Rhodes Island does not exist.

At that moment, the elevator doors suddenly closed and left the fourth floor.

It's probably someone on another floor calling out.

"Ah, it's all your fault for stopping me from chatting. Now I have to wait for the elevator again." W shook his head with a strange laugh.

"I'm sorry." The doctor could only offer his apologies.

"In exchange, chat with me about something interesting." W slung the high-energy stone launcher from his back to his side, then casually leaned against the wall and beckoned to the Doctor. "Weren't a few people sent to these single rooms yesterday afternoon?"

"indeed."

She really doesn't miss any detail around her, the doctor thought.

"Hmm... but I think you know that these people aren't actually that seriously ill, right?" W raised an eyebrow slightly, as if talking about a trivial matter.

Although that's basically her attitude towards everything.

Ah, except for Theresa.

"How do you know the extent of their illness?" the doctor asked.

“Ah, because it’s so noisy.” W sighed. “Let me think, there were probably four people brought in, and two of them were making a ruckus all night. And my room is the closest to theirs, so it was really unbearable.”

"Your room is 405, so theirs are 406 and 407?" the doctor thought for a moment.

“Bing-bang.” w made an onomatopoeic sound. “These two are very restless. They keep saying they’re not sick, that Rhodes Island violates personal freedom, and that harboring such war criminals will have consequences.”

"and then?"

"And then? Then these two started hurling insults at each other across the wall, and they kept arguing until 2:30 in the morning." W laughed out loud. "I mean, who came up with this kind of dirty trick? Separating the destabilizing elements of the Reunion Movement from the destabilizing elements of Chernobog, how come I never thought of such a creative way to play?"

"...It's me," the doctor admitted, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"You could actually come up with something so despicable?" W laughed even harder. "This isn't like you at all."

"So why did you stop cursing at 2:30?" The professor tried to steer the conversation away from himself.

“Ah, because 2:30 is the time when doctors in the intensive care unit change shifts.” W shrugged. “And yesterday’s shift was… Gavial.”

"understood."

What will happen next is something the Doctor knows perfectly well, even if W doesn't say it.

"So you've come up to the fourth floor to visit those two poor souls who almost suffered psychological trauma?" W asked with a smile.

"Ah, um." The doctor nodded in agreement.

"Oh... then take me with you." W stretched, waking up from leaning against the wall, and tugged at the grenade launcher strap on his shoulder. "I'm so bored right now."

“I think the patients will be scared with you around,” the doctor said frankly.

"How could that be?" W pinched her cheeks cutely. "Seeing a Sarkaz beauty like me before you die should make you happy, right?"

"So death is the prerequisite...?"

Although he said that, the doctor suddenly felt that having such an overly active person around him wasn't so bad.

-

Thank you segment.

Thanks for the blade.

Thank you to Time's Watcher Bao↑Sheng↓Yong↑Meng↓ for the monthly pass, thank you.

Chapter 45. Presumption of Innocence and Guilt

When the doctor led W to open the door to room 406, they found a mountain blocking their way.

That's not just a simple mountain.

After all, ordinary high mountains don't have metal armor plates or buzzing radiators.

"Old man?"

The doctor was first surprised, then puzzled.

"Doctor, and...w."

Patriot bent his skull, which was covered by a metal helmet, slightly and glanced at the two people behind him with his scarlet eyes.

"Why are you here, sir? Aren't you usually by Yelena's side?" the doctor asked.

“My daughter is awake. She doesn’t need my protection.” Bozokastie turned back to the front. “But I smell the stench of vile villains making a ruckus here.”

The doctor squeezed a space between Patriot's body and peered out to look at the Reunion Movement agitator on the hospital bed. He saw that the man was frozen on the bed like a wooden statue, barely breathing.

"You, it's you—!"

Upon seeing the doctor arrive, the agitator, as if grasping at a straw, began to ramble incoherently.

"You Rhodes Island sent me to this place and locked me up, fine, but why didn't you tell me he was here too?" His face was ashen, and his lips trembled. "And that green-haired female doctor from last night, too, did she want to kill me?!"

"Silence."

Patriot's voice resounded like a bell in the room, silencing the man's remaining words.

