Chapter 53
With that, Hemer turned and left.
Having been yelled at, Yoren accepted it quietly.
He deserved it.
The world didn't revolve around him. Hemer wanted to save Ifrit more than he did, and she had already sacrificed so much to do it.
This situation was far more complex than he had initially thought. If he interfered recklessly, he would only cause more problems for Hemer.
But looking at it optimistically, his presence had already introduced uncertainty into the future. Maybe, thanks to the data Rhine Life had gathered from him, the Fire Demon Project would actually succeed.
Glancing at the time, he realized it was already evening. His stomach was empty. It was time for dinner.
People needed food to function—whatever complicated thoughts he had, they could wait until after he was full.
Yoren took a sip of the juice Snowsant had given him earlier and tossed the paper cup away.
Three points.
The cup landed precisely in the trash bin.
With that, he headed up the stairs, returning to his room on the fourth floor to wait for his meal.
Back on the fourth floor, just as he turned the hallway, Yoren suddenly heard a sharp scream coming from the last room down the hall, followed by the sound of objects being smashed.
If he remembered correctly, that was Ifrit's room.
Something was wrong.
Yoren quickened his pace.
When he arrived, he found Aina standing outside the door, looking awkward. Through the doorway, the room was in chaos.
Smash!
Inside, Ifrit hurled a vase, shattering it against the wall as she shouted:
"Get out! Go away! Don't look at me! Who gave you permission to stare?! Get out!"
Unlike his own bare room, Ifrit's had been full of things. Now, it was a wreck.
The bedsheets and pillows were torn to shreds, the wardrobe doors had gaping holes from being kicked in, and the curtains were now ragged strips hanging off the windows, their edges burned.
Yoren peeked inside.
"What's got you so worked up, Ifrit?"
"Get out!"
A kettle flew past him, smashing against the doorframe. Yoren quickly pulled his head back.
Aina just stood there, clearly at a loss. When she saw Yoren, she nodded slightly, but made no move to intervene.
Seeing this, Yoren asked in a low voice, "Aina, what's going on? Did she choke on something?"
Aina forced a smile. "Something like that. Dr. Hemer just gave Ifrit official permission to move freely around the base. Her name is no longer a secret. But earlier, she had a run-in with two staff members."
"A run-in?"
"Well, it wasn't really a fight. The staff members just looked at her a little too long, probably trying to read her identification tag. But Ifrit snapped. According to the rules, Originium Arts aren't allowed inside the base. But she didn't care—she burned one of their uniforms and shattered another's glasses. The other staff member nearly fainted."
"So what's she so angry about? They didn't fight back?"
"Of course not. Who would? I got there in time and pulled her away. Then I found out what happened from the staff."
Yoren leaned against the doorframe, listening like a nosy neighbor hungry for gossip.
"And?"
"I let the staff go. It wasn't a big deal—no one actually got hurt. Ifrit was just too sensitive. I wasn't planning to report it to Dr. Hemer, but I gave her a warning."
"Oh?" Yoren smirked. "How exactly did you warn her?"
Aina pursed her lips, looking embarrassed.
"I... I told her that if she acted up again, I'd get Saria to deal with her. And not even Dr. Hemer would be able to save her. But as soon as I said that, she stormed back to her room and started breaking everything."
Yoren looked down and noticed Aina was still holding a small fire extinguisher—just in case.
Smash!
Inside, Ifrit jumped up, punched the wall clock, and yelled:
"Those damn lab coats! If they stare at me again, I'll break their faces just like this clock!"
She then kicked over a table and stomped on the books scattered on the floor.
Yoren crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Alright, that's enough."
"Mind your own damn business, you stupid white-haired freak!"
Yoren frowned. That felt like discrimination against white-haired people.
Before he could respond, another head with white hair peeked through the door.
White-Faced Owl had arrived.
She glanced at the mess inside, her tone neutral but laced with exasperation.
"Aina, I think we should inform the Defense Section."
Aina immediately shook her head. "No. Saria isn't at Base No. 4 right now. If we send someone else, things will only escalate. Let's just wait. She'll tire herself out soon."
