Chapter 102: Compatibility by grit. Selection irrelevant.
When Mikel returned to the dormitory, he stopped, realizing it was empty.
"Where did that guy go?" he blurted out, looking around the four corners of their room. Ran was nowhere to be found.
[Master, those quiet ones always fall the loudest. I have detected a slight emotional spiral from him.]
Doom might not be able to analyze humans’ strengths and weaknesses—shaman or not—but it had been picking up social cues from Mikel’s every interaction.
Mikel, however, just shrugged it off and threw himself onto the bed, dropping his hygiene kit underneath and drying his hair. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep last night, so he yawned for the umpteenth time.
"Just let him be," he muttered at the end of his yawn. "Emotional status is not my business."
Doom didn’t respond, not that it didn’t know Mikel’s stance on other people’s dilemmas. Mikel had learned many big lessons during the renovation of his home, and they had helped mold him into who he was today.
He wiped his eyes and leaned against the headboard, keeping the small towel over his head. "Why isn’t this hair drying too easily?" he wondered in mild irritation as his sleepiness hit him harder than before. "Screw it."
With that, Mikel just leaned against the corner and crossed his arms. He closed his eyes, telling himself to wait for his hair to dry before he could lie down. However, five seconds after he closed his eyes, he had already nodded off.
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Hours later, Mikel grunted as his eyes flickered beneath their lids. His brows crinkled, and his shoulder and neck felt a bit stiff. Slowly, he opened his eyes and winced.