Chapter 61: Assessment
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
Yu Sheng and Irene guided Foxy down the staircase, their footsteps echoing lightly as they went. Once they reached the lower floors, the pair paused to consider where the fox-girl might sleep. Everything in the house felt calm, aside from the faint smell of dust and the soft glow of the lights.
“Well,” said Yu Sheng, standing in the hallway on the second floor and pointing toward a door opposite his own, “we have a spare room up here and another downstairs. This one’s right across from mine. It’s been empty for a while, and I’ve kept a bit of junk in there, but it’s still quite clean. The one downstairs, on the other hand, is completely unfurnished and hasn’t been tidied in ages. And there’s a basement, but it’s damp and definitely not suitable for living in.”
Foxy nodded thoughtfully, her tails swishing behind her. Without the slightest hesitation, she reached into the fluff of one tail and pulled out a small cookie, nibbling at it as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “Whatever you decide is best, Benefactor,” she said, crumbs falling lightly. “It’s far better than sleeping in the valley. I’ll be happy anywhere.”
Yu Sheng couldn’t help staring at those large, fluffy tails of hers. He wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to store so many snacks inside them. They seemed so real, swishing about and brushing against things, yet they also passed right through her clothing as if they were illusions. How on earth did that work?
Foxy then pointed toward a door at the end of the corridor, her eyes curious. “What about that room over there?” she asked, while tugging a packet of instant noodles from her tails and crunching on the dried noodles without a care in the world.
“That?” Yu Sheng followed her gaze, looking a touch uneasy. “That’s theoretically Irene’s room,” he explained, “but it has a bit of a, well, problem at the moment.”
“Problem?” Foxy asked, her long ears perking up with interest. She munched steadily on her noodles, the dry strands cracking between her teeth.
Yu Sheng sighed and tried to put it simply. “The situation inside that room is… not entirely stable once the door is opened. I need to keep an eye on it for a while, so no one should sleep there now.”
He paused, finally unable to hold back his curiosity, and asked the question that had been nagging him for some time: “Um, Foxy, just how much stuff do you have inside those tails of yours?”
“After my bath, I walked through the living room and tucked in all the snacks you gave me,” Foxy answered cheerfully, still crunching away. “I didn’t take anything else. Everything I have right now is just the snacks from before.”
As she glanced back at the door to Irene’s room, her eyes sparkled. “Benefactor, your home is truly remarkable,” she said, sounding perfectly sincere.
Yu Sheng found himself nearly speechless, staring again at her tails. Her tails seemed far more extraordinary than his home. Were they magical? Some kind of secret pocket like the one that clever blue robot cat had in those old stories?
Deciding that those questions could wait for another time, Yu Sheng cleared his throat and nodded toward the room across from his own. “For now, let’s have you stay here. There’s a bed and some basic furniture. Most of it is just junk, really, but I can move it down into the basement. I’ll also find you a proper set of bedding.”
Foxy grinned happily. “All right!” she said, wagging her tails.
Irene, who was standing close by, practically bounced with excitement. “Wonderful! Moving stuff, tidying things up—I love organizing!” she sang out, as if it were the most fun job in the world.
Yu Sheng eyed the tiny, doll-like figure with caution. “It’d be better if you didn’t cause too much trouble. If you try to carry something too big, you’ll fall down the stairs, snap an arm or a leg, and I’ll have to fix you all over again.”
At this, Irene’s eyes flared with indignation. With a shrill shout, she jumped up and gave Yu Sheng a swift kick in the knee. “Yu Sheng, you complete and utter jerk!” she cried.
Yu Sheng yelped, hopping awkwardly and rubbing his leg. He towered over Irene, so it was quite the sight—him leaping about, cringing in pain.
At first, Foxy looked a bit unsettled. But soon she realized that this must be their normal sort of banter. Her concern faded into a gentle smile, and she helped herself to a sausage pulled right out of her tails, chewing happily as though enjoying a performance.
Far away, in the quiet heart of the Old City, a small, unremarkable private clinic stood nestled between dimly lit streets. Inside, Dr. Lin—a tall woman in a white coat, her long brown hair spilling over her shoulders—was frowning thoughtfully. She leaned close, examining the right arm of a girl who sat before her.
This patient was Little Red Riding Hood, dressed in a sleeveless shirt that bared her injured arm. Her red jacket, now missing one sleeve, hung neatly on a hook near the door. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the room’s dim light fell over them both.
“Dr. Lin, is it serious?” Little Red Riding Hood asked at last, breaking the silence that had stretched between them.
Dr. Lin’s expression grew stern. “This time, it’s not too serious,” she said calmly, “but your overall condition worries me. How many times has this happened now? Your injuries never fully heal. If you keep pushing yourself, the aftereffects of your transformations will become permanent. Your body and mind won’t have time to recover. Right now, we’ve caught it in time, but one day it might be too late.”
Little Red lowered her eyes, unwilling to meet Dr. Lin’s gaze. “I know,” she muttered quietly, “but this time it was urgent. We were being chased by a Level-3 Entity with mental contamination. It’s a miracle that we managed to escape.”