"So... old man, you mean this guy is too noisy and is disturbing Yelena's rest?" The doctor tried to extract the central idea that Patriot was trying to express from Patriot's fragmented remarks.

The patriot nodded slightly.

"Understood." The doctor understood Patriot's meaning and said, "I'll handle this. You don't need to worry about it, old man. After all, I'm the one who brought him here, so I should be the one to do the follow-up work."

"Since that's the case, then I will no longer interfere."

Patriot acquiesced to the doctor's suggestion, slowly bent down, and left the room.

"Also, my daughter wants to meet you." After leaving 406 completely, Patriot stood in the hallway outside the door and looked at the Doctor, saying, "Please come over for a chat when you have time later."

“Okay,” the doctor agreed. “Since it was Yelena’s request, I’ll go check on her in a bit.”

"Farewell."

The moving mountain has left.

Only the Doctor, W, and that unlucky old man huddled on the edge of the bed, trembling, remained in the room.

"Stop shaking, the person's gone and you're still shaking." W chuckled mockingly, leaning against the wall in the entryway.

"You weren't the one being yelled at!" The instigator rolled his eyes at W. "That's Bozokasti, Patriot, the big daddy of the Icefield Guerrilla! I almost lost my life just now!"

"To be honest, I don't think he would kill you just because you disturbed his daughter..." w complained.

“Ahem, let’s get straight to the point.” The doctor joined the two at this moment and steered the conversation in a serious direction. “First of all, I’ve seen your profile, Valery Vladimirovich Mayakovsky.”

"Oh."

He was still cowering by the bedside, his voice no longer trembling, but his body was still like a flour sieve.

“Mr. Valery,” the doctor stepped forward and sat down beside his bed, his eyes sincere, “according to our investigation, you seem to be spreading some inflammatory rhetoric against refugees among the wounded members of the Reunion Movement, don’t you?”

"Yes, I did do that."

Valery was quite frank and didn't utter any foolish arguments such as "What evidence do you have to say that?"

"So what's the reason?" The doctor's tone was calm and composed, not like he was accusing anyone. "Your identity is that of a former member of Reunion. Now that you've shed that stigma, I don't think you should do anything related to hatred or identity issues anymore. We at Rhodes Island chose to provide assistance because we believed that you could break free from blind hatred."

"To put it lightly."

Valery sighed, stopped trembling with fear, and slowly spoke in the silence.

"Doctor, you must be a very talented person to be able to run such a large medical organization. So you should also know how much injustice and abuse the infected people suffer on this land."

Upon hearing this, the doctor nodded without saying anything.

"Tell me, isn't it inevitable that infected people will rise up in resistance and use violence to assert their legitimacy?" Valery said, changing his posture to cross-legged, and the roguish manner he had displayed when speaking to W gradually disappeared.

“I think so,” the doctor nodded, affirming Valery’s statement, “but violence can never be considered right.”

“That’s definitely not right.” Valery shook his head. “But apart from violence, the infected have no other effective channels to voice their opinions, and—is it right for society to oppress the infected?”

W leaned against the wall and listened silently, offering no comment.

“Not all infected individuals are entitled to discuss ideals in a warm room or share camaraderie in a fragrant restaurant,” Valery said, gazing at the Doctor. “Terra only has one Rhodes Island, but Rhodes Island cannot contain all of Terra’s infected.”

“Besides,” Valery seemed to recall something and couldn’t help but sigh, “the only reason people accepted my and Alyosha’s instigation was because those Chernobogers killed one of our brothers half a month ago—damn it, even now, do they still want to continue doing what they did before?”

“Alyosha?” the doctor chewed on the name. “Isn’t that the Reunion Movement member who was brought to the fourth floor with you?”

“He was also a brother in my old squad.” Valery nodded. “But he didn’t participate in last night’s verbal battle. I guess he’s used to going to bed early, so it was just me and that bastard in the next room who were arguing.”

The Doctor thought to himself that it was impossible for him to participate, since the entire Rhodes Island was in a state of chaos because of his disappearance. He might even wish he could participate.

Fortunately, Valery didn't know that Alyosha was missing, which could be considered a good thing.

