Ark Simulator, don't I have no physical form?

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then the weariness in the woman's voice seemed to be replaced by a hint of sincere gratitude: "Ah... it's you, Mr. Suri. Hello. I really... thank you so much. No, not just because the transaction went smoothly, but more importantly... you didn't take advantage of my eagerness to sell and try to drive down the price like the other interested buyers did. This... this really helped me a lot."

Ms. Gwen's voice was choked with emotion, as if she was trying hard to hold back her feelings.

Sitting to the side, Eyjafjalla pricked up her ears, her pink eyes filled with curiosity. The previous owner? Sounds like a female Rupert? Sick? Suri didn't try to negotiate the price down? So there's more to this house than meets the eye.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Gwen. A fair transaction is all that matters.” Suri (in lamb form) spoke calmly, as if stating a fact. “I’ve already seen the house; it’s well-maintained and matches the description. I’m calling to inquire about the security situation in this neighborhood and whether you’ve encountered any particular issues during your stay, such as with neighbors or community management.”

He seemed to naturally steer the conversation away from "thank you" to more practical matters, such as gathering information about the house and its surroundings. This directness and efficiency are typical of Suri's style.

"Safety?" Ms. Gwen seemed to pause for a moment, then quickly replied, "Oh, safety... Oak Street has always been very good. After all, it's close to the university district, and most of the residents are professors, researchers, or professionals who value their home environment. Neighborhood relations are simple, and community patrols are frequent. I've lived here for seven years and have never encountered a burglary or violence, and even graffiti is rare. It's also very quiet at night, making it perfect for studying and resting."

She paused, her voice lowering slightly, tinged with a barely perceptible bitterness: "If it weren't for... sigh, I really wouldn't want to sell this place. This house was what my husband and I... never mind, let's not talk about that. Anyway, Mr. Su Rui, please rest assured, the security and environment here are absolutely fine, and the community atmosphere is excellent. If I weren't forced to, I would never leave here."

“Understood, thank you, Ms. Gwen.” Suri (in sheep form) got the information she wanted and didn’t ask any more questions. “I will contact you again if there are any procedural issues. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you… thank you, Mr. Suri. I also wish you and your family a pleasant stay here.” Ms. Gwen’s voice was filled with gratitude again before the call was disconnected.

Silence returned to the living room. Eyjafjalla watched as Suri put down her phone, her pink eyes filled with even more questions. Forced? Illness? Reluctance? Suri didn't try to negotiate a lower price? These fragmented pieces of information pieced together a vague, sorrowful story in her mind.

“Suri,” she couldn’t help but ask, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sympathy, “that Ms. Gwen just now… was she sick? Was it serious?”

Suri (in lamb form) casually placed her phone aside, her dark eyes turning to Eyjafjalla as she calmly answered her question: "Yes. Acute myeloid leukemia, already in the accelerated phase when it was discovered. She needs high-intensity chemotherapy and targeted drug therapy, and if conditions permit, a bone marrow transplant may need to be considered. The treatment cycle is long, the cost is high, and it is not fully covered by her current medical insurance, putting a huge burden on her out-of-pocket expenses."

His narration was calm, clear, and devoid of any emotional coloring, like reading a medical report. But every word was like a cold needle piercing Eyjafjalla's heart. Acute leukemia...chemotherapy...targeted therapy...bone marrow transplant...these words combined meant painful, lengthy treatment and astronomical medical costs.

"So...that's why she had to sell the house?" Eyjafjalla's voice lowered, a hint of reluctance flashing in her pink eyes. She thought of this warm and beautiful house, and of Ms. Gwen's reluctance to part with it. Selling such a home to pay for medical treatment...what a helpless and painful choice that must have been.

“This is the fastest way to raise a large sum of cash.” Suri (in lamb form) nodded. “Colombia’s private healthcare system is fairly efficient, but it comes at a cost. Real estate is her and her husband’s most important asset.”

Eyjafjalla fell silent. She recalled the meager inheritance and insurance money left after her parents' deaths, barely enough to cover funeral expenses and her basic living costs. She had also visited community clinics for illness and knew all too well what a serious illness meant in Colombia without sufficient funds or comprehensive, expensive health insurance. But she had never so vividly grasped how vulnerable a "middle-class" family with such a beautiful house could be in the face of disease.

