Arknights: The Life Inside-Chapter 96

The Next Day

Yoren woke up early. Knowing that Brother ACE wasn't leaving lifted a weight off his chest. The relief made him feel lighter, brighter. He hummed a little tune as he jogged downstairs.

Hurd and his aunt, who were in the middle of making breakfast, turned to him in surprise.

"Yoren, why are you walking already?"

Yoren grinned and rolled up his pant leg.

"Second Uncle, my injury's healed! Look at my thigh, doesn't it look perfectly fine? White and shiny, right?"

Hurd frowned as he studied the fresh pink skin.

"Weird kid. Your body heals too fast."

After breakfast, Yoren called Snowsant and the others to his room for a meeting. He told them he wanted to start his own business.

Snowsant was the first to shoot her hand up.

"I agree! I mean, I love Aina too, but I want a place that's ours. A real home."

Ifrit jumped in, her eyes sparkling.

"Me too! If it's our own place, we can have BBQ parties whenever we want! Hehehe!"

Snowsant chimed again, beaming.

"And when we start making money, we can buy snacks!"

The two little girls spun wild dreams, voices overlapping.

"I wanna buy tons of candy!"

"I want Wangzai milk!"

"I want one of those huge princess beds like in storybooks!"

"I'm gonna plant a Christmas tree in the yard!"

Yoren quickly waved his hands to stop the flood.

"Okay, okay, timeout! You're treating this like it's make-believe. And sorry, you can't buy Wangzai milk—it's a specialty from my hometown."

Out of everyone, only Brother ACE remained calm and focused.

"What we buy comes later. Right now, what we really need is a headquarters."

Exactly. Yoren had thought the same. Though his second uncle was generous, this was just temporary. They couldn't build a future out of someone else's home.

The headquarters would be crucial. It would affect negotiations, supply storage, defense systems, even medical operations. Of course, they couldn't match a place like Black Steel International, not with their budget—but it had to feel like a real base. Not a backyard shack.

"Snowsant, tally up all our funds."

"Got it."

Because Terra's currency had a large denomination, the money looked less impressive when counted. They had 75,000 left from Hemer's envelope. After buying phones and other essentials, they still had 46,000 left from the Platt brothers' donation. Add the 7,000 ACE had, and that totaled 128,000 Terra coins. Plus, they still had two S-class origin stones.

Yoren broke it down and left 28,000 with his second uncle, just in case. Then, with 100,000 coins, he set off to find their new headquarters.

There were a lot of things to consider when picking a location: transport, strategic value, resources—but Yoren kept it simple. Headquarters could move in the future. What mattered now was getting started.

Hapi City was the obvious choice.

One, because light manganese ore was attractive.

Two, because of the privileges granted to the Infected.

Three... he was tired. He didn't feel like wandering into a new city.

In Hapi, the Kilt neighborhood made the most sense. Infected and ordinary citizens lived together there. It was the ideal place.

Yoren didn't want luxury, just space—room for logistics, a business front, housing, maybe even a small clinic. Something flexible. Something real. They wouldn't stay four forever.

He checked in with Hurd before leaving. Housing prices in Kilt weren't bad. District C was the cheapest. District A was mid-range. District B was pricier because it had commercial value—but they weren't planning to buy, just rent.

The search began.

Three Hours Later

Yoren crouched under a tree, drenched in sweat.

"Snowsant, water."

"Here."

He chugged and wiped his forehead.

They'd scoured District A all morning, but nothing clicked. The homes were too small, rundown, or simply not available. Not even up to his uncle's standards.

He gritted his teeth. Time to check District B.

Four More Hours

Dusk crept in. They'd combed all of District B without any luck. Four streets total. The first three were too busy, filled with shops and malls. Their current position was at the edge of the fourth street, an oddly deserted area. Few people, fewer buildings.

Snowsant slumped beside him.

"Big Windmill, it's dead out here. Go any further and we're out of the city."

Yoren sighed. She was right. This was the end of the line.

"Maybe we should just—"

"Hey! Yoyo, look! That yard over there looks empty."

Yoren followed Ifrit's finger. Across the street stood three joined buildings with dark stone facades. At first glance, they looked abandoned. But upon closer inspection—they were beautiful.