White-Faced Owl nodded. "Alright. Then I'll report it to Dr. Hemer later."
The mention of Hemer made Ifrit freeze for a moment.
Standing at the doorway, Yoren noticed something.
From the moment he had arrived, Ifrit's hands had been trembling, her veins bulging.
If his guess was right, her chronic muscle pain had flared up again. The constant discomfort was making her irritable, and destroying things was her way of coping.
Yoren sighed, gave Aina a reassuring look, and walked into the room.
Approaching Ifrit, he grabbed her wrist.
"Hey, calm down."
"Don't touch me!"
The little fire dragon lashed out, kicking him square in the chest.
"Ugh!"
Yoren nearly coughed up blood.
That kick could've cracked his ribs. Fortunately, his body had changed enough to endure it.
Under the pain, the power of the Black and White Twins stirred within him, ready to surface.
But Yoren held it back, suppressing the urge.
Clutching his chest, he gritted his teeth. "Damn brat. You keep this up, and I'll spank you."
"Like hell you will! I'll kill you!"
"Try me!"
Provoked, Ifrit pounced, clawing and kicking like an angry cat.
Yoren protected his face while fending her off, never actually hitting back.
Ten minutes later.
Ifrit sat on the floor, panting. She was exhausted, but her hands had stopped trembling.
Yoren, on the other hand, was a mess. His shirt was torn to shreds, and there was blood at the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it away. "Calmed down now?"
Ifrit shot him a glare. "Screw off. Get out. I don't wanna see you."
Her attitude was still bad, but her voice had lost its earlier edge. Her eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze.
That was enough.
Yoren smiled in relief and said nothing more.
He turned and left the room.
Three days later.
On May 22, at Rhine Life's IV Experimental Base.
Hemer had conducted another test on Yoren's body after he drew out his power. The results were staggering.
Individual strength: 4890.
Originium Energy Conversion Rate: 3106.
According to Hemer, this meant he could instantly absorb the energy of an S-rank Originium crystal and unleash its full power.
Few people in recorded history had ever reached such numbers.
But not all of the news was good.
In two days, Yoren would reach the limit of his body's endurance.
And then—
Early in the morning, Yoren woke up.
Unlike before, his sleep had been restless. His body felt like a raging furnace. His power was stirring, restless, ready to break free.
Groggily, he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
He picked up his toothbrush, squeezed some toothpaste onto it, and looked up at the mirror.
And froze.
The toothbrush slipped from his fingers, clattering into the sink.
His eyes widened.
His hair was gone.
He was bald.
For a long moment, he simply stared.
Then, he let out a dry chuckle.
"Well... at least I don't have to wash my hair anymore."
Yoren stood in front of the mirror, frozen like a statue.
He was bald.
Truly bald.
And his head was shining.
This was, without a doubt, the biggest blow he had suffered since arriving in Terra.
To be fair, he had accepted being thrown into this world without warning. He had even gritted his teeth and endured the reality of becoming an Infected. He was Yoren, a man with a mission, a traveler who had answered the call of fate. No challenge could break him.
Except for one.
He couldn't accept being ugly.
He could handle any insult.
Stupid? Fine. Thick-headed? Whatever. A complete moron? He wouldn't even argue.
But bald?
Unacceptable.
His entire life, his grades had been average. He had no particular talents or hobbies. But one thing he had always taken pride in was his looks.
Back home, he would sometimes throw a sheet over himself, cover one eye dramatically, and whisper to his reflection:
My name is ZERO. I am the one who will destroy the world and create it anew.
Every time, he thought he looked just as cool as Lelouch.
But now?
Now, the man in the mirror wasn't Lelouch.
He was Lulu... bald.
Why? Why this?
Yoren slammed down the cup and bolted out of the bathroom.
No, this was too serious. He had to see Hemer immediately.
Thirty minutes later.
"Hahahahahaha!"
In the lab, Ifrit was curled up under the table, clutching her stomach as she howled with laughter.
Yoren sat stiffly in his chair, his face flushed red like an embarrassed dragonfruit.
As Ifrit's laughter grew louder, his face burned hotter. Finally, he snapped.
"Laugh all you want, you damn lizard!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Ifrit rolled on the floor, pounding it with her fist.
