Working Records in a Weird World - 37

 

| WRIAWW | Congratulation On Asking For Death | 37

"Hello, are you there any bodies ready to be transfer to the morgue?"

After the exchange in the elevator, Zong Le had fully grasped the urgency of the situation.

True to his nature, he naturally took on the responsibility for the group. So, as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, while the others were cautiously observing their surroundings and staying alert for any weirds, he had already intercepted an NPC doctor who had just come out of the operating room, getting straight to the point with his question.

Having just finished a surgery, the doctor was clearly exhausted and not in a good mood: "Can't you see for yourself? Isn't that it on the operating table?"

"Seriously, if we knew the person was going to die, what was the point of performing the surgery? What a waste of medical resources..."

Ignoring the grumbling doctor, Zong Le looked into the operating room.

It was evident that a surgery had just concluded there. The shadowless lamp hadn't been turned off yet, casting a warm light on the body lying flat on the operating table. Even so, it couldn't mask the look of terror on the corpse's face, nor the bloody, unstitched abdominal cavity that had been gutted.

"Where did her organs go?"

Seeing the empty abdominal cavity, Zong Le grabbed the doctor who was trying to leave: "What kind of surgery requires removing organs?"

Faced with the cold, sharp questioning from the black-haired young man, the doctor was momentarily intimidated by his presence, he opened his mouth but couldn't find any words to respond. 

Just then, Director Dong from the operating room happened to come out of the doctor's lounge and, seeing the scene, immediately frowned.

"Which department are you from? How dare you make a scene at the operating room entrance?!"

Oh no! Whether they were assigned to the morgue or the operating room, the survivors all thought the same thing.

In this ?-level mission, they were all non-combatant workers. Whether they could get the director's signature depended entirely on their mood, and offending them was absolutely out of the question.

However, Director Dong had already spotted the ID badge on Zong Le's sterilized uniform.

"Oh, Employee No. 052, from the morgue."

Seeing this, the director picked up her phone, ready to call security to file a complaint: "A cleaner responsible for receiving corpses dares to cause trouble in the operating room? Quite the bold one, aren't you? If I don't teach you a lesson, it would be a blow to my reputation, I, Dong Xianghua..."

"Director Dong."

Before she could finish speaking, a soft, spring-like voice interrupted him.

Everyone turned to see a silver-haired man with blue eyes slowly emerging from the operating room.

He wore a warm smile, exuding a strange, soothing charm.

"This friend and I have crossed paths once before. This time, it was a thoughtless mistake, an unintentional offense. With Director Dong's broad-mindedness, I’m sure you won’t hold it against a junior, right?"

As Joshua removed his mask and hood, revealing his strikingly beautiful face, Director Dong’s cloudy eyes lit up.

It had to be said, among the new arrivals, he was the most satisfying. His appearance perfectly aligned with his aesthetic preferences, so much so that she had even allowed him to enter the operating room as the lead surgeon. She had hoped to find some fault to exploit and manipulate him.

Director Dong’s gaze, which made one’s skin crawl with discomfort, slowly swept over Joshua, lingering on his rare ice-blue eyes. She murmured, "Yes, you’re right."

"Since he’s my colleague, I’ll handle this."

Despite being subjected to such a vile and greedy scrutiny, Joshua seemed unfazed. Instead, he gave a slight bow.

"Fine." For the goods she had his eyes on, Director Dong tugged at the wrinkles on her face, feigning tolerance.

But anyone who thought this old hag was easy to deal with would be sorely mistaken.

Just as the surgery was about to begin, a low-level survivor who had angered her was dragged away by security, and his whereabouts remained unknown.

The survivors watched Director Dong’s retreating figure, only exhaling in relief once she disappeared into the duty room, their faces still pale with fear.

"Lord Joshua! Thank goodness you were here!"

"Yes, it’s all thanks to you, or the consequences would have been unthinkable!"

Amid the chorus of praise, only Bai Shao remained still.

While others might not have noticed, from his perspective, he could see that the Patriarch’s gaze had been intently focused on that talented newcomer! The thought that his worst suspicions might be true filled him with anguish.

Xue Heguang looked at Zong Le with a headache. "Why did you charge in again without a word?"

He realized this guy couldn’t be praised, it always went to his head.

"If it weren’t for 1st stepping in just now, you’d have been in big trouble."

Just as Xue Heguang was determined to lecture him, Joshua suddenly interjected, "It’s not his fault."

"He stepped up when needed, which is more commendable than being timid."

Whenever 1st spoke, his words carried a natural authority.

With just a few words, the tension dissipated, and Xue Heguang stopped scolding him.

"You should thank 1st. If that old hag had her way, you’d be in deep trouble."

Feeling the silver-haired man’s gaze on him, Zong Le instinctively became alert.

In some ways, he was like a strange animal, strictly adhering to the labels he assigned to people. Unfortunately, Joshua fell into the "bad guy" category. Besides, he hadn’t needed anyone to save him, if he wanted, no one could touch him.

But 1st had indeed helped him.

Even though he could feel the coldness in the other’s gaze, it was an undeniable fact.

Reluctantly, Zong Le muttered, "...Thank you."

"No need to thank me. It was just a small favor."

Gazing at the black-haired young man, Joshua slowly curved his eyes into a smile: "The body you're here to collect is in the operating room. You can just wheel it away."

