"Hello, dear viewer. I am Fran Herschel, Chief Physician of Fog Street Clinic. In the following footage, I will demonstrate an interaction experiment between two sets of hazardous raw materials."
Standing beside the operating table in the surgery room, Fran was recording a lecture while wearing silver-rimmed round glasses.
Her demeanor was modest, and with glasses on, she seemed somewhat scholarly, like a medical professor facing students.
The recording equipment Fran used was a living metal box loaded with [Mechanized Biology]. This little thing could record and project holographic images, quite practical.
Creating and preserving teaching materials like this was also one of Fran's many hobbies.
Although she herself wasn't quite sure who would watch these strange things... but materials always have their own value.
"First, this is a strand of hair capable of infinite malignant proliferation, originating from a woman known as 'Ito Tomie'. One interesting point is that the hair of normal organisms is composed of keratinized dead cells, but the keratinocytes of this strand of hair still maintain astonishing activity."
"Its interaction subject is muscle tissue from an Ork."
"I actually really want to know how the Old Ones optimized the fungal propagation module and stuffed it into the Ork genes. Oh, besides that, it also possesses gene chains from plants and algae... But this research currently has no progress."
After briefly introducing the basic information of the interaction experiment, Fran took out a piece of green Ork flesh from a highly sealed transparent container.
"This flesh has undergone a certain degree of deactivation and is currently dormant. It cannot release spores on its own, nor form cocoons or nutrient-absorbing mycelium. It seems to have completely turned into a specimen."
"But as long as some absorbable nutrients are provided, it can be activated. Further activation requires psychic resonance. For safety, this experiment only provides nutrients."
As she spoke, she placed a small piece of nutrient-rich culture medium on the flesh.
Moments later, the flesh began to tremble slightly, and the rudimentary form of mycelium slowly formed.
Many fungi exhibit completely different states in the wild and in laboratory petri dishes.
In the wild, astonishingly resilient, fearless of wind, sun, and exposure, projecting a sense of rugged defiance. In nutrient-rich petri dishes, they might silently die due to extremely subtle temperature and humidity changes, perishing without a sound...
But the Ork flesh's mycelium simply didn't care about the environment; as long as the nutrients were suitable, it began to grow wildly.
"Preparation is complete. We can now introduce the other set of raw materials."
Fran tightened her rubber gloves, used tweezers to pick up the jet-black strand of hair, and dropped it into the center of the pulsating green flesh, stirring slightly.
"Timing starts now."
The second hand of the brass pocket watch in her hand began to move from the twelve o'clock mark.
Six minutes. The writhing green flesh regarded the hair as nutrient and swallowed it; mycelium continued to form.
Twelve minutes. The flesh exhibited abnormal twitching; dozens of hair strands began to continuously sprout from the gaps in the muscle fibers.
Eighteen minutes. The flesh began to form skin tissue and displayed a ferocious, blurred female-like face shape.
Twenty-four minutes. The speed of mycelium secretion became visibly faster, and it contained a large number of black hairs. They entangled and devoured each other, which could be interpreted as a competition for nutrients.
Thirty minutes. The mutual devouring effect ended. The two sets of raw materials stopped confronting each other and instead began to fuse together more deeply, their forms tending towards stability.
Thirty-six minutes. A green, cocoon-like pod enveloping a large number of hair strands and mycelium took shape.
"Achieved a symbiotic balance? That's quite rare. I thought they'd maintain the mutual devouring effect until mutual destruction."
Fran rubbed the silver-rimmed glasses frame with her fingertip, her amber eyes shining brightly, revealing intense interest without concealment.
"Symbiosis is a compromise born of helplessness. Both sets of raw materials are in a highly weakened state. They probably also understood that continuing the fight would only lead to death..."
"But I'm curious, what exactly will be inside this pod... a Green Tomie, or a Tomie Ork?"
Imagining the possible forms the symbiotic product might take after maturation, Fran's expression became subtle.
Hmm... a female Ork with a beauty mark? No, such a thing absolutely should not exist in this world...
"Keep this cocoon for observation. The remaining proliferating tissue will be deactivated first."
After carefully removing and sealing the cocoon formed by mycelium, the remaining intertwined mass of flesh and hair turned to ashes in the blazing flames of the waste processor.
