It seemed as if silence descended all of a sudden. The noisy surroundings vanished. Everything proceeded in an orderly manner, without pause: infusions continued, disinfections progressed, bandages were wrapped. The infirmary operated as normal. Now, even the usual sounds of breathing had disappeared.
Everyone appeared to be bowing their heads, concentrating on their work. But secretly, they couldn't help but perk up their ears, the fiercely burning flame of gossip hidden in their eyes. Especially one Sublimator, who pretended to be asleep—his ears were practically twisting to the back of his head...
There was no helping it. Some things, from the age of eight to eighty, everyone loves to eavesdrop on, no matter how serious a person they might be. The person involved personally recounting their inner journey—what a novel scoop! How could one not covertly listen, to console oneself for all the hard work in Hell?
"So, about the kid—"
