Yue Ge had always thought he was close to understanding this world. With a bit more time, he could gradually blend in. Nothing would surprise him anymore.
Unfortunately, ideals and reality were worlds apart.
About ten minutes after Crow left, Yue Ge’s freshly built worldview faced another crushing blow.
He’d been leaning against the door, spacing out to kill time. The walls and door were thick as fortress stone—no sound seeped through. The entrance was seamless, no visible handle; probably needed a card swipe like before.
Suddenly, a muffled thud echoed from inside, like something slamming into the door. Yue Ge snapped out of his daze and walked over, puzzled. He’d tried opening it directly, but without brute force, he was powerless. After such silence, any noise sparked his curiosity. It took real effort for sound to pierce these walls.
Before he could guess what happened, the door slid open. A middle-aged man in a white lab coat sat on the floor, propping himself up in a comical crawl. His face was frozen in ghostly terror.
Yue Ge watched silently, glancing inside. But it wasn’t a room—it resembled the massive plaza of A6, space stretching impossibly wide. No wonder he couldn’t find this lab on the second floor earlier; the ceiling height couldn’t hold it. Only an interlayer made sense.
The interior was a maze of unrecognizable instruments and huge shipping containers—nothing like A6’s emptiness. At the center lay a giant monster corpse: a bird-like creature with three pairs of wings, an ostrich head, and a fiery red beak.
Yue Ge recognized it. Bai Ya had asked him to transfer this dangerous-class corpse for Essence extraction. Yet everyone had stopped working, staring at the crawling man and Bai Ya stepping out slowly.
This wasn’t an experiment.
Bai Ya’s expression was calm, but she wore a white lab coat now, her white hair tied back with a ribbon. She turned to speak to the man but spotted Yue Ge watching nearby. She paused slightly. “Yue Ge? Is that side handled?”
“Yeah, done. Details later… What happened here?” Yue Ge glanced at the man, still seated and dazed.
“Nothing… Just handling matters. Been away too long; some don’t recognize me.” Bai Ya shook her head. She opened her mouth as if to say more, then fell silent. Instead, she beckoned. “Come here.”
“What is it?” Yue Ge walked over.
“Get my tablet. Innermost table. You know it, right?” Bai Ya looked at him.
Yue Ge sensed she was different—not just more assertive, but with an urgency she didn’t seem to notice herself.
“Okay.” He didn’t ask further and entered the lab. Strange gazes followed him until he returned with the tablet. The air felt heavy, eerie.
He didn’t care about their expressions. Back at Bai Ya’s side, she took the tablet, unlocked it, and tapped for a moment. “You. Report to the back gate tomorrow. Return after a month.”
The back gate housed the warehouse and Support Department—where ordinary people served the Organization’s true logistics. The Support Squad and Support Department shared a name but weren’t related.
The man opened his mouth, but no one spoke for him. He realized his only choice, nodding dejectedly. “Yes.”
“Leave. Everyone else, resume work. No noise during experiments.” Bai Ya handed the tablet back and turned toward the lab.
Yue Ge glanced at the man. It wasn’t just fear keeping him down—he couldn’t stand. He’d tried pushing up several times, slumping back each time. That thud earlier was likely him hitting the door.
Bai Ya looked back. “Staring at what? Follow me in.”
Yue Ge wanted to speak, but under her calm gaze, he stayed silent and followed. Here, she was dominant. This was Bai Ya’s domain; no one questioned her—not even him.
The door sealed behind them. No one cared about the man outside. But the attention on Yue Ge had sharpened since his last trip.
Everyone wore white lab coats; he stood out in different clothes. Yet, after Bai Ya’s actions, their suspicious stares held no words.
Bai Ya returned to the giant bird corpse. She grabbed a small knife from a rack and stabbed it into the creature’s side. Four other knives were embedded, but this wound oozed dark green blood.
If Yue Ge hadn’t seen the nearly severed neck—only a sliver attached—he’d think it alive. The corpse bore frost marks from refrigeration, and after so long dead, it shouldn’t bleed.
“Test tube.” She didn’t turn.
Yue Ge took an empty tube from the rack, but his hand bumped another’s. The person beside him had mirrored his move—deliberately, in this spacious room.
Bai Ya took the tube from Yue Ge without a glance.
He finally looked at the culprit. A young man, slightly older, with flashy golden hair and a stiff smile. Handsome enough to turn heads on any street.
The smile vanished. He stared at Yue Ge with chilling calm—no anger, no hatred. Then it snapped back, as if nothing happened. He mouthed two words.
—Sorry.
Yue Ge read his lips. Before he could react, the blond youth waved and melted into the crowd. Yue Ge buried his confusion, memorizing the face.
He’d meet him again.
