Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Sumire skillfully touched the dog’s body and opened its half-closed eyelids. She squeezed ointment onto the cloudy white eyeballs, gently closed the eyelids, and rubbed them. Despite her extremely long nails, she performed these actions without any hesitation. She was as familiar with these actions as if they were as routine as washing her face or brushing her teeth.

...There are so many unusual tanks in the underwater base that I thought it was a tank at first glance, but is that an animal hyperbaric oxygen chamber in the corner? I looked around the room to see if there was a bag or something to transport the dog, but I didn’t find anything suitable. Could we put the dog in that basket-like carrier? That paper bag is too small.

Sumire slowly stroked the dog’s head with her palm, as if she had all the time in the world. The dog also remained still, breathing heavily, but I couldn’t tell if it couldn’t move or if dogs usually lie like that. It felt like time was slowing down only in this place. As time passed, I grew more anxious and impatient.

“The underwater base might collapse.”

“Lower your voice.”

Did I speak too loudly? Sumire’s voice was soft. While Sumire acted like an irritated lion when talking to others, here she seemed to be adjusting everything she had – noise, time, air – to the dog. It felt like even the sound was being muffled.

Occasionally, the distant sound of the entire underwater base rumbling and shaking uneasily could be heard. I looked at the furball-like dog, whose chest was only rising and falling, and whispered:

“Can’t we put the dog in a bag and move it?”

I’ve already carried a cat and a snake for 3km, putting them in whatever bag I could find. Even I know it’s not a normal way to transport animals, but it might work for this dog too. That dog seemed lighter than a cat.

If I carry Sumire on my back, and Sumire carries the dog, we might be able to make it somehow. Of course, it would be dog-tired work. But we won’t know unless we try. Sumire, shivering slightly from the cold, carefully covered the dog’s body with a light blanket and said:

“Choko can’t handle that kind of stress.”

Then how did you bring it into the underwater base? Guessing that I was curious, Sumire said:

“We came by boat, sedated. I came with the intention of burying it here if it didn’t wake up again.”Reêad latest novels at novelhall.com

Is 30 years old for a dog a lot, or a little?

I’ve only vaguely heard that animals living on the streets die within 3-4 years. I briefly glanced at a newspaper article saying that the life expectancy of pets has increased due to improved living conditions, nutrition, and veterinary medicine, but I wasn’t interested since we don’t keep animals at home. Until twenty years ago, there were two patients in our house, including my mother and me. And even now, keeping an animal is a luxury in our situation.

If I had known I’d meet cats, dogs, or snakes like this, I would have read at least one pet encyclopedia or something. Wondering if this person, who seemed to have no interest in escape or survival, had any connections left on land, I asked:

“Sumire, what about your family?”

“This child is all I have.”

“I mean your family in Japan.”

“This child is all I have.”

“Don’t you have any friends or close people in Japan?”

“This child is all I have.”

“You liked Shin Hae-ryang, didn’t you? How about contacting him after escaping from here?”

Although Shin Hae-ryang didn’t seem interested in Sumire, Sumire seemed at least somewhat interested, so I threw out that bait. After saying it, I felt like I was trying to lure a child who didn’t want to enter the clinic with a doll or candy.

“...When the helicopter fell into the sea, everyone was busy getting out first. He was the one who cut the broken belt and saved me.”

Thoughts flashed through my mind that Shin Hae-ryang was the main culprit who dropped that helicopter, and when he tried to soak the helicopter carrying Engineer Na’s team in seawater, he only targeted the electronic devices, so maybe he was trying to ensure people didn’t die. Rather than point that out, I just closed my mouth with a sigh.

“I thought he’d want something in return for helping, but there was nothing like that.”

“...Is compensation mandatory here when someone helps?”

Sumire looked at me as if I was making her state the obvious. So I thought I had made a strange statement based on incorrect common sense.

Compensation being mandatory? Sometimes people just help each other as they live their lives. Do they really need to receive payment for that action? Why are the people here so cold? Do people become this cold when they live underwater?

Sumire, sitting on the bed tending to the dog, looked at me for a few seconds and asked:

“Is there something you want?”

I want many things. First, we need at least about five hundred functioning escape pods, or a way to eliminate the phenomenon of time going backwards, or an efficient method to put the Infinite Bridge fanatics in prisons worldwide, or something to report to Korea to please save me.

“I’m getting a headache too, can I have one of those painkillers?”

Sumire opened the drawer again and gave me the entire bottle of pills she had taken from. Rubbing the pill bottle with my hand, I made one last suggestion to Sumire. This is all I’m capable of.

“If we escape from here and go outside, I’ll learn how to do dental care for Choko from a vet and do it secretly for you. If my skills are lacking, I’ll at least apply fluoride to its teeth. Won’t you consider coming with us?”

“I’m staying here.”

I don’t have the ability to take someone who doesn’t want to go, nor can I change her mind. I desperately want to put the dog in a carrier, put Sumire in there too, push them around, and then put them on an escape pod that seems to have fallen from the sky and send them to land. It’s fine now, but we don’t know when East District will flood. You might regret it then. I suppressed that feeling with a silent sigh.

Sumire was now lying peacefully on her bed, looking at the dog. I felt like my presence was an impurity in this room. As I was about to leave the room in disappointment, a sudden thought occurred to me and I asked one last question:

“You didn’t want to talk to others, so why do you answer my questions properly?”

“You were the kindest in this underwater base, doctor.”

Was I? ...I don’t remember. I treat everyone who comes to the hospital similarly. I probably didn’t do anything particularly better or worse for Sumire. Sumire’s answer made me feel even more conflicted.

“There are many better people in the world than me.”

Sumire said nothing. As I left, the door to that room closed silently.