Rhodes Island does not exist.

“They were all former members of Reunion. Our agents pulled them out of the ruins in Chernobog. They were already on the verge of death. It’s a miracle they’re still alive,” Warfarin sighed.

"Ah, I was in that group back then," the doctor seemed to recall.

“Yes, it was you who ordered them to be brought back, saying that all wounded should be treated equally.” Warfarin shook her head. “You shouldn’t have wasted medical resources like that, Doctor.”

"I don't think there's any need to discuss this issue further," the doctor waved his hand, indicating that Warfarin didn't need to say anything more. "This is a matter of principle."

“But our principle is not to sacrifice ourselves to protect others.” Warfarin frowned, her pale face expressionless. “Indeed, as a multinational medical organization, we should do things that heal the sick and save lives, but healing the sick and saving lives is not about cutting off our own flesh to feed an eagle.”

"I know what I'm doing," the doctor said, bowing his head.

"Really?" Warfarin scoffed. "If you, Doctor, were truly capable, how could a murder like last week have occurred?"

"Doctor Warfarin."

Kal'tsit's sharp voice was like a weapon, cutting into the gap between the Doctor and Warfarin's verbal sparring, separating the two.

"There's no need to bring up what has already happened. I think everyone here knows what kind of person the Doctor is." Her gaze swept across the room and then settled on the Doctor's face. "Without the Doctor, Rhodes Island wouldn't have achieved what it has today. So even if you can't agree with the Doctor's actions, please don't let it turn into verbal attacks here."

“Ah, I know, I know.” Warfarin tilted her head to one side. “I just think the Doctor is a bit too nice. Even though the tragedy in Chernobog was caused by the Reunion Movement, he still wants to save their wounded.”

“That’s because they surrendered.” The doctor looked up at Warfarin and explained, “On the battlefield, I will not show mercy to the enemy, but if they are willing to give up what they stand for and join our cause, then I have no reason not to lend a helping hand.”

"And then waste the medical resources that should have been allocated to other refugees?" Warfarin retorted.

“Those resources… wait, Warfarin, what does that mean?” A hint of unease crept onto the doctor’s face.

"This is what I'm about to say in my routine report this week," Warfarin sighed. "Our stock of common medicines and disposable medical equipment is almost depleted. Also, I know what I'm about to say might sound inhumane, but if it weren't for the deaths of those five former Reunion members, we wouldn't even have any extra isomycin."

"Even isomycin...? But I remember last time in Uralgrad, didn't we replenish our supplies with the local medical bureau? That included isomycin—"

“We’ve used it all.” Warfarin shook her head. “This is the drug that’s used in the largest quantities for infected people, especially for alleviating Oripathy, and the patients we’ve received this time…”

"The vast majority are infected individuals," the new PhD student sighed.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was heavy and silent.

Rhode Island was at the forefront of the relief efforts during the Chernobog catastrophe, and thus received a large number of refugees.

Most of these refugees were infected as a result of the natural disaster that swept through Chernobog.

Although they are all in the early stages of infection, no matter what, an infected person is an infected person.

"Isomicin, is it all gone?" After calming down for about two seconds, the doctor spoke.

"If the remaining amount is used to supply the early-stage infected patients in the wards, it might last for another week. But if we add the infected patients in the intensive care unit, it will probably only last for less than three days. This is the conclusion I reached after calculating the isomycin for Rhodes Island operators' welfare benefits," Warfarin said, looking at the data in the table on her terminal.

“No, that won’t do.” The Doctor shook his head. “The operators are the foundation of Rhodes Island. We can’t skimp on their share.”

“Then there’s only one day left.” Warfarin shrugged. “Unless we reduce the dosage for patients, or simply stop the supply of isomycin in the wards and only give the minimum daily dose to those infected in the intensive care unit, then we can probably last for a little over a week.”

"But what about a week later?"

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling where lamps hung, and murmured, "What if the natural disasters surrounding Rhodes Island haven't subsided by a week?"

"PhD."

Warfarin gave a wry smile. "If that time really comes, then our concern shouldn't be about the availability of medicines or medical equipment for the infected."

“By then, we will be facing a situation where we have to worry about survival. Because food is more important than medicine.” Warfarin’s eyes met the Doctor’s. “So Doctor, I hope you can learn something from this natural disaster, such as the price of kindness… or something like that.”

"I understand."

The doctor slumped into his chair, his mind a jumble of thoughts, unsure of what was right or wrong.

Then, he stood up and addressed everyone in the conference room.

"I hope everyone will keep the contents of this meeting absolutely confidential."

"Because no matter which piece of information is leaked, the consequences would be beyond what Rhodes Island can currently bear."

-

Thank you segment.

Thank you, Li Zheng, for the monthly pass.

Chapter 36, Fate, bullet comments, rock music, and what else was it again?

After leaving the conference room, the doctor switched to his usual friendly expression and stepped into the elevator.

He didn't want anyone to deduce his current state from his facial expressions.

Firstly, she didn't want to be overly concerned by others, and secondly, she wanted to keep the secret.

"We need to go check the warehouse on the tenth floor."

The doctor reached out his hand, his gaze sweeping over the sixteen floors on the panel before his finger landed on the button labeled "10".

But the elevator stopped on the ninth floor first.

The door opened, and an agent stood outside.

It is the God of Fire.

"Ah, Doctor."

She rarely showed any expression on her face, and her tone of voice was calm and steady.

"Which floor do you want to go to?" The doctor placed his hand on the panel, indicating that he could help her press the button.

"Thank you, thirteenth floor. I'm going to the cafeteria to cook now." Vulcan nodded to express his gratitude.