“But…” Eyjafjalla hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been bothering her, “People who own houses like this… must be very rich, right? I mean, like you, Suri, with lots of… savings? Can’t we use our savings first? Or… take out a loan?” She remembered the astonishing eight figures in Suri’s account and subconsciously assumed that people who could afford houses like this must be in very good financial condition.

Upon hearing Eyjafjalla's words, Suri (in her lamb form)'s almost expressionless face subtly twitched at the corner of her mouth. It wasn't a smile; it was more like... an expression mixed with a hint of mockery and understanding.

“Savings?” He repeated the word, his dark eyes fixed on Eyjafjalla, his gaze calm yet seemingly able to see through her naive thoughts. “Eyjafjalla, do you think that owning a house like this in Colombia means having ‘lots of savings’?”

His question stunned Eyjafjalla. Could it be... that's not it?

Suri (in lamb form) seemed not to need her answer, continuing in that calm, almost cold tone, to unveil the cold and cruel reality beneath the Colombian "middle-class" facade:

“This house, 119 Oak Street, is valued at approximately 1.8 million to 2 million Colombian dollars, based on current housing prices and community assessments in Trimont.” He stated a precise figure, which once again made Eyjafjalla feel the immense impact of money. “And Ms. Gwen and her husband, both associate professors at the National University of Colombia, have a combined annual after-tax income of approximately 250,000 Colombian dollars, placing them in the upper-middle class among Trimont’s working class.”

Volume 19, Chapter 1307: Just to Make You Feel Safe

“Sounds good, right?” Suri (in sheep form) spoke in a flat tone, but her words carried a chilling undertone. “But maintaining this ‘good’ and ‘decent’ status comes at a price. This house was most likely purchased with a mortgage, the down payment probably draining their savings from years of work, and possibly even requiring support from both sets of parents. For the next twenty or even thirty years, they’ll have to pay a hefty mortgage every month. Besides that, to maintain a ‘decent’ lifestyle befitting their ‘university professor’ status—living in a safe neighborhood with excellent schools, driving a vehicle appropriate for their status, paying exorbitant private school tuition (if they have children), participating in necessary academic social activities, and purchasing appropriate insurance and retirement plans—their daily expenses are equally enormous.”

“In Colombia, especially in core metropolitan areas like Trimont, the ‘middle class’ is an extremely vulnerable and dangerous group. They must constantly climb the social ladder, maintain a glamorous image, and prove their ‘solvency’ and ‘worth’ to banks, employers, and society. Any slight disturbance—unemployment, pay cuts, investment failures, or a sudden serious illness—is enough to cause their carefully maintained balance to collapse instantly.”

Suri's (in lamb form) voice echoed in the quiet, warm living room, each word like a cold stone, settling into Eyjafjalla's heart.

"Savings?" He mentioned the word again, the sarcasm in his tone even more pronounced. "After paying hefty mortgages, insurance, taxes, education expenses, and social costs, how much 'savings' do you think such a family would have left to cope with a serious illness requiring millions in medical expenses? Most of their 'wealth' is tied to this house and their future, expected income. Once the cash flow dries up and expected income is damaged, the bank won't reduce your loan out of sympathy. On the contrary, if your property value declines due to poor maintenance (such as not having money for property management fees or repairs), or if you can't make payments on time, the bank has the right to foreclose on your house to compensate for their losses."

"This is the rule of the game in Colombia. The seemingly glamorous middle-class life is actually built on huge debts and fragile cash flow. They are like walking on the edge of a cliff, and must maintain a perfect balance at all times. Once they fall, it's all over. Ms. Gwen's illness is that boulder that broke the balance. Selling the house is the only realistic option for her to raise enough cash in the short term, avoid the house being repossessed by the bank, and pay for medical expenses at the same time. And I, instead of taking advantage of her, offered a relatively fair price, even slightly higher than the market price when she was in a hurry to sell. For her, it was a lifeline."

After Suri (in her lamb form) finished speaking, she calmly looked at Eyjafjalla. Her black eyes, like the deepest night sky, reflected Eyjafjalla's pale and shocked face.

Eyjafjalla was stunned. Her pink eyes widened, her mouth slightly open, but no sound came out. Suri's words were like a cold scalpel, precisely dissecting her long-held vague understanding of "middle class" and "homeowners," revealing the bloody truth beneath, a truth gnawed by debt and pressure.