As long as an organism exists in the form of flesh and blood, it can mostly be completely destroyed by ultra-high temperatures. If it can't be solved, it means the temperature isn't high enough... No matter what demon or monster, give it a shot from a meltagun and see if it still goes crazy.
"This hybrid cocoon feels like it could be quite dangerous. It should be destroyed after the observation experiment too... Making a specimen might be a bit difficult."
Fran's amber eyes flickered slightly. At times like these, she always couldn't help but envy a certain Necron Overlord with vast resources and a collecting habit that had reached the point of obsession.
That guy was so wealthy he could use stasis fields for almost every specimen...
"Alright, this interaction experiment ends here. Thank you for watching. For subsequent development of the cocoon, please watch the next installment of the material."
She tidied up the surrounding experimental equipment, ending this recording.
Sister Haida had patrol duty today, and it wasn't the scheduled physical examination time, so she hadn't come to Fog Street Clinic. Sigrid was in the kitchen studying 'Hannibal Lecter's Secret Kitchen' and wouldn't come to the surgery room for a while.
Fran could enjoy some leisurely alone time.
She didn't mind the clinic being lively, but she also needed some private space belonging only to herself.
Hmm... Hopefully Sigrid won't break my kitchen this time.
Although she was a Sun-Forgers craftsman before, after becoming an alchemical lifeform, she wasn't quite used to controlling low-temperature state flames.
Fran lightly tapped her cervical spine to slightly relieve the fatigue in her neck.
"A few days of December have already passed. Before finishing the final version of the chimera spine, let's go take care of a little matter from before..."
As Fran gently clasped her hands, the hemispherical field of [Drive Away Dust and Filth] instantly expanded.
Clear, colorless light then covered the entire surgery room.
Since the previous interaction experiment was relatively dangerous, rigorous disinfection was necessary... to remove possibly existing spore particles.
After completing a full sterilization procedure, she walked out of the surgery room, passed through the corridor, and arrived in front of the wardrobe in her bedroom, starting to rummage.
A moment later, Fran took out a neatly folded white garment, then smoothed out the creases and began ironing it.
Brand new, straight, with a delicate small stand collar and black double-breasted fine buttons... This was a pastry chef's uniform.
"Although I knew I'd have to go to 'The Lark' eventually, I didn't expect it to be for this reason."
She sat before the dressing mirror and changed into this well-tailored pastry chef outfit.
"Sigrid, could you come help me tie up my hair?"
At Fran's call, Sigrid quickly hurried over.
"Coming."
She had heard the sound of ironing earlier but, out of respect for privacy, hadn't asked.
Sigrid came before Fran and, facing the mirror, gathered Fran's pale, frost-like bound braid, undoing messy parts and re-tightening them. Her method was orderly and quite practiced.
Feeling the sensation of the fine-toothed comb through her hair, some scattered thoughts inexplicably surfaced in Fran's mind.
Twenty years ago, it seemed someone also liked combing her hair like this before the mirror.
And because she indulged that person's hobby of managing her hair, Fran developed the little habit of letting others handle her bound braid.
"Dr. Fran, are you going out?" Seeing Fran in this pastry chef attire, Sigrid felt curious.
"Hmm, going to fulfill the promise regarding Rosalia's divination question, to avoid exposing the trick... Also, to handle some historical leftover issues."
Fran looked back at Sigrid, her amber gaze flashing with a hint of cunning.
"Anyway, we're going under cover of night. Come with me, Sigrid. Getting out more is always good for the body and mind. Hmm... Just right, I have another set of this uniform here."
As she spoke, Fran took out another pastry chef uniform of the same specifications, clearly having planned this in advance.
—
"The Lark" Dessert Shop.
Deep night, a solitary crescent moon hung in the sky.
It was midnight. The shops on Sunderland Street had all closed for the day, the dessert shop naturally being no exception. But behind the tightly closed shop window, a faint point of lamplight could still be seen... someone seemed to still be in the shop.
Ms. Olive was leaning over the shop counter, annotating a thick recipe notebook by the light of a kerosene lamp.
Although she had managed this dessert shop for many years and was proficient with almost all dessert categories, whenever she saw new ideas in recipe books, she still couldn't help but feel some surprise and admiration.
It was hard to imagine that this notebook actually came from before the Great Plague. And some of the equipment mentioned in it were only developed and introduced by the White Cup cult in recent years.
