Splash—
Warm, purified water from the Navy Department poured over Horatio's head.
Exhausted from an all-night battle, he stood wearily under the showerhead, his head slumped, as if in another world, half-asleep and half-awake.
In his dream, he saw a fiery red scene.
Flames surrounded him, and he was sprawled inside a twisted, deformed cabin. In front of him lay a scene of devastation, with victims scattered across the ground, their deaths horrifying and tragic.
[This is?]
He remembered this was the first scene the original owner saw after losing his memory—eight years ago, a terrifying inferno inside that crashed shuttle.
As if truly there, scorching steel plates melted and fell, one after another.
Even worse, a piece above his head creaked, teetering precariously.
Horatio's head slumped weakly onto his shoulder, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the shattered sea of fire.
He hated this inferno, but he also knew it was just a nightmare from his extreme fatigue. He felt no heat or pain, so he had no intention of moving or struggling.
[Once I wake up, everything will return to reality. Won't it?]
He thought this and closed his eyes until his thoughts were interrupted by a crisp shout from a young girl.
"Quick! Reach out your hand!" a voice, blurred and distorted by fragmented memories, cried out.
Horatio turned his head slightly and saw a slender, snow-white arm reaching out to him. He originally had no intention of moving again.
But his inaction in the dream did not affect the established fact; this body automatically extended its arm, just as the original owner had done.
The short-haired girl, heedless of the danger, gripped a guardrail and, with her fair hand, pulled Horatio's hand with all her might, dragging him outward.
[Who is she?]
The guardrail in the girl's hand was already scalding hot from the surrounding flames, its base even glowing with an orange-red light. Her left hand, tightly gripping the iron bar, made a sizzling sound as flesh and blood melted together from the high temperature.
She didn't have to do this; she could have completely ignored a stranger like him.
The short-haired girl gritted her teeth, enduring the pain of branding as she pulled him back bit by bit.
However, a mortal body has its limits. This girl could not last much longer; she would eventually perish with him in the flames.
In the final scene, Horatio suddenly felt himself floating in the air. A strong, powerful hand pulled both him and the girl up, and they walked straight out.
[Ugh… I actually fell asleep while showering and even dreamed of that shuttle crash eight years ago.]
Horatio's iron hand braced against the marble tiles of the wall. He splashed some water on his face with his left hand, and his drowsiness slightly lessened.
After cleaning himself and his armor as much as possible, he walked out wearing the clothes Farida had prepared for him and handed his armor to the internal affairs servants, entrusting them to return it to the Adeptus Arbites.
It was already high noon.
"What are you up to again? You're a Childer of Loyalty now; can't you be more careful? Who confronts a chief officer the moment they arrive like you did?"
Farida, who had just walked out of the officers' lounge, called out to him.
Farida pointed at Horatio, and when she opened her mouth, her two cute little canine teeth were clearly visible.
"I want to earn more academic credits," Horatio said, walking to the mini-fountain sink in the corridor and tidying his hair.
"Are you that confident? Are you a genius?"
"What if I am?"
Horatio took a hot towel from a servant and chuckled, "What? Do you want to bet with me?"
After wiping himself, he tossed the towel into the nearby collection basket, and another servant quickly took it away for cleaning.
"N-no way!" Farida remembered her crushing defeat in a previous bet with Horatio at her home, and her face instantly flushed red.
"I just want to tell you that you are now a part of the Imperial Navy. Although you are not yet an officer, you must pay attention to all aspects of your words and actions. Don't cause any more trouble."
"Thank you for your advice, Miss Hood."
"Do I need to report about those Evil Cultists?"
"I've already reported to my father. They won't survive today."
"Speaking of which, how do I get some money from my father's assets now?"
Farida remembered something and said, "As far as I know, your father's assets are currently under investigation and frozen after his death. As for how he died, I don't know either; I only heard my father mention the freezing of assets and honor. To get these, you'll probably have to wait until the investigation is completely finished. Given the efficiency of a joint investigation by the Department of Imperial Affairs, the Imperial Navy, and the Inquisition, it might take… a hundred years?" Farida touched her lower lip with her index finger, speaking thoughtfully.
"Ah? So I'm going to be a penniless person with only a reputation?"
Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
"Just kidding~" Farida grinned mischievously, her lips curving upward.
"Although it's a joint investigation, the chief officer currently investigating the death of Lord Captain Thomas is my father. Once the truth comes to light, everything that belongs to you will be returned. Besides, you're entering the Loyalist Academy tomorrow; what do you need money for?"
"Uh…"
Horatio rubbed his rumbling stomach, forcing a smile, "I want to go out and get some fresh air before entering the Loyalist Academy, but I don't have a single coin on me."
Having not slept all night and not eaten until noon, waiting until evening for a banquet would be pure torture.
Moreover, he wanted to find that mysterious Diviner again before entering the Loyalist Academy.
He had a terrifying conjecture while showering—Abaddon's 12th Black Crusade was repelled by the Gothic Fleet. It is now the end of the 41st millennium. If I were Abaddon, I would definitely find a way to severely weaken the Gothic Fleet to ensure the 13th Black Crusade's plan is more secure.
He had to verify whether these events were indeed the prelude to the 13th Black Crusade.
It is already the end of the 41st millennium, and he still has over a decade to accumulate strength within the Imperial system to counter the 'Warmaster of Chaos' Abaddon, who will sweep in during the 13th Black Crusade.
Otherwise, as a Naval Officer of the Gothic Fleet, given the losses of the Gothic Fleet in the Cadia War, there's a high probability he would die there.
There wasn't much time left to waste.
Seeing Horatio's distracted look, Farida sighed and feigned indifference, "Given how pathetic you were last night, this young lady will help you out one more time."
The girl chuckled playfully.
She snapped her fingers, and a servant standing by a pillar nearby approached, bowed respectfully, and offered a pen dipped in ink.
Farida pulled a long, narrow checkbook from her small purse, flipped open a page, took the pen, and began to write.
"Later, cash this check and give it to this illustrious pauper gentleman next to me," Farida commanded, resuming her usual haughty demeanor.
"…Check???" Horatio, who had transmigrated from the 3K era, found it somewhat incomprehensible.
He usually just scanned his phone and didn't know how people in the 41st millennium spent money.
In his mind, checks were an exclusive privilege of the rich; he had only seen them in movies.
"Of course, Mr. Kirkland," Farida said, a soft chuckle escaping her moist, pink lips.
"The income and expenses of a Naval Officer would be quite cumbersome if converted into cash. You don't think I always carry large, cumbersome amounts of cash, do you? Signing checks, that's the way the Navy spends. They pay my father directly with money orders."
Seeing Horatio's blank expression, Farida hummed contentedly and continued:
"Every settlement period, the Navy Department sends a financial officer with a money order to deposit his salary and patrol bounties into his name. Father doesn't need to carry cash and gold in boxes with servants."
Horatio took a deep breath.
Indeed, many currencies within the Empire were still in the form of cash or even coins, but how much money would it take to use money orders to avoid such an exaggerated scenario of people carrying funds for transfers?
Farida seemed to read Horatio's thoughts and teased:
"Millions, that's a rather convenient unit."