had brought Rico’s CDs and headphones, but they had to be left in the external holding room; a nurse on the next shift would fully sanitize them before handing them over to Rico.

After speaking briefly with the nurse, they learned that Rico only regained consciousness for about six minutes every night around nine o'clock. Upon learning she would be hospitalized for over a month, she had repeatedly insisted that the nurses contact Liz Fletcher from 403 to help bring her music.

Hearing the reason, Liz let out a sigh of relief.

“Rico’s adjutant transferred out last year, so she doesn’t come back to the base much... sometimes I help her out,” Liz said, smiling at Hesta. “She’s quite the handful, isn’t she?”

“Was she seriously injured?”

“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone the first time they awaken ‘Bullet Time.’ It’s the only way to find out where your limits lie.”

“Limits?”

Liz didn’t answer, and Hesta didn’t press. She sensed, vaguely, that this might be another one of those questions that was “not convenient to answer for the time being.”

And there were likely many more such questions here—including the topic regarding the “limitations of Bullet Time” that had come up in the gym earlier.

...

The days that followed were peaceful.

What surprised Hesta most was that, true to Liz’s word, Sean never came to cause trouble again.

During the nights, Hesta finished her rose in the privacy of her room.

After sealing it inside a glass dome, she placed it on the side table by the window. On clear nights, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the brilliant sunset would cast a faint glow upon the glass, reflecting shimmering light into the darkened bedroom.

Hesta would lie on her bed, lost in thought as she watched the interplay of light and shadow on the ceiling. She thought of nothing; everything around her felt distant. Only as the time for her evening classes approached would she rise to prepare.

The base was sparsely populated, yet the atmosphere seemed remarkably friendly. Whenever she went out with Liz and encountered strangers in the corridors, they would proactively greet her with a “Hello” or “Good evening,” regardless of whether they had met before—a custom Hesta found particularly difficult to get used to.

Hesta had begun her classes. After an initial assessment, the only course she could immediately join was basic physical training. Furthermore, she lacked the common knowledge required to operate basic electronic equipment.

The teaching assistant in charge of her curriculum stated that she must complete approximately 120 hours of basic life-skills training and introductory grammar before beginning subsequent courses. Since physical training already consumed nearly six hours of her day, the training center scheduled these sessions for the evenings.

The academic building was a public area filled with surveillance cameras. In areas where the cameras could not reach, Liz never let Hesta out of her sight, insisting on escorting her to and from class—it was her way of soothing Hesta’s fears.

Hesta learned quickly and was highly dedicated. After the formal lessons ended, she would often linger to ask a barrage of questions, and Liz would always wait outside without a word of complaint until Hesta emerged.

After about half a month, Hesta finally suggested she could walk to class on her own. Liz promptly shared this news with Molly and Valenti—which, to some extent, showed that Hesta was beginning to trust the security provided by the base.

As May approached, the weather grew warmer, and the sun set much later. Hesta extended her self-study hours, completing her transformation from a convent resident to a training base reservist at an astonishing pace.

One evening, as the sunset faded outside, the lights in the classroom flickered on automatically.

Her phone on the desk vibrated slightly; it was a message from Liz.

“Where are you?”

Hesta replied quickly: “The grammar classroom.”

“Don’t leave. Wait for me there. I’ll be right there.”

Hesta stared at the message, sensing a hint of urgency in Liz’s words.

She looked out the window. The sky, which had been orange-red just moments ago, had turned a pale blue, and a lone star in the night became increasingly distinct. Hesta put her phone away, an instinct for self-preservation prompting her to find the teaching assistant in the next room.

It was better not to be alone until Liz arrived.

However, just as she rose, she heard an abrupt mechanical whirring sound behind her, and the classroom lights suddenly cut out—except for the single lamp directly above Hesta.

The entire room plunged into darkness. Hesta saw herself reflected in the windowpane; the white light illuminated her hair, casting her face into shadow.

She turned around, realizing the sound had come from the security camera at the back of the classroom.

The lens, which had been pointed toward the center of the room, slowly swiveled after a few adjustments toward where Hesta stood.

Hesta frowned and began to walk from the front of the room toward the back. With every step, the light behind her went out, and the light above her flickered on, as if she were trapped in a cage of cold light that forever kept her in its focus.

The camera tracked her movements slowly. Hesta stopped directly in front of the lens.

She stared at it with suspicion.

“...Sean?”

The camera suddenly jerked, its metal joints emitting a creaking, grating sound, like a bizarre, mocking laugh.