Once again, Liz's phone rang. She answered, listened for a few moments, then quickly hung up.
"Sorry, I have to step out for a bit. Do you have anything else planned tonight?" Liz asked.
"No," Hester replied.
"Then come with me to the base hospital," Liz said with a smile. "Rigo's special training just ended, and I need to bring her something."
To Hester's surprise, the base hospital wasn't in any of the buildings above ground.
Liz led her into an elevator that descended deep underground. The metal car sank lower and lower—Hester couldn't tell how long it had been until the doors opened again, revealing an entirely different world.
Unlike the old and worn buildings above, everything here was white—the floors, the walls, even the ceilings. Bright lights filled the corridors, blurring the difference between day and night.
According to Liz, they were now roughly 110 meters underground. The entire structure was built from steel beams and plates. Its foundation wasn't ordinary soil, but rather 2,000 massive springs, each weighing 4.9 tons—a shock-absorption system strong enough to withstand even violent explosions.
There were more than a dozen such underground buildings within the base, each serving different purposes. For now, however, the hospital was the only one Hester had clearance to enter.
After passing through three layers of decontamination and changing into sterile clothing, Liz handed over Rigo's CDs and headphones—but those were left in the storage area outside. The next morning, the day-shift nurses would disinfect them thoroughly before delivering them to Rigo's room.
After a brief conversation with one of the nurses, they learned that Rigo only regained consciousness briefly around nine o'clock each night, her awareness lasting barely six minutes. When she was told she'd have to remain hospitalized for over a month, she repeatedly instructed the nurse to contact Liz Fletcher from Room 403, asking her to bring her CDs and headphones.
Hearing this, Liz let out a soft sigh of relief.
"Rigo's support officer transferred to another post last year, so she rarely comes back to the base. I help out when I can," Liz explained with a grin. "She's always causing trouble, isn't she?"
"Is she badly hurt?" Hester asked quietly.
"Don't worry. Everyone's first time activating Bullet Time is like this," Liz said. "That's how we all learn where our limits are."
"Limits?" Hester repeated.
Liz didn't answer, and Hester didn't press further. She could sense that this was one of those 'not convenient to talk about' topics—and she suspected there were many such questions here, including the one about Bullet Time's restrictions earlier that day.
---
In the days that followed, everything was calm.
To Hester's surprise, things unfolded exactly as Liz had said—Shawn never came to bother her again.
During this time, Hester finished crafting her paper rose.
After sealing it beneath the glass dome, she placed it on the small table by the window. On clear evenings, when the sun dipped below the horizon, the radiant sunset would cast a warm glow across the glass, scattering soft amber light across the darkened room.
Lying on her bed, Hester would gaze up at the shifting light on the ceiling, her mind completely blank, detached from the world—until the time came for her evening classes. Then she would rise and begin to prepare.
The base was sparsely populated, yet the atmosphere was surprisingly friendly. Whenever she went out with Liz and they passed someone in the corridor—whether a stranger or not—the other person would always greet her warmly with a "Hello" or "Good evening." It was something Hester still wasn't used to.
She had now officially started her classes. After initial assessments, the only courses she could immediately take were basic physical training sessions. In addition, she lacked even the most fundamental knowledge of electronic devices.
The course assistant informed her that she needed to complete 120 hours of basic life skills and elementary grammar lessons before she could advance further. Since her daily physical training already occupied nearly six hours, these skill lessons were scheduled for nighttime.
The teaching building was a public area under full surveillance. In places not covered by cameras, Liz never allowed Hester to be alone. Escorting her to and from class had become Liz's way of easing Hester's anxiety.
Hester learned quickly and worked hard. Even after lessons ended, she would often stay behind, asking more questions and engaging in long discussions with instructors. Liz always waited patiently outside the classroom, no matter how long it took.
After more than two weeks, Hester finally said she could go to and from classes by herself. Liz immediately reported this to Molly and Valenti—a sign that Hester was beginning to trust the safety the base provided.
As May approached, the days grew longer and warmer. Sunset came later, and Hester began extending her study sessions. Her transition from a sheltered life at the convent to the rigorous environment of the training base was happening at remarkable speed.
---
One night, as the last traces of sunset faded, the classroom lights flicked on automatically.
Her phone buzzed on the desk—it was a message from Liz.
> "Where are you?"
Hester quickly replied:
> "Grammar classroom."
Another message came almost immediately:
> "Don't leave. Stay there. I'm on my way."
Hester stared at the message. Something in Liz's tone felt urgent.
She looked out the window. The orange sky had deepened into pale blue, and the stars had begun to pierce the twilight. A quiet instinct—the kind born from years of danger—told her it would be safer to find the teaching assistant next door before Liz arrived.
Better not to be alone.
But just as she rose from her seat, a sudden mechanical whirring broke the silence behind her. The classroom lights flickered out—except for the one directly above her head.
The room plunged into shadow. In the faint reflection of the windowpane, Hester saw her own face illuminated by that lone light, her features half-submerged in darkness.
She turned and quickly realized where the sound had come from—the surveillance camera mounted at the back of the classroom.
It had shifted. The lens, which had previously been facing the center of the room, slowly rotated—until it was pointed directly at her.
Hester frowned and took a cautious step forward. With each movement she made, the lights above her blinked off one by one, leaving only a bright circle following her path, trapping her in a cage of cold, sterile light.
The camera tracked her every step until she stood right beneath it.
She stared at the lens, suspicion and dread tightening her chest.
"...Shawn?" she whispered.
The camera suddenly shuddered, its metal joints creaking—emitting a jagged, squealing sound that almost resembled a mocking laugh.
---
(End of Chapter )