Chapter 52: Not a game

Before leaving, Rain had neatly put away every piece of equipment he had used. He had even thoughtfully restored the throw pillows and plush toys on the sofa to their original positions.

Unlike Arden, who had not only squashed the faces of her dolls but also turned every stuffed animal upside down.

This improved Bunny’s initial impression of Rain by several more degrees.

She wondered whether there was any method that could allow Rain to see the colors of the world again.

She went into her study and pulled out the thick volume The Latest Complete Guide for Guides. In the table of contents that stretched for more than a thousand lines, she carefully searched for any content related to repairing a sentinel’s spiritual sea.

Her bedroom was the largest in the entire base. It came equipped not only with a bathroom and a walk-in closet, but also with a private study and a fully enclosed balcony.

There was a loft on the second level, however, that she had never set foot in.

Rin suddenly appeared on the sofa chair opposite her. He seemed to have changed outfits again—an oversized deep-V wool sweater paired with coffee-colored dress trousers.

The cool-white groove of his chest muscles was faintly visible. He had even matched the look with earrings and a necklace in the same color palette, and his previous neat hairstyle had been replaced by soft, playful woolen curls.

Pure sexy-younger-brother style.

"Bunny, why don’t you just search the electronic books directly? It would be twice as efficient."

She rubbed her sore neck. "I feel that these older editions of the guidebooks might explain things in more detail."

Certain guidance methods that were too difficult, or carried high risk and were unfriendly to the guide, were usually mentioned only briefly in the newer editions.

Over time, the ways guides soothed sentinels had become increasingly superficial and limited. Bunny believed that any profession required continuous expansion of knowledge.

That way, when faced with all sorts of strange emergencies, one would not be left completely helpless.

Besides, this guidebook wasn’t even as thick as "The Count of Monte Cristo" she had used in university.

Rin noticed that she hadn’t paid any attention to the new clothes he had specially changed into. His expression dimmed a little.

He had thought she might like this style—after all, two of the flashy men in the base dressed like this every day.

"Perhaps you could ask me?"

Bunny lifted her gaze. "You know something?"

She propped her chin on one hand. A thick cascade of smooth, straight hair slipped from the shoulder strap of her pajamas. Under the warm orange lamplight, her snow-white skin carried a hazy, inviting glow.

Rin’s eyes widened involuntarily.

A burst of garbled current flickered through his core crystal chip.

"You haven’t asked me yet."

"There’s a sentinel who was born completely color-blind. I’m wondering if there’s any way to let him see color, even if only temporarily."

Rin rapidly searched his own database and came up empty. His database seemed different from that of other virtual beings; it contained many underlying code instructions set by his creator.

Yet he had never triggered a single one of them.

"My database is limited, but I can connect to the local network to expand the search range. Bunny, that will take some time."

She hadn’t held particularly high hopes to begin with. She nodded. "All right."

While working, Rin folded his hands, rested his chin on his elbows, and quietly watched her flip through the book.

Rin’s third underlying code: Accompany her. Make her happy.

"Her" referred to Bunny.

***

"New Calendar Year 908 – April 12

Today is the tenth day since I arrived in the 616. I have roughly memorized all the sentinels’ names and their general personalities, including my new friend Rin.

Guidance work is not particularly strenuous for me. I hope I can pass every course assessment soon so that I can leave the tower and fight alongside the sentinels."

— From Bunny’s diary

Today’s lessons were tactical communication and emergency medical care, taught by Xander.

The class was not held in the training bay but in a multimedia conference room.

She arrived early and waited. Xander finished morning training and arrived exactly on time.

These sentinels were remarkably self-disciplined; their energy seemed inexhaustible. Compared with them, a low-energy person like Bunny felt that even breathing required effort.

Beside them she was like a clumsy little bird, yet she was already doing her best to catch up to their pace. The genetic and physical gap between guides and sentinels was truly a chasm.

The moment Xander entered, he removed his training jacket, revealing the tight combat undershirt beneath. Muscles surging with hormones filled her vision, stretching the fabric into excessively full curves.

He closed the door and locked it as well. The sharp click of the lock was unusually clear in the sealed room. Bunny tensed at once.

"Xander, why are you locking the door?"

He offered her a gentle smile. "I don’t want anyone interrupting our private time together."

He gestured for her to return to her seat and activated the holographic display.

A soft, eye-friendly blue interface appeared. Xander handed her a cup of hot cocoa that he had asked Sunny to prepare in advance.

Everyone said guides liked sweet things.

She took a small sip. The warm, bittersweet flavor melted across her tongue and chased away much of the morning drowsiness.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome. When you’re ready, Bunny, we’ll begin the lesson."

She opened her notebook and listened with serious concentration. That upright, model-student posture was almost endearing.

The corner of Xander’s mouth lifted by the width of a single pixel.

Teacher and student... he seemed quite willing to play this kind of role-play as well.

"Tactical communication, also known as tactical messaging, is the precise, secure, and real-time exchange of purposeful information conducted under high-pressure, dynamic, and complex conditions in order to ensure operational coordination."

"In actual combat, precise and effective communication allows your teammates to immediately understand what you intend to do, how they should coordinate with you, and to transmit intelligence accurately."

Xander slid the laser pointer to the next page. "Tactical communication is mainly divided into three categories: offensive, defensive, and special-environment combat messaging. Information must be delivered rapidly, accurately, securely, and without interruption."

"Bunny, have you ever had any combat experience?"

The named Bunny froze for a second, then answered weakly, "Does military training count?"

That damn instructor had made her stand in the sun for five full hours practicing military posture, insisting her salute looked like that of a puppet soldier.

Xander did not reply. He simply opened a teaching video.

The holographic 3D combat footage was produced on a cinematic scale, so realistic it felt as though she herself were standing on the battlefield.

"Hiss—hiss—hiss—!"

Deafening alien roars, the storm of gunfire, and the sharp chatter of soldiers’ communication radars crashed over her eardrums like a piercing tsunami.

Boom—!

A high-explosive grenade detonated right at her feet. Severed alien limbs and shredded flesh, as if put through a meat grinder, scattered before her eyes and dissolved into a spray of blood mist.

Her ears rang. She stared wide-eyed at the corpse-strewn, blood-soaked battlefield. The thick stench made her stomach churn violently; she could barely hold back the urge to retch.

Xander had not yet played the second half of the video, which was even bloodier and more brutal.

"Bunny, combat is not a game."

He studied her reaction with those always-cold, glass-like eyes. It was already clear that she had never set foot on a real battlefield.

"Aliens move at speeds beyond your imagination. Their five senses are especially sensitive to changes in temperature and sound. Even a single nervous breath can allow them to pinpoint your hiding place with perfect accuracy."

Bunny nodded. "I’ll study hard."