A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 35

Was it worth it?

Once the initial rush of impulse and anxiety faded, that was the first question Mizuki asked himself.

Only two days ago, the Sentinel had been like a docile snake, resting against his knee. The memory of that fluttering heartbeat and the spark they shared when their eyes met was still vivid.

The fury and restlessness that followed Shiraishi being taken away had felt like a thorn in his side, driving Mizuki to act without considering the consequences.

Mizuki was an opportunist. In the game Ghost Hunter, he excelled at playing the monster, exploiting system glitches and player loopholes alike. He was a master of deduction and puzzle-solving. Lost Voyage was the same—to win, you had to take risks. You couldn’t catch the wolf without sacrificing the cub.

But reality wasn’t a game.

Was a Sentinel he’d known for less than three months truly worth a Guide risking everything?

Mizuki could have chosen to walk away. In fact, Shiraishi had wanted him to, at least on the surface. Despite the possessiveness written into a Sentinel’s DNA, Shiraishi had chosen to push his Guide away, keeping Mizuki in safety while he turned back toward the very place he had escaped.

Recalling those emerald eyes, the Guide pursed his lips. His falling black hair shielded his eyes and hid his thoughts. This was a conflict Mizuki hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Is this the right thing to do?

Since the Sentinel himself had made the arrangements, Mizuki was morally “off the hook” to leave him be.

Will you regret it?

Mizuki didn’t know.

With Shiraishi gone, the Guide no longer had to worry about midnight “raids” or a bite-happy Sentinel constantly eyeing his neck. Mizuki’s future could have been as smooth as he’d dreamed back in his student days: open-minded parents, a steady internship at the Tower, and a direct path to his dream career.

Are you satisfied with that?

The memory of that kiss where their breaths mingled, the soft touch of the Sentinel’s cheek, and the snake tail coiled around Mizuki’s waist played in his mind. The Guide heard the scales of his heart tip.

He didn’t believe he could comfortably enjoy the rest of his life while simply forgetting everything about Shiraishi. To avoid regret and internal turmoil, he decided to just do it. If he got caught by the Research Institute and turned into a test subject, or even if he died, so be it.

Mizuki couldn’t quite define what he felt for Shiraishi right now, but the Guide side of him refused to abandon his Sentinel like this.

***

At least, that was what the Guide thought until he was tossed into an observation room.

Mizuki: “…”

“Teacher Mizuki, we’ve arranged for you to stay in this observation room for a while,” Teacher Zhang said, his smile as warm as their first meeting.

Mizuki looked around the cold, bare room. It was stripped of all furniture except for a bed. His eyebrows twitched. They had the nerve to call this “hosting” him?

Mizuki took a deep breath and asked, “What about my three students?”

“We only wished to invite you as our guest, Teacher Mizuki. Unwelcome guests shouldn’t be privy to our secrets, right?”

Mizuki’s expression didn’t flicker. He asked calmly, “Did you get rid of them?”

“Yes,” Zhang replied casually. “In exactly the way you’re imagining.”

Mizuki remained stoic, even as the Black Mamba in his spiritual realm rattled its tail and bared its fangs. He reached out and suppressed his restless spirit animal.

“I’m a bit surprised. Aren’t you short on test subjects? Three young, free Sentinels seems like a waste of materials.”

“They didn’t quite meet our standards,” Zhang said with a hint of regret.

“What standards?” Mizuki asked, his tone as casual as if he were asking what was for lunch.

“I can’t tell you that just yet,” Zhang smiled. Then he added, “Actually, the moment you submitted your application, we knew exactly who you were.”

“Oh? Do I have some special identity I don’t know about?” Mizuki countered.

“You are Shiraishi’s only matching Guide,” Zhang said, still smiling, showing no irritation at Mizuki’s probing.

Mizuki realized playing dumb was useless since they already had him locked up. He leaned back against the bed, looking relaxed as he asked, “Where is Shiraishi?”

“In another observation room, under similar conditions to yours,” Zhang laughed. “By the way, we’d like your full cooperation.”

“Why should I?” Mizuki asked lazily.

“We might be reluctant to hurt you, but your Sentinel…” Zhang paused, his smile fixed. “We’ve injected a bomb into his heart.”

“Even an S-rank Sentinel can’t survive their heart being blown to pieces, can they?”

Mizuki’s heart felt as though it had been suddenly seized by an invisible hand and squeezed tight. He momentarily lost his breath. His neck and shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax.

Mizuki smiled back. “Is that so? Then I’m truly terrified. You aren’t going to inject me too, are you?”

“Regardless, when you see him tomorrow or later, please say some kind words on our behalf,” Zhang said, his smile looking like it was glued to his face. “Sentinels are always so much more obedient to their Guides.”

Zhang turned and left.

Locked away, Mizuki expected the Institute to rush in and start collecting data. However, after two cycles of eating and sleeping, he was left entirely alone. He was so bored he almost started catching mice with the Black Mamba in his spiritual realm, and he’d already plucked a patch of grass bald in his mind.

While he appeared to be resting peacefully on the bed, he was actually busy pestering his spirit animal.

“Hey, Snake. Do you think they caught me just to waste money feeding me? Their patience is incredible. How many days has it been, and they still haven’t dragged me to the lab?”