It turns out... owning such a beautiful house doesn't guarantee stability and wealth. On the contrary, it might mean heavier shackles and a more fragile balance. A serious illness can easily take everything away, including this "home" that holds countless memories and hopes.

She recalled Ms. Gwen's tired yet grateful voice on the phone, and her reluctance to part with the house... It wasn't just about leaving a place to live; it was a farewell to the seemingly stable but actually crumbling "middle-class life" that she and her husband had painstakingly built up over half their lives. It was a helpless and tragic act of cutting off one's own arm to survive against the ruthless crushing force of fate.

“They are completely unaware of this danger,” Suri’s (in lamb form) voice rang out again, calmly pointing out the cruelest point, “or rather, even if they are aware, they are powerless to change it. They can only keep running according to the rules set by society, maintaining their dignity, until that whip called ‘accident’ comes down. And your previous thought—'People with such big houses must have a lot of savings’—is exactly the illusion that they, and the vast majority of people caught up in this system, want others to see, and even want to believe themselves. A self-numbing illusion necessary to maintain dignity.”

Eyjafjalla's heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, aching and chilling. She had always thought that escaping the poverty and oppression of Cumberland, getting into university, and finding a good job would lead to a stable and respectable life, like Ms. Gwen and her family, living in a house like theirs. But now, Suri was telling her that such a life might just be a more elaborate cage, a more dangerous tightrope walk.

The sunlight still shone warmly on the brand-new floor, and the oak leaves outside the window swayed gently in the breeze. But this house, which had just filled her with warmth and longing, now seemed to be shrouded in a faint, cold shadow in Eyjafjalla's eyes. It was no longer just a cozy "home," but had become a heavy "asset" that required constant maintenance with blood and sweat, a "sandcastle" that was vulnerable to the unexpected.

She instinctively hugged the sofa cushions in her arms, as if drawing warmth and a sense of security from them. Her pink eyes were filled with shock, confusion, and a faint fear of the future. The "bright future" she longed for, the future she could achieve through hard work, turned out to be hiding such cruel rules and traps.

Looking at Eyjafjalla's deeply shocked expression, a faint, almost sigh-like ripple seemed to flicker deep within his dark eyes. He knew that for a girl who had just been pulled out of the mire and was full of innocent dreams for the future, this revelation of the cruelty of reality was somewhat too cold and direct.

But this was the path he had chosen. He not only wanted to lead her out of the mire, but also to show her the traps ahead, giving her the strength and wisdom to continue even after seeing the truth. Relying on him was fine, but he hoped even more that Eyjafjalla could truly grow and understand the rules of this world, even if those rules were cold and ugly.

Volume 19, Chapter 1308: Eyjafjalla's Wisdom Emerges

"Are you scared?" Suri (in sheep form) asked calmly, her tone revealing little emotion.

Eyjafjalla trembled slightly, raising her eyes to look at Suri. Those dark eyes remained calm and unwavering, as if his cold, analytical words had merely stated an ordinary fact. But for some reason, under their gaze, the chilling fear in Eyjafjalla's heart strangely subsided somewhat.

Yes, the rules of this world are cruel. Middle-class life is precarious; a serious illness can take everything away. But… she has Suri.

Suri is not Ms. Gwen; he is not the ordinary person struggling under the rules, bound by debt and the need to maintain appearances. He is Suri, a "super-intelligent" individual who can earn tens of millions in the stock market in a few days, easily solve the problem of getting into college, instantly transport her across hundreds of kilometers, and control everything in ways she cannot comprehend. He sees through the rules and can even use them to transcend them.

With him by her side, the traps and crises that drove Ms. Gwen to despair seemed... less terrifying.

Eyjafjalla slowly loosened her grip on the cushion, took a deep breath, and the shock and confusion in her pink eyes gradually faded, replaced by a more complex expression—an awareness of the cruel reality, sympathy for Ms. Gwen's plight, but more than anything, a gradually clearing determination and a deeper dependence on this incredible presence beside her.

“I…I just didn’t expect…” Eyjafjalla’s voice was a little hoarse, but she tried to calm herself down. “So…that’s how it is. Thank you for telling me all this, Suri.”

