Chapter 150: What Exactly Do You Want to Do?
As soon as Steven said those words, Talulah lost all her momentum.
He was right—what difference would it make if he gave her one or two guns? Even with them, she was still far from achieving her goals and ideals. Those things weren't something a couple of firearms could solve.
"Besides, I know what the Guerrilla Fighter will do with the weapons. They'll only use them to strike against those who oppress the Infected. But can you guarantee that if I give you these guns, they won't end up being used for something… questionable?"
"What do you think? Miss Talulah, she who is secretly sheltering a group of Infected?"
With that, Steven casually revealed the intelligence he had gathered from the Guerrilla Fighter.
He had initially assumed that the Infected she rescued from the mobile city would have been dispersed by now. But from what he could see, it was clear that Talulah was planning something.
"I didn't—" Talulah sighed. "They just needed a safe place to stay. And for now, this land—one with the legend of the Headless Horseman—seems like the best deterrent against those Infected Inspectors."
She wasn't surprised that Steven had figured it out.
With how he loved to wander around aimlessly, it was only a matter of time before he discovered them.
"I don't think that's all there is to it," Steven said, narrowing his eyes. "Let me guess—when you saved them, the power you showed made them feel like they'd found someone they could rely on. That's why they've started following you, isn't it?"
Back when he had gone into the sewers, Steven had already noticed that Talulah's status among the Infected wasn't low at all.
Now, after she had saved so many people, there was no way these desperate souls would let go of the one lifeline they had found.
If anyone told him that there wasn't a group among them who wanted to follow Talulah and have her lead them, he simply wouldn't believe it. After all, survival was a primal instinct.
"I…"
Talulah averted her gaze, not saying anything.
"Let me take another guess," Steven continued, tapping his fingers against the table. "You were planning to find a way to take them in—or maybe introduce them to some rich idiot with more money than sense. That way, they might get a job and have the means to survive on this frozen wasteland."
He laid out his thoughts plainly.
These Infected were dirt poor—worse off than even the elderly villagers living here. Steven didn't believe for a second that they had brought much in terms of food or supplies.
Even though they had been freed from the mobile city, without something to eat, death was still the only thing awaiting them.
And right now, the largest supplier of food on this tundra just so happened to be… him.
"So, Miss Talulah," Steven smiled as he looked at her. "When exactly were you planning to tell me about this? My guess is, after what I said to you earlier today, you started hesitating, didn't you?"
Talulah remained silent.
"You finally realized that not everyone in this world has good intentions. And now, you're starting to worry… What if someone among those Infected harbors ill will toward this village?"
Steven leaned back, his tone casual. But Talulah felt as if she were standing trial, as if she were being judged.
Because his words had struck right at the heart of her concerns.
"But what you fear the most is—"
He pointed to himself.
"Whether I am really the 'good person' you thought I was."
Steven sighed.
"You know that pinning your hopes on others isn't a good idea. But you have no other choice. The Infected can't afford to wait, and neither can you. Am I right?"
Steven tapped his fingers against the table, and the atmosphere in the room instantly became heavy.
"You're right."
Talulah's expression shifted for a long time before she finally let out a deep sigh. It was as if all the energy had been drained from her body. She slumped down, resting her cheek against the wooden table, her vacant eyes staring at Steven.
This guy was usually reckless and playful, always acting on a whim. But she had to admit—when it came to analyzing situations, he saw things far more clearly than she did.
Perhaps that was the privilege of an outsider, someone who could afford to stay detached.
She envied Steven's ability to maintain such a carefree mindset. But unlike him, she had responsibilities—she couldn't afford to be so unburdened.
"But what am I supposed to do? Is it really this difficult to find a shred of fairness in this land? To carve out a chance for the Infected to survive?"
Talulah's gaze was filled with confusion as she looked at Steven, hoping to find an answer from him.
"Don't ask me. How would I know about all that? I'm not an Infected."
Steven leaned in close to Talulah, his hand reaching out to poke her exhausted-looking cheek. Then he spoke words that instantly rekindled a bit of spirit in her.
"Anyway, stop acting like it's the end of the world. I never said I wouldn't help you. If someone is willing to work for me, I don't care if they're a normal person or an Infected. As long as they work under me, they'll have food to eat."
"But I'm not going to need people chopping wood forever. I only have so many jobs that need doing. If they want food from me, they'll have to prove their worth."
His tone carried the cold practicality of a businessman. But he knew this was necessary—freely given aid often led to unintended consequences, tipping the balance in a worse direction.
"And another thing—I want to know what you plan to do with these people in the future. No, more importantly, I want to know what you plan to do. Tell me clearly, and then I'll consider whether or not to help you."
"You want my help, don't you? Then you need to be like the Guerrilla Fighter—show me your end goal. Only then can I decide whether you're a worthy partner."
Steven kept poking Talulah's cheek as he spoke. But despite his teasing actions, his words were dead serious—almost uncharacteristically so.
By now, Alina had already finished her work and quietly taken a seat beside Talulah. She knew there was nothing she could say to help right now, so she simply sat next to her, reaching out to gently hold her hand.
"I…"
"I want a world where the Infected and normal people can live as equals. I want to resist the tragic fate forced upon the Infected."
"I want to establish an ideal—one that can unite the Infected."
Talulah's eyes lit up in that instant. If there was one thing she would never waver on, it was her beliefs.
"And I also want—"
"Enough. That's enough."
Steven raised a hand, cutting her off. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back, looking somewhat disappointed.
"I'm not interested in hearing that. It seems like you still haven't found an answer that would convince me to join you. At the very least, what you just said doesn't interest me at all."
Steven shook his head. To him, Talulah's words were no different from empty promises made by a boss—grand, idealistic, but ultimately unattainable. There was no way he'd be interested in something like that.
"Do you know what the Guerrilla Fighter showed me?"
"They save people—without any slogans, without any ulterior motives. The guerrilla fighters' only goal is to rescue people, not to gain something from it. That's what I saw in them."
"That's also why I'm willing to do business with them. At the very least, trading with a group like that is interesting to me. And that's all there is to it."
Steven tapped his fingers on the table, then turned to look at the silver-haired Draco girl, who had frozen in place after he interrupted her.
"Maybe you should try getting to know the guerrilla fighters. I can take you to meet them. If you spend some time with them, you might end up giving me a different answer."
He stood up and lightly knocked on Talulah's silver-haired head.
"As for now, I can provide jobs for those Infected, purely from a businessman's perspective. Consider it a chance for my Draco friend to think things over. This outcome should be acceptable to you, right?"
Seeing Talulah snap out of her confusion, Steven found the situation rather amusing.
Her idealism and noble aspirations had led to her own uncertainty. If she could be as indifferent as he was, maybe she'd be able to live as carefree as he did.
Not that he minded her personality, though. If he did, he wouldn't have bothered talking to her for so long.
"…What do you want?"
Talulah looked at the boy in front of her, feeling a mix of emotions. She had always known that Steven said these things for her sake, but she couldn't help but wonder—why was he doing all of this? What was he really after?
"What I want? I've been able to give you a straightforward answer from the very beginning."
"I just want to see interesting things. That's all. As long as it's fun, as long as it entertains me, that's enough."
"Oh, by the way, if you had answered just now by saying you wanted to rebel against Ursus, I would've given you a very tempting offer. But unfortunately, you missed the right answer."
Steven shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. Seeing that Talulah was quickly regaining her composure, he started joking again.
"Then what if I suddenly change my mind? What if I decide right now that I want to rebel against Ursus?"
"Too late. The event has expired. Please be more punctual next time, miss."
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