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Page 88
"Hello, dear viewers. I am Fran Hesser, chief physician at Fog Street Clinic. In the following video, I will demonstrate two sets of interactive experiments with hazardous materials."
Standing beside the operating room's experimental table, Fran, wearing silver-rimmed round glasses, was recording a lecture.
She had a humble demeanor and, with her glasses on, a scholarly air about her, like a medical professor facing her students.
Fran used a recording device that was a living metal box containing "mechanical biology." This little thing could record and project holographic images, and it was quite practical.
Creating and preserving teaching materials like these is one of Fran's many hobbies.
Although she herself wasn't quite sure who would read these strange things she left behind... but information always has its own value.
"First of all, this is a hair that can proliferate indefinitely and originated from a woman known as 'Tomie Kawakami'. Interestingly, the hair of normal organisms is made up of keratinized dead cells, but the keratinocytes of this hair still maintain an astonishing level of activity."
"It interacts with the muscle tissue of the Ork."
"I'm really curious about how the Ancient One optimized the fungal propagation module and inserted it into the orc's genes. Oh, and besides that, it also possesses plant and algal gene chains... but this research is currently stalled."
After briefly introducing the basic information about the interactive experiment, Fran took out a piece of green orc meat from a highly sealed transparent container.
"This piece of flesh has undergone a certain degree of inactivation and is currently in a dormant state. It cannot release spores on its own, nor will it form a cocoon or nourishing mycelium. It seems to have completely become a specimen."7
"But as long as it is given some nutrients it can absorb, it can be activated. Further activation requires psionic resonance. For safety reasons, this experiment will only provide nutrients." 6
As she spoke, she placed a small piece of organic-rich culture medium on the meat. 9
After a short while, the piece of flesh began to tremble slightly, and the rudimentary form of mycelium slowly began to take shape.
Many bacteria exhibit drastically different behaviors in the field and in laboratory petri dishes. 4
In the wild, they are astonishingly resilient, completely unfazed by wind and sun, displaying a fierce and domineering spirit. However, in a nutrient-rich petri dish, they can silently perish due to extremely subtle changes in temperature and humidity, dying without a sound…3
However, the mycelium of the orc flesh doesn't care about the environment; as long as it's given the right nutrients, it will grow wildly. 6
"Preparations are complete. We can now add the next batch of raw materials."
Fran tightened his rubber gloves, picked up the black hair with tweezers, and dropped it into the center of the throbbing green flesh, stirring it slightly.
"Timing begins."
The second hand of the brass pocket watch in her hand moved quarter by quarter starting from twelve o'clock.
Six minutes. The writhing green flesh devours the hair as nutrients, and mycelium continues to form.
Twelve minutes. The chunk of flesh began to twitch abnormally, and dozens of strands of hair started to emerge from the gaps in the muscle fibers.
Eighteen minutes. The flesh began to form skin tissue and took on a grotesque, indistinct female face shape.
Twenty-four minutes later. The rate at which the mycelium was expelled increased visibly, and it was mixed with a large number of black hairs. They intertwined and devoured each other, presumably as a competition for nutrients.
Thirty minutes later, the mutualistic effect ended, and the two groups of raw materials ceased their confrontation and instead merged more deeply, their state approaching stability.
Thirty-six minutes. A green, cocoon-like pod, covered with numerous hair-like strands and hyphae, took shape.
"Has a symbiotic balance been achieved? That's rare. I thought the mutualistic effect would continue until they both perish."
Fran ran his fingertips along the silver-rimmed glasses, his amber eyes sparkling brightly, revealing an undisguised intense interest.
"Symbiosis is a helpless compromise. Both ingredients are in a state of extreme weakness, and they probably understand that continuing the struggle will only lead to death..."
"But I'm a little curious, what exactly is inside this pod... Green-skinned Tomie, or Tomie Green-skinned?"
Fran's expression became somewhat subtle as he imagined the possible form of the communist organism after it had matured.
Hmm… one… a female beast with a beauty mark? No way, this kind of thing should never exist in this world… 30’~
"Keep this cocoon for observation experiments, and inactivate the rest of the proliferating tissue first."
After Fran peeled off and sealed the cocoon formed by the mycelium, the remaining interwoven fabric of flesh and hair turned to ashes in the scorching flames of the waste processor.
