Jeanne followed the elder into an incredibly dilapidated house. How dilapidated, you ask? There wasn't even a single chair inside; only two worn-out wooden stumps served as seats.
Jeanne scanned the surroundings before looking back at the "Manager" before her—a black cat whose fur had turned white from overwork, an old man clearly nearing the end of his life.
"I heard from Rope just now. I am truly grateful that you came here to help us. Please forgive the others for their wariness; we haven't seen people like you in many years."
A nostalgic look appeared in the old man's eyes. He couldn't remember exactly when it started, but organizations in Lungmen that helped the Infected had gradually dwindled until even the few scattered ones vanished entirely. Consequently, the moment Jeanne appeared, they found it impossible to believe. They even suspected that the situation here might be linked to this suspicious figure; otherwise, why would she have such effective medicine?
"It doesn't matter. Since I chose this path, I won't let suspicion bother me. Besides, everyone's lives are so difficult; if they weren't vigilant, they wouldn't be able to survive."
Just as Jeanne said: when malice saturates an environment, kindness feels like a poisoned cake, prompting nothing but doubt. Whether it was Jeanne or Talulah, they had seen this many times while rescuing people on the snowfields. Thus, the group's earlier behavior was nothing out of the ordinary to her.
"I still want to ask: how long has this been going on? What exactly is causing it? Does Lungmen have no reaction to this at all?"
In response to Jeanne's question, the old man had no intention of hiding anything. He began to speak:
"It's been going on for a while. At first, these flare-ups only happened in other districts. Everyone chose to just watch from the sidelines. Later, when it seemed to get serious, they threw everyone here."
The old man recalled the scenes of the outbreaks, and he couldn't stop the worry in his heart. They had no idea if it was a plague or something else; they simply lived in fear. Then, a look of sheer terror crossed his face, as if he were remembering something horrific. He opened his mouth, but several times, no sound came out.
"They blocked all news of this place. Those who hadn't fallen ill left. Only a few people come back to check every now and then. As for Lungmen?"
Mentioning Lungmen, the old man let out a few scoffs of disdain. Even though they lived in Lungmen, the city treated them like trash.
"No one around here wants the Lungmen officials to know about this. They worry that Lungmen will disrupt their lives. So, they let us stay here to wait for death. Anyone who tried to find a doctor has already been 'dealt with' by them."
As the old man spoke, a flicker of anger and sorrow appeared in his eyes. The phrase "dealt with" was said simply, but Jeanne could hear the bloodiness contained within those words. Perhaps, among the pile of corpses she had seen before arriving in Lungmen, there were those dissenters who weren't willing to wait for death and had tried to find a doctor.
But on second thought, that place was far from here, and Lungmen doesn't move randomly; it was likely the work of people within the slums.
"As for what caused it... we truly don't know the specific reason. Our lives before the outbreak hadn't changed at all, so we can't be sure."
The old man thought seriously for a while. They had pondered this for a long time, but the result was essentially nothing. The slums were too chaotic; no one knew what inconspicuous thing might have caused it. They had suspected the food or water, but suspecting was useless—if they didn't eat or drink, they would die faster than this. They had no choice left. This was also why, after inviting Jeanne in, he hadn't even offered her a cup of water. Though there was no concrete evidence, it was better to be careful.
Suddenly, the old man seemed to remember something. He leaned closer to Jeanne and spoke solemnly:
"I've heard from people coming from other places that quite a few companies have taken away large numbers of Infected under the guise of providing painkillers. They claimed they had permission from Lungmen, but once those people left with them, they never returned."
The old man's meaning was clear: the level of suspicion and cold-heartedness of these enterprises was not low! For just painkillers and food, people were selling their lives...
As for the lack of news, they likely had corresponding excuses to brush it off... no, they probably didn't even need excuses. At worst, they'd just say the illness relapsed and the person died. It was that cruel. Even if Lungmen claimed to have a "good" attitude toward the Infected, that "good" didn't actually amount to much. It simply wasn't a case of driving you to your death like in Ursus.
"So, child! If you want to help the Infected, have Rope take you somewhere else! This place is meaningless now. No matter who the final culprit is, we cannot change our fate of dying."
The old man scratched his head, sighing as he spoke. Jeanne could see a sense of life's vicissitudes in him. He might have had the ability to escape—an old man who could keep a place like this so orderly was surely no simple person. But now, as he looked toward the sky, the scene appeared incredibly desolate. If he were alone, he could certainly escape, but he simply didn't want to run anymore.
Perhaps he was once a participant in Lungmen's turbulent era, coming to this city with his dreams, only to lose everything and be left to linger here.
"You're right, but I feel some things are worth trying, aren't they? I'll leave the medicine here with you. When the next flare-up happens, try its effect."
Jeanne agreed with his words, but she still wanted to help. She couldn't do much right now; her only option was providing medicine. Though the old man spoke with such finality, Jeanne could still see the desire to live in his eyes. It was just that the emotion was buried deep in his heart, and he refused to let it out.
"You... fine. I'll listen to you. On behalf of all the Infected nearby, I thank you. Truly, thank you."
The old man looked at Jeanne for a while and finally agreed. He stood up shakily, intending to bow to her, but Jeanne quickly stopped him. The old man didn't insist—likely because his frail body couldn't stand for long—and sat back down on the wooden stump with Jeanne's support.
Actually, it was more likely that the old man couldn't break free from Jeanne's grip and had to resignedly follow her arrangement to sit. Good grief, this child looks so delicate and weak, but her strength is actually quite immense. She practically pushed me back down.
At that moment, Rope, who had been checking the situation outside, returned to report to the old man. Seven more Infected couldn't take it anymore and chose to end their own lives. A few others with severe conditions had chosen an open area and "self-exploded."
This report caused the old man to fall silent for a long time. He hadn't expected another "pop" during this outbreak... At this rate, even if the people around tried to hide the situation here, how much longer could they keep it secret?
"Miss Jeanne, please wait outside for a moment. I have a few words for this child, and then I'll have her lead you away from here."
Hearing the elder's words, Jeanne could only nod and step outside. However, she placed the bottle of extremely simplified Holy Water on the table and explained the specific method for using it. After finishing, Jeanne turned and walked out of the house. Looking at the high sun in the sky, she couldn't help but let out a sigh.
Inside, Rope looked at the old man before her with nervousness. she could guess what he was about to say, but it was absolutely not what she wanted to hear.
"Child, you've lived in this area for a few years now, haven't you? I still remember when you first arrived; the first place you entered was my room. Back then, you saw no one was around and started rummaging for food..."