Only the far-right unit appeared occupied. The other two were clearly vacant.

ACE nudged Yoren.

"Let's ask."

"But there's no rental sign..."

"Doesn't hurt to try."

Yoren nodded. They crossed the street. A boy with a shaved head was kicking a ball out front.

"Hey, little brother, do you live here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Are the other two buildings part of your house?"

"Yep."

"Any chance they're for rent?"

The boy turned and yelled into the house, voice cracking mid-sentence.

"Mom! Someone wants to rent a place!"

A sturdy, no-nonsense woman came out to greet them. She wasn't warm, but she got straight to the point.

All three buildings were hers. The two empty ones were indeed available.

Yoren took a look.

Two floors in the front, roughly 400 square meters each. Simple but smartly partitioned. Great for business. Behind them, a marble-paved courtyard led to a small four-story residence. There was even a hidden basement.

The whole setup was perfect.

Across the street were a few open businesses—a restaurant, a photo studio, a shop. Quiet, but not desolate.

Yoren turned to Snowsant.

"What do you think?"

She nodded like her life depended on it.

Everyone was clearly happy. No one expected such a perfect space in such an unexpected spot.

"88,000 per year," the landlady said.

Yoren blinked.

"Wait—we just want the middle unit. Not both."

"That is the price for one. And don't bother haggling. I don't have time. Take it or leave it. I'm cooking dinner."

Yoren could tell she wasn't bluffing. The price was high, but she wouldn't budge.

He gritted his teeth. Money wasn't for hoarding.

Snap!

He slapped the cash down.

"Deal. Where's the key?"

After signing the contract, it was official.

They had a home.

Snowsant and Ifrit spun circles in the courtyard, laughing like kids.

ACE clapped a hand on Yoren's shoulder.

"This is it. We're in it together now."

Snowsant looked up at Yoren, eyes misty.

"Big Windmill... we finally have our own home."

Yoren nodded.

They cleaned up what they could while there was still light.

Yoren then dashed across the street to the photo studio.

They took a picture.

Yoren, Snowsant, ACE, and Ifrit stood shoulder to shoulder in front of their new base.

Yoren smiled, proud and content. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

ACE gave a thumbs up.

Snowsant flashed a peace sign.

Ifrit grinned wildly.

As the sun dipped low, their shadows stretched out across the street. That photo captured something irreplaceable.

Years Later

Someone held that now-yellowed photo in their hand.

The four figures in the image still glowed with life—like they owned the whole world.

A drop of blood hit the photo, followed by a tear.

He'd always known the road to kingship was paved with blood and sacrifice.

Somewhere, somehow, something had been preserved. And something else... had been lost.

"Windmill!"

He turned around.

No one was there.

Only silence.

His mission was done. But those who were gone would never return. That voice, once so close, would echo forever in his memory, never again in life.

Unless... everything could begin again.

Hurd frowned and looked over Yoren's "headquarters" from top to bottom, inside and out. Then, the old man sighed and muttered:

"Remember to come home for lunch."

Leaving those words behind, Hurd shook his head and walked away.

Yoren could tell what his second uncle was thinking. The rent was too high for this place. It wasn't that the house was unworthy—just that in Hurd's eyes, it wasn't worth the price Yoren had paid. But now that the money was spent and the contract signed, the old man could only grumble and move on.

Ifrit wandered to the doorway, clutching a broom.

"Big Windmill, what's wrong with Uncle Hurd?"

"Nothing much. He just told us to come back for lunch."

"Oh."

To be honest, even though Yoren had spent a lot on instant noodles back in his original world, he'd never really grasped the value of money. To him, money was for spending—like dropping cash in a game to get what you wanted. Others might say you gained nothing, just data. But for him, he gained happiness. That made it worth it.

Just like this house. In other people's eyes, the rent was outrageous. But Snowsant and Ifrit liked it. He and Brother ACE were happy with it too. Judging himself by someone else's standard would be foolish. Happiness was hard to buy, even with money. And by that logic, this house wasn't expensive at all.

Still, a quick glance at his wallet... and his smile started to fade.

He knew how to spend money. He'd learn to make it soon enough. But saving? Budgeting? That was another story. Looking at everyone else in the room—yeah, none of them looked like they knew how to balance a budget either.

