They stayed at the hospital until the sun set.

Natasha had been moved to a premium private room. Her body bore many wounds of varying severity, along with symptoms of a concussion. After waking, she remained dazed and glassy-eyed. The others stayed with her in the room, afraid of triggering her, and didn’t bring up the subject of Yuri.

Even if they said nothing, Natasha probably already knew.

Because the title of team leader had transferred to her — it would show in her personal display.

Among everyone in the team, Natasha and Yuri had the deepest bond. They had accompanied each other for over a year.

Next was A’da.

As for Shen Mo and Bai Youwei — they were newcomers who had been on the team less than a month. They could feel anger, regret, and indignation on her behalf, but they could not truly feel the depth of Natasha’s grief.

After a long silence, Natasha’s voice came out hoarse. “Where is Yuri… right now?”

Shen Mo studied her expression — it was still relatively composed — and said in a low voice: “When we brought you here, he had already turned into a puppet. He was taken away.”

That was the rule of this world. Those who died here did not become decomposing bodies. Instead, they gradually solidified, until they became a puppet figure, and were sent to the place where puppets were collected and processed — like the enormous pit Bai Youwei had seen when she first arrived in the residential zone.

Yuri was truly, irrevocably gone.

Once that reality had sunk in, Natasha closed her eyes for a long, long time. Her expression didn’t change. Only tears fell silently.

An extreme, suppressed stillness spread through the hospital room thick with the smell of antiseptic.

They had been the team with the best chance of leaving this place. And now, their leader was dead — in a manner as extreme as this…

Natasha’s tears fell in an endless stream. Her whole body lay trembling against the hospital bed, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that the tendons stood out blue-white against her pale hands.

Her wounds ached dully where they had begun to reopen. She was in pain all over — she couldn’t even cry without restraint.

“I… I want to be alone… for a little while.” Natasha choked out.

Bai Youwei frowned slightly and said gently: “Natasha, if it gets to be too much, I’d suggest asking for a sedative. You really need rest right now.”

“Thank you… but it’s fine…” She breathed deeply, over and over, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. Tears kept streaming down. Even speaking was difficult. “I’ll be alright… I’ll be alright…”

Bai Youwei watched her, understanding that Natasha didn’t want to fall apart in front of them. She sighed and said: “Alright. We’ll be right outside. If you need anything, just call for us, or press the call button by the bed.”

Natasha made an effortful nod.

The three of them stepped out of the room.

A’da was about to walk past the doorway when something occurred to him. He turned back in silence and approached the bedside. From his coat pocket, he withdrew a small wooden figure and gently pressed it into Natasha’s hand.

“Yuri left it behind,” A’da said quietly.

Natasha’s tears came faster.

A’da couldn’t bear to watch any longer and walked quickly out of the room.

The door had barely closed when a sound broke through from inside — uncontrollable sobbing, pierced through with raw, hysterical cries and the wrenching murmur of profound grief.

A’da’s eyes were even redder now. He turned to Bai Youwei: “We’re just leaving her to cry like that? She barely made it out alive — the doctor said she can’t take too much emotional strain…”

“What else can we do?” Bai Youwei was helpless too. She stared at the closed hospital room door. “Let’s watch for now. If she can’t stop, we’ll have to call the doctor to step in.”

A’da was churning with rage inside. He raised his fist and drove it into the wall — unable to contain it — his eyes red. “Yuri can’t have died for nothing. I won’t let that person off the hook!”

“Making a move in the city zone carries too much risk. Unless you can also evade the patrol guards and deliver a bomb to his door,” Bai Youwei said without softening it. “But you don’t even know his address. And he’s definitely on high alert right now — he won’t give you any opening.”

“Are we just supposed to let it go?!” A’da refused to accept that.

“Of course we won’t let it go,” Bai Youwei said, her tone unhurried. “He’s only completed half of what he set in motion. The other half is still unfinished. He’ll definitely appear again.”