Some words, once spoken, are like promises—they must be honored.
The spot at the First Military Academy Affiliated High School was extremely precious. Yise had truly considered everything for him thoroughly.
Su Cha fell into contemplation.
Yise had arranged for him to enter the military school—perhaps the remnants of the live experiment’s power were greater than imagined. Compared to Fukui Island, with its strict comings and goings, the military school was clearly the safer choice.
He opened his mouth a few times before finally speaking: “I will definitely go.”
Su Cha tried on a raincoat. With his silver hair, the overall look was pale and light. The oversized raincoat made him look even smaller—like a lonely wildflower by the roadside.
Once the raincoat was on, the scent of flowers disappeared.
Yise zipped it up for him and said lightly, “Stay vigilant.”
Su Cha looked up at him.
“That’s the first rule of the military school.”
Yise had reviewed the surveillance footage from when reporters swarmed in. He found a few suspicious individuals among them and didn’t rule out the possibility that someone had tried to use the chaos to carry out an assassination.
Su Cha understood the hint.
The large media presence hadn’t been arranged by Yise. But it couldn’t definitively be blamed on soldiers or associated doctors leaking the information. In this high-tech age, even doctors might be under surveillance.
The question was: who would bother to monitor a doctor?
As if reading his doubt, Yise said, “Dr. Norton’s patients are often either wealthy or powerful. Many are military personnel.”
Getting secrets from a doctor is a shortcut.
Changing the subject, Yise asked, “You can’t enroll until tomorrow. Do you want to spend your last night in the safe house or at the hospital?”
Even though Su Cha had already been discharged, if he didn’t want to be moved again, Yise could arrange for him to stay longer in a VIP room.
Su Cha thought for a moment. “The hospital, I guess.”
At least it was a private room with sunlight. Who knew what the safe house looked like?
Once he got the answer, Yise returned to the command center. Su Cha also lost the mood to play cards. He went to the door and started chatting with one of the guards. “Last night…”
As if knowing what he was going to ask, the guard said directly, “Using a spirit form for unauthorized investigation—he’s already been suspended and will face further accountability.”
In the power struggle between the military and the investigation department, the former had the upper hand. If the investigation department didn’t want the surveillance footage exposed, they’d have to make significant concessions.
Su Cha: “It was that serious?”
When you think someone is kind, everything they do seems done out of goodwill. The guard assumed Su Cha felt guilty and added a reminder: “Being too soft-hearted isn’t a good thing.”
Su Cha nodded.
Now that he knew it was serious, he felt reassured.
The temperature in the hallway was unusually low for summer. As Su Cha walked back to his room, he paused. There were only three rooms on this floor, and he just noticed that the door to the innermost one looked like it was made of a heavy, special metal—very secure.
Curious, his gaze lingered a little too long.
“That room’s for people with out-of-control spiritual power.”
The voice sounded strained, as if the speaker was trying hard to be heard.
Su Cha turned around and saw a thin figure leaning against the corridor wall not far away. His skin was pale to the point of sickliness.
The young man walked over with a smile. “I’ve heard about you.”
He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Shen Ningze.”
It was clear that he wasn’t in good health. His hand was chillingly cold even in summer.
Shen Ningze seemed like he wanted to chat more with Su Cha, but a nurse called him over for an injection. He laughed, “Looks like we’ll have to talk later.”
The guard watched Shen Ningze’s back. “That kid’s recovering well.”
Su Cha followed up and learned that Shen Ningze was one of the few experimental subjects rescued a year ago—and the only one who survived.
“At the time, he was barely breathing. After three days of emergency treatment, he made it. But after waking up, he suffered from mania and indiscriminate attacks. The hospital had to sedate him daily.”
In short, it was a miracle he survived.
“How is he now? Any better?”
Guard: “Basically normal now. He’s been undergoing long-term treatment to restore his spiritual power.”
Su Cha smiled but didn’t say anything.
His steps felt deliberately unsteady. The walls were cold. Shen Ningze walked over half-leaning against them, as if deliberately projecting weakness. Su Cha had pulled the same trick with the system before—he knew too well how to create an atmosphere.