The snake burrowed deep into a thicket where the Guide couldn’t reach, trying to escape Mizuki’s mental noise. If it could speak, its first words would likely be telling Mizuki to shut up.

Mizuki rolled over on the bed, giving up on harassing the snake. Instead, he went back to analyzing the pheromones lingering at the tip of his nose.

Normally, a Guide’s nose wasn’t as sharp as a Sentinel’s, but ever since he entered the Institute, Mizuki had been picking up a faint, mellow scent of coffee. As he had chatted with Teacher Zhang earlier, he had been silently dissecting the scent.

It was faint, but fortunately, Mizuki had aced his Pheromone Analysis class. The Sentinel’s physical state smelled poor, tinged with anxiety… and joy?

The Guide doubted his own judgment. Was the Sentinel actually enjoying himself in the lab, or was he just homesick for the place?

The other four people with them were also Special Species. While the Class Monitor was talking to Teacher Zhang, Mizuki had covertly typed a message to Ye Ran on his wrist terminal.

[Did you smell Shiraishi’s pheromones?]

Ye Ran looked over nervously and gave a tiny shake of his head.

“It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you three students head to our cafeteria first?” Zhang had said with a smile. “Teacher Mizuki, I have some special things I’d like you to see.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Mizuki replied.

“Teacher Mizuki…” The Class Monitor started to speak.

“Go ahead, don’t worry,” Mizuki waved them off, then turned to Zhang. “It won’t take too long, will it?”

“Correct. My colleague will take them to the cafeteria.” Zhang beckoned an escaped researcher in a matching uniform.

The three students were worried, but they couldn’t show it openly. They simply followed the colleague away.

Recalling this, Mizuki gave a small sigh. He wondered if Zhang was lying about “handling” the trio. He had miscalculated. If he’d known, he would have tricked them into staying behind. The Institute only really needed him.

Mizuki preferred to believe they were still alive. There was no reason to kill perfectly good hostages immediately.

After Xiang Heng and the others left, Mizuki had asked, “What did you want to show me, Teacher Zhang?”

“Some of our specialized equipment that can be used even in deep space.”

As he spoke, Zhang drove the sightseeing car deeper into the Institute grounds. The architecture continued the cold, minimalist style of the exterior. Mizuki followed Zhang further and further into the secluded areas.

By the time they reached an open observation room door, a five-man squad had appeared behind them. They wore identical uniforms, lacked neckbands, and were clearly well-trained “Normals.” Mizuki knew instantly they were there specifically for him.

And then, he was forced into the observation room.

Mizuki had counted five days, though there was no sunrise or sunset in his spiritual realm. He guessed the time based on the frequency of the meals. His wrist terminal had been confiscated by Zhang, but luckily, Mizuki had managed to hide a mini-terminal on his person before coming. Its functions were primitive—just photos, GPS, communication, and the time.

Fearing discovery, Mizuki hadn’t dared to take it out until now. He took a stealthy glance at the time. It had been five days, just as he estimated. He hid the terminal again and closed his eyes.

It was so boring that he even began to complain mentally about his father, Mizuki Koming. His son had been kidnapped by a Research Institute, and the man was still off the grid.

Finally, the door opened. This time, it wasn’t the sound of a machine, but human footsteps.

Teacher Zhang stood at the door, greeting him with a smile.

“Teacher Mizuki, how have you been these past few days? Please, come with me.”

While Mizuki was complaining about him, Mizuki Koming had arrived at a place his son would never have guessed.

“Koming, it’s been a long time.”

Koming’s back looked about fifty percent like Mizuki’s. Although Mizuki inherited his mother’s face, his aura when he wasn’t smiling was a carbon copy of his father’s.

The black-haired man leaned his hands on the table. Even in an apron, no one would ever mistake him for a simple house husband.

“A long time? Is this the best you can do for a welcome?”

In front of Koming was a massive, life-sized screen. The woman on the screen had hair turning silver, falling loosely over her shoulders. There were fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and her expression was calm and steady as she sat in a chair.

“I’m sorry, Koming,” she said apologetically. “You know I can’t handle long-distance interstellar travel.”

Koming fell silent, his initial irritation softening. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“Yes, well, the Institute has long since abandoned this place,” the woman on the screen said slowly.

“Enough small talk,” Koming said. “Do you have the research records and data on Shiraishi?”

Mizuki was led through a maze of corridors by Teacher Zhang until they stopped at a lab door.

The doors in these hallways all looked identical. Mizuki had no idea how the researchers told them apart. Since they provided cleaning spray with the meals, Mizuki’s clothes were relatively fresh, if a bit wrinkled.

The Guide kept one hand tucked in his coat pocket. “You’re bringing me here alone? Aren’t you afraid I’ll take you hostage?”

“Would you?” Zhang laughed. “Our compatibility isn’t high enough for you to land a mental attack on me, is it?”

Mizuki kept his eyes on the unchanging walls of the corridor. “You never know.”

“Even if you could, you wouldn’t. Your Sentinel is in our hands, and I’m not that important to the Institute anyway,” Zhang replied.

“Come. I imagine you’ve missed your Sentinel dearly.”

As Zhang finished speaking, the door slid open. Mizuki immediately saw the gray-haired Sentinel behind a glass partition, surrounded by a mountain of equipment.