Chapter 29: Eisenburg (9)

Seraphina stared into Mili’s evasive yet stubborn eyes for a long moment before nodding.

“If you insist, then let’s go see.”

She led Mili down from the central tower via elevator, switching to an armored vehicle.

The driver, a grizzled middle-aged man, straightened his lazy posture upon seeing Seraphina, starting the engine.

Mili glimpsed a shotgun embedded in the driver’s door…

“To the slums,” Seraphina ordered.

“Your Majesty, really going there?” the driver asked through the rearview mirror.

“She wants to see.” Seraphina replied coolly, buckling Mili’s seatbelt.

The driver nodded silently.

The vehicle traveled along a wide road for a while before conditions worsened.

Asphalt turned to dirt, smooth streets became pitted paths, the armored car jolting heavily, forcing Mili to grip the handrail…

Buildings grew shabbier—brick structures gave way to low, ramshackle tin shacks…

Through the bulletproof glass, Mili saw another world—

Ragged people shuffled through narrow alleys, clothes patched and faded beyond recognition…

An old man slumped against a wall, his cloudy eyes staring into the distance, as if waiting for someone who’d never return…

Stalls lined the roads, selling scraps: worn parts, unidentifiable plant roots, crude tools carved from mutant bones…

All strewn haphazardly on tattered cloths.

Faces bore exhaustion and numbness, like hollow shells of the living dead.

Children played by garbage heaps, building tiny fortresses from scrap metal and broken parts…

A few frailer kids gathered around a murky puddle, scooping water with a battered iron ladle.

A girl, maybe seven or eight, with visible burn scars on her arm, carefully wiped dirt from a younger child’s face…

“Why… don’t they leave?” Mili whispered, her expression dazed.

“Leave? To where?” Seraphina countered. “The outside world is far more dangerous.”

“—Here, at least, they don’t fear being eaten by mutants or enslaved by raiders.”

She handed Mili a handkerchief: “The air’s bad here. Cover your nose.”

“…”

Mili took it, catching the faint scent of Seraphina’s fragrance…

It felt oddly uncomfortable.

The vehicle stopped in a relatively open clearing.

Once a small plaza, it was now overrun with makeshift shelters, a chaotic, crowded market.

The air reeked of garbage, gasoline, and unidentified chemicals… Mili’s eyes stung as she opened the door.

As Seraphina stepped out, people dropped to their knees, murmuring.

“Your Majesty!”

“Thanks to Your Majesty’s grace!”

“Long live Your Majesty!”

Mili watched, stunned.

These impoverished people worshipped Seraphina so fervently…

Their eyes held no resentment, only gratitude and awe, as if she were a god who’d saved them from ruin—their reverence reminiscent of ancient subjects before a monarch…

“Get up,” Seraphina waved. “Go about your business.”

The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving one elderly man.

His back hunched, face wrinkled, eyes cautious yet respectful.

His clothes, though worn, were cleaner than others’, a crude iron badge pinned to his chest.

Likely the area’s overseer or village head…

“Your Majesty, this month’s deaths were thirteen, all elderly or infirm…”

“Five newborns, all healthy, handed to medical staff for basic checks…”

He reported hoarsely, voice strained.

Seraphina nodded: “Food rations?”

“Distributed per standard—800 grams of nutrient paste and one liter of purified water per person daily. No one’s starving…”

“Also… active workers received extra protein supplements, as per your… huff… reward standards…”

The old man panted slightly, his health clearly frail.

“Good. Keep it up.”

Her tone remained casual, as if discussing routine matters.

The elder trembled, fearing a misstep.

Seraphina glanced at Mili by the door, then pulled a small package from her pocket, handing it to him: “For the children.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty! The kids will be thrilled!” His eyes lit up with surprise.

Soon, a commotion arose nearby.

Under a dim plastic tarp, a gaunt man, all skin and bones, clutched something, arguing with soldiers at a ration point.

His eyes were sunken, cheekbones sharp, face stubbled.

“Please, my wife’s sick! She needs food…” His voice broke. “Just one nutrient paste! Please!”

“Rules are rules,” a soldier replied coldly. “Daily rations are fixed. No extras.”

“I took an extra one yesterday for her…” The man nearly knelt. “I’ll trade anything… please, anything!”

The soldier snatched the item back, shaking his head, signaling him to leave.

The man clung to the soldier’s arm.

“Let go!” The soldier shoved him off, and he collapsed.

Seraphina turned, her gaze sharpening.

She strode over, pulling Mili along.

“What’s going on?” Her voice froze everyone.

The soldier saluted: “Your Majesty! He stole extra food yesterday and came back demanding more today.”

The man saw Seraphina, hope flaring in his eyes.

He crawled to her feet, hands trembling.

“Your Majesty, please! My family’s starving!”

She looked down, her gaze eerily calm.

“What’s wrong with your wife?”

“Gray… gray mist infection. She hasn’t eaten in three days…” he stammered.

“Gray mist infection?” Seraphina repeated, standing. “You should’ve wasted less food. She won’t last long.”

The man’s face drained of color.

“How much did you steal yesterday?” she asked.

“One… one nutrient paste…” His voice shook harder. “I searched for doctors, spent everything… just wanted to give her a bit more…”

“Why not apply for special rations?”

“I… I thought… it wouldn’t get approved…” He lowered his head. “I was afraid to report, scared of rejection…”

Seraphina went silent for a few seconds, then looked at the soldier.

“Give him an emergency ration.”

“Yes!” The soldier grabbed a nutrient paste and purified water from the station.

The man took the food, tears streaming.

“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you!”

But Seraphina wasn’t done—

“From the end of your confinement, your work points are halved for a month.” Her voice stayed flat.

“Lucky guesses have consequences.”

The man’s face paled further, bloodless.

But he didn’t argue, just nodded repeatedly.

“Y-yes… Your Majesty…”

“Let her go comfortably.” Seraphina pulled a capsule from her pocket.

“Painkiller. It’ll ease her suffering temporarily.”

He took the capsule with both hands, eyes wet. “Thank you, Your Majesty…”

“As for the theft…” She glanced at the soldier. “Handle it per regulations.”

The soldier nodded, raising his rifle butt.

This time, the man didn’t resist, clutching the painkiller, curling up on the ground.

The butt struck, and he grunted, passing out.

“Take him to the medical point for basic treatment, then three days’ confinement after he sees his wife,” Seraphina added.

“Send her some relief meds.”

The soldier nodded, complying.