"Got it!"

"Thanks, boss!"

The man watched their movements, his monocle hanging from a silver chain, his eyes filled with a gentle smile, exuding an air of grace and composure.

No one knew what kind of cold, merciless heart lay beneath that beautiful exterior, one that regarded all living beings as mere lambs.

Joshua, of course, did not possess the kind of warm-heartedness that would drive him to rush to someone's aid when they were in trouble. When the conflict erupted, he had been lurking in the shadows of the operating room's doorway, watching the spectacle with great interest, waiting for the perfect moment to make his elegant entrance.

His method of intervention was highly skillful, using minimal effort to achieve maximum effect. With just a few words, he defused a potentially major crisis. From Joshua's perspective, the survivors who had been standing there moments ago had their numbers rise slightly because of his actions.

Except for Zong Le.

The black-haired young man stood there boldly, his expression indifferent, he was completely unmoved by Joshua's act of assistance.

Indeed, that was the case.

Even as the other man brushed past him, entered the operating room to wheel out the body, and then took the elevator to leave, the number above his head remained steadfastly at zero, not budging an inch.

This unusual scene left Joshua puzzled.

Under normal circumstances, anyone who had been listening in the prayer room would have developed at least some degree of hatred.

He had encountered survivors who knew his true nature before. Qin Ye, the president of the Watchtower Guild, was a prime example.

Even someone like him, who was well aware that Joshua was no saint and understood the details of the Eros Code, couldn't keep his emotions entirely stable. His feelings would fluctuate from time to time due to various events.

However, Zong Le's emotional value remained steadfastly at zero.

In the Eros Code, zero is an exceptionally unique value.

It signifies neither fondness nor hate.

It's as mundane as seeing a flower, a tree, or a blade of grass by the roadside—utterly unremarkable and devoid of any emotional ripple.

Would anyone feel any emotion towards a plant? No.

Because plants are not beings capable of engaging in dialogue on an equal footing with humans.

But why is this the case with this little mouse? Even if he's a prodigy among newcomers, surely he wouldn't be so arrogant as to consider himself a god, would he?

As Joshua pondered this, he watched the group from the morgue leave the surgical floor.

Having gone through some unknown emotional turmoil, Bai Shao now looked ashen, his eyes filled with panic. Most notably, the precarious value above his head finally "clicked" and fell below the 60-point threshold, settling at a glaring 59.

Joshua: ?

"Bai Shao..."

"My lord, I'll go prepare the sterilization equipment for your next surgery!"

Before Joshua could finish his sentence, Bai Shao bolted like a mouse spotting a cat, making an excuse to hastily depart.

Watching the retreating figure, the shadow in Joshua's blue eyes deepened.

The Eros Code divides every 20 points of emotional value into distinct categories. Zero signifies a stranger, 20 a slightly familiar passerby, 40 a trustworthy friend, 60 an unquestioning follower, and 80 a devoted fanatic.

For Joshua, anything above 80 was a mark of successful brainwashing. Followers with an affection value above 80 could be commanded at will. He only needs to say a few words and they would go through fire and water for him.

Yet Bai Shao had plummeted from near-fanatic 80 to 59 in one fell swoop.

If the previous sharp drop occurred during a mission, perhaps due to something Zong Le said, causing the affection value to plummet.

Then what about this time? 

Joshua had been standing right beside them, ensuring there was not a single exchange between the two, not even a glance. Under such circumstances, how could Bai Shao's affection value still drop?

The intriguing part of this matter was that, while he knew who the culprit was, the unknown reason behind it only fueled his curiosity.

What kind of power could produce such an immediate effect? Would it work the same way on other followers?

Simultaneously, a growing sense of murderous intent arose.

Another S-level follower, Tao Buxin, who had been quietly standing guard nearby, softly inquired, "My lord, are you troubled by something?"

Joshua did not hide his perplexity, as evidenced by his prolonged stillness.

Women are naturally more adept at sensing emotions, and as a fanatic with an affection value exceeding 80, reaching as high as 95, it was her duty to observe the Patriarch's expressions. After all, there were very few things in this world that could trouble Joshua's brilliant mind.

"Indeed, I am somewhat troubled," the silver-haired man sighed, his saintly visage showing profound compassion. "Buxin, you must understand, as the Saint, it is my duty to rescue any lost lambs in the infinite space."

He lowered his gaze, his slender fingers gently caressing the cross on his chest: "However, with the ultimate dungeon now open, many variables have exceeded my expectations. Bearing such a heavy responsibility, I must conceal my decisions in the mist and many of my actions cannot be explained or justified to others..."

Upon hearing this, Tao Buxin immediately knelt on one knee, her voice solemn: "My Lord, there is no need for others to understand or need of any explanations. Your principles are forever engraved in the hearts of our Temple Army, and we will not allow any mistakes. Even if the world does not understand, we will carve a path for you! Please, give us your orders!"

See, this is the attitude a proper lamb should have.

Even without reasons, without cause, without questioning the consequences, they will blindly follow the shepherd's guidance.

Joshua's lips curled with satisfaction.

"Do you remember that black-haired survivor, the one with the surname Zong?"

His voice was as gentle as if he were discussing the morning dew on a rose, rather than sentencing a living person to death.

"Get rid of him."

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