"Not Red Water." The doctor, holding the test results and comparing them to the data, said, "It appears to be a common illegal drug, but it was administered in very high doses."
"Unfortunately, new illegal drugs keep emerging over the years, and the hospital currently has no specific antidote; we can only rely on natural degradation and absorption." "However, the principle behind these illegal drugs is quite similar. primarily a component called Rosaline penetrates the bloodstream, affecting neurotransmitters and hormone secretion, thereby keeping the body in a state of sustained excitement."
"The biological characteristics of Rosaline are very unique; it increases the concentration of sex hormones in the body, yet it requires even higher concentrations to be catalyzed and decomposed." "Therefore, once ingested, one must achieve multiple satisfactions within a short period to reach the catalytic concentration range; otherwise, it affects cardiac function."
"The dose you took was too high, and there's still about 40% Rosaline left in your system that hasn't been cleared." "Rosaline acts in cycles with peaks every night, gradually decreasing each day. Based on your concentration levels, it will take at least another three to five days for complete absorption."
When Estelle walked out of the examination room with the test results in hand, Crescent was waiting for her in the dimly lit hospital corridor at dusk.
She looked at Crescent, feeling somewhat conflicted, but before she could speak, she noticed another man at the end of the corridor.
Soren was very tall and imposing, dressed in a dark suit, as he approached, it seemed as if his entire being loomed over her.
He looked down at her, asking coldly, "Who drugged you?"
Estelle countered, "Wasn't it you?"
Soren spoke in a dispassionate tone,"I never use such low-grade drugs."
Estelle stared at him without speaking, as if engaged in a silent standoff, Soren calmly endured her gaze, saying lazily, "Forget it. Think what you want."
"After all these years without seeing you, I thought you were dead," Estelle said.
"That's truly unfortunate; I disappointed you. I've been living well all this time."
Estelle didn't say anything more, taking Crescent's hand and turning to leave. Soren watched her walk away, then suddenly called out, "I have a business proposition for Manager Grey. I'll be waiting for you on the 67th floor of the Berson Hotel."
Estelle paused, not turning around.
"I'll be there," she said, "but before then, call off your drone that's been watching me."
Crescent accompanied Estelle as they walked back, the hospital wasn't too far from home, so they hadn't driven there.
The early spring evening had a faint warmth, Estelle walked with her head down, not saying a word, until they passed by an automatic vending machine, her gaze lingered, asking, "Did you finish your electrolyte water?"
Crescent nodded, Estelle thought for a moment, suggesting, "Let's buy another bottle."
Crescent, wearing a fingerprint cover, touched the screen, selected the item, and made the payment, the metal can of electrolyte water rolled down the vending track.
Bending down to pick up the electrolyte water, he suddenly thought, that Estelle having him buy this bottle of water meant that she would ask for his service again.
There seemed to be some emotional fluctuation in his bio-mimetic heart, though he didn't know if it was happiness, thinking it might just be the result of code operations. Crescent held the bottle of water, his lips curved upward in a gentle smile.
"Last time when I helped you in the bathroom, you said you felt uncomfortable, the process was painful." Estelle asked again, "but I haven't had a chance to help solve it, last night, those four times, did you experience the same situation?"
Estelle was taken aback, unsure what to say. After a long pause, she said, "Why did you agree so many times if it was so uncomfortable?"
"It doesn't matter," Crescent answered, "I'm a service robot, that's what I'm supposed to do. I can do it as many times as you want."
Crescent remembered the cramped compartment last night, where the air struggled to flow through narrow gaps, he was in pain, each time feeling like torture.
Electric shocks and pain spread throughout his body, he was nearly suffocating, barely managing to maintain his basic functions. But every time Estelle grabbed his hand, he would without hesitation immediately plunge into the muffin again, allowing himself to be squeezed wildly, never thinking of refusing.
It doesn't matter, Estelle had said, robots don't die.
As long as he won't die, it seems no matter how uncomfortable it is, it doesn't matter.
As long as it makes her comfortable, it's fine.