Vulcan's usual job is to maintain and repair the operators' weapons. Occasionally, he will go to the canteen to help with cooking, but only if the canteen kitchen is short-staffed.

Since Rhodes Island took in these refugees, Vulcan has been going to the cafeteria every day. This isn't the first time the Doctor has run into her.

"The cafeteria must be really busy lately, right?"

The doctor looked at Vulcan standing calmly beside him and wanted to exchange a few pleasantries with her, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

Perhaps they felt that such a question was utterly meaningless.

Plus--

"Ding."

We've reached the tenth floor.

In addition, there was only one floor left in his target area, so he couldn't finish saying whatever he wanted to say.

"Thanks a lot."

So, the doctor could only leave Vulcan with this brief message as he departed. Vulcan simply nodded in response.

The elevator doors closed.

The doctor stepped forward and placed his palm on the identification lock in front of him.

[Identity verification, highest level of privilege: Dr. Rhodes Island]

Two green lights came on, and the doctor entered the warehouse.

The last time he checked the remaining supplies here, he fell into a coma due to overwork; this time, it's unlikely that a similar situation will occur.

"The storage shelves are mostly empty."

The place is so different from when he last came that the difference between the two times can be observed with the naked eye.

The doctor lowered his head, picked up the warehouse management terminal, and the tables on the screen began to gradually reveal the subtle changes that occurred in this place every day.

"We had this much flour left last week, and now this is all we have left?"

"The amount of rice is more than expected, but it's still not much better... This won't do. From now on, we must make a specific and reasonable plan for the food distribution on Rhodes Island for the next month, otherwise..."

The doctor frowned deeply.

He was well aware of the consequences of a food shortage. But helpless, all he could do was work on improving the distribution strategy and pray that the Originium dust storm would end soon.

If possible, it would be best to finish tomorrow.

-

Thirty minutes later, the doctor walked out of the warehouse.

When he entered the warehouse, his expression was relatively normal. But when he came out of the warehouse, the sorrow and despair that filled his entire face could no longer be hidden by his own efforts to maintain composure.

The doctor now longs to find someone to confide in, someone to pour out all the sadness and anxiety he has been suppressing.

But he also knew that even if such a person did appear, he would ultimately not actually do it.

Because he is the leader of Rhodes Island, the symbol of Rhodes Island, and a symbol is never weak.

"Ding."

The elevator doors opened at his call.

The doctor dragged his heavy steps into the compartment and pressed the button labeled "13".

Mental exhaustion depleted his energy, which then led to hunger.

He needs to eat, immediately.

"Ding."

Upon reaching the floor and opening the door, a sweet and cloying fragrance instantly filled the doctor's nostrils.

For him, who was in a state of mental depression, the smell was like a heavy hammer blow to his skull. Even just inhaling a little bit was enough to completely shatter the psychological defenses he was currently holding onto.

How wonderful it is to smell the aroma of home-cooked meals when you're hungry.

However, for the PhD student whose thought process remained clear, what he felt was not the naive thing that is happiness.

What he felt was fear.

The hunger he was currently experiencing wasn't particularly unbearable, yet even this level of hunger was enough to captivate and overwhelm him with the aroma of food. What would happen to someone who had endured hunger for more than several days when they smelled food?

Will they go mad? Will they start preying on everything they see, like wild beasts?

The effect of thirty minutes of hunger on the same level as three days of hunger is a qualitative change; in the doctor's mental rehearsal, this will be a catastrophe.

Because social morality becomes meaningless in the face of the instinct for survival.

He just hoped that such a thing would never happen.

"……plate."

"boss."

"boss?"

The voice coming from beside his ear startled the doctor from his deep contemplation.

"Ah, yes, what is it?" He looked up as if startled, searching for the source of the sound.

Then he saw a smiling, red-haired Sakta standing in front of him with a fluorescent light on his head.

“It’s A-Neng.” The doctor’s expression relaxed.

This Sarkaz's name is Exusiai.

Strictly speaking, she doesn't belong to Rhodes Island, but rather to Penguin Logistics. She only occasionally comes to Rhodes Island as an unofficial operator to help out.

Therefore, during this operation in Chernobog, she, as an outsider, was also trapped in the natural disaster.

However, even though she wasn't very lucky, as Sarkaz, she still maintained her optimistic spirit and faced each day with a smile.

"I called you three times just now, but you didn't hear me once. What, are you thinking about something difficult?" Exusiai stared at the Doctor, her amber eyes flashing with passion.

"I suppose so," the professor replied with a wry smile. "If you're asking how difficult it is to understand, it certainly is."

"Then let's not think about it for now." Exusiai smiled and pulled out a plate of orange-yellow food from behind her. The aroma emanating from the plate was exactly the same as what the Doctor smelled when he opened the elevator door.

"Here, boss, have a taste, I made this." She pushed the food in her hand toward the doctor.

"You made this? Ah, I remember you said you were very good at making apple pie." The Doctor recalled some information about Exusiai.

“That’s right.” Exusiai smiled. “This is apple pie, but unfortunately there are no apples left on Rhodes Island, so in reality, this is an apple pie without apples.”

"An apple pie without apples is just a honey cake, isn't it?" the professor quipped.

“Maybe others are making honey cakes.” Exusiai picked up a piece from the plate and handed it to the Doctor. “But whatever I make is apple pie, no matter what it is.”

She blinked her right eye slightly and made a wnk gesture.

Chapter 37: Originium, Germs, and Roses

As the Doctor sat next to Exusiai eating the honey cake... or rather, apple pie she had baked, the communicator next to his ear suddenly rang.