But as a newcomer with his own troubles, Su Cha wouldn’t jump to report someone based on a small act. Besides, showing weakness wasn’t always a bad thing.
“Stay vigilant.”
Su Cha looked down at his raincoat, instinctively repeating Yise’s words.
The weather wasn’t great today—the sky outside was gloomy.
Around 4 or 5 PM, it already looked like dusk. Su Cha reclined on the hospital bed, fiddling with the communicator Yise had given him. It resembled a modern smartphone but had more advanced functions. It was the latest model, featured in newspaper ads.
To avoid having his browsing history discovered, Su Cha first searched for the most powerful planets in the galaxy. Unsurprisingly, Galan Star and Fog Star were among the top.
Unlike the Galan Empire, which constantly waged wars, Fog Star was nearly isolated, rarely engaging with outsiders. It was also known as the most mysterious and dangerous place.
In the past hundred years, Fog Star had only dispatched troops once.
That one time, they wiped out a planet completely overrun by strange beasts.
Strange beasts were the enemy of the entire universe—extremely reproductive, aggressive, and vengeful. Among all planets, only Fog Star had defeated millions of them and retreated unscathed.
“That strong…?”
After searching the entry for strange beasts, Su Cha was in awe of Fog Star’s combat strength.
Very few rumors existed about Fog Star, and none mentioned its low birth rate. If that secret were leaked, it might bring trouble to Fog Star.
Galan Star and Fog Star were far apart—separated by over a hundred planets, not counting barren ones. To get there, one would have to cross the interstellar battlefield—infamously known as the meat grinder of the universe.
Having been lucky enough to be born well but unable to return home, Su Cha was lost in thought when voices outside caught his attention, followed by a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Shen Ningze was a bit older than him. Though thin, he was still taller than Su Cha. As he was about to close the door, the guard stopped him.
The guard was under orders to protect Su Cha, so he couldn’t allow anyone to be alone with him, no matter how harmless they looked.
Shen Ningze didn’t mind. He slowly walked over and sat on a chair against the wall.
“Sorry to disturb you. I usually don’t have anyone to talk to.”
“Go ahead.” Su Cha looked at him with a listener’s expression.
Because of his youth, his attempt to appear mature made the scene look a bit strange.
This made Shen Ningze—who had hoped to bond over shared suffering—fall silent. Luckily, goodwill wasn’t hard to show. He took out a bottle filled with paper cranes.
“I received this when I was at my lowest. It gave me strength.” He placed it on the table. “I hope this blessing can be passed on to you.”
Su Cha’s gaze fell on the bottle.
His system had once given him a gift, too. At the time, he’d just been rescued from his clan, badly injured and dying. The system gave him a voodoo doll and said: “I hope this curse reaches your enemies.”
Seeing Su Cha spacing out for no reason, Shen Ningze coughed to bring his attention back.
“Thanks. I really like it.”
Shen Ningze didn’t actually want to get close to Su Cha. He was deliberately avoiding anything that might arouse suspicion. But Su Cha had too many inexplicable points—for instance, he had overheard him asking for a bed several hundred square meters in size, yet in front of the media, he acted overly reserved.
Sitting in the same space face to face, that strange feeling didn’t lessen—it only intensified.
Shen Ningze’s gaze fell on the communicator beside Su Cha’s hospital bed. “Want to add me as a friend?”
Su Cha didn’t refuse.
The communicator came with a few pre-installed apps, including the most frequently used social app. After registering, Su Cha accepted the friend request.
“If you’re ever feeling down, you can always talk to me,” Shen said before leaving. “Sometimes, saying things out loud really helps.”
Su Cha nodded. Once he was alone again, he picked up the communicator to cram more knowledge about the different star systems.
***
Before the sun had fully set, a message popped up—Shen Ningze had sent a picture: a strangely shaped dark cloud.
Su Cha walked to the window. He could see it from there too.
He had to admit, Shen Ningze’s approach was perfectly timed and executed. His friendliness made sense—they were both victims, and both survivors. During their chat, Shen Ningze casually mentioned how he’d been haunted by nightmares over the past year, subtly steering the conversation toward the base.
