Chapter 412: Miracles and Magic Do Not Exist
In the end, Warfarin still couldn't get the truth out of Steven about how Specter had been cured.
"I really don't get where you pull all these bizarre tricks from. If you can pull that off, why don't you go take a look at all the infected here too?"
Warfarin stared helplessly at the boy pretending to play dumb. She didn't even know how to evaluate him anymore. At this point, she was one hundred percent certain that this guy absolutely had the ability to completely cure Oripathy. The only question was whether he wanted to.
"I am looking after them. Ever since I came to Rhodes Island, have you seen a single infected Operator die from Oripathy? If that's still not enough for you, then you're just being greedy."
Steven spread his hands, answering without hesitation. His conscience was perfectly clear on this matter.
"But you could clearly save even more people… ah, never mind. I'm not in a position to say something like that."
Warfarin rubbed her temples.
He wasn't wrong—not at all. From beginning to end, he had been helping Rhodes Island. Blaming someone because their kindness wasn't sufficiently grand was nothing more than ugly greed.
"So what? I can save Rhodes Island. Does that mean I'm supposed to save every infected on the entire continent? Just say you want to work me to death."
Seeing her fall silent, Steven sighed and, for once, decided to explain seriously.
"Let me be blunt. Yes, I can cure infected people. But I can only cure them one by one. Even ignoring the question of whether I have enough time, think about it—this ability exists only in me. Do you really think it's possible for me to spend all my days doing nothing but curing the infected?
"Or better yet—do you think the people of this world would allow something like me to exist? A walking panacea?"
"To put it simply, I can only save individuals. If you want to cure the entire group known as the infected, then it has to come from all of you—the medical and research teams. Don't put all your hopes on me. What you need to do is far more important than what I can do alone."
Now that he'd become an investor in Rhodes Island, Steven didn't mind saying things more openly. This was how he felt toward the medical staff who dedicated their lives to curing Oripathy: if true salvation was to come, it had to be achieved by the people of this world themselves—not shoved onto an outsider like him.
Relying on miracles was useless. Better to create miracles with one's own hands.
Of course, concerning whether he could cure every infected person in the world… Steven had lied a little. At the moment, yes, he could only heal people individually. But that didn't mean things would stay that way if he decided to… switch on certain Mods.
But doing that would bring endless trouble—and Steven had absolutely no intention of inviting that kind of chaos into his life.
Still, the bowl of philosophical chicken soup he fed her worked wonders. The tangled expression on Warfarin's face slowly faded, and once her doubts were cleared, she returned to her usual carefree, airheaded self.
Yes—when she thought about it carefully, Steven was the one and only exception that had ever appeared on Terra since ancient times. And he had already made it clear: his ability to cure the infected came from his own mysterious power, not from anything that could be called medical science.
That meant the efforts of researchers like her were not in vain. Their direction was simply different.
They were the ones carrying the mission of saving all the infected. How could they rely forever on an impossible-to-duplicate anomaly like him?
Kal'tsit had long told her how unusual the boy was. Warfarin understood perfectly that trying to replicate Steven's abilities would be even harder than conquering Oripathy itself. Instead of chasing that fantasy, she was better off figuring out how to squeeze some benefits out of him while she could.
His abilities couldn't be copied—but that didn't mean they couldn't be referenced.
"Fine. In the end, you're just scared of trouble. But even if you won't explain things, I can still come ask for help when I hit a wall, right?"
"Naturally, that's no problem. And also—please pass what I said earlier to Kal'tsit. I don't feel like explaining everything twice."
Steven waved a hand. Knowing how Warfarin and Kal'tsit were practically elderly besties, he knew she'd definitely be reporting Specter's recovery to Kal'tsit sooner or later. If he didn't have her pass along his explanation too, he'd have to deal with Kal'tsit interrogating him for hours.
"Hmph. Depends on my mood. Someone, after all, pretended not to see his dear friend in mortal peril. That debt? I still remember it clearly."
Warfarin chuckled, raising her brows in a bratty little-princess way as she grinned at him.
"Heh. Next time you're strung up on a hook, I'll sneak you water. Promise. You'll go up weighing ninety pounds and come down at least a hundred and twenty."
"Oh? Then I guess I should thank you in advance?"
"Obviously."
Then she blinked. "Anyway, what's the actual business? You clearly didn't come here just to joke with me."
Steven had no intention of letting her go that easily. After all, he had come looking for film actors—and he'd already reserved a role for Warfarin in his mind. So he went straight to the point.
"About that—do you have free time these days? I might need a little help."
"Free time… well, I've got plenty at night. My research work is mostly finished during the day, and we haven't had new patients recently. I can probably spare a few days. So go on—what do you need?"
"Perfect. It's nothing serious. I simply want to invite you to participate in a movie shoot."
"Huh? A movie?"
"Yes. Something like… Twilight, maybe? As for payment—you can name any condition that isn't too excessive."
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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