Arknights: It Can't Possibly Be My Fault... Right? — Chapter 95

Chapter 95: A Sudden Change in Atmosphere

“Arrest me?” Nine repeated, her voice flat.

“Yes. Arrest you.” Ch’en gave a stiff, mechanical nod.

Nine let out a slow breath, the faint scent of damp concrete lingering in the air between them. “…You shouldn’t have come.”

“But I’m already here!”

“You…”

“Stop!” Lin Yuxia stepped right into the crossfire, throwing her hands up to shatter the mounting tension. “Are you two putting on a stage play? And Nine—how did you end up Infected too?”

Nine lowered her gaze to the floor. “…Sorry.”

Lin Yuxia whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at the Lungmen Guard Department officer. “And you! What are you doing, you silly dragon? You haven’t spoken a single normal sentence since you walked in. Are you having another one of your episodes?”

“I am not.” Ch’en reflexively snapped back. A second later, the defensive posture cracked. Realizing Lin Yuxia was entirely correct, Ch’en guiltily averted her eyes, staring hard at a crack in the wall.

“…I ran through ten thousand different scenarios for our reunion.” Nine selectively ignored the fuming Rat King’s daughter and rubbed her temples. “But… this? This really wasn’t in my expectations.”

“I consulted some friends beforehand,” Ch’en stated, puffing her chest out slightly.

“…I wasn’t complimenting you.” Nine looked away, her posture shifting as if she were plotting an immediate escape route. “But it’s just as well. I happen to have a request regarding the Guard Department…”

“I refuse.” Ch’en shot it down with righteous finality before Nine could even finish the sentence.

“I haven’t even told you what it is yet.” Nine stared at her, utterly drained. Compared to this bizarre, stubborn version of Ch’en standing before her, the old, strict officer suddenly seemed a lot cuter.

“No matter what it is, as long as it concerns your defection from Lungmen, I won’t agree to it,” Ch’en muttered sullenly, crossing her arms.

“Don’t throw a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

Nine sighed again. “Don’t think I can’t see right through this. The Little Tiger taught you this routine, didn’t she? Told you to come in here and cause a ruckus right off the bat to seize the momentum?”

“I… no. This is just my personality now.”

Nine and Lin Yuxia exchanged a long, silent look. They both saw the exact same exhaustion mirrored in each other’s eyes.

“Ch’en Hui-chieh, how about this.” Nine dropped the subject, gesturing toward the deeper, darker alleys of the sector. “I’m heading into the Slums to check on the Infected. Come with me. Take a look for yourself, and then you can tell me whether you agree or not. Deal?”

“…Let me make one thing clear first. Even after I’m done looking, I won’t agree to any of your ideas.” Ch’en turned her head away, her tail swishing awkwardly behind her.

Neither Nine nor Lin Yuxia knew that Ch’en had actually arrived much earlier, hiding in the shadows right as their conversation had begun. Before stepping into the light, she had mentally rehearsed an entire speech—not the aggressive nonsense Swire had coached her on, but something genuinely solemn, heavy, and righteous.

Yet, after eavesdropping on the quiet, burdened exchange between Nine and Lin Yuxia, the words had died in her throat. The world wasn’t black and white. Everyone here was carrying their own bitter difficulties.

“Then I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go, Yuxia.” Nine shook her head, a faint, helpless smile touching her lips.

“Oh, so now you remember I’m here,” Lin Yuxia grumbled, her face a mask of pure resentment. For a solid three minutes, her presence in this room had felt roughly equal to the random Reunion grunt crouching by the crates.

“Right… I haven’t asked yet.” As if suddenly tuning into Lin Yuxia’s mental complaints, Ch’en finally noticed the man huddled in the corner. “Who is this?”

“A friend.”

“Oh.” Ch’en narrowed her eyes, sizing him up. His ragged clothes screamed local Lungmen street trash, but his broad facial features and thick build were distinctly northern Ursus. An immigrant? “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Chelov.” The man promptly raised a hand, desperate to assert his existence. “You can just call me Chelov.”

“Chelov… very ordinary.” Ch’en nodded, instantly losing interest.

“Is everything settled now?” Lin Yuxia glanced around the dimly lit hideout, dusting off her sleeves. “If we’re done with the theatrics, then we…”

“Wait!”

