"Who's there?!"
Huai Yu stood up cautiously, gripping the nearby multi-functional shovel tightly with both hands.
In that moment, she felt a twinge of regret.
The branches she'd just chopped had gotten soaked by the rain, making them too damp—so when she lit the fire, it produced too much smoke. That was why she'd lifted the door curtain.
Captain Zhou had gone out of his way to replace it with a waterproof, opaque tarp—meant to keep her safer in the dark—but now…
She'd also meant for the lean-to outside the treehouse to serve as a makeshift kitchen. But the cold had driven her to cook indoors. If she were outside right now, she could have at least run.
These seemingly minor details tangled together in her mind, weaving a growing sense of danger.
"Sorry," a low voice said from outside the door. "I was just passing by. I smelled something good… didn't expect there to be a, um, house here."
Huai Yu held her breath. My treehouse is built so nicely, and you're hesitating like that? But her wariness only deepened.
It was raining hard and pitch-black outside. The treehouse sat not far from the Rose Corridor, and with the shadows blending together, she could believe the man hadn't seen the structure in the dark.
But smelling the food from that distance…
She tightened her grip on the shovel.
The man outside let out a faint sigh. "Sorry. The scent of roasted soybeans is really strong. I've got 200 points—if you'd trade me some for that batch, would that be okay?"
Huai Yu wanted to say no, but he showed no sign of leaving. If he barged in, she'd be helpless to stop him.
As for the 200 points… right now, her life mattered more.
Torn, she finally said coldly, "Wait there."
The sizzling soybeans clattered into a bowl. Half a pound, dried and roasted, barely filled it. But as she carried the bowl to the door, it felt like she was holding a bowl of gold.
"I'll leave the bowl at the entrance. Take it yourself."
One hand still gripped the shovel. Her heart pounded like a drum.
As she approached the doorway, the firelight dimmed. She could just barely make out a tall male figure.
She crouched and set the bowl down carefully, then backed up two steps, shovel raised in guarded warning.
If the man bent down to pick up the bowl and stepped inside—she'd strike first.
Wait—huh?
Just as she'd knelt to set the bowl down, she instinctively looked up—and froze.
Under the pounding rain, the man standing outside the treehouse wore an all-white uniform. But it wasn't the soft kind of white; it was sharp and pristine, like snow. Even in the faint flicker of firelight, the fabric shimmered faintly with silvery threads.
The cut resembled that of the Defense Forces' standard uniforms, but with clear differences. Still, it was unmistakably regulation-issued.
Even his boots were unusual—armored, wrapped in what looked like hard metallic plating.
And most importantly—he wasn't carrying an umbrella.
Rain poured down in sheets, yet around him, it was as if space itself bent. Something invisible cloaked him—some kind of energy that shielded him from head to toe. He stood there, tall and straight, his features striking, his gaze full of apology and quiet helplessness.
And the most baffling part—
"Why… why aren't you wet?"
The rain still poured. But around him, an untouched pocket of stillness remained, as if the water dared not touch him.
Huai Yu stared, dumbfounded.
The man looked surprised. After a pause, he replied, "I'm water-type."
Oh? So this is what a water-type ability looks like? Huai Yu couldn't help but study him, her tension easing.
If he had such refined control over his power, he wouldn't need to ask nicely to hurt her.
A twinge of envy stirred in her heart.
"Water-type is that convenient? My raincoat and boots together cost me a hundred points…"
The man gave a soft laugh, then paused, seeming puzzled for a moment. He pointed to the bowl on the ground. "Is it alright to trade? If it sits any longer, the moisture will ruin the crispness."
Since he didn't seem like a threat, Huai Yu relaxed a bit. "Forget 200—20 points is enough. We'll split it. I haven't even had a chance to try them myself."
The man smiled, his pale face ghostly under the rain. "Are you offering that price just because of my uniform?"
"No need for that. These soybeans… they must be rare heirloom seeds, right? Not contaminated. Even 200 points probably couldn't buy them."
He hesitated, looking a little embarrassed, then added, "But… I really only have 200 left."
What?
Huai Yu thought, I didn't even try that hard. How did it end up uncontaminated? Can seeds be contaminated?
And what's with the uniform? Could he be a high-ranking officer in the Defense Forces? But why would someone like that only have 200 points?
She didn't ask. She just held out her wrist and set the trade amount. "20 points."
He hesitated, then gave a helpless smile.
But just as he reached out his arm, his expression suddenly shifted.
Without moving his body, the rain before him twisted sharply, forming into a translucent rope of water that slithered through the dark like a snake.
A sharp cry rang out moments later in the distance.
"Ahhh!"
Huai Yu turned pale.
The man turned back to her and said calmly, "It's alright. I'll check it out later. This area is close to the Rose Corridor—there can't be too much conflict, and it's best to avoid injuries or altercations."
He glanced warily toward the black mass of the Corridor, towering like a wall. "When mutation levels spike, those things get easily agitated."
Huai Yu: …That kind of thing? She couldn't feel a single fluctuation.
The man turned back to her. "You have powers, right? Wood-type? Very weak. A little odd. But I can sense it."
Huai Yu thought about it. She probably was wood-type. So others could sense abilities? Then how come she couldn't feel his?
She wanted to ask more—so many questions. But she was afraid of giving herself away.
The man spoke again:
"You chose to live here because of your high affinity with plants, didn't you? In that case, you really should work on being more cautious around people. In the Black Forest, a fire in the dark can be dangerous—for both you and others."
Huai Yu felt helpless. If it weren't for the wet firewood—and not wanting to smoke herself like cured meat—who would choose to leave the door open at night?
She pointed toward the distance. "What was that, anyway?"
"No idea," he said flatly. Then with a flick of his wrist, a figure was dragged from the darkness.
It wasn't until the body was dumped in front of the door that Huai Yu got a good look.
A middle-aged man. Hair cropped short. Drenched in mud, wearing a filthy, indeterminate-colored shirt and pants—once blue or maybe gray, now impossible to tell.
Yet even in such a sorry state, when he looked up at them, his eyes brimmed with fear and hostility.
He said nothing—because the water rope was still wrapped tight around his throat, cutting off speech. A welt, red and swollen, rose on one side of his face where he'd clearly been struck.
"Hmm," the man murmured, "an escaped convict?"