...Time passed swiftly, like a white horse glimpsed through a crack. The once obscure little shop was now an old establishment renowned throughout Norlington, but the old friend who gifted her the notebook was now without news, as if vanished from the world.
Ms. Olive put down the pen, lightly rubbed her eyes, feeling somewhat drowsy.
At such times, she always realized she was no longer young.
Gray hair proliferated, the abundant energy that once allowed her to stay up all night had long since vanished. And the young customers who once called her "Auntie" now mostly called her "Grandma."
Olive turned off the kerosene lamp, picked up the notebook, and prepared to get up and go home. Her residence was very close to the dessert shop, just a two or three minute walk.
Just as she was about to open the shop door, she quietly noticed a strand of pale, smoke-like mist seeping in through the gaps in the doors and windows.
Click.
The sound of the doorknob turning sounded.
Olive felt her breath catch for a moment.
She had also heard about recent rumors in the South District, something about monsters lurking in the sewers. It had even forced the vagrants who usually slept on the streets to band together and hide.
But the Secrets-Hunter hunters had just been through the sewers recently, and the White Cup cult had already lifted the alert. Even if there were monsters, they should have been eliminated...
And this pale gray mist, eerie as it was, carried a touch of indescribable familiarity.
Click.
With a crisp sound of the lock springing open, the wooden door soon opened.
Finally, in her pounding heartbeat, Olive clearly saw the visitor outside.
— It was Fran, dressed in a pastry chef uniform.
Thanks to her fine appearance and excellent dress sense, she seemed able to handle any clothing with ease. Even with an apron tied around her waist, this pastry chef attire still appeared refined and proper.
"You... have returned?"
Olive trembled as she reached out a hand, seemingly wanting to use touch to judge whether the person before her was her dream illusion.
"How should I put it? Actually, I've always been here. Olive." Fran offered her hand and supported the other.
With her action, Olive noticed someone behind Fran.
For a moment, she felt a hope that nearly brought tears... But as molten gold-colored eyes and hair became visible from the mist, the hope in her eyes quickly turned to disappointment.
"It's not her..."
Fran maintained her smile, and before Olive could possibly utter that name, she showed the brass pocket watch from her sleeve.
"Ms. Olive, I've come to take something that belongs to me."
"Feel free to take it, please." Olive nodded, showing no resistance.
The dialogue between the two left Sigrid somewhat bewildered.
This elderly lady seemed to know Fran, but also seemed to be waiting for someone else?
Fran swung the brass pocket watch chain. As the frequency of mental disturbance gradually achieved resonance with Olive's thoughts, her eyes quickly became unfocused and dazed. Although she remained standing, her consciousness had fallen into deep sleep.
Taking advantage of this time, Fran took the thick recipe notebook, flipped to the latest page, and under "December New Product" wrote down the relevant ingredients and proportions for Kiwifruit Sundae.
Sigrid beside her couldn't help but narrow her eyes.
So this was the method to guarantee the divination would never be wrong...
After writing, Fran placed the notebook and pen back into Olive's hands and gave a light snap of her fingers.
"Forget all memories of me and 'her.' After this, go home."
"And also, remember to use the new product I wrote after you wake up."
Having received the instruction, a flash of confusion passed through Ms. Olive's eyes, and she then somewhat woodenly walked towards home.
"Dr. Fran... what did you do to her?"
Unable to hold back her curiosity, Sigrid asked Fran about the reason for this series of actions.
"I took away a part of her memory. Its content concerns me, and a former apprentice of mine... That is a name that must not be spoken."
Fran explained concisely, then familiarly led Sigrid into the shop door and straight into the kitchen.
"Materials and workspace are both very clean, meticulously maintained whether it's dust or grease stains. Good, it seems Olive hasn't relaxed her hygiene standards."
She quickly organized the work table and began preparing ingredients.
"Sigrid, my private lessons in cooking are quite rare... Seize the opportunity, alright?"
+++
T/N: Hey readers~! New Translator here! Before I say anything, I'd first like to thank the original author for creating this wonderful story. Without them, I wouldn't have the chance to share this adventure with you. I hope my translation does justice to their work, and that together, we can enjoy this story.
With that said, I'm happy to let you know I'll be uploading daily chapters. And for those who wish to support my work and gain early access, I've set up a Patreon where advanced chapters will be available.
[email protected]/PeakTL