They gave her the feeling of being treated like a child who received praise from adults for obediently taking their medicine and recovering quickly after being sick.
Mira didn't speak but offered a smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw herself on the screen, now wearing a beautiful, comfortable white dress made of soft fabric. Her long hair was down, scattered on the bed. When she first arrived, her hair wasn't this long, but after eating the fruits given by Mochi and friends, it had become smooth, soft, silky, and reached her thigh. No matter what she did, it wouldn't get tangled, which was why she hadn't cut it. Long hair is usually hard to comb, but hers was always smooth, thanks to Mochi; her purification abilities also served as a cleanser.
After the doctor finished the examination, a kind-looking elderly man, about fifty or sixty years old, approached her and introduced himself, "Dear Miss Guide, I am President Morse of the Guide's Management Committee."
Mira looked up at him. Meeting her gaze, President Morse immediately offered a friendly and reassuring smile as he poured her a glass of water. The first time they saw her, they were all amazed by her beauty. It wasn't an exaggeration to say she was the most beautiful woman they'd ever seen: her fair skin and delicate yet enchanting face were like a mixture of an angel and a seductress. It was amazing how two contrasting types of beauty mixed perfectly in her: so pure, yet like a temptress, with exquisite, elfin features, and thick, seaweed-like hair that fell behind her head, making her face appear even more elegant. She looked frail and pitiful—pitiful yet pure; everyone present sighed inwardly, seeing an innocent girl who knew nothing of the world.
"Please rest assured, we will do our best to find the person who harmed you, and no one can threaten your safety now." A young man standing next to President Morse could hardly contain himself as he comforted the beautiful guide before him. Judging from his uniform, similar to the president's, it was easy to tell they belonged to the same organization. And judging from the fact that the people coming in were either doctors or members of the Guide's Committee, she surmised she was now in the White Palace.
Just as she had this thought, there was a knock on her door. A stern-looking military officer stood in the doorway and said in a cold tone, "We need to ask the female guide some questions."
The President wanted to say something but didn't. Turning to Mira, he wore a kind face. "We'll come to see you later. Don't worry, nothing will happen; it's just some questioning." President Morse's instructions were earnest, but perhaps out of a desire not to scare the newly found guide, they didn't mention any information about the questioning. In other words, from the moment she woke up until now, she was still completely unaware of her current situation.
But just before they were about to leave, perhaps swayed by her pitiful appearance, the young man who had taken a liking to Mira at first sight muttered again, "The Federal Alliance is too harsh! She still needs to undergo some check-ups. How can she go to questioning?"
Mira was not anxious. She wasn't from this world, so if she said she couldn't recall where she came from or why she ended up in that place, even if they investigated, they'd find nothing. Also, she was a precious female and a guide on top of that. She had so much privilege that no matter what happened, she wouldn't be killed or imprisoned, so what was there to be scared about? Before this, she had thought about what the consequences would be if her identity were discovered. After all, she was an unregistered person with an unknown identity.
The military officer, a rigid figure in a crisp uniform, stepped into the room, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned Mira from head to toe, lingering for a moment on the silken cascade of her unusually long hair. "Miss," he began, his voice devoid of warmth, "I am Admiral Eroz. I have a few questions regarding the circumstances of why you're stranded on that Dark Planet."
President Morse and the young committee member exchanged uneasy glances. The room, previously filled with a semblance of gentle concern, now felt charged with unspoken tension. Mira, however, remained composed, her expression a serene mask that betrayed none of the turmoil within. She understood that this interrogation was inevitable, a necessary step in solidifying her fabricated identity.