"Dan Heng, I got you a deluxe bathtub—auto-fill, auto-heat."
"What's the catch?"
"While it's heating, the junk leaks electricity."
"No matter. I like cold water; no heating needed."
Dan Heng studied the pop-up luxury tub… and pondered.
A bath wouldn't hurt. It doesn't look like junk at all; just pull the plug and it won't electrocute me. Not that he feared a shock—who enjoys a random zap?
Soaking in the cool water, Dan Heng washed away days of fatigue. Leaning against the rim, eyes closed, he finally let his nerves uncoil.
The temperature sat squarely in his comfort zone.
Weird company, but the benefits are real.
Or rather, the boss is no ordinary person.
Caelus… Dan Heng felt he knew nothing, remembered nothing, yet Caelus seemed intimately familiar with him and March 7th—down to the color of their underwear today.
Still, best not to dwell on it.
Dan Heng reached for a book.
These too were "junk" Caelus had collected; some might be priceless sole copies.
One bore a scribbled signature—Zan something, first something—the ink too blurred to read.
He picked up a famous title and opened it.
The cover was a wreck, the pages pristine.
Perhaps Caelus's "junk" simply meant flawed yet functional.
Turning trash to treasure?
Rather eco-friendly.
"If the universe is solvable, it must lead to one ultimate question."
"Existence of the solution precedes the solution itself."
His mind gradually calmed.
March 7th strolled past Dan Heng's cabin, stretching, her light steps halting at a dangling plug. It hung in mid-air, as if accidentally knocked loose.
"Huh? Why's this unplugged?" She tilted her head, a pink strand falling, puzzled. In her world, devices need power—something must be loose.
"So careless," she muttered, stepping forward and picking up the plug without hesitation.
"Loose? Let me fix that."
She aligned the prongs and pushed firmly.
Click. The plug seated flush. Instantly, current surged, rousing the "luxury bathtub" that should have stayed silent.
The water remained placid, its chill keeping Dan Heng alert.
Then, without warning, numbness burst from every inch of skin touching the water, racing through his body.
Bzzzzzzzt!
—
"March, next time… uh, ask before you plug things in," Caelus coughed.
Dan Heng was fine—just upgraded to Electric Boy.
"Sorry, sorry! I'll be careful…" She clasped her hands, eyes squeezed shut, unable to look at him.
"Forget it. Just don't plug anything outside my room next time."
Dan Heng shook his head.
March 7th nodded like a pecking chick, face screaming "I didn't mean it!"
"One more thing—don't touch the junk I stashed in the high-risk zone."
Caelus produced a strange device, slowly spinning.
Celestial Suppression Final Weapon—zetton
"What is that?"
"A bio-weapon, freshly salvaged. Dangerous—don't touch."
"Bio-weapon?" March 7th half-stepped back, cyan eyes wary yet curious. "Is it… alive?"
"Fifty-one percent bio still counts as bio-weapon."
"What's its name?"
"zetton. Full title: Celestial Suppression Final Weapon zetton. Function: annihilate all matter within 200 light-years. A higher-dimensional life-form—deployed, it dwarfs our warship."
Caelus explained.
This thing's from the new Ultraman.
"Captain," Dan Heng said, voice lower, "keeping something like that on board… isn't it too dangerous?"
Even a one-in-ten-thousand chance of activation would be catastrophic.
"It's safest with me." Caelus wagged a finger. "You'd rather it sat somewhere else?"
Dan Heng: …This thing makes void-collapse pulses look tame. Annihilate everything within 200 light-years—so vast it outstripped March 7th's imagination; she just sensed it was "super scary."
But Dan Heng knew exactly what it meant.
Two hundred light-years could span a dwarf galaxy.
Not affect—obliterate.
"As long as no one fiddles with the hidden switch and inputs the specific frequency, it stays dormant."
Caelus carefully pocketed zetton.
"Toss it back and some unlucky—or malicious—passerby might grab it. That's disaster. With me, at least I know what it is."
Dan Heng fell silent. Rationally, it was madness: storing a galaxy-buster in the living quarters.
Yet instinct from days of observation told him Caelus, though erratic and flamboyant, wasn't reckless. His attitude toward these "junks" felt less like carelessness than absolute mastery.
"I'll remember your warning," Dan Heng finally said, temporarily accepting it, though his gaze at "zetton" remained razor-alert. "Remember, you're not alone on this ship."
"Relax. Even if it activates, it needs my command to unleash a one-trillion-degree fireball."
March 7th, curiosity trumping fear, asked, "Captain, is it… cute when deployed?"
Caelus choked, recalling files: "Uh… not by conventional standards. Black-yellow stripes, glowing head-lamps, horns, and a roar of 'Zy—done—'—silent or not, it reeks of menace."
"Oh…" She sounded disappointed. "Sounds not-cute."
"So no worries. The day I fish out a space-time eraser bomb, then we're really doomed."