But his control was almost too precise. Su Cha sometimes wondered if he was just overthinking it.
***
That night, a heavy rainstorm fell. At dawn the next day, before the sky had even lightened, Shen Ningze knocked on the hospital room door.
“Want to get some fresh air?” he asked with a cheerful smile. “In weather like this, everyone’s carrying umbrellas. No one will notice you.”
It was just a walk downstairs, and the guards were with him. Su Cha also wanted to breathe in some fresh air.
They stopped under a large tree near the hospital’s back entrance. Shen Ningze watched a snail slowly crawling up the tree trunk with great interest. He glanced at Su Cha: “I meant to ask you yesterday—why are you always wearing a raincoat?”
Su Cha gave a vague answer: “It helps me control my spiritual power.”
Shen Ningze didn’t seem too bothered.
The summer rain had cooled the air, but he was wearing a thick coat and occasionally breathed warm air into his palms to warm them. His smile never wavered. “Thank you.”
“Hm?”
“You’re my first real friend,” Shen Ningze said softly. “I used to rely too much on the people at the hospital. I didn’t want to leave. But now, I want to try taking their advice… and move to Fukui Island.”
He looked at Su Cha. “Getting to know the outside world… meeting new people—it sounds good.”
“I support you.”
Shen Ningze took a step closer. “I heard there’s an amusement park on Fukui Island. Maybe we can go there together someday.”
Su Cha sent him a selfie. “Take this with you—it’s like I’m going with you.”
“…” Shen Ningze seemed to realize something. “You’re not going to Fukui Island?”
“I’m going to school.”
Shen Ningze’s expression showed a touch of longing. “School…” he murmured. Then he asked, “Which school? Maybe we can go together.”
Su Cha replied, “The First Military Academy Affiliated High School.”
This time, Shen Ningze didn’t manage to hide his shock—nor did he need to.
The First Military Academy Affiliated High School was known to be the most elite institution in the Empire.
In the distance, they heard the sound of a vehicle tire rolling through a puddle.
Su Cha checked the time. “That should be my ride.”
He motioned for the guard to help hold the umbrella, then suddenly grasped Shen Ningze’s hands.
“Look at me.”
Shen Ningze, puzzled, looked up.
Their eyes met—and without warning, Su Cha burst into song:
“That morning I awoke from a dream,
Ah friend, farewell, farewell, farewell—!”
In the rain, hand in hand, one person gazed intently at the other while singing. The lyrics were grand and dramatic, and the guard had to admit—Su Cha could sing. But the whole scene was… impossible to appreciate calmly.
Another guard had already taken a few steps back, trying to dissociate from the weirdness.
“My friend—!” Su Cha’s voice suddenly rose an octave. “Farewell!”
Shen Ningze’s eyelid twitched.
The car pulled up just a few meters away.
Wearing his raincoat, Su Cha left the umbrella to Shen Ningze.
The guards followed him into the car. One of them couldn’t help but comment: “That’s… not a very normal way to make friends.”
He had tried to use the gentlest words possible. More bluntly, no one would want to get close to someone that eccentric.
Su Cha ducked his head as he got in, and replied: “You’re right.”
So if Shen Ningze still wanted to maintain this relationship… that was definitely worth noting.
Through the rearview mirror, Su Cha could see Shen Ningze standing with the umbrella, watching the car drive away.
He didn’t look again. Instead, he lowered the window for some air.
Even if Shen Ningze had no hidden agenda, he and Su Cha were not suited to be friends. The remnants of the live experiment were still lurking in the shadows. Sooner or later, someone might shift their focus from him to Shen Ningze.
Su Cha could take refuge at the military school. But Shen Ningze, once an experimental subject, might not be so lucky.
The car passed through the bustling main city and stopped by the roadside.
“We’re here,” the guard reminded him.
Across the road stood two majestic stone pillars, with no inscription. Atop the pillars was a mighty eagle statue, wings half-spread as if ready to soar into the sky.
A few reporters were stationed nearby, interviewing incoming students.
Su Cha locked eyes with the eagle’s sharp gaze.
Behind it… Was the place he would soon call home.
