Omega Manual chapter 43

You Care

Shelley reached out and circled Irey’s neck, pulling him down, catching him off guard. Then kissed him.

It was an unexpected kiss for Irey.

The warm water poured down from above, soaking his hair completely, and flowing down, drenching his clothes as well.

Water droplets slid down Shelley’s cheek, lightly brushing past their touching lips. He didn’t close his eyes, his long lashes trembling slightly, and his blue eyes stared straight into Irey’s at such a close distance.

In the narrow, steam-filled room, a faint floral scent wafted out and became stronger.

An Omega releasing pheromones only meant one thing.

A flame ignited in Irey’s chest. He grabbed Shelley’s shoulder and pressed him against the wall.

The water kept flowing, continuously hitting the tiles, creating a mist that blurred their vision.

When they were about to suffocate, Irey finally let go of Shelley. The latter leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, his disheveled hair covering one eye.

“You really…” Shelley looked up, panting, “need a shower