Rhodes Island does not exist.

It's like giving a monkey a gun, but the monkey can only use it as a stick.

So they could only bear the bitter fruit of their arrogance and were gradually swallowed up.

-

Rhode Island, eighth floor communal ward.

It's very quiet here now.

Just minutes before, this place was filled with the sounds of operators and patients discussing things, but after darkness fell, it returned to silence.

The doctor sat upright on the edge of the white sheet, his posture neither swaying nor shaking.

He looked as if he was waiting for something.

But what exactly are we waiting for?

Nobody wanted to ask.

No one dared to ask.

Then, the silence was broken.

—The silence was broken by the flashing green light on the earpiece.

The doctor connected to that channel.

"Sizzle".

An unsettling electrical hum swept by.

This was a communication outside of the doctoral program.

But he could roughly guess who the other person was.

"Boom-"

Noisy background sounds occasionally rang out from the other side, and the person who sent the call remained silent, like a background sound player.

The connection between the two remained in place.

Nobody cares about the electricity consumption.

Because at this point, there's no need to care about something that's completely irrelevant.

"PhD."

Suddenly, the other party spoke up.

The doctor was already very familiar with that voice.

After all, during the days when Rhodes Island was surrounded by natural disasters, she was the only one who had established so many communication connections with the Doctor.

Provence.

The doctor answered.

The patients and staff sitting in a circle around him listened silently with their heads down.

Have you ever seen the night sky over Terra?

Provence opened its doors.

She didn't mention anything about the fifteenth floor or her current situation, acting as if she were just a girl looking for someone to talk to. She randomly dialed a number from her contacts, randomly found someone willing to listen, and then casually started chatting about random topics.

Ah, that's a kind of freedom too.

Terra's social and economic leaders call it freedom of speech.

However, the freedom to make phone calls that is now presented to the two of them is ultimately a disguise.

Although the doctor didn't mind continuing the charade with her.

"I've seen it, I've seen it many times."

"Back then, I hadn't yet established Rhodes Island; I was still running on the road to my ideals. So I had many opportunities to look up at the night sky, to see the fiery clouds obscured by the stars, to see the morning light cutting through the dawn, and to see the twin moons rise and set in the sky."

Chapter 181, One Hundred and Eighty: Singing a Love Song in the Garbage Heap

Their conversation was like a dragonfly skimming the surface of water.

Elegant, full of waves, yet only scratching the surface.

Until a deafening explosion, accompanied by electromagnetic vibrations, reached the doctor's cochlea.

After that, the two fell into a brief silence, like the terminals of a machine.

And it is Provence that awakens this silence once again.

"PhD."

"Since joining Rhodes Island, I have been serving as a Scourge Messenger."

Her tone was much slower than before, but also clearer.

"And the job of a messenger of natural disasters is generally dangerous, in every sense of the word."

"Because they are messengers of natural disasters, they often have to go deep into the wilderness to search for signs of natural disasters, and naturally, many of them are infected with Oripathy as a result."

"At the same time, being a messenger of natural disasters is not a respectable job... It's a bit sad, but in many places I've been, messengers of natural disasters are like jinxes, even if their actions are ultimately to protect people's lives and safety, they still face criticism and blame."

“I understand,” the doctor replied gently. “After all, although the Disaster Messenger is doing the work of predicting disasters, many people believe that they brought about the disasters. And this belief is not based on reason, but on emotion.”

“But Rhodes Island’s environment… is very good.” Provence took a deep breath on the other end, as if suppressing something. “Even for all the messengers of natural disasters on this land, Rhodes Island can be considered an extremely ideal working environment. So I have always been very grateful, grateful for this land, grateful for the people of Rhodes Island, and grateful for you.”

The doctor didn't say anything about it.

He has never been good at accepting praise from others, so he can only listen silently.

“I predicted the arrival of this Originium Dust Storm on the eve of Chernobog’s impending calamity.” Provence paused for a moment before speaking. “At that time, there were still ten days until the calamity officially struck, and we had only just arrived at the outskirts of Chernobog, without even having made a specific plan for our incursion.”

“It was my order,” the Doctor’s voice was silent. “It was I who ordered Rhodes Island to dock at the shore of Chernobog and issued the assault order.”

“I know, I know,” Provence chuckled softly.

The laughter was faint, like sugar-free soda diluted with water.

"After all, I was the one who told you directly about the natural disaster, and you also told me what you were going to do next." She said, with the lingering sound of her earlier laughter, "So I'm not blaming you for anything, and I have no right to blame you, since I compromised with you back then."

"……Um."

The doctor nodded, though his body language couldn't be seen from the person opposite him.

He knew in his heart that he couldn't say things like "I will take full responsibility," "I will make up for my mistake," or "I'm sorry" here.

After all, this responsibility has exceeded what he can bear. He can neither make amends nor apologize.

