Chapter 14

[August 6, 20XX]

Day off.

Dan Ning went out.

The temperature today was extremely high, and even inside the nest, the heat was palpable. I could say with certainty that this kind of weather was absolutely unsuitable for humans to be walking around outside.

I didn’t know where Dan Ning had gone—after answering a phone call, he hurriedly left the house.

And ever since he left, I had been in an indescribable state of restlessness, completely unable to relax or fully process the newly updated information.

This agitated state surprised me.

Starfarers must undergo rigorous psychological evaluations before being assigned to their posts. Every professional Starfarer possesses the ability to remain calm, rational, and self-controlled in any situation.

I had no doubts about my own professionalism—even when my ship crashed and I escaped to Earth, I never lost my composure—but how could I explain my current mental state?

The environment I was in was safe, even comfortable, with ample food and clean water. Even if any emergencies arose, my well-mimicked motor responses were more than enough to help me avoid danger.

—There was no reason for such agitation. Everything was the same as it had been in recent days.

—Except for one thing.

—Dan Ning wasn’t here.

I didn’t need my Biocomputer’s help to identify this difference.

Unlike his usual workdays or planned outings, Dan Ning’s departure this time was clearly unplanned. Sudden trips like this had happened before, but back then, I had been busy accumulating energy, deciphering various phrases, and concealing my identity. Whenever Dan Ning went out, I would only hope he stayed away longer without giving it much thought.

So, what was different now?

I still needed to gather energy, update my vocabulary, and hide my identity—why was my reaction to Dan Ning’s sudden departure so drastically different?

Analyzing psychological states wasn’t my strong suit, so I left this complex algorithm to my Biocomputer to process.

The temperature seemed to have risen even further, and outside the window, male cicadas continued their relentless chirping.

An inexplicable sense of agitation.

Even the mimicked act of breathing became unbearable.

Perhaps the heat affected me more than I had anticipated.

I jumped down from the sofa and lay sideways on the ceramic floor tiles, hoping the heat transfer would ease my discomfort.

Just as I was testing whether this method was effective, faint metallic clinking sounds came from the nest’s front door.

Dan Ning was back.

The scorching outdoor temperature had left him drenched in sweat, his face flushed an unusual shade of red from prolonged sun exposure.

He entered, changed his shoes, and as he bent down, beads of sweat rolled off his eyelashes, shattering softly against the floor.

“It’s unbearable outside, so damn hot,” he said.

I stood up and, as usual, rubbed against his leg.

The inexplicable agitation from moments ago vanished.

[August 7, 20XX]

Dan Ning didn’t mention where he went yesterday.

Of course, now that I knew he hadn’t discovered my identity, his whereabouts weren’t something I necessarily needed to know. But for some inexplicable reason, I still checked his thoughts.

Dan Ning had gone to the hospital.

That male human named “Zhao Lin” had been involved in a minor traffic accident, and the paramedics had used his phone to contact Dan Ning.

After handling the necessary treatment procedures, Dan Ning contacted Zhao Lin’s family and then returned alone.

The matter was simple, and his actions aligned with the “humanitarian assistance” praised in Earth’s culture.

Yet, I felt that same inexplicable agitation again.

My Biocomputer was still running calculations, and the continuous high-frequency computations had caused it to overheat.

The overheating led to an even more awkward situation: under the heat stimulation, the mimicked genitals had extended outward.

“Chocolate…” Dan Ning looked at the lower half of the mimicry with a strange expression. “You…”

Before he could say anything else, I fled in embarrassment into the litter box.