Most living things that exist in the form of flesh and blood can be completely destroyed by ultra-high temperatures. If it can't be destroyed, it means the temperature isn't high enough... No matter what kind of monsters or demons they are, just give them a heat melt and see if they still go crazy.
"This cocoon of the fertilized organism seems very dangerous. Let's destroy it after the observation and experimentation... It might be too difficult to make a specimen."
Fran's amber eyes flickered slightly. At times like these, she couldn't help but envy a certain space necromancer overlord with a vast fortune and an incurable collecting obsession.
That guy was so wealthy that he could apply a static field to almost every one of his collections...
"Alright, this interactive experiment has come to an end. Thank you for watching. To learn about the subsequent development of the cocoon, please watch the next episode."
She tidied up the surrounding experimental equipment and ended the recording session.
Sister Heda had a patrol duty today, and it wasn't her scheduled check-up time, so she didn't come to the Fog Street Clinic. Sigrid, on the other hand, was in the kitchen studying "Hannibal Lecter's Secret Kitchen" and wouldn't be coming to the operating room anytime soon.
Fran was able to enjoy some leisure time alone.
While she doesn't mind making the Foggy Street Clinic a bit more lively, she also needs some private space that belongs only to her.
Hmm... I hope Sigrid won't ruin my kitchen this time.
Although she was previously a craftswoman in the Order of the Sun Forger, she was not very comfortable controlling flames at low temperatures after becoming an alchemical life form.
Fran gently tapped his cervical spine to slightly relieve the fatigue in his neck.
"A few days of December have already passed. Before finishing the final version of the chimera spine, let's take care of that little thing from before..."
As Fran gently closed his hands, the hemispherical domain of [Dust Removal and Purification] instantly unfolded.
A clear, colorless ray of light then enveloped the entire operating room.
Because the interactive experiment we just had was quite dangerous, we had to carry out a thorough disinfection process to remove any spores or microparticles that might be present.
After completing a full sterilization process, she walked out of the operating room, through the corridor, and to her bedroom closet, where she began to rummage through it.
A moment later, Fran took out a neatly folded white garment, unfolded the creases, and began ironing it.
Brand new, crisp, with a delicate stand-up collar and black double-breasted buttons... This is a pastry chef's uniform.
"Although I was going to visit 'Skylark' sooner or later, I never expected it to be for this reason."
She sat down in front of the vanity mirror and changed into this exquisitely tailored pastry chef's outfit.
"Sigrid, could you come and help me tie my hair?"
Sigrid rushed over quickly at Fran's call.
"coming."
She had heard the sound of ironing clothes earlier, but out of consideration for privacy, she did not ask.
Sigrid approached Fran, and in front of the mirror, she gathered up Fran's pale white braid, loosened the messy parts, and then retied it. Her movements were methodical and quite skillful.
As Fran felt the fine-toothed comb brushing through his hair, a few scattered thoughts inexplicably surfaced in his mind.
Twenty years ago, it seems that some people also liked to comb their hair in front of the mirror like this.
It was precisely because of this indulgence of her love for taking care of her own hair that Fran developed the habit of having others do her hair braids.
"Is Dr. Fran getting ready to go out?" Sigrid asked, a little curious upon seeing Fran dressed as a pastry chef.
"Hmm, we need to address the issue Rosalie raised during her divination to prevent any slip-ups... and also deal with some legacy issues."
Fran turned to look at West Gloria, a sly glint in her amber eyes.
"Anyway, we're going late at night anyway. Come with me, Sigrid. Getting out and about is always good for your mind and body. Hmm... I happen to have an outfit like this here."
As he spoke, Fran took out a pastry chef's uniform of the same size, clearly having planned this all along.
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"Skylark" Dessert Shop.
The night was deep, and the crescent moon hung alone.
As midnight approached, all the shops on Sandrank Street had closed, and the dessert shop was no exception. But even with the windows tightly shut, a faint light could still be seen... suggesting that someone was still inside.
Ms. Olive was leaning over the counter in the shop, making annotations in a thick cookbook by the light of a kerosene lamp.
