Chapter 30: Am I on duty tonight?

Olivia pressed her fingertips against the cold brick of the wall, moving forward one step at a time.

Her bare feet touched the wooden floor, each step pausing to confirm the next wasn’t a staircase.

The hem of the oversized shirt brushed against her thighs, the sound of fabric scraping amplified several times in the absolutely silent hallway.

Her silver dragon perception spread wide in the darkness.

Not through her eyes, of course, but through her skin, her eardrums, those senses that lay dormant in human form, reaching out to touch everything around her.

On the other side.

The door to the duty room pushed open.

Prunier walked in carrying an enamel cup, steam rising from the rim.

Her red twin tails were tied looser than usual today, the ends hanging in front of her shoulders, swaying with each step.

Hui sat at the duty room’s Federation-made iron-frame desk, a ledger and several reports spread open in front of him.

The sleeves of his dark long coat were rolled to his elbows, revealing two sharply defined forearms.

His half-black, half-white hair formed a clean line under the duty room’s fluorescent light, as if measured with a ruler.

Prunier set the enamel cup on the desk, pulled out another folding chair, and sat down.

The chair legs scraped against the floor with a harsh screech.

She crossed her legs, letting her fuzzy slippers dangle from her toes.

“By the way.”

She blew on the steam rising from the cup.

“Am I on night duty tonight?”

“Yes, Chief.”

Hui turned a page in the ledger without looking up.

“Didn’t you say before that you wanted to experience my post?”

“That was when I was drunk.”

“But you did say it.”

“Do words said when drunk still count?”

“They do.”

Prunier stared at Hui’s expressionless face for a moment, then set the enamel cup down on the table with a clank.

“Fine, they count.”

Two drops of hot water splashed onto the iron desktop.

Hui wiped them away with a cloth, his movement as fast as a reflex.

“You really should rest, Hui. Staying up this late every night. You’re the vice chief, not a night security guard.”

“Thank you for your concern, Chief.”

“I’m not concerned. I’m afraid you’ll drop dead in the duty room and leave no one to manage the accounts.”

“Wei can take over the accounts.”

“Wei?”

Prunier’s mouth twitched.

“If she takes over the accounts, the entire brigade’s funds will turn into explosives ingredients within three days.”

“You’re right.”

“So you have to stay alive.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Prunier took a sip from the cup.

Silence filled the duty room for a moment, broken only by the rustle of paper as Hui turned pages, and the low hum of water pipes from somewhere at the end of the corridor.

“However, Chief.”

Hui looked up.

“You should try to save electricity.”

Prunier raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Didn’t you say last week that we needed to cut down on electricity expenses?”

“…Did I?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last Wednesday night. After you’d drunk half a bottle of vodka.”

Prunier opened her mouth, then closed it.

Last Wednesday night—she had been drinking.

She didn’t remember why.

Probably because she got stuck in a game.

She had no memory of what happened after that, but if Hui said it happened, then it did.

Hui’s memory never failed.

“Fine, fine.”

She waved her hand.

“I won’t use any more electricity after I finish this cup of hot water.”

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“No personal items in the duty room.”

Hui’s gaze fell on the small cloth bag beside Prunier’s hand.

Prunier followed his eyes, looked down, and immediately clutched the bag.

“Wait.”

“Chief.”

“You can’t take this away.”

“Regulation Seven of Duty Rules.”

“I know the rules! But this really can’t—”

Hui’s hand was already reaching out.

The movement wasn’t fast, but it was precise as a robotic arm.

Two fingers pinched the bag’s handle and pulled.

Prunier’s hand was empty.

“That’s my instant noodles.”

Hui placed the bag into the cabinet in the corner of the duty room, closed the door, locked it with the key, and pocketed the key.

The whole process took less than five seconds.

“I’ll return it to you after your shift ends.”

The door clicked shut.

Prunier sat on the folding chair, staring at the closed door, her red twin tails hanging in front of her shoulders.

The hot water in the enamel cup let off its last few wisps of steam, looking lonely and forlorn under the duty room’s fluorescent light.

“Fine. It’s just one night.”

Then the light went out.

Not a gradual dimming—a snap, like someone had cut a switch.

The entire duty room plunged into absolute darkness.

Even the moonlight outside was blocked by clouds, leaving not a single trace of light.

Prunier sat in the dark, holding the enamel cup in both hands.

The hot water had stopped steaming.

“Huh? Power outage?”

Her voice was unusually clear in the darkness.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be a power limit? Why is it gone so fast?”

No one answered.

“Hui?”