Chapter 8: Above the Dome
Mili stared at the sumptuous meal on the table, her stomach growling uncontrollably.
She circled the table once, then darted to the bathroom to wash her hands, splashing water to scrub the dust and grime from her small face.
After drying off with a towel, she returned to the table and sat down.
She didn’t touch the glistening cutlet, instead tearing off a vegetable leaf, folding its stem and nibbling at it delicately.
As if struck by a thought, Mili pinched off a piece of bread, hesitatingly dipping it into the soup…
Was this how it was done?
She lifted the soggy bread, carefully tucking back stray hairs to keep them from the broth, then awkwardly lowered her head, bringing it to her mouth.
“Cough!”
The hot soup absorbed into the bread’s pores scalded her.
“Eat slowly,” one of the guards at the door suddenly spoke, her voice mechanical and cold.
“The Queen said you can’t get sick.”
Startled by the voice, Mili nearly choked.
She tapped her throat lightly with a small fist to swallow, then looked up at the female guard, searching for any hint of kindness in her expression.
“Um… have you… eaten yet?” the girl asked softly, trying to sound friendly.
The guards remained stone-faced, treating her question like air.
Mili sighed, giving up on conversation.
These people were like Seraphina’s shadows…
Cold, silent, and unnerving to behold.
She resumed eating, occasionally glancing at the stack of books in the study, her heart sinking further.
She wasn’t just far from a genius—she was, frankly, a hopeless dunce.
Mili was a socially anxious shut-in with no talent for these things, barely grasping the basics…
How could she possibly study all this for that terrifying woman in one night?
Forcing the impossible was an understatement, wasn’t it?
Halfway through her meal, she grew restless and went to the study, hauling the books to the table and spreading them out.
Fundamentals of Old-Era Botany
Crop Cultivation Techniques in Arid Regions
Seed and Soil Science…
Oh.
She was done for.
This was terrifying.
The mere sight of the covers made her dizzy.
Mili pushed them all aside, slumping over the table to finish her meal glumly.
After dinner, she paced the room idly to digest, increasingly aware of the faint sour stench and stickiness clinging to her.
Days of wandering and hardship had made her forget what cleanliness felt like.
Now, with the chance, she wanted to scrub herself clean from head to toe.
She stepped into the extravagantly spacious bathroom.
The white porcelain tub gleamed almost reflectively.
Snow-white tiles lined the entire room.
On a rack, soft towels and a set of fresh, loose cotton pajamas were neatly folded, their texture silky to the touch.
Mili shed her tattered, filth-stained clothes, revealing the body beneath…
Looking up, she met the gaze of the girl in the mirror.
The figure was so frail a gust could topple her.
Her skin, pallid from chronic malnutrition, bore a sickly gray hue.
Her collarbones jutted sharply, her ribs starkly visible, as if they might pierce through her skin at any moment, fragile enough to snap with a touch…
Her limbs were as thin as fresh twigs, wrists and ankles delicate, veins faintly visible.
Her lusterless cheeks were slightly sunken, her face held together only by delicate bones, like a deflated doll…
Her dark, matted hair spilled messily over her shoulders, tangled like a bird’s nest, accentuating her frail, emaciated frame.
Only her sky-blue eyes, now misted with steam, shone with an even clearer, more innocent clarity…
—Yet they carried a weariness and confusion beyond her years.
Was this… her now?
Mili turned away, unable to look at the girl in the mirror any longer.
Sighing, she saw the tub was filled and sank into the warm water.
Curling up in the bath, the ripples washed away the dirt accumulated on her skin.
As the hot water enveloped her shoulders and knees, much of the chill faded, but her small face flushed an unhealthy red from the steam, her frail, helpless appearance even more pronounced.
Some time passed.
After her bath, Mili wrapped herself in a towel larger than her entire body, stepping barefoot onto the cold tiles.
When she opened the bathroom door, she found the table cleared of leftovers and dishes.
The two female guards who had stood at the door were gone, vanished without a trace.
The room was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of her bare feet on the floor, unsettling her.
She resignedly dried her dripping hair with another towel—long strands were such a hassle to manage.
At the bedside, Mili picked up the thinnest book, Fundamentals of Old-Era Botany, and climbed onto the soft mattress, teetering as she crawled to the innermost corner of the bed.
No choice.
Short as she was, she had to make do.
The other books were incomprehensible.
She’d just go through the motions.
She gathered all the pillows and blankets around her, building a small fortress in the corner, wrapping herself into a cocoon with only her head and the open book peeking out.
Mili tried to focus on reading, but exhaustion surged like a tide, amplified by the comfort of her bath, making her eyelids unbearably heavy.
The text blurred, twisting into distorted symbols dancing before her eyes…
Unknowingly, the book slipped from her loosened fingers, falling lightly onto the bedding without a sound.
Her head drooped, resting on the fluffy pillow, her breathing growing steady and soft as she sank into deep sleep.
Directly above Mili’s room, in a hidden observation chamber.
Seraphina stood silently, her gaze piercing through the transparent reinforced glass floor, taking in every detail below.
The girl’s every move in the room was crystal clear to her eyes.
From her cautious eating, to her clumsy flipping through agricultural tomes, to her awkward demeanor in the bathroom…
And finally, her curling up in the bed’s corner, fast asleep.
To Mili below, the ceiling was indistinguishable from any ordinary metal dome, betraying no hint of light or anomaly.
But to Seraphina, it was the perfect one-way observation window—
Soundproof, yet revealing everything below.
“Evelyn, how much have we uncovered about her movements before she entered [Oasis]?” Seraphina asked without turning, her voice flat, addressing the silver-armored adjutant at her side.
Evelyn bowed slightly, replying respectfully:
“Your Majesty, regarding Miss Mili’s past… the earliest record we could trace was the day Commander Lin found her in the ruins outside the city and brought her to [Oasis].”
“Before that, it’s as if she appeared out of thin air—no identifiable records or traces of her movements.”
“Interesting…” A faint ripple passed through Seraphina’s eyes, quickly settling back into emotionless calm.
She alternated between handling the complex files on her arm’s portable light-screen and gazing down at Mili, nestled in her makeshift nest below:
“Why didn’t she touch the cutlet at dinner?”
Evelyn faltered, beads of sweat forming on her forehead: “I… don’t know, Your Majesty. She only ate the vegetables and bread… perhaps it wasn’t to her taste?”
Seraphina’s finger tapped the light-screen, issuing a command:
“Collect all the leftovers she ate today, as well as the untouched food samples, and seal them for testing.”
“—I want to review the results personally.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Seraphina’s gaze returned to the scene below.
She saw Mili’s frail, wind-toppled figure before the bathroom mirror;
Saw the girl curled in the tub, her pale face flushed weakly red by the hot water;
Saw her habit of piling pillows and blankets into a corner…
“Have the nutritionists and medical team collaborate. By tomorrow, draft a new dietary plan to bring her body to a condition suitable for surgery in the shortest time possible.”
“Push those idle, useless bureaucrats to approve the delivery of the micro-tracker and vital signs monitor to our team immediately.”
“Adjust the original stress test protocol. When she’s not in the room, have someone rearrange the layout and record her reactions and behavioral changes.”
“Yes.” The adjutant bowed and moved toward the door.
“And,” the silver-haired woman raised her voice, “if they dare drag their feet or delay my plans again…”
“I won’t mind handling it myself.”