She learned that the world wasn't as wonderful as she had imagined, that behind the seemingly glamorous facade lay hidden wounds. But she also knew that she had Su Rui. Su Rui would protect her, plan her future, and guide her away from those traps.

"Then... will we be like Ms. Gwen and the others in the future?" she couldn't help but ask, with a hint of trepidation.

“No.” Suri’s (in sheep form) answer was brief and certain, carrying an undeniable power. “Our paths are different.”

His words, like a stabilizing force, instantly soothed the last trace of unease in Eyjafjalla's heart. Yes, they had Suri; their path was naturally different.

The sun was still warm, and the new house was still cozy. But Eyjafjalla knew that from this moment on, the world she saw was different. She saw the cracks beneath the surface and understood the meaning and value represented by the silent boy beside her.

She leaned back more comfortably into the sofa, her gaze returning to the bright courtyard outside the window, and asked softly, "Suri, are we... going back to Cumberland County now? Or... can we stay here a little longer?"

"Stay a little longer." Suri (in sheep form) picked up her phone again, her gaze seemingly drawn back to the invisible stream of information. "Get familiar with the surroundings. Go back tonight. You still have time to adjust before the prom."

His voice remained calm, but Eyjafjalla detected a subtle, almost indulgent, undertone. Her pink eyes curved slightly, the previous heaviness dispelled by a new warmth. She softly hummed in agreement, falling silent and quietly savoring this hard-won afternoon with Suri in their new home. A clearer understanding of the future settled in her heart, along with a more resolute expectation guided by Suri.

The living room returned to silence, broken only by the occasional birdsong from outside the window and the slow, shifting shadows of sunlight on the oak floor. Suri (in lamb form)'s chilling analysis of the brutal plight of the Colombian middle class, heavy with emotion and shock, was like a stone thrown into a deep pool; though it created huge ripples, it eventually settled slowly in Eyjafjalla's young yet resilient heart.

She hadn't fully digested those complex and cruel social rules, but Suri's final words, "Our paths are different," and the extraordinary sense of security he represented, acted like a sturdy dam, preventing the spread of panic. Fear and compassion remained, for Ms. Gwen's plight and for the fragility beneath the seemingly beautiful world, but they no longer occupied Eyjafjalla's entire thoughts.

Her gaze returned to every corner of the house—her new home. The wooden floors gleamed warmly in the sunlight, the brand-new sofa was soft and comfortable, the open kitchen was filled with gleaming stainless steel utensils (had Su Rui even considered these things?), and beyond the huge floor-to-ceiling window lay a small, sun-drenched, lush green backyard…

All of this was no longer a heavy burden that Ms. Gwen had to relinquish, no longer a cold symbol of the middle-class trap, but a future that Suri had prepared for her (and them) within reach. A safe, warm, and secure "home" where she could go to school and live without worrying about being chased for rent by the landlord, and without having to endure the dampness and noise of an old apartment.

An indescribable warmth, a mixture of immense joy, peace, and a sense of belonging, quietly welled up from the deepest part of her heart, quickly dispelling the lingering heaviness. Eyjafjalla's eyes gradually brightened, her pink pupils reflecting the new furniture and the bright sunlight, like two gems that had been polished anew.

She didn't burst into tears as excitedly as before, nor did she cheer loudly. Perhaps it was because of the lingering shadow cast by Ms. Gwen's story, or perhaps this immense happiness came too suddenly and too unreally, making her feel cautious, as if afraid of disturbing her beautiful dream. But that joy, like suppressed spring water, bubbled happily in her heart, eagerly searching for an outlet.

She glanced at Su Rui on the sofa beside her, seemingly engrossed in her "work" again. The boy sat there quietly, his short silver hair shimmering softly in the sunlight. His profile was clean-cut, his dark eyes lowered, long eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyelids. His fingertips occasionally tapped lightly in the air, as if conversing with information from another dimension. He appeared calm and focused, strangely blending into the warm, lived-in environment, yet possessing a unique, almost inhuman, sense of detachment.

But Eyjafjalla had no time to dwell on that feeling of detachment. Her heart was racing, fueled by an irrepressible urge.

“Suri,” she stood up, her voice trembling slightly, though deliberately suppressed, yet still revealing excitement, “I…I’ll go check the bedroom!”