Just as the four of them shifted their weight to leave, a loud, cheerful shout echoed through the damp room.

“I have a question!”

Lin Yuxia froze. ‘?’

Was there another secret agent lurking around? Was her miserable, rundown safehouse suddenly a popular tourist attraction today? People just kept popping out of the woodwork. And wait—why did that voice sound so irritatingly familiar?

“Everyone! I have a question!” Kai strolled out from the shadows, raising a hand like a student in a lecture hall. He felt exactly like an ignored NPC in the final stage of an RPG, stepping out from behind the defeated boss’s corpse to slow-clap and say, Well, well, well.

“And whose friend is this?” Nine raised an eyebrow, her guard instantly going up. Why was a Rhodes Island operator wandering around a Lungmen black site?

“I’m her friend,” Kai answered brightly, pointing a finger directly at Ch’en. “I’m also her friend,” he added, pivoting to point at Lin Yuxia. “And finally, I’m your friend.”

Nine’s frown deepened. She had absolutely zero memory of this grinning idiot. She turned to Ch’en, her expression clearly asking: Do you know this clown?

For a split second, Ch’en desperately wanted to shake her head, deny everything, and walk away. But the truth was inescapable. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “This is Kai. A senior Caster from Rhodes Island.”

“You really didn’t need to emphasize that last part.” Kai waved off the introduction dismissively. “I just said I have a question. I assume you all heard me?”

“Uh… yeah.” Ch’en blinked in confusion. “What’s the question?”

“The question is, you’re having a super cool Infected party in the slums, and you didn’t invite me?!” Kai shook his head, looking deeply betrayed. “So I invited myself. I’m sure Miss Lin welcomes my presence.”

The corner of Lin Yuxia’s eye twitched violently. She took a deep breath, calculating the headache of arguing versus the headache of compliance. Figuring that since she was already guiding one idiot, she might as well guide four, she forced a nod. “Of course. You’re so welcome.”

And just like that, Kai happily—and to Nine’s utter bewilderment—slotted himself into their makeshift squad, ready to march deeper into the Containment Area. Nine still hadn’t fully processed what exactly was wrong with this guy’s brain, but she was starting to get a very strong feeling that Ch’en’s sudden drop in IQ was entirely his fault.

After waiting a full two minutes in silence just to make absolutely sure no one else was going to jump out of a trash can, Lin Yuxia took the lead. Her mood was heavy, awkward, and deeply confused.

She vaguely remembered coming here to have a poignant, emotional reunion with an old friend. How had the genre warped so violently? They were practically a guided tour group now. Where did it all go wrong?

Poor Miss Lin Yuxia spiraled into a quiet crisis of self-doubt.

The core issue was that Kai possessed zero respect for the atmosphere. Or rather, he was completely immune to reading it.

As Lin Yuxia walked point, handling the winding, trash-strewn alleys, Ch’en and Nine naturally fell into step behind her, walking side-by-side in a heavy, contemplative silence. Kai watched them for a few seconds, stroked his chin, and then simply jogged up to walk right next to Ch’en.

This sudden shift left the burly Chelov trailing awkwardly at the very back. Not wanting to be left behind in the dark, the Ursus man quickened his pace, jogging up to walk right next to Kai.

Originally, this was supposed to be a beautiful, cinematic tableau: old friends, estranged by conflicting ideals, brought together by fate to walk the same dark path for one brief moment. A scene where everyone understood each other’s pain without a single word spoken.

Kai had forcibly warped the mood, turning their solemn march into an abstract comedy routine.

Lin Yuxia walked point like a lone scout, while the other four marched shoulder-to-shoulder behind her in a perfectly straight, horizontal infantry line, taking up the entire width of the alley.

Feeling the strange rhythm of their footsteps, the depressed Lin Yuxia glanced back over her shoulder.

Who could have predicted that the moment she looked back, all four of them would look up at her in perfect, synchronized unison?

It was… physically impossible to keep a straight face. Seeing the towering Ursus man, the brooding defector, the awkward cop, and Kai’s clear, unbelievably foolish gaze all lined up like ducks in a row, Lin Yuxia had to mentally recall every single tragic, traumatic moment of her entire life just to stop herself from bursting into laughter.