In the Doctor's view, the less information outside of Rhodes Island controls, the better.

"And what about the other Chernobog guy? His room isn't far from yours, so why didn't he join the argument?" the doctor continued.

“Well, Doctor, you’ll have to ask them yourself. I didn’t hear him say anything anyway,” Valery shrugged.

Chapter 46, You Must Weaponize Public Opinion

Excluding Alyosha, who has already disappeared, only four people, or rather three, were brought to the fourth-floor intensive care unit. The fourth person was essentially forcibly pulled from the communal ward to make up the numbers, so he had no connection to this incident.

Last night, Valery argued with a refugee from Chernobog all night, which angered some of the injured on the fourth floor, including the Patriots.

So what was the other Chernobog refugee doing while they were arguing?

“Lambert Rudolph…that doesn’t sound like an Ursus name,” W muttered, glancing at the personnel list the Doctor handed him.

“Because he is indeed not from Ursus, but a merchant who came from Colombia to Chernobog to do business,” the doctor replied, walking ahead. “Unfortunately, he was attacked by the Reunion Movement and then encountered a natural disaster.”

“I think it was just good luck.” W finished reading Lambert’s profile and shook his head. “He made a fortune in the magnesium steel business in Chernobog, and then he was rescued by Rhodes Island during his escape, thus escaping disaster… Tsk tsk tsk, the main thing is that you should think about how many people actually died in Chernobog this time.”

“At least a million.” The doctor’s heels struck the ground, the sound echoing between the walls. “Chestron is a large city, and this natural disaster… is a large-scale natural disaster.”

“Although it’s an imaginary number, it’s close enough.” W shrugged. “So, Lambert probably had one in ten thousand chance of being lucky to survive, and so did everyone else on the ship.”

As W finished speaking, the two of them arrived at his door at the same time.

Room 408.

The nameplate on the door still reads the name of the previous tenant, though he's probably already in the incinerator and turned into harmless crystals by now.

"Dong dong dong."

As a sign of courtesy, the doctor tapped the door three times with his knuckles before pushing open the ward door.

"Hello, Mr. Lambert—"

-

The wind and sand were howling outside the window.

The sound of Originium dust striking metal plates rose and fell, seeping into the room through the wooden-paneled windows, producing a dull, irregular series of sounds.

A dull light poured down from the fluorescent lights on the roof, bathing the entire room in a deep white glow.

The upside-down shadow swayed, its feet swinging reluctantly in the air currents.

Lambert Rudolph hanged himself.

A thick rope, pieced together from torn bed sheets, was threaded through the ceiling hook used to mount a ceiling fan and tied with a knot, strangling the middle-aged businessman to death in the oppressive hospital room.

"Wow……"

w gave her sharp evaluation.

“No wonder he wasn’t involved at all during the argument last night.” The doctor examined the male corpse in the room and shook his head. “So he couldn’t participate.”

“He died so easily.” W stepped forward and examined Lambert closely. “But at least ten hours have passed since last night, and no one noticed?”

“It’s my fault,” the doctor said, bowing his head. “I only moved them to the intensive care unit, but I didn’t give them the proper intensive care unit treatment, since they didn’t have any injuries or illnesses to begin with.”

"So the medical department's visiting doctors actually skipped their rooms?" W continued to observe the corpse, lost in thought. "But it doesn't really matter, it's just a matter of when it was discovered."

"I'll call the medical staff over. Just wait until then." With that, the doctor turned on his communicator.

“Don’t underestimate me,” W said with a smile. “I’m a battlefield mercenary, so I have some understanding of corpses. I should be able to find something before they arrive.”

"So what did you find?" the doctor asked.

“Well… first of all, we can be sure that Lambert definitely didn’t commit suicide.” W held up a finger. “Because the murderer never intended to hide the scene.”

“No, I never thought he committed suicide.” The doctor shook his head. “Lambert, as a non-infected person, had powdery Originium crystals on his body. Considering that he was a former Reunion member who is currently missing, it’s highly likely that he did it.”

“Furthermore…” the doctor pointed to the communicator next to his ear, “the cameras in the ward are on. You can find out by asking Kroos.”