Herta (the familiar small Herta image) was impatiently tapping her fingertips on the control panel.
"So slow, that Stelle..." she muttered, adjusting the complex data streams of the simulated universe before her.
When Stelle walked in distractedly, Herta didn't even turn her head: "You're here? If you're here, hurry up, don't waste my time."
She completely failed to notice the strange expression on Stelle's face.
"Um, Ms. Her-Herta..."
Stelle cautiously approached, "May I ask... is our Space Station... clean lately? Like, no ghosts or anything?"
The Herta Puppet finally turned her head and scanned Stelle up and down with an expression like she was looking at unrecyclable trash: "Did a Dimensional Pufferfish ram your brain? What nonsense are you spouting?"
"No, really!"
Stelle grew a little anxious, gesticulating wildly, "I really saw it just now! Over there in that storage room! A woman wearing a big hat, she waved her hand like this—whoosh! Hey! Guess what, one of your precious puppets disappeared! Then she looked at me, and whoosh, she was gone too!"
She mimicked the way the purplish-red data stream dissipated.
Upon hearing this, Herta couldn't even be bothered to roll her eyes; she simply turned her head back to stare at the screen: "You're hallucinating. And what's with that accent of yours? I suggest you go to the medical bay and get your head checked. Stop talking nonsense and come over for the test."
Stelle was speechless. Seeing Herta's impatient look, as if saying, "If you talk any more nonsense, I'll dismantle you for research," she could only temporarily swallow her myriad questions, muttering softly, "But... a real living person... oh no, a real living puppet really disappeared..."
Her voice wasn't loud, but the Herta Puppet's tapping on the control panel paused.
"What did you say?" The small Herta's voice suddenly became serious. "What puppet disappeared?"
"Just... the one in that storage room..." Stelle hadn't even finished speaking.
The Herta Puppet's eyes instantly lost focus, as if the internal "soul" had been instantly drawn out. She remained frozen in place, in the posture of tapping the control panel, like a true puppet.
"Ms. Herta?"
Stelle curiously leaned closer; it was her first time seeing Herta "disconnect" so suddenly.
She couldn't resist reaching out her "perverted hand" and poked the small Herta's smooth cheek—it felt really good.
"Slap!"
Her hand was abruptly slapped away.
The small Herta, now "online" again, no longer had any trace of her previous nonchalance. Her artificial eyes gleamed with extreme seriousness, fixed intently on Stelle.
"Hey,"
Her tone was unprecedentedly grave, "Tell me everything you just saw, every single detail, from beginning to end, without missing a single word!"
She had just instantly checked the status and connections of all the puppets in the Space Station—indeed, one backup unit's signal had completely vanished without her knowledge.
Perspective shift.
In the pure white System Space, Baiheng, like a thieving little fox, tiptoed, looking back every three steps, until she reached the large black door emanating an ominous aura.
She looked back in the direction Madam Herta had left, confirming that the imposing "Master" was indeed gone, then cautiously extended her hand and pushed open the heavy door.
A chilling aura rushed out, starkly different from the purity of the System Space.
Baiheng shivered, her snow-white fox ears perked up vigilantly, and she walked down the winding spiral stone staircase, step by step.
The sound of her high-heeled boots on the stone steps was amplified in the silence, making her heart pound.
Finally reaching a platform, she hid behind a huge black energy barrier, cautiously poked out half her head, and looked down—
Sure enough, the pink-haired maiden was still entangled by countless thick, dark chains, suspended in mid-air.
Up close, the sense of helplessness and desolation was even more palpable.
The dried blood on the maiden's face and the faintly visible wounds beneath her torn dress made Baiheng's heart ache.
"So pitiful..."
Baiheng murmured, her azure eyes filled with sympathy.
Combined with the plot about Amphoreus and the Golden Descendants that had just been forcibly crammed into her mind, she was even more convinced that this maiden named Cyrene was by no means a bad person, but rather, like herself, had been caught in a great tragedy.
"That Lygus... he's really too wicked!"
She couldn't help but condemn him in a low voice.
Suddenly, she noticed another staircase at the edge of the platform, seemingly leading down to the circular "coliseum" below.
After a moment of hesitation, sympathy ultimately triumphed over fear.
She walked down the stairs even more cautiously.
The closer she got, the clearer the sadness and despair surrounding Cyrene became.
Baiheng could even see her slightly trembling eyelashes and the tiny cracks on her pale lips.
Just then, Cyrene, who had been lowering her head, seemed to sense an unfamiliar presence and slowly raised her eyelids.
Those azure eyes, like a clear sky after rain (though much dimmer now), looked at the uninvited guest with a hint of bewilderment and wariness.
'Who is she?'
A trace of doubt flashed through Cyrene's mind.
The maiden before her had rare snow-white long hair, a pair of fluffy white fox ears on her head, and seemingly a similarly snow-white Tail behind her, gently swaying uneasily.
Her eyes were clear, filled with undisguised concern and a touch of timid curiosity, completely different from the previous presence that exuded cold majesty, even carrying a hint of "malice" that made her heart palpitate (Madam Herta under Aha's filter).
Cyrene had an accurate eye for people; she could feel that the essence of this fox-person maiden was pure and kind, like... like an unpolluted clear spring.
Baiheng felt a little embarrassed under Cyrene's gaze. She noticed that the other party's eyes lingered on her ears and Tail for a moment, her cheeks flushed slightly, but she still plucked up her courage and spoke in the gentlest voice possible:
"Are... are you alright?" Her voice, with the Foxian's unique softness, sounded especially warm in this eerie environment.
Cyrene blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
She didn't speak, just tilted her head slightly, as if examining Baiheng more closely. The wariness in her eyes faded a little, replaced by stronger curiosity.
Seeing that the other party didn't seem to reject her, Baiheng grew a little bolder.
She took a small step forward, looking up at Cyrene, who was suspended in mid-air, her brows tightly furrowed: "These chains... they must hurt a lot, right?"
She imagined the feeling of being bound and suspended like that and couldn't help but shiver.
Cyrene remained silent, but her gaze flickered slightly.
Hurt? Perhaps.
But compared to the physical restraint, the shattering of hope and the despair of powerlessness within her heart were far deeper pains.
"My name is Baiheng,"
Seeing that she didn't answer, Baiheng introduced herself proactively, trying to bridge the distance, "I'm... uh, I was brought here by 'that person'."
She was too embarrassed to directly say "Master." "And you? Your name is Cyrene, right? I... I know a little bit about you."
Hearing the name "Cyrene" spoken by the other party, the pink-haired maiden's body imperceptibly tensed for a moment, and her eyes once again held a trace of scrutiny.
Baiheng quickly waved her hands: "Don't misunderstand! I'm not a bad person! I, I just..."
She racked her brains trying to explain, "I just feel that you shouldn't be treated this way. That Iron Tomb... uh, 'that person'... she..."
She was about to say "she might be a bad person," but then remembered that Madam Herta had, after all, saved her, so she swallowed her words, her expression conflicted.
Cyrene watched her eager to explain, her face flushed, and a hint of softness seemed to flicker deep in her eyes.
She could feel that Baiheng's kindness was sincere.
"You..."
Cyrene finally spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse, dry from not having spoken for a long time, yet still retaining its original clarity, "Are you not afraid of her?"