For a moment, Dr. Lin just looked at her, considering her next steps. Without warning, she picked up a small scalpel and, without flinching, made a shallow cut on her own arm. Immediately, as if linked by some invisible bond, an identical wound appeared on Little Red’s right arm. Dark red blood welled up, only to vanish moments later. The odd dark lines etched into her skin began to fade.
Little Red breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dr. Lin,” she said, bowing her head respectfully. “I’ll settle the payment once the Special Affairs Bureau releases the funds.”
“Not this time,” Dr. Lin said, shaking her head and waving off the thought. “I’ll do you a favor and waive the fee. But I do wish you’d keep some money for yourself. Look at you—so thin, so worn out.”
Little Red rolled her eyes at this, pretending to be annoyed. “I get it, I get it,” she said, trying to sound dismissive.
“You always say that,” Dr. Lin remarked with a weary smile. She tossed the scalpel into a tray, the metal clinking lightly. Then she shifted in her chair, preparing to begin their regular assessment.
“Since you’re here, let’s move your monthly assessment up a bit,” Dr. Lin said, opening a drawer and pulling out a form and a pen. She tried the pen, but it refused to write. Clicking her tongue in frustration, she searched the pockets of her coat until she found another. “When was your last ‘dream?’” she asked.
“Three days ago,” Little Red answered immediately, straightening her posture and focusing.
“Were you seeing things as a human, or as a wolf?” Dr. Lin’s voice was calm, but her gaze was sharp.
“Two-thirds human, one-third wolf,” said Little Red thoughtfully. “And at one point, I was… the hunter.”
“And who was the hunter aiming at?”
“The wolf,” replied Little Red quietly.
Dr. Lin nodded, tapping her pen against the paper. “All right, that seems fairly stable for now.” She scribbled notes on the form, then asked, “Did you see ‘Grandmother’ this time? Was she a person or a wolf?”
“She was a wolf,” Little Red answered, hesitating slightly.
Dr. Lin studied Little Red’s face. “From that look on your face, I’m guessing you got caught in the dream?”
Little Red nodded, grimacing. “Yes, though everything’s a bit hazy. I just remember running away with the pack in the end.”
This made Dr. Lin frown. She tapped her pen hard against the table, a rapid, nervous beat. “There’s still some risk,” she said at last. “You should take an intervention dose before bed tonight—intravenous.” She pulled a small note from her drawer, adding it to Little Red’s account. “I’ll mark it down. Don’t worry about paying right now.”
“Understood,” Little Red said with a slight nod.
For several more minutes, Dr. Lin questioned Little Red about all sorts of details—her dreams, her feelings, any signs of confusion. Little Red answered as best she could, each reply becoming part of a monthly ritual. Every member of “Fairy Tale” went through this, regularly checking their stability, their condition, and their standing on the fragile balance between human and something else.
In the Borderland, there were plenty of so-called “doctors” who could handle such matters, but Dr. Lin was the one Little Red trusted most. She understood the darkness lurking beneath the surface, the weight each question carried.
At last, Dr. Lin wrote a final note at the bottom of the form: “Temporarily stable, under observation.” She leaned back and let out a long sigh.
Little Red glimpsed those words and couldn’t keep a tiny smile from appearing on her lips, though she tried to maintain a composed expression. She was relieved. Things were not perfect, but they weren’t worsening either.
“So you do care,” Dr. Lin said quietly, giving her a knowing look. “If you’re truly worried, you should take better care of yourself. Don’t end up like the last Little Red…”
Dr. Lin’s voice trailed off, and both women fell silent. The air in the clinic seemed to grow heavy and still. After a long, tense moment, Little Red felt a gentle warmth on her hand. Dr. Lin had placed her own hand over it, her grip warm and reassuring.
“Listen, Little Red,” Dr. Lin said firmly, her eyes meeting the girl’s. “You’re not exactly like the others in ‘Fairy Tale’ that I’ve encountered. Your wolves—the very first ones you bonded with—truly care about you. I can’t feel them the way you do, but I can see it in the way you carry yourself and the way your condition stabilizes when you’re safe. They want to protect you.
“You have a real chance to reach adulthood, perhaps to grow beyond it. But because you have that chance, you must not throw it away. You must find a way to survive and live longer. Do you understand?”
Little Red said nothing for a moment, lost in thought. After a quiet pause, she nodded softly. “I understand,” she whispered.
In the dim corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, a cluster of glowing green eyes appeared, shining softly. One pair of eyes drifted forward, and a shadowy tongue flicked out to gently lick Little Red’s fingers, comforting her in its own quiet way.
Dr. Lin sensed this presence, but she didn’t turn toward it. Instead, she rose and crossed to a small refrigerator in the corner, retrieving a vial of softly glowing liquid. She held it up to the light. “Here’s the intervention dose,” she said, turning back to Little Red. “It’s the last one I have right now, so I’ll give it to you at half price. Make sure you pay me once you get your next cheque—you already owe me a small fortune.”
Little Red reached out and took the vial. “Thank you, Dr. Lin,” she said sincerely.