Stray

Ann led the fuller goat through the dark alley. She pulled the hood on her head. The wide thin cloak and the tall figure made it difficult to guess the gender at a glance. Although Kenyatta’s public security was average, it was best to have one less thing to worry about.

Her companions weren’t around and for the first time her face showed traces of bitterness.

Nemo didn’t blame her. Not even a hint of unhappiness was revealed.

Strictly speaking, her responsibility wasn’t large. The surveillance bug, like its name, were not specifically bred to find people, but it was undisputable that Oliver disappeared within her reach. Whether as a member of Tumbleweed or as a senior with more mission experience, she couldn’t help blaming herself and fall into self-guilt.

If one’s beloved were to disappear directly in front of another companion, even if they knew it wasn’t the other party’s fault, Ann didn’t think she could continue to get along amicably with the other party as if nothing had happened. She would at least lose her temper, exchange a few harsh words, and vent the pain in her heart.

But she could see that Nemo was even cautious around her, as if he was afraid she would blame herself more for it, or become afraid of him.

This only made Ann sadder.

If something really happened to Oliver, she didn’t think she could come out as unphased like before. After making sure no one was around, Ann knocked on the black badge, called up the light screen, and glance at the series of tasks she had released again. Unlike Cross, who was cash-strapped, she spent money on an instant notification service. The money in her private account was decreasing at an avalanching rate.

This was the property she had saved for nearly twenty years, but she was in no mood to care anymore.