Volume 19, Chapter 1309: The Rolling Lamb

Before Su Rui could answer, she turned around excitedly like a bird released from its cage, skipped across the living room, and stepped onto the wooden stairs leading to the second floor. Her footsteps on the brand-new stairs made a soft and pleasant "thump-thump" sound, as if accompanying the pounding of her heart.

As she stood up, Suri (in lamb form) seemed to divert a sliver of attention from the invisible flow of information. He raised his dark eyes, glanced at her retreating figure as she quickly disappeared down the stairs, then lowered them again to continue dealing with the matters that only he could "see." Yet, deep within those calm, unwavering eyes, a barely perceptible understanding seemed to flicker.

Eyjafjalla ran up to the second floor in one breath. There were two bedrooms on the second floor, each with its own bathroom. The master bedroom was slightly larger, facing south, and had a small balcony overlooking the backyard. The second bedroom was slightly smaller, facing east, but equally bright. Suri didn't seem to have specifically designated which room was "his," and both bedrooms had brand-new, equally simple, plain-colored bedding on the beds.

Eyjafjalla stood in the master bedroom doorway and took a deep breath. The room still held the faint scent of new fabrics and wood, mingled with the aroma of sunshine streaming in from the window—fresh and pleasant. The huge windows let in the afternoon sun without reservation, making the entire room bright and warm. Soft carpet, a simple desk and wardrobe, and that incredibly comfortable-looking bed…

Her gaze was fixed on the bed. The soft mattress, the fluffy down comforter, the pristine white sheets... seemed to carry a silent allure.

The suppressed, immense joy in my heart has finally found a safe and private outlet.

Eyjafjalla closed the bedroom door behind her (though only Suri was downstairs, she did it instinctively). Then, like a small animal finally confirming its safe territory, she rushed to the bedside, first cautiously reaching out to touch the soft, smooth sheets, confirming the authenticity of the feel. Next, as if in disbelief, she pressed down on the mattress, feeling its perfect rebound.

The next second, she could no longer hold back and let out a short, deliberately suppressed, but joyful gasp. She lunged forward and landed hard on the soft bed!

"Well--!"

She sank into the soft down comforter, enveloped in the sun-warmed blankets, the new mattress's elasticity causing her to bounce slightly. Eyjafjalla buried her face deep in the fluffy pillows, the clean, sun-kissed scent filling her nostrils. She couldn't help but let out a satisfied, muffled sigh, and then began to roll around on the bed without any regard for decorum.

She rolled from left to right, then from right to left. Her arms were outstretched, as if to embrace the entire bed, the whole room. Her legs kicked wildly, like a fish stranded on a happy beach, splashing around joyfully. Her long silver hair (though she currently had short hair, she seemed to still have the spirit of a long-haired girl) was scattered on the white sheets, her pink eyes curved into crescents, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up high, revealing her clean, white teeth.

“Ahhh—it’s true! It’s true!” she cried out softly, her voice barely a whisper, burying her face in the pillow, her shoulders trembling slightly with silent joy. This was her bed! Her room! Her home! No longer that cold, empty little apartment in Cumberland County, filled with lonely memories, but a brand new, warm place, brimming with sunshine and the vision of the future envisioned by Suri!

She rolled around on the bed several times until she felt a little dizzy, then stopped, lay on her back, and breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling slightly with excitement. Her pink eyes gazed at the simple chandelier on the ceiling, her gaze somewhat unfocused, but she couldn't stop smiling.

Downstairs living room.

Su Rui (in his sheep form) tapped out a final "command" in the void, completing a minor task related to "anonymizing fund flows." He slightly raised his eyelids, his calm black eyes seemingly "piercing" through the ceiling, precisely "seeing" the pink-haired girl in the second-floor bedroom, rolling around on the soft bed like a child who had received a beloved toy, suppressing her laughter and fully releasing her joy.

He "saw" her unguarded joy as she collapsed onto the bed, "heard" her suppressed gasps and satisfied sighs, and could even "sense" her pure and surging happiness, like a warm and joyful tide filling the entire room.

There were no monitoring devices, nor any unconventional means of perception. It was simply his instinctive collection and processing of extremely subtle environmental information (including air vibrations, micro-currents of energy, bioelectrical signals, etc.) as a "superintelligence," forming a near-real-time panoramic view in his consciousness. Eyjafjalla's undisguised joy, like a beacon in the darkness, clearly illuminated his perceptual realm.

