[Five District: Underground Hospital]
Ransom leaned against the corner of the facility, arms crossed, eyes slowly sweeping across the people underground. Since the place was wide, with rooms like a real hospital, it accommodated all the injured.
He could count the fatally injured on his fingers, while the rest only had minor injuries. It was only natural that there was more room in the facility. Moreover, those who had previously stayed here had moved elsewhere—unless they had more in-depth medical knowledge. In that case, they were oathed to stay and help, just in case the number of patients increased.
"For a doctor to be idling in a corner like this... surely you’ve already gotten your quota of professional fees, huh?"
Long approached Ransom, earning a brief sidelong glance from the latter. He stopped beside him, leaned against the wall, and slipped a hand into the pocket of the white lab coat he had just put on.
As Long took out a flask and chugged another mouthful, Ransom glanced at it. However, he said nothing and shifted his attention back to the scene before him.
"They left, by the way — Looney and Tomie," Long said, hissing at the liquid he had swallowed. "And there are more people here now, from other towns. Some fighters, but mostly evacuees."
He shot Ransom a knowing side look. "Fortunately, those people are carrying necessities we could use. So they’re not just dead weight taking shelter here now that the war has broken out."
"The war in this place broke out long before our arrival," Ransom muttered after a moment of silence. His observant eyes remained on the residents, watching how some women quietly tended to the remaining patients.
Unlike when they had first arrived—probably an hour ago—their faces had cleared up just a little. It wasn’t just the dirt that was gone, but the fear as well. The exhaustion was still there, but they no longer looked hopeless.
"They can smile," Long pointed out as he watched the quiet scene. "And they can hope. That wouldn’t happen at the beginning of a war. You’re right. The war had already long broken out, and tonight is its final act."
Ransom arched a brow slightly as he shot him a side-eye. "You sound certain it’ll end tonight."
"Heh. Of course I am."
"Have you never been in a real war before?"
The smile on Long’s face faded slightly. "Are you saying this isn’t a real war?"
"..."
"Let me ask you," Long continued. "Have you ever lived in a place like Ravah before?"
Ransom didn’t answer.
He had been born and raised in the secret society. And although there had been infighting in the past, it was nothing like this place.
"The next time you ask me about a real war," Long hummed calmly despite the bluntness of his words, "ask yourself whether you’re even qualified to decide what counts as one. Because I may phrase things differently, but these people have suffered long enough to stop caring which war is real and which isn’t."
"That’s not what I meant," Ransom muttered. "I apologize if it came across negatively."
Long raised a brow, then stifled a dry laugh as he shook his head. "Why are you even working with her?"
"What does that mean?"
"Looney is cray-cray," he said, drawing circles beside his ear. "Someone like you—who apologizes that easily—doesn’t seem like the type who’d stick around her. You won’t survive if you work with her with that kind of attitude."
Deep lines formed on Ransom’s face as he studied Long. After a moment, he exhaled.
"Not with her," he corrected. "For her... for now."
"Meh, same thing," Long shrugged. "But I’m more concerned about her sending more people here. It took me years to stock this place, and my supplies won’t last if the entire region comes knocking. I’ll run out long before she pays everyone’s medical bills."
Long continued rambling about money and supplies as if that were the most important issue. Though it sounded more like he was making sure he remembered what to bill her later.
Ransom kept watching him. After a while, he finally voiced the thought that had been bothering him.
"You seem to trust her fully."
Long stopped mid-sentence and raised his brows. He blinked innocently, facing Ransom.
Ransom cleared his throat. "You seem... to trust her," he repeated. "It makes me wonder why you sound so certain this war will end tonight, and that she’ll win."
Long didn’t respond right away, more surprised than contemplative. After a second, he tilted his head.
"I don’t trust that psycho," he said bluntly. "If there’s one person I wouldn’t trust in this world, it’s her. Hell, I’d trust the governor—an openly corrupt liar—before her."
"And yet you entrust your life to her."
"I don’t." Long shook his head, chuckling. "You’re misunderstanding something. I don’t trust her, but it’s true that my life depends on her. The reason I’m not afraid isn’t trust—it’s because she doesn’t want to die yet. And the only way they’d come after everyone else is if they dealt with her first."
"Besides," he added, peeling his gaze away, "trust is different from respect. I can respect her values, but I can’t trust her not to scam me."
He paused to take another swig. "I’ve noticed you don’t really know the person you’re working for. So let me tell you this."
He shot Ransom a knowing look. "She doesn’t care about your opinion or your feelings. But she will come after you if you screw up and cost people their lives."
"That applies even more when she considers you her own. No matter what, you know she’s gonna come to your rescue," Long added as he pushed himself off the wall. Without turning back, he said, "Swallow that regret and guilt you’ve been leaking everywhere. It doesn’t matter now. If you truly want to make it up to her—for whatever you did, said, or thought—be useful."
Long paused and glanced back. "That’s the only way. That sulking won’t."
With that, he walked off, leaving Ransom alone in the corner. Ransom exhaled deeply, staring after him.
Was it really that obvious? That he was here, regretting how he’d judged Lola—how he’d expected her to be dead weight? That he hadn’t trusted her until now, when her presence had already changed everything?
"Be useful," he whispered, nodding slowly. His posture straightened, eyes burning with determination. "I’ll apologize to her later."
Perhaps ask for punishment.
With renewed purpose, Ransom returned to work, checking on the remaining patients.
As for Lola—little did she know that by the end of this mission, something dreadful awaited her.