Here was Dravin, frustrated because his life was once again on the line thanks to an exploding electronic device. He didn't want to die stupidly a second time just to play the forced hero.
He rubbed the back of his head in exasperation as he watched Siena timidly step into her apartment.
Why was she so stubborn with her twisted reasoning? Dravin clicked his tongue.
With a single long stride, he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him.
"After you walk in, then what? Plan to open the microwave with a stick? You might not burn down the whole apartment… but it'll burn you first, and trust me, it'll hurt worse than you can imagine," he said firmly.
Then without her permission, he dragged Siena into his apartment and guided her onto a chair at the dining table.
"Wait here. I'll check your microwave," he said.
"Wh–what? But… Drav—"
He didn't give her a chance to finish before storming out and slamming the door behind him.
He didn't know why he'd gotten so pissed.
Was it because his Aura stat had dropped for irrational reasons?
No.
It was probably because he was frustrated at Siena's willful insistence on treating her life as disposable.
He let out a sharp gasp. Was she trying to… kill herself under the influence of the demon?
But her Pleasure Index was still around 2%, so he still had time before the demon swallowed her.
Approaching Siena's apartment door, Dravin peeked inside.
No fire sparks flew, but faint popping sounds and black smoke with the smell of burning plastic made his head spin.
He looked around. On the fourth floor, there were only four residents—and the other two hadn't left their apartments.
Well, considering they lived in 412 and 415 at the far end of the hallway, they probably couldn't hear it like he could, where he lives right next to Siena.
He didn't know them, so it would be awkward to ask for help, right? And would waste the golden time.
Rubby, how long does it take for something to arrive if I buy it from the shop? He asked in his head.
[Depends on the weight, Chef. Around thirty seconds per pound after checkout and payment.]
Dravin raised an eyebrow in awe.
He summoned the screen, sliding to the shop tab.
His mind wandered—where the hell did goods come from so fast? Was that possible?
Then his fingers typed in what he wanted.
He smirked. Of course, the shop had it.
He immediately paid 485 coins and 150 Aura points in total.
If Rubby was right, this was faster and more efficient than calling the fire department. The nearest one was on the border of Districts 6 and 7, and it could take thirty minutes to get here.
Ding!
The elevator chime made Dravin turn his head around, eyes sharp and alert.
From the corner of the hallway, a figure dressed head to toe in black appeared. A shiny leather jacket clung to his broad, solid frame.
The matte-black helmet reminded Dravin of the biker gang videos he used to scroll past on social media back on Earth.
But what really caught his eye was the glossy black paperboard box cradled in his arms.
Ding!
As he finished reading the system notification, the man in black stopped in front of him
Without a word, he set the box on the floor, then turned and strode off.
Each loud thud step from his boots was heavy enough to crush a toe under their jagged soles.
Dravin swallowed hard, not because of the man himself, but because of the metallic stench rolling off him.
Not iron mixed with the tang of blood, but the smell of old, rusted steel.
Was he even human? Or a robot?
He shook his head as the deliveryman disappeared around the corner. Whatever that thing was, Dravin had no desire to find out. Ignorance was bliss.
He hurriedly opened the black box.
His smirk widened at the sight.
A full firefighting safety set: protective suit, hood, helmet, gas mask, safety goggles, and a portable fire extinguisher.
He pulled everything out and put it on with ease.
Of course, he wasn't confused about the gear; back when he worked at the hotel restaurant, fire alarm drills were routine. Working with stoves and flames had trained him to be on alert.
Once fully suited, Dravin gripped the extinguisher in his hand.
Now it's showtime.
He blew a steady breath into his mask to calm his racing pulse and stepped into Siena's apartment.
The popping sound from the microwave was still going as Dravin entered. Black smoke billowed, showing him exactly where it was.
He had ordered goggles with the ability to cut through even the densest smoke.
And he grinned, satisfied that his vision was crystal-clear when he activated it, as if there were no smoke at all.
He spotted the microwave still crackling on the metal rack beside the kitchen counter and moved toward it.
He bent, peering inside from two feet away.
Three food packages sat inside. From the way the liquid hissed as it leaked onto the metal plate, Dravin knew the microwave was still overheating badly.
Shit. She's lost it. How could she stuff them all in at once? Of course, it's overloaded. He cursed inwardly.
Luckily, he had also requested the suit to have heat-resistance built in, so the air around him felt cool—like the AC was running inside the suit.
He turned toward the window and strode over. Fingers working at the latch, he tried to push it open, but it was stuck, maybe jammed or rusted.
Has she never opened this window? Why is it so damn hard? Dravin grumbled inwardly as his palm smacked against the frame to no effect.
Then, with one powerful swing, he brought the extinguisher down on the latch. Immediately, Sunlight burst through as the impact blew the window open.
Once he was sure the smoke had begun to drift out, his focus snapped back to the still-popping microwave. His gaze was fixed on it from two feet away.
"I'm sorry, little buddy. You're dying, and I'm here to save you. Goodbye."
"Freeze…" Dravin muttered, posing as if aiming a gun with his extinguisher.
And the magical spray burst forth, white foam freezing the overheated microwave solid, as though it had been encased in a block of ice.