Yoren gave up on her and turned to glare at Hemer.
Pointing at his smooth head, he demanded, "Hemer, I need a reasonable explanation."
Across from him, Hemer adjusted her glasses calmly. "Yoren, your situation is completely normal."
"Normal?"
"Yes. Due to the rapid expansion of the power in your body, the balance of hair growth and loss has been disrupted. It's possible for it to either fall out rapidly or grow back just as quickly."
Yoren narrowed his eyes. "So you're saying it will grow back?"
"Ahem... probably."
Smack!
Out of nowhere, Ifrit slapped the back of his head, making a loud, crisp sound.
Yoren whirled around, furious. "You little—get lost!"
"Hahahahahaha!"
Ifrit dodged his grasp and ran, her laughter echoing through the lab.
A faint red palm print bloomed on his scalp.
Seething, Yoren turned back to Hemer. "Hemer, how long will it take—"
"Pfft."
Yoren froze.
He narrowed his eyes. "Hemer... you just laughed."
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"No, I—pfft."
Yoren slammed his hands on the table and shot to his feet. "Damn it, you are laughing! You haven't stopped!"
Hemer cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "Alright, alright. Go back and rest. This isn't what you should be worrying about. In two days, you'll reach your limit. And I still don't know if there's a way to contain this power's growth. You need to prepare for the worst."
"I know."
Sullenly, Yoren stood and left the lab, his bald head gleaming under the lights.
On his way back to his room, he felt the eyes of every passing staff member on him. He imagined their whispers.
Oh, that's the new test subject?
Did something go wrong with the experiment?
No wonder Ifrit hated being stared at.
Then, from the opposite direction, he spotted a familiar figure.
Snowsant, humming a tune, strolled down the hallway, a glass of juice in hand and a bright smile on her face.
Then she saw him.
Smack!
The juice cup hit the floor.
Snowsant's smile froze.
"Snowsant!"
Yoren raised a hand, about to explain that this wasn't permanent.
Before he could say a word, Snowsant turned stiffly and bolted, her back vanishing down the hallway.
But in that split second before she ran—
He had seen the look on her face.
Pure, unfiltered disgust.
Damn it all!
Back in his room, Yoren wrapped his head with the red scarf he had brought from his original world. He now looked like an eccentric monk.
After calming himself, he sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled deeply.
Hemer was right. This wasn't what he should be worrying about now.
He hadn't told Snowsant about the critical point he was approaching—he didn't want her to worry.
Just like how Vina feared for her companions becoming Infected, Snowsant would feel powerless knowing she couldn't help him. He didn't want to put her through that.
No one, not even Yuanshan, truly understood the Black and White Twins.
He was like a beta tester thrown into a game before release, forced to figure out the mechanics on his own.
In two days, something would happen.
Maybe he would die.
Maybe he would survive.
Maybe something else entirely.
He had no way of knowing.
That evening.
Aina came to his room.
She stopped at the door, looking him up and down with confusion. "What's with your head? Why are you dressed so weird?"
Yoren sighed. "Aina, just ignore it. It's worse if I don't cover it up."
"...Okay."
He sat up. "Did you need something? Also, where's my dinner?"
Aina smiled kindly, but something about her expression felt... off. Was it sympathy? Pity?
"Is there anything you want to eat? Anything at all. I'll find a way to get it."
Yoren frowned. "I..."
"How about chicken? I can make you a nice stew."
Something felt wrong.
Why did this feel like a prisoner's last meal?
Was this... the Last Supper?
Yoren cleared his throat awkwardly. "No need for anything special. Just bring me the usual."
"Oh..."
Aina lowered her head, looking almost disappointed. "I've spent a lot of time with you. You're not so bad, actually. By the way, do you have any unfulfilled wishes?"
"...No."
"Anything you need to say before... you know."
Expressionless, Yoren stood up and pushed Aina out the door.
"Alright, that's enough. Go get dinner."
"But—"
Bang!
The door slammed shut behind her.
He groaned, rubbing his temples.
He hadn't been too nervous before, but Aina was making it seem like his days were actually numbered.
Talk about bad luck.