What they needed was a reliable, detail-minded accountant. A real financial controller.

Now that the headquarters was chosen, there was still so much to do.

The place was huge, but it was a blank slate. Yoren would need to buy furniture, daily necessities—the whole deal. Even the four-story villa in the back was practically a shell.

Yoren stared around, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

He remembered moving houses as a kid. The adults did all the cleaning and furniture arranging. He just stood at the gate and played with a squirt gun. Within two days, everything was perfect.

Looking at the empty space now, Yoren sighed.

Maybe... this was the price of growing up.

After a full morning of cleaning, the place looked presentable. Brother ACE cleared out the junk. Ifrit pouted but scrubbed the floors till they gleamed. Snowsant wiped down the glass and partitioned spaces.

Yoren tossed out the filthy water and came back with a fresh basin.

"That's enough. Come wash your hands."

Unfortunately, their budget meant furniture shopping had to be lean. Very lean.

Yoren thought it over. No one in this part of the city knew them yet. Reputation didn't matter. Functionality was key. If he had to, he'd even use temporary substitutes.

He turned to the others, who were sprawled out catching their breath.

"You guys take five. I'm gonna check with the landlady—see if she's got any old tables, chairs, or benches we can borrow."

"Okay."

Just as he stepped outside, Yoren spotted the same buzz-cut kid from yesterday, kicking around a football by himself.

He recognized the kid as the landlady's son. They hadn't spoken much before, but since Yoren was going to be living here, it made sense to break the ice.

The boy looked about thirteen or fourteen. Tall and lanky from growing spurts, with skinny arms and legs.

"Hey, playing ball again?"

The boy glanced up.

"Oh, it's you. Didn't think you'd really rent the place. Must be rich."

". . ."

Yoren wasn't exactly intimidating, but he was no pushover. Yesterday, he'd assumed this kid was shy. Now, he was realizing this was one of those kids.

A true alley rascal.

Not a little brat anymore. More like a teenage menace with upgraded chaos skills.

The boy had scuffed sneakers, tanned skin, and the scraped knees of a born troublemaker. His ugly crew cut screamed of a mom-enforced haircut. One word summed up his vibe: mischievous.

Seeing Yoren sizing him up, the boy curled his lip.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing really—"

"Watch the ball!"

Thump!

The football smacked Yoren square in the face.

Bata! It bounced to the ground, leaving a dusty imprint on his cheek.

"Hahaha! You couldn't dodge that? Too slow, old man!"

Ah. So that's how it was.

The kid had been nervous yesterday. Now that Yoren was officially a neighbor, the little gremlin's true self was coming out.

Yoren calmly brushed the dust off his face.

No anger. Just insight.

"Kid, we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other. Don't pick a fight you can't finish."

"Fight? What fight? This road's pretty wide, isn't it?"

Yoren crossed his arms.

"Also, I'm not that much older than you. Don't go calling me 'uncle.'"

The kid blinked. "You serious? I'm thirteen. You look thirty."

"Alright, alright. Let's not argue. My name's Yoren. Just call me 'brother,' okay?"

"Then I'll call you Old Yoren."

". . ."

Yoren sighed, picked up the football, and threw an arm around the kid's shoulder.

"Come on, let's talk."

"About what?"

"First off, what's your name?"

"Ergou."

Yoren gave a thumbs-up. "Fitting name."

A few minutes of chatting revealed that their surname was Li. Ergou's father had died in an accident when he was young. He and his mother had lived here ever since.

His full name was Li Tianye. But everyone called him "Ergou." Some of the neighbors jokingly called him "Zhaotian." Why the nickname stuck—nobody knew. That's just how it was in neighborhoods like this.

Names, titles—they came and went. What mattered was how people treated each other.

But something else stood out to Yoren.

The surname "Li" didn't match the usual naming conventions in Victoria. People here didn't share surnames openly. Most went by given names or nicknames—like Cook, Hall, Wood, Brink. But Li? That was something different.

As they kept talking, Ergou shared one last thing.

He hadn't always lived with just his mother. He used to have an older sister.

But she'd run away from home a few years ago.

And no one had heard from her since.