Intensive care ward.
A frail little girl held a ragged ragdoll, sobbing softly between violent fits of coughing.
“I want my brother... Where is my brother?”
Christine, long accustomed to such scenes, said in a cold, hard tone, “If you don't want to die, you must put on your breathing apparatus instead of wasting your strength crying here.”
Ning Busan saw this and asked, “What's going on?”
Christine said, “Her name is Yafi. The child who was just carried away under a white sheet was her twin brother, Yalon. She won't be able to hold on much longer either.”
“Where is their family?”
“Their family members all work in the factories. They don't have time to take care of them.”
Yafi was still whimpering, her coughing continuous.
Christine instructed, “You take care of her. I still need to brew medicine for the patients.”
All Ning Busan could do was help Yafi put on the breathing apparatus, but her condition still showed no signs of improvement, and her coughing remained fitful.
Yafi asked softly, “Big brother, can you tell me a story?”
Ning Busan picked up the storybook beside her and began to read softly.
However, Yafi's breathing grew rapid and labored, and her coughing fits became increasingly violent.
In a weak, trembling voice, she said, “I feel so tired...”
Ning Busan sighed helplessly in his heart.
If he could use magic, he could use a healing spell to end her suffering.
Unfortunately, there was no magic here, and a lung infection was fatal.
Suddenly, Yafi coughed violently, spraying a mouthful of blood that stained the breathing apparatus red.
Ning Busan hurriedly called out, “Christine—”
After coming over to check on Yafi's condition, Christine pronounced her death sentence like an inquisitor: “She is beyond saving.”
Before long, the light in Yafi's eyes gradually faded.
Her breathing stopped.
Ning Busan watched Yafi's body being wheeled out of the ward, his brow furrowed.
He had only been at this clinic for a single day, yet he had already seen two children die.
Was the breathing apparatus used to treat the children actually useful?
And Christine didn't look like a doctor at all.
Was this clinic even legitimate?
“Don't look at me like that.” Noticing Ning Busan's scrutinizing gaze, Christine said meaningfully, “Once you've seen enough of it, you'll become numb too.”
Ning Busan felt a chill in his heart.
It seemed countless children had already died in this clinic.
When the elderly slowly aged and newborns died one after another, did the City of Steam even have a future?
Compared to the future of the City of Steam, Ning Busan had more reason to worry about his own future.
He could earn 10 contribution points for a day's work, but he had to pay Charles 20 contribution points for rent.
This way, he was actually falling into debt.
To this, Charles said, “You can owe me for now.”
Ning Busan asked, “When on earth can I pass your evaluation and become an official citizen?”
Charles said, “I need to observe you for a month. Once I confirm that your threat level is within a controllable range, only then will I take you to the temple to register your official citizenship.”
Ning Busan suddenly thought of Michael, so he asked, “Did that angel pass the evaluation too?”
“...He didn't have an evaluation.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he can fly. The City of Steam needs to recruit such talents.”
Ning Busan thought, Well, thank you very much!
Is having wings that big of a deal?
Charles sneered, “However, he tried to steal from the temple and committed a felony, so he can only be locked up in prison for the rest of his life.”
Ning Busan: “...”
What a coincidence. He was also here to steal something.
At night, Ning Busan tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Whenever he thought of Yafi dying right before his eyes, a complex mix of emotions filled his heart.
After all, she was such a young child; he couldn't help but feel a bit sorrowful.
But soon, he stopped feeling pity for those children.
The truly pitiful person was actually himself.
The next morning, Ning Busan went to the clinic early.
Yafi held her ragdoll and smiled sweetly. “Big brother, you're here again. Good morning!”
Beside her was a little boy. The two looked like they were cast from the same mold.
A chill ran down Ning Busan's spine.
He swallowed slightly and smiled back. “Good morning.”
What on earth?
Didn't this pair of twins die yesterday?
Seeing Christine, Ning Busan walked over and asked, “What is going on with the two of them?”
Christine said, “Yafi and Yalon's conditions have improved a lot, so they were transferred from the intensive care ward to a general ward.”
Ning Busan licked his lips. “Two children died yesterday, do you remember?”
Christine didn't expect him to still be fixated on this and said impatiently, “Working here, you need to adapt to this kind of situation as quickly as possible.”
“I wanted to ask, do you remember the names of the two children who died yesterday?”
“So many people die every day. How could I possibly remember them all?”
Ning Busan fell silent.
But yesterday, it was clearly Christine who had told him the names of the twins.
Was Christine pretending, or was there something wrong with her memory?
Coming back to life like this was simply too bizarre.
Ning Busan asked again, “Where are deceased patients usually buried?”
“The bodies of the deceased are all buried in the temple,” Christine said. “Only in the temple will the souls of the deceased be accepted by the Silver-Crowned God to enter eternal rest.”
Ning Busan twitched the corner of his mouth.
Was it really eternal rest?
This was clearly rising from the grave, wasn't it?
Could it be that besides him, no one else noticed anything wrong?
“Where do you get so many questions?” Christine said. “Alright, stop wasting time and get to work!”
Ning Busan began to work absentmindedly.
When passing the twins' ward, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed the door open.
Then, he felt the foreheads of the two children.
They were warm.
They were alive.
Yafi tilted her head, looking at Ning Busan in confusion, seemingly not understanding what was happening. “Big brother, what's wrong?”
“Seeing how well the two of you have recovered, I'm happy for you.” Ning Busan's voice was gentle, betraying no anomaly.
Yafi's eyes crinkled. “Sister Christine said that before long, we'll be fully recovered.”
She and Yalon made a prayer gesture at the same time: “Praise the Silver-Crowned God!”
Ning Busan now had only one question.
Were those living in this city actually the living, or the dead?
Or perhaps, the living dead?
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