The Creature Keeper - chapter 30

This was a mysterious creature that once could only be seen in fantasy stories, a figment of people’s imagination. Encountering the Mermaid this time finally proved that ten years ago, she hadn’t simply had a bizarre dream.

It seemed that the Mermaid was always saving her life, both in the past and now.

Tang Rou felt an infinite fondness for this species rising from the depths of her heart.

She suddenly asked on a whim, “Do your tears turn into pearls?”

The Mermaid looked up at her, seeming unable to understand the question.

She asked again, “I’ve heard that eating mermaid flesh can grant longevity and even bring the dead back to life?”

The Mermaid smiled, her pale eyes shining brightly in the darkness. “Do you want to try?”

Tang Rou thought for a moment and asked tentatively, “Isn’t that inappropriate?”

“…” Her voice rose slightly. “Do you really want to try?”

Tang Rou laughed, soothing the ruffled Mermaid.

The Creator was truly unfair, giving her unparalleled beauty and then bestowing her with a voice that could bewitch the heart.

In the latter half of the night, the temperature dropped even lower.

As time passed, Tang Rou began to feel drowsy. She went from sitting at the table, to lying down, to resting her head weakly on her arm. The Mermaid felt the temperature of Tang Rou’s knees under her arm gradually rising. Her body warmth was comforting, so different from the cold seawater, and the Mermaid liked it very much.

However, gradually, this warmth began to feel wrong to the Mermaid. She frowned and looked up to ask, “What’s wrong with you?”

Tang Rou fluttered her eyelids, raised her hand to touch her forehead, and sighed, “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever? What does that mean?” the Mermaid asked in confusion.

Was it her heat period? Had she reached mating season? Do humans have mating seasons too?

Tang Rou had no idea what the Mermaid was thinking. She patiently explained, “It means I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?”

The Mermaid repeated softly.

She sat up, reached out, and imitated Tang Rou’s gesture, pressing her palm to Tang Rou’s forehead.

Tang Rou was burning all over, tormented by the heat. Her clothes dried and dampened again and again, cold sweat sticking to her back. Suddenly, the Mermaid’s cool palm pressed against her, and she felt a bit more comfortable.

She gave a weak smile and winked at the Mermaid. “Your hand is just like a fever patch.”

“Does this make you feel better?” she asked sincerely.

“I don’t know.” Tang Rou lay there with her eyes closed for a while, then suddenly remembered something and opened the drawer. Inside was a packet of fever medicine.

Without hot water, she had to pinch her nose and swallow it down with cold water. After drinking it, her consciousness grew even more hazy.

She was exhausted, her thin spine jutting out, and her uncomfortable sleeping posture made her frown even in her semi-conscious state.

In her haze, a shadow slowly grew taller.

The other reached out, slipping her arms under Tang Rou’s knees and back, and picked her up. Tang Rou felt herself being gently placed on the sofa.

In the darkness, someone was watching her intently.

Tang Rou turned over, curling up on the sofa like a wounded kitten hugging her legs. This was the posture a fetus adopts in the womb, usually appearing when one feels insecure.

Was she feeling insecure?

The Mermaid lay beside her, feeling confused.

What could she do to make Tang Rou feel safer?

Those emotionless eyes revealed a hint of puzzlement. Like a mammal in this world, she lay beside Tang Rou’s legs, unconsciously mimicking her posture, curling her arms and burying her head between them.

What is a sense of security?
These creatures have never lacked a sense of security, nor do they need it; in their eyes, emotion is a false proposition.

As his will grew dim, things changed ever so slightly-the injured fish tail began to heal itself, even though this would be a long process.

The unconscious self-protection mechanism made the Mermaid appear somewhat different.

His hair gradually suffused with a strange golden glow, like the phosphor dust scattered on butterfly wings. Outside the glass wall, in the deep blue sea, the Jellyfish came and went, returned again, and began to tap the glass wall with its graceful tentacles, this time more frenzied than ever before.

Number Four was extremely anxious, completely abandoning its previously gentle demeanor, attempting to make some noise.

However, the Jellyfish’s tentacles were so soft, and as a soft-bodied organism with over 90% of its body composed of water, it was impossible to awaken the two people sleeping in pain.

Meanwhile, in the glass chamber of the Hotdan Virus Research Center, hundreds of kilometers away, the Expunged Ones dredged up from the sea were gradually changing.

Yamada was once again awakened from sleep. When he hurried to the observation area, he was stopped by the Security Officer stationed outside.

“Colonel, you’d better not go in.”

Through the door, one could faintly see several places where the thick glass wall of the observation area had been smashed, as if someone inside had tried to break out. Yet everyone knew these were bulletproof, high-density reinforced glass-no human could break them in a lifetime.

So what exactly happened?

During the conversation, several people carried out a stretcher; a severely injured Researcher was being taken away, blood trickling from her neck, one side of her scapula torn, her arm nowhere to be seen.

The Security Officer continued, “Thirty minutes ago, they lost control, became extremely agitated, and attacked many staff members.”

As the stretcher passed by Yamada, he saw that the female Researcher had a sharp, round dot on her forehead. She had not lost consciousness, but looked dazed and severely frightened.

“What happened to her?” Yamada asked. “What caused that mark on her forehead?”

Someone handed him a thin tablet, playing surveillance footage. Yamada saw that at a certain moment, those people collectively lost control and fell into a manic state.

They pounded and attacked the hardened glass with their limbs and teeth, even smashing their skulls against it. All of this seemed normal-their vital signs still matched those of the ‘human’ species.

However, a horrifying scene unfolded.

Suddenly, a woman’s neck split open, forming a structure similar to lips, but what emerged from the opening was a long, hard, ugly mouthpart.

Her hardened, mutated, sharp fingers instantly scratched a crack into the glass. She repeatedly and frantically rammed into it, and soon, with a crisp shattering sound, the glass splintered like a spiderweb and fell to the ground.

When the staff in white coats rushed over, they found the window broken and the mutated humans standing in the corridor, moving strangely. Terrified, they tried to flee, but it was already too late.

The mutated woman moved with astonishing speed. In an instant, she pinned a Researcher to the ground, and her long, piercing mouthpart stabbed into the experimenter’s forehead at an indescribable speed. Like a mosquito sucking blood, she used her sharp beak to extract the poor Researcher’s brain matter.

A staff member nearby said, “We performed autopsies on the deceased Researchers and found that their brain tissue had disappeared, leaving their skulls hollow.”