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ArabicArknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 50
Chapter 50: Hospitalization
Since crossing the boundary between two worlds, Lynn never imagined he would end up critically injured and plunged into a coma.
He hadn’t overthought the choice. It was pure, unadulterated instinct. His intuition had pierced straight through the structural weakness of that inexplicable confinement, shattering it. Instinct drove him to grab Lappland by the scruff of her collar, hurl them both out the window, and plummet toward the streets below. They crashed violently into a towering heap of trash, the sheer blunt force instantly knocking the world out from under him.
A coma was never just a simple symptom; it was the body hovering one step away from death’s door. While Lynn’s physical fitness had improved through rigorous training, he was still just a fragile human. He simply couldn’t compare to the Terran races who could casually leap across rooftops and shrug off concrete-shattering blows.
A drop from the third floor would shatter his legs. A fall from the sixth floor without a safety net was a guaranteed death sentence. Yet, for the native species of this world, such heights were entirely trivial. Compared to them, Lynn’s biology was as brittle as spun glass. By Terran medical standards, the mere fact that he could walk without breaking a sweat was a miracle; otherwise, he’d easily be classified as severely handicapped.
He hadn’t felt the sting of that disparity much before. His terrifyingly accurate intuition allowed him to bypass physical confrontations entirely, taking shortcuts around danger. He usually slipped away using sheer foresight. But the moment he threw himself off that building to save someone, the biological chasm between him and the rest of Terra became violently clear.
For a Sarkaz or a Forte, a six-story dive was just a dramatic way to play the hero. For Lynn, the second he hit the ground, his nervous system overloaded from the agonizing impact, shutting down his brain.
During the hazy, half-awake hours that followed, his reality was reduced to pure torture. His bones ached, his muscles tore, and his internal organs screamed in protest. Through the fog of agony, fragmented and chaotic voices echoed in the sterile air around him.
“Run an Oripathy screening on everyone! Now! Before we do anything else, check for infection! If we don’t, we’ll compromise the entire hospital!”
“Lappland is confirmed negative. But this Lynn… Director, you need to see this for yourself.”
“What is this? What are these internal structures… By the gods, who would do something so cruel!?”
“Halt the Originium Arts surgery! Conventional medical procedures won’t work on this anatomy! We have to use physical correction! Keep the Medical Arts flowing, rotate in three shifts! The patient’s pupils are dilating! Charge the defibrillator!”
“Physical correction is failing! These organs are impossibly fragile. Most of them are burdened with bizarre deformities—we can’t even identify the function of half these glands! He’s going into severe shock and needs an immediate transfusion, but his blood type doesn’t match anything in our registry! Just use Medical Arts to stabilize the internal bleeding. We have to let time do the rest.”
“Prep an isolation ward. Then get Wei Yenwu on the line! Tell the Chief Executive that someone inside Lungmen is conducting horrific genetic experiments! What kind of sin did this child commit to be born like this? How many agonizing modifications did he endure growing up? Look at these gland screenings—there are over fourteen hundred unknown antibodies that don’t match any known Terran species! I don’t care what twisted goals those biologists had, but as a doctor, this crosses every ethical line!”
“Amnesia? No identification? Of course he doesn’t! What kind of sick laboratory issues an ID card for a defective test subject?”
The chaotic clamor eventually faded into a dull hum. A soothing, warm energy began to circulate through his veins, cooling the burning agony that had wracked his nerves. The bone-deep exhaustion slowly washed away, allowing his frayed consciousness to sink into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
When he finally woke, his heavy eyelids fluttered open to the sight of a pristine white ceiling.
‘…An unfamiliar ceiling. How classic.’
Lynn smiled faintly at the cliché, attempting to shift his weight. A sharp, stinging jolt of pain instantly vetoed the idea. His entire torso was tightly bound in thick layers of medical gauze. The lingering warmth of Medical Arts was still actively knitting his torn tissues back together. Yielding to the soothing sensation, he abandoned any further attempts to move.
It felt like soaking in a gentle hot spring. He simply lay there, eyes half-closed, letting the quiet hours drift by.
The hospital bed, however, was rigged with a monitoring system. Not long after his heart rate stabilized into a waking rhythm, a small indicator light above his head blinked green. Brisk footsteps echoed in the corridor. The heavy door clicked open, and someone stepped into the private ward.
“Lynn. Are you awake?”
“…Officer Ch’en?”
Lynn blinked in surprise at the L.G.D. officer standing in the doorway. He had fully expected Lappland, or at least one of the loudmouths from Penguin Logistics, to be the first to kick down his door. Officer Ch’en being his first visitor was entirely outside his calculations.
Catching his bewildered expression, Ch’en offered a rare, subtle smile. She pulled a metal chair to his bedside, sat down with her usual perfect posture, and cleared her throat.
“First of all, I want to thank you and your companion for your intervention,” she began, her tone formal but softening slightly. “You prevented a highly dangerous Infected individual from smuggling critical intelligence out of Lungmen. I must also apologize for the L.G.D.’s oversight, which led to your current injuries. As for your companion, Lappland, she is currently undergoing a mandatory isolation review due to her close contact with the target. But rest assured, she hasn’t contracted Oripathy. Neither have you. You are both safe.”
“Good to know,” Lynn rasped. “So, what’s the verdict on me?”
“That is exactly what we need to discuss.” Ch’en looked down at him, a flicker of genuine sorrow breaking through her strict, professional facade. “Your condition… it goes far beyond simple amnesia. The internal injuries you sustained are incredibly complex. I need you to stay calm and listen to me. What I am about to tell you might completely shatter your perception of the world, but you have to believe me. Everything I say is the truth.”
“Alright. Lay it on me.”
“Are you mentally prepared?”
“I’m ready.”
Ch’en took a slow breath. “Then I will just say it.”
She stared at his slightly confused face. An inexplicable wave of grief flashed in her eyes before she forced her voice into a calm, steady rhythm.
“You don’t have amnesia, Lynn. You were artificially created.” She paused, letting the heavy words hang in the air. “The fragmented memories you possess aren’t missing—they were implanted. The truth is, you are a biological experiment, created in a lab and then discarded as a failure. There are no natural Originium factors in your bloodstream, only trace components absorbed from daily necessities. But that isn’t the worst part. Your body is filled with a massive amount of hyper-fragile, deformed organs and foreign antibodies. Your flesh is in a constant state of cellular decay. That is the true culprit behind your extreme physical fragility.”
‘…I really didn’t see that coming, damn it.’
Lynn stared blankly at the ceiling. As a perfectly healthy, normal human from Earth, how on earth had his biology been diagnosed as a decaying flesh curse?
Looking at Ch’en’s deeply sympathetic, sorrowful expression, Lynn almost wanted to laugh. If he wasn’t absolutely certain that his memories of his previous life on Earth were real, her tragic backstory would have entirely convinced him.