Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Chapter 7 Masked Ball (27)
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***
Crunch!
“Hey, Joe.”
“Hm? Need something?”
“No... It’s great that you came to visit, but don’t people usually bring fruit when they visit the sick?”
Meanwhile, Vex, who had recovered in just a week despite his massive injuries, was chomping away at the enormous pile of cucumbers Ian had brought as a get-well gift, amid the unusually bustling doctors.
“What’s wrong with cucumbers? They’re good for you. You need to stay hydrated, so I splurged on these pricey ones. Heard the Dome’s orchard took a huge hit, actually. Overload from ramping up power sent the temperature control to like 70 or 80 degrees. Pretty much wiped out everything they were growing and storing—except the cucumbers. Community’s buzzing that it’s driven up prices on fruit grown by solo survivors, and they’re thrilled.”
“So that’s why cucumbers. Hydration, huh...”
Vex glanced down at his abdomen, now marked by a massive scar.
A wound where nearly two adult fists’ worth of his side had been gouged out. Back then, he’d fought desperately without realizing how severe it was, but now it was hard to believe he’d survived. Without the array of cutting-edge medical gear surrounding him, he surely wouldn’t have.
“I’d heard people talking about the Dome, but I didn’t realize it was like this.”
“Yeah. The other night, you sat up in bed next to me, and half-asleep, I thought your soul had popped out. Slammed the nurse call button like crazy, smashed it, and got chewed out.”
“Feels like they did a ton of amazing stuff. One doctor burst in trying to use some weird vial drug, yelling, ‘Not that one! Those are vital for future cultures! Give it back!’ Got dragged out by the others.”
“Oh, that. The old doc giving the injection was shaking, squeezed his eyes shut, and administered it. Things improved fast after that.”
“They’re being too good... Makes me uneasy.”
“Sip— Just focus on recovering, patient. Being treated well is a good thing. We’re not broke or powerless. We saved the whole city—claim it as our right. Want another?”
Slide—clack!
As Vex reached out thinking ‘why not,’ the ICU door flew open roughly, drawing everyone’s eyes.
“Oh, isn’t that the Professor? Looks like he recovered fast too.”
“Pro...fessor?”
At Ian’s words, Vex’s eyes shook uncontrollably.
What entered wasn’t remotely human.
Bandages wrapped mummy-like around his entire body.
Hunched over, breathing raggedly like someone unstable, scanning the surroundings.
And a massive black left arm and hand that couldn’t possibly be human.
Thud.
The cucumber slipped powerlessly from Vex’s hand to the floor. He’d seen that tragic monster’s true nature in the central district skirmish days ago. A moving corpse, called a vengeful spirit.
“Hey, Vex! How’s the body? Heard you were hurt bad, but you’re already up?”
Woof!
The familiar cheerful voice from the alien form finally made Vex break.
“Waaaah! J-Joe! You died! Came back as a monster to get me! Waaaaaah!!!!”
He collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
It took over 30 minutes to calm Vex, who ripped out IV lines and electrodes and thrashed around.
***
After the whole struggle to restrain Vex, who was screaming he’d die too, with the Professor, Ian, and all nearby doctors piling on,
“Joe... So this is your hand now?”
“Yeah. It’s useful enough, but way less convenient than the original. Looking for a way back.”
Crunch!
The three friends sat in the wrecked room, munching cucumbers side by side.
“Ooooh, look at that sheen! Like obsidian!”
“Director, how about a resonance test first?”
“Brilliant idea! Fetch the gear from Lab 3 right away, and you filming crew—record every second! This could birth a new era for humanity! It’s for broadcast to other Domes—no slacking!”
In the end, researchers clung to the Professor’s left hand like barnacles as he perched on the bed’s edge.
“No need to worry, Professor Park! We in the biotech division will find its uses and a way to restore your original body! You won’t regret cooperating with us!”
“Ah, yes...”
Truth be told, he’d planned to get checked with the Dome’s advanced tech anyway. Rest up, let things settle, then hand it to whichever division made the best offer from those clamoring upstairs.
But the doctors swarmed in with whiteboards, holograms, even old magazines, explaining Vex’s treatment and the cutting-edge resources poured in like a medical seminar. Impossible to ignore.
‘Surgery with an obsolete precision bot at 580-hour limit due to no spare parts, six 3000mg doses of rare TI643 universal antibiotic, scraped every last vintage stem cell from frozen storage since no culturing facilities...’
Too realistic to dismiss as nonsense. The ‘biotech research division’ docs had truly done everything possible.
‘Vex was admitted first, then me, so maybe they planned to ask for cooperation after I recovered... Yeah, definitely.’
Received was received. Vex, pancreas reconnected and exploded liver patched, recovered in a week and was munching cucumbers thanks to them. Debts must be paid.
He agreed to visit the Dome’s biotech division weekly to assist research.
“By the way, where was your room? Went looking a few times to check on you—couldn’t find it.”
“Ugh, don’t ask. Took forever to get here from mine too. Rail carts on ceilings, endless ward layouts—base seems like a university hospital, but they punched holes in walls for labs. Security for research wings, vacuum chambers here and there, slapped on piecemeal. Paths are a total mess.”
The Professor shuddered recalling his escape to here. Dodging tireless vulture-like researchers, a wall opened behind him—haggard ones swarmed, yelling ‘If we snag just you, our performance reviews are safe for years!!’ Normal hall with a fire shutter dropping—‘Our division’s done without this grant!’ They body-slammed and clung. Felt like a zombie flick protagonist.
“No wonder the paths are so fucked. Designer turned the building into art—makes sense now. How’d you escape that maze?”
“Nurse I know helped. Found the 30-minute path in 3.”
“A nurse... Celebrities really are different, huh? Girls flocking to a stiff like you.”
“Hm? Celebrity? What’s that mean.”
“Kehehehe, you really don’t know? Better than yapping...”
Swoosh!
“See for yourself!”
Ian, grinning at the question, yanked open the thick curtains.
Whoosh!
“Ugh,”
Sunlight. Real sunlight, not hazy through dust—clear and blazing.
Strange enough, but below swarmed even stranger things.
[Guarantee the citizens’ right to know!]
[Disclose the status of hero Professor Park and BDSM!]
[Thank you for saving us! Get well soon!]
Never imagined his name before such phrases in life. Not even a speck. Too delusional even for fantasy.
“Th-that... what the hell?”
“Whoa, whoa. Don’t stick to the window.”
“No, what happened while I was in my room...”
Click! Shutter-shutter-click!
“It’s Professor Park! He’s finally shown himself!”
“Scoop!”
“Eheheheuk! Professor! Look at those bandages!”
“He’s alive! Alive!”
“Waaaaaah!!! ”
Sticking his face to the window in a daze brought a barrage of shutters and cheers.
“Tch. Told you not to stick.”
“That’s... for me? No other famous Professor Park here?”
“Yeah, dummy.”
Ian grinned, pulling a cigar naturally, then pocketed it under the fierce glare from a doctor on the Professor’s arm, and said,
“You’re famous. Not just famous—whole wasteland knows your name. Dome marketed it big-time.”
“Marketed my name?”
“Marketed? Poor word choice. We merely informed citizens who contributed most to saving the Dome in this war, and who collapsed from catastrophic injuries as a result.”
Someone picked up the Professor’s dazed mutter.
Turning, Inspection Division suits and a young girl entered. The tall pompadoured man in front extended a hand to the Professor.
“Heard the rumors, but first time meeting. Pleased, Professor Park, BDSM leader. I’m Alexander Young, Inspection Director, humble as it is.”
‘Alexander Young... Inspection Director!’
The Professor shook his hand, noting Azel and Ralph waving slyly behind. Director level—even he wouldn’t barge in casually.
“BDSM leader, Professor Park. You spread my name—any special reason?”
“Hmm. This’ll take time—shall we move? Nice cafe in the admin building. If you’re free...”
Researchers on his left arm growled, but the Director’s scowl made them slink off like kids losing a toy.
“Better to talk there. Too exposed here, too many ears.”
The Professor pondered the Director’s words, signaled Ian—who sat silently by Vex’s bed, knowing the plan.
He grabbed bedside scissors, sliced off the full-body bandages, stretched his freed body corner to corner.
‘Hm, all healed. Can bolt if things go south.’
Leaving researchers scrambling for bandage scraps in plastic bags, he approached the Director.
“Can’t the two behind hear? Familiar faces, more comfy. I’m a patient—stress is bad for me.”
“Hahaha. Tough, I’m afraid. Both fine agents, promotions lined up—”
“P-promotion! For real, Director—gack!”
“S-sorry!”
“...But perhaps better from me directly than underlings.”
Level. Treating him as Director’s equal. Honor. No rudeness refusing such deference.
“Let’s go, then.”
The Professor pocketed the bandage scissors slyly and followed the Director out.
***
“Expensive stuff okay?”
“Hahaha. Bear with us. Dome’s finances are wrecked post-war.”
“Actual Dome commander being stingy.”
“Bigger responsibility means harder work, no?”
“Hahaha, so noble—I’m at a loss.”
“Hahaha, too kind. Our Dome’s savior is too humble.”
Ralph wanted out now.
“Or-order...”
“Wait. Those two will decide.”
“Got it. That guy... He’s the one? BDSM—”
Smack!
“Working admin building... Thought you’d know what scenes to remember or ignore.”
Ralph’s quiet threat made the barista squeak and flee to the counter. Nerves frayed to popping. Dragged from near-burnout post-war cleanup—for this, Professor Park and Director meet—
“Caramel macchiato! Extra syrup! Kid, want anything? Boss, nothing for y—gyak!”
“Shut your voice, asshole! Can’t you hear them talking Director over there!”
With this lunatic too.
Azel, collared again by Ralph from ICU, choked out carrot cake and milk order, then lowered voice.
“Cough cough! Boss, overreacting? Professor’s not picky. They look cozy—could be a date.”
“Cozy? Not picky? You in Inspection?”
Smack!
“Ow! Why hit—ek”
“Voice! Please! Analyze their talk! How much subtext in a few lines!”
Ralph plopped Azel beside him, dissecting the Professor-Director exchange.
“Lost much, but Dome won. Right? Few tanks from Zeus, but Raptor Society territory shrinks long-term—huge gains. Professor nailed that on sitting: ‘Pay up.’ Director: ‘Need it ourselves now—tough.’”
“Uh... Wasn’t about buying coffee?”
“You...! Bought your Inspection exam?!”
Listenable so far. Worse after.
[Actual Dome commander stingy]
Boom!
Heart dropped.
1st-grade classified slipped casually from Professor’s mouth.
‘Execution Division fallen, admin passive—public favor down. Parliament collapsed, Dome moves by Inspection now. He knows, hits back [It’s all yours, so share]. Director admits, then... lost me.’
Ultra-political. Overhear and get ‘you know too much’ later—5 seconds in.
“Hmm... Fine. Vex survived spry—mercy for that.”
“Biotech chief said massive investment. Discharge today fine.”
“Truly... huge debt.”
“Hahaha! No. Eyewitnesses say your friends shone too. Exosuit bodycam footage—recommend viewing. Epic last stand; editing for community upload.”
Crunch!
Professor fiddled left hand, sly grin fading. Now, main topic.
Soft face hardened, edged tone:
“So why edit/upload our footage, hero-worship us?”
“You are heroes?”
“Honestly, I was pretty heroic. But separately, what’s the intent? Plenty in Inspection fought Raptors to the death—boosting them aids your power grab more. Recognition helps control.”
“We needed heroes.”
Unlike name Young, not young Director glanced at table-hogging left hand, said,
“Know why people flock to Dome?”
“...Justice?”
“Some, sure. Most not. Failures adapting to wasteland. Nostalgic weaklings accepting excesses for past-life guarantee. Days ago, Dome’s absolute peace promise shattered. Blackouts, shootouts in city, artillery outside, Old Picture rampage—Execution Division whole turned enemy, building ablaze.”
Flinch!
Professor averted eyes at burning building. Garage fire spread up—big blaze.
“Daily life crumbled, anxiety rooted. ‘Safe to work carefree? Learn to fight?’ Past week, exchange food/gun prices skyrocketed. Orchard crop rumor—turns out workers siphoned for black market. Tiny damage, yet prices soar, productivity drops.”
“So. To quell anxiety... me?”
Director affirmed Professor’s question.
“Comic-book stuff. Desperate crisis, black-handed man saves city solo! First report, thought agent crazy. Too unreal.”
‘Comic hero for uneasy citizens... This guy’s a sly fox.’
Director’s scheme sharpened.
Stimulating fantasy for masses: Old Picture replacement hero, ‘mighty protector’ always guarding.
“That community vid... Dome logo?”
“Big logo, looks official Dome footage.”
For sharper minds: Dome-posted vid of him, Ian, Vex crushing—shows BDSM-Dome close allies, new force smashing Raptor main.
‘Without my okay.’
Problem. Planned cozy with Dome post-Execution wipe—not like this. Announced alliance publicly sans word. Overt control play.
‘Felt off, went prickly—should’ve cursed more. Showed reaction clearly.’
File for later Director diss. Past now—petty to harp. Fine, I’m superstar. Superhuman Professor Park, barehanded Execution traitors, swept Raptor tanks.
[Technically true? Wow! Hero!]
‘Bullshit. Trigger pull doesn’t fire bullet. Barrel, ammo, bolt—all parts work. I just pulled.’
Hero treatment—ugh, goosebumps. Buy dead Inspection folks booze or something. Feels like stealing credit.
“That’s our side. Biotech pact—route visits through us. Parade prep time-sink.”
“Sneak over fence at night.”
“Must tighten security.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Ever-calm smiling Director drummed table, pondered, called waiter.
“Espresso, double shot.”
Surface goal: coffee. Meaning...
‘Talk conclusion. Double shot? Pricier than Americano—decent sum? 20 mil? 200 mil seals?’
Some effort promised...
Crunch, grind!
Professor, mimicking table drum—deep gouges—told startled waiter,
“Blueberry smoothie. Large. Spotless, no water drop.”
“Uh... No such drink on menu...”
“Nah, there is.”
‘Not for you—for Director.’
Fiddling wood chip ball, Professor beamed at flustered Director.
“Subtle coffee’s nice, but I prefer cool and sweet.”
First frown confirmed he got it.
Professor meant goods, not seals. Dome assets that size...
‘Exosuits or captured tanks. Suits security-locked. Gimme tank, punk. New ride home.’
“...Consult staff.”
“Quickly, please. Vex and I healed—want home.”
Professor grinned happily at Director’s cursing face.
***