Normally, Suri (in lamb form) would probably just categorize this emotional fluctuation as "positive emotional feedback from the target individual, with a high intensity, in line with expectations," and then stop paying attention and continue to handle his affairs.

But at this moment, he wondered if it was the subtle influence of this brand-new, tranquil environment that was the beginning of a "home," or Eyjafjalla's pure joy, so untainted by any gloom, that was so infectious, or perhaps... something else he had not yet fully understood.

Suri's (in lamb form) almost expressionless face softened for a fleeting moment, her calm and even lines softening with an extremely subtle degree.

It wasn't a clear smile, not even a slight upturn of the corners of the mouth. It was more like a very thin layer of mist covering the frozen lake, gently dispersed by an unexpected warm breeze, revealing a barely perceptible, smooth curve of the ice beneath.

His lips, which had been slightly pursed and pale in color, stretched out to the sides almost imperceptibly… perhaps only a fraction of a millimeter. In the depths of those black eyes, which were always like the deepest pool reflecting endless streams of data, a faint, fleeting, almost “gentle” glimmer seemed to flash. Like a speck of dust thrown into a deep pool, the ripples were so small as to be negligible, but they were definitely there.

This subtle change happened so quickly and so subtly that even the most sophisticated instruments would struggle to detect it. Suri (in lamb form) herself may not have consciously "seen" or "controlled" this instantaneous twitch of her facial muscles. It was more like an almost instinctive, extremely faint positive feedback triggered by a high degree of alignment between the current environmental information (safety, tranquility, and the target individual being in a high-concentration positive emotional field) and her own core instructions (ensuring Eyjafjallajökull's survival, development, and maximizing his happiness).

Volume 19, Chapter 1310: This is really nice.

Like a complex program, a tiny, insignificant signal that indicates "smoothness" is spontaneously generated on the optimal solution's path.

This indescribable, smiling expression lasted for less than a hundredth of a second before disappearing like a drop of water falling into a deep pool. Suri's (in lamb form) face returned to its usual calm and indifference, like that of a delicate doll. It was as if that fleeting moment of gentleness had never existed.

He made no comment on Eyjafjalla's childish behavior upstairs, nor did he get up to check. Instead, he refocused his attention on the vast and complex information network visible only to him. His fingertips lightly tapped in the air, processing a series of matters—some macroscopic, some microscopic, some concerning the world, and some concerning only one person—regarding topics such as "the undercurrents of rare minerals in the Trimont underground market," "the internal factions and resource preferences of Columbia University of Geosciences," and "the phased nutritional supplementation plan for optimizing Eyjafjalla Itzam's physique."

However, if someone could delve into his core consciousness, composed of pure logic and data, they might discover that in the underlying priority sequence for handling these matters, a sub-process that was originally of high priority—"assessing potential security risks and security plans for the new residence"—had its resource allocation quietly reduced by a negligible level. Meanwhile, another process that was originally pending activation—"fine-tuning indoor lighting, temperature, humidity, and ambient sound parameters to the optimal comfort range based on Eyjafjallajökull's physiological and psychological feedback"—had been silently advanced and executed.

So, in her second-floor bedroom, Eyjafjalla, who was rolling around on her bed clutching a pillow, suddenly felt that the sunlight outside the window seemed softer and warmer, the air seemed to flow more gently and pleasantly, and even the firmness of the mattress beneath her seemed to perfectly match her most relaxed posture. An indescribable sense of comfort, relaxing both body and mind, enveloped her.

Unaware that this was Su Rui's silent "adjustment," she simply assumed that the wonderful environment of her new home had given her a profound sense of relaxation. This made her even happier, and she couldn't help but roll around on the bed again, burying her face in the sun-scented blankets and purring contentedly like a kitten.

It took Eyjafjalla a while to gradually calm down from her extreme excitement. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her hair was a little messy, but her pink eyes seemed to be filled with starlight, shining incredibly brightly. She got out of bed, patted her slightly burning cheeks, straightened her slightly wrinkled school uniform, and took a few deep breaths in front of the brand-new full-length mirror in the room, trying to make herself look a little more "normal".

The girl in the mirror had bright, sparkling eyes and an irrepressible smile on her lips. She radiated an unprecedented, vibrant, and luminous aura, a stark contrast to her silent, repressed, and dark-circled appearance in Cumberland.