"Although it's a bit late, I actually... quite like you." Provence's voice trembled for a moment.

The fluctuation in his voice might be due to helplessness in the face of a desperate situation, gratitude for everyday life, or a desire not to leave any regrets.

The doctor, however, remained calm and composed.

“Just as I thought, you don’t sound surprised at all.” Provence’s voice was a little lighter, just like always. “Because you must already know what kind of mindset every Rhodes Island operator has when they work, and what kind of mindset they have when they interact with you.”

“You clearly understand what all the operators are thinking, yet you deliberately avoid the most crucial parts.” She sighed. “Being too meticulous can sometimes be clumsy.”

The doctor still chose not to reply.

As the saying goes in Provence—it is precisely because we know too much that we choose to avoid it.

But Provence didn't mind.

She's used to it.

“…Oh, you know what?” Her tone returned to the heaviness she had when the call first connected. “Actually, ever since the day I failed to predict the natural disaster would pass, I’ve always felt that it was all my responsibility.”

You don't have to—

“I know, Doctor.” Provence shook his head, interrupting the doctor’s words of comfort. “I understand that I’m putting unnecessary pressure on myself, but if I could predict more accurately and control the number of days more precisely, the resource allocation plan you have specified would probably be different.”

“Although Rhodes Island’s resource reserves will not change, I think they can hold out for a while longer,” she said in a dejected tone. “At least things won’t get to this dire situation as they are today.”

"Don't blame yourself too much." Despite being stopped by Provence, the doctor chose to comfort himself with words.

Although this approach can only achieve a superficial effect, like social jargon.

“This is not self-blame, it is reflection.” Provence gave a bitter smile. “I’m thinking now that if I had been more precise when observing the Originium reaction diagram and the dust storm formation, and had captured more details, it would have been better. It was all because of my lack of attention to detail that the wrong result was obtained, which ultimately led to the disaster.”

"you……"

“I am Rupert, so my sense of smell is more acute than that of the average race, my intuition is sharper, and my vision is superior, but that’s only when it comes to prey. When it comes to dealing with natural disasters, I have to be even better… you know that, Doctor.” Her tone grew increasingly urgent, as if she were taking all the blame upon herself. “When I discovered that my predictions had completely failed, I wished I could grow dozens, even hundreds, of more eyes… In the end, I accomplished nothing. I really accomplished nothing.”

In Rhodes, Provence has always been synonymous with optimism.

Even with her optimistic nature, she found herself cornered by the constant loneliness and gloom of her daily life.

"But actually, what makes me saddest is not this."

There was a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"What saddens me most is that I forced those refugees to become thugs, and made them turn against Rhodes Island because of the resources in the observation tower."

"We, who should be the ones to protect them, are now forced to exterminate them."

“But now that they have made their choice, I will not open the door to show them mercy.” Her tone became serious. “Because this resource is reserved for Rhodes Island, and at least for you.”

"So, if possible, I hope... that you can live on, live to the end."

-

Thank you segment.

Thank you for the monthly pass.

Chapter 182, Chapter 181: A Star Named the Sun

That maverick died young.

A moment later, blood seeped into the earth.

After a quarter of an hour, flowers and grass grew here.

After a short while, he came back to life.

He couldn't recall saying "yes" or "refuse."

He doesn't remember his class or name.

He could have touched the stars.

Little did I know, it was just a dream.

Then he fell and was burned to ashes by the stars.

Beheld by a star called the Sun.

But we know that this has always been the way of the world.

Therefore, we prefer to accept our fate.

—Victor Tsui, *The Star Named Sun*

-

The sound from the communicator suddenly became noisy.

The doctor knew that it symbolized the gears turning in sequence, and that the plan was being implemented steadily.

The special forces he had sent to the sixteenth floor were on their way to rescue Provence, and they were already this close.

"There is no shortage of food and water inside the observation tower. Have you been eating regularly these past few days?"

The doctor was unwilling to respond to Provence's somewhat melancholic concern; he simply wanted those still alive to stop thinking about the afterlife.

It's not too late to think about what happens after death; as long as you're alive, you just need to focus on how to live.

“If I leave everyone on Rhodes Island starving and dehydrated outside while I feast in this closed little world, I’ll feel so guilty I won’t be able to eat,” Provence said with a wry smile. “I’ve only ingested enough food and water to maintain the minimum level of function; the rest… I’ll leave for you to distribute.”

"The responsibilities you've taken on are enough for you to enjoy them," the doctor said.

“No, that’s far from enough.” Provence firmly rejected the doctor’s words. “I’ve only been doing some meaningless things here.”

"Alright, stop talking about this." The doctor shook his head, his voice slightly hoarse. "They're almost at your location. Get ready to open the sealed door and leave. If you have any complaints or apologies, come out and say them. I can listen to you face to face."

"—There won't be that chance, Doctor."

She cut off the doctor's words with an almost resolute tone.