Although she has been running this dessert shop for many years and is proficient in almost all types of desserts, she still can't help but feel a little surprised and amazed whenever she sees a brand new idea in the recipe.
It's hard to believe that this notebook dates back to before the Great Plague. Furthermore, some of the devices described within were only developed and put into use by the White Cup Order in recent years.
Time flies like an arrow. The once-unknown little shop is now a renowned establishment in Norrington, but the person who gave her the notebook has vanished without a trace, as if disappeared from the face of the earth.
Ms. Olive put down her pen, rubbed her eyes, and suddenly felt a little sleepy.
At these times, she always realizes that she is no longer young.
Her hair is now streaked with gray, and the boundless energy she once possessed, capable of staying up all night, is long gone. The young customers who used to call her "Auntie" now mostly address her as "Grandma."
Olive turned off the kerosene lamp, picked up her notebook, and prepared to go home. Her place was very close to the dessert shop, only a two or three-minute walk away.
Just as she was about to open the shop door, she caught a glimpse of a pale, smoky mist seeping in through the gap in the door and window.
"Click." The sound of the doorknob turning rang out.
Olive felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment.
She had also heard Jiu mention the recent rumors circulating in the southern district, about some kind of monster that dwells in the sewers. This had forced the homeless who used to sleep on the streets to huddle together and hide.
But the hunters of the Mysteries had just traversed the sewers a while ago, and the White Cup Order had already lifted their guard; even if there were monsters, they should have been driven away by now...
Moreover, this gray mist, while eerie, carried a strange sense of familiarity.
"Click." With a crisp sound of the lock springing open, the wooden door quickly opened.
Finally, amidst the pounding of her heart, Olive saw who was standing outside the door.
—It was Fran, dressed in a pastry chef's uniform.
Thanks to her good looks and excellent fashion sense, she seems to be able to pull off any outfit with ease. Even with an apron tied around her waist, her pastry chef attire still looks sophisticated and appropriate.
"You...you're back?"
Olive reached out her hand, trembling, as if trying to determine by touch whether the person in front of her was a figment of her imagination.
“How should I put it? Actually, I’ve always been here. Olive.” Fran offered her hand and helped her up.
As she moved, Olive noticed that there was another person behind Fran.
For a fleeting moment, she felt a glimmer of hope that brought tears to her eyes... but as her molten gold eyes and hair emerged from the mist, that hope quickly turned into desolation.
"Isn't it her...?"
Fran maintained his smile and, before Olive could utter the name, produced a brass pocket watch from his sleeve.
“Ms. Olive, I’ve come to collect something that belongs to me.”
“Don’t worry about me, please take it.” Olive nodded without resistance.
The conversation between the two left Sigrid, who was standing nearby, somewhat confused.
The old man seemed to know Dr. Fran, but also seemed to be waiting for someone else.
Fran swung the brass pocket watch chain, and as the frequency of her mental disturbances gradually resonated with Olive's thoughts, her eyes quickly became unfocused and hazy. Although she remained standing, her consciousness had fallen into a deep sleep.
Taking advantage of this time, Fran picked up the thick cookbook, flipped to the latest page, and wrote down the ingredients and recipe for the kiwi sundae under the "December New Arrivals" section.
Sigrid, who was standing to the side, couldn't help but squint.
So this is the method to ensure that divination is absolutely error-free...
After finishing writing, Fran placed the notebook and pen back into Olive's hand and snapped his fingers.
Forget all memories of me and "her". After that, go home.
"Also, remember to use my new work after you wake up."
Upon receiving the instruction, Ms. Olive's eyes flickered with a hint of confusion, and then she walked somewhat blankly toward home.
"Dr. Fran... what did you do to her?"
Unable to contain her curiosity, Sigrid asked Fran about the reason for this series of actions.
“I took a part of her memories. The contents were about me, and about one of my former apprentices… a name that cannot be mentioned.”
Fran gave a concise explanation, then led Sigrid familiarly into the shop and straight into the kitchen.
"The materials and the venue were very clean, with dust and grease carefully removed. Very good, it seems Olive has not been lax in its hygiene standards."
She quickly tidied the counter and began preparing the ingredients.
"Sigrid, my private cooking lessons are a rare opportunity... so don't miss it!"
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Overdoing it.?(??ω?)