Eyjafjalla looked at herself in the mirror and quietly clenched her fist. Then, she turned around, walked briskly out of the bedroom, and went downstairs.

Suri (in lamb form) remained seated on the living room sofa, her posture seemingly unchanged. Hearing her footsteps as she came downstairs, he looked up, his dark eyes calmly meeting hers, as if the "rolling around in bed" scene upstairs had never happened.

"Finished reading?" Suri's voice was as calm as ever.

"Mmm!" Eyjafjalla nodded vigorously, her smile still bright, but slightly more restrained than before, with a hint of forced composure. "The room... is very nice! The bed is especially comfortable!" She couldn't help but praise it, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Suri (in his sheep form) nodded almost imperceptibly in response. He didn't comment on the "comfortable bed," but calmly said, "Familiarize yourself with the location of the kitchen and storage room. There are basic ingredients and drinks in the refrigerator, and spare toiletries in the storage room. If you're hungry or thirsty, you can help yourself."

Eyjafjalla then realized that they hadn't had lunch since morning, only a simple breakfast at school. Overwhelmed by the immense surprise and shock, she had completely forgotten about hunger. Only now, reminded by Suri, did her stomach belatedly rumble.

Her face flushed, and she quickly nodded, "Okay, okay!"

Like a happy little bird, she began to flit around the house, exploring the brand-new kitchen utensils in the kitchen that she might not know how to use but looked very high-end. She opened the double-door refrigerator and saw all sorts of fresh-looking ingredients and drinks, some she recognized and some she didn't (when did Suri prepare these?). She then ran to the storage room and saw all kinds of daily necessities, from toilet paper to spare light bulbs, neatly categorized.

With each detail that Suri had already prepared, she felt a surge of warmth and joy. Suri was always like this, silently and meticulously arranging everything, from big things (buying a house, planning for the future) to small things (preparing ingredients, household supplies), as if she would never make a mistake and would always be someone she could rely on.

When she returned to the living room carrying a bottle of soda and a bag of delicious-looking cookies, Suri (in sheep form) had already finished his "work" and was standing quietly in front of the French windows, gazing at the small lawn in the backyard. The afternoon sun gilded him with a soft golden edge, and his silver hair and little sheep horns looked exceptionally clean and translucent in the light.

Eyjafjalla watched his retreating figure, a sense of peace and happiness welling up within her. She walked to Suri's side, and together they gazed at the sunlight and greenery outside the window, taking a small bite of a cookie. The sweetness of the cookie melted in her mouth, mingling with the refreshing effervescence of the soda water.

“Suri,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a contented languor and a hint of barely perceptible longing, “this place is so nice.”

Suri (in lamb form) didn't turn around, but gave a barely perceptible "hmm" as a response.

But Eyjafjalla knew that he had heard her and understood what she meant.

The sun shines warmly, the new home is peaceful, and the future looks promising. And Suri is right beside me.

Time, like the shadow of the old oak tree in the backyard of 119 Oak Street in Tremont, quietly lengthened and shortened under the shifting sunlight. Under Suri's arrangement, Eyjafjalla's attendance record remained impeccable. The final month of classes at Cumberland County Community High School had become a flexible period for her, allowing her to "take leave" at any time to attend college-level courses at her new home in Tremont, or to receive more targeted tutoring from Suri. Suri even helped her arrange to take several core subject graduation exams early (using, of course, some "reasonable" methods), allowing her to essentially complete the main tasks of her high school studies before the prom.

Volume 19, Chapter 1311: Eyjafjalla's Dress

On the afternoon before the prom, when Suri once again used her incredible "short-range teleportation" to instantly transport Eyjafjalla from their cozy villa in Tremont back to their familiar yet cold old apartment in Cumberland, Eyjafjalla felt surprisingly little reluctance. The old apartment held too much sorrow and despair, while the new home was filled with sunshine, hope, and Suri's promise. She knew this was only a temporary return, to participate in a ceremony belonging to the "past."

The apartment remained exactly as it had been when they left, except for a thin layer of dust. Eyjafjalla tidied up briefly, but her gaze involuntarily fell on the two beautifully wrapped, enormous gift boxes that Suri had brought back earlier, now standing quietly in the corner.