Ark of the Immortal

There are no traces on the wooden floor except for some small particles left by fried fish.

It seems that the wood of the Alk is also made of extremely strong wood.

?

449. Lift the curtain

What's today's date?

Today is the fifth day since our voyage, and it is now 5:41 pm Terra time.

Scout showed the watch on his wrist to Greyhound.

The numbers above clearly show the current date and time.

Scout leaned back on the bed, sighed, then put away his watch and continued to close his eyes.

I told you, Greyhound, don't ask me stupid questions like this again. This is the sixth time you've asked me such questions today. This is not the state you should be in.

Greyhound has been asking Scout about time since yesterday.

This made Scout look a little upset, as if he was being affected by the greyhound.

Greyhound naturally also saw that Scout was not in a good mood now, and knew that what he had done was a bit annoying.

Sorry, I do...

The greyhound walked back to his bed from Scout a little confused, and then lay on the bed, staring at the familiar ceiling above his head.

He has been here for five days, but these five days feel like five months have passed.

It's not that time really flies by so fast, but there is an inexplicable panic that makes him unable to settle for the status quo.

It was obviously time to rest now, but the gray dog ​​still couldn't fall asleep peacefully.

It was the same thing yesterday. After coming back in the evening, Greyhound patiently read an entire book. Then when he looked back at Scout, he subconsciously wanted to ask him about the time.

In the end, there was still no question.

So he lay down on the bed again and tried to close his eyes and rest.

But not long after he closed his eyes, he felt that he had woken up. When he woke up and opened his terminal, he found that only one hour had passed.

He couldn't fall asleep again, so he kept his eyes open until dawn.

After Scout woke up, Greyhound once again couldn't help but ask Scout about the time.

What's today's date? What time is it now?

Under such torture, Scout reported the current time to Greyhound over and over again.

Scout even said bluntly that if Greyhound continued like this, he might discuss changing rooms with Kelsey.

Maybe even mention it to check the greyhound's mental state.

Greyhound himself knew that the problem was huge, but he had not found the source of the problem at all.

Logically speaking, the dream has ended, and he successfully left in the dream. Now he should be ready for the final battle with the Lord of Dreams.

But he couldn't calm down at all.

Scout glanced at the time, then stood up and said to Greyhound.

Dinner starts at six o'clock. I'm a little hungry. Do you want to go to the cafeteria together?

No need, what's wrong with the food cooked by the chef sent by Rhodes Island this time?

Greyhound glanced at Scout, and what he subconsciously said made him a little amused.

What's going on? I remember this conversation happened yesterday...but it feels like a long, long time has passed.

But to be honest, yesterday's fried fish and beans did taste good, and thanks to the sweet and sour sauce, the greyhound ate a few more bites, so he wouldn't roll over in bed with hunger at night.

It's up to you. I'll go first. I'll make sure you try Rhode Island's special nutritious meal later.

So, Scout turned around and left the room, heading to the cafeteria.

After Scout left the room, Greyhound felt that time passed even slower.

I tried to sleep for a while with my eyes closed on the bed. After finding that it had no effect at all, I still had the idea of ​​going to the cafeteria.

After all, there are more people over there, so if I go there, I won't feel so bored sitting in the room.

So, he picked up the terminal, closed the automatically opened screen, and went to the cafeteria.

Before he closed the screen, the time displayed in the upper right corner of the screen was.

Six and three.

Just like before, when Greyhound came to the cafeteria, the weirdness and uneasiness in his heart finally subsided a little.

He skillfully picked up the plate and came to the side to get his meal.

Today's meal is still fried fish and beans, even the same sweet and sour sauce as yesterday.

Why is it fried fish again?

Greyhound couldn't help but complain.

“Which Victorian chef is reemployed in Rhode Island?”

Want some sauce?

The Rhode Island operator shook the spoon in his hand and asked Greyhound.

Of course, thank you. Please help me make more sweet and sour sauce.

The gray dog ​​responded politely, and then after picking up the plate and turning around, he saw W again in a familiar position.

It was only at this time that Greyhound could always see W sitting alone at a large table, and no one wanted to get close to her to learn about her past.

So Greyhound skillfully came to W, patted her shoulder gently, and then threw the plate on the table.

Hey, it's another person.

W paused for a moment before cutting off the fried fish, and responded without raising his head.

Um.

Ignoring the familiar conversation, Greyhound cut open the fried fish, dipped it in a roll of sweet and sour sauce, and put it into his mouth.

This flavorless, pure sweetness and sourness gives greyhounds pure joy.

At least you can have something sweet while eating fried fish. After all, it’s impossible to get you special sugar on the ship to take care of your mood.

W’s eating hands are still very fast, and a piece of fried fish cannot survive for more than a minute in her hands.

You ate so fast today, what are you doing in a hurry when you go home tonight?

Greyhound couldn't help but ask.

W raised his head, still chewing fried fish in his mouth, and his cheeks were moving, which was quite cute.

She waited until she swallowed what was in her mouth before she spoke.

It's nothing, but it's more comfortable to be alone than in a depressing place like this.

W inserted another piece of fried fish, before she put the piece of fish into her mouth.

She looked at Greyhound with some caution, and then warned him.

Don't ask me what time it is. You have asked me once every day for the past two days when eating. I almost thought it was some strange ritual code.

Ha... not anymore, not anymore.

Greyhound quickly waved his hand, indicating that he would not ask such a stupid question.

W then buried his head in peace and continued eating fish.

The gray dog ​​chewed the fried fish in his mouth boredly, chewing for almost half a minute without swallowing.

The sweet and sour sauce was almost broken down by the saliva, and Greyhound even felt that after chewing the fried fish, it smelled like the Patch soup he had drank before.

Weird thing, I always feel like I've had the same drink on the boat in the past two days.

Greyhound subconsciously searched for it in his memory. But after searching for a long time, I couldn't remember when I had taken the medicine.

By the time Greyhound came to his senses, W had already stood up with the plate in hand.

Greyhound ignored W.

But the knife on W’s plate seemed to be stained with some grease. When W stood up with the plate, he slipped off the plate.

Greyhound subconsciously raised his right hand to avoid the attack of the knife, and watched helplessly as the knife bounced twice on the table.

Then the blade slid down the edge of the table again, the blade pointed downwards, and hit the floor hard.

Ding ding ding...

The knife swung on the ground a few times and calmed down.

Before W could ask Greyhound, Greyhound bent down and helped W pick up the knife from the ground.

Thanks.

W said thank you to Greyhound.

But when Greyhound got up, he kept staring at the knife in his hand, dazed.

Greyhound?

W didn't know what was going on with Greyhound, so he could only call him again.

Greyhound finally came to his senses and put the knife in his hand back on W's plate with a smile.

What's going on? Why can the knife fall?

How do I know? Some oil probably fell down.

W didn't care about this simple issue.

When you're full, I'll go back to the room first. Come on, eat slowly.

Watching W put the iron plate in his hand on the recycling table, Greyhound turned back and stared at the knife and fork in his hand.

I don’t know why, but the gray dog ​​completely lost his desire to eat at this time.

He seemed to have caught something, but nothing.

After thinking for a long time with no result, Greyhound could only continue to cut the fried fish in front of him, finish it hastily, and return to his room.

Later in the evening, Greyhound restrained himself from asking the time until he picked up a book familiarly and planned to read it again.

Scout returned to the room.

The same time as the previous few days, Scout also came back at this time a few days ago.

According to Scout, he had something to help Kelsey, so he would not go back to the room directly after dinner.

When Greyhound saw Scout coming back, he spoke.

Scout.

Don't ask me about the time. Everything else is easy to tell.

Before Greyhound could ask, Scout said directly.

What do you want to know? Just ask.

Greyhound choked, he really wanted to ask what time it was.

But Scout's words just stopped him.

There was no other way, Greyhound just wanted to find someone to talk to, so he simply asked casually.

What does Kelsey want from you these days? Speaking of which, I haven't seen Kelsey yet. What's going on with her?

Scout has nothing to hide from Greyhound.

After putting the documents in hand on the table, he sat on the bed and skillfully picked up the books placed on the bedside.

While turning the pages, he spoke.

There are some documents that I need to go to the last two floors to get. It is said to be the experimental equipment Kelsey needs. One elite operator is not safe, and too many are inappropriate. In the past few days, I have been forming a group with Logos to get some from the lower floors. thing.

Didn't you say you're not allowed to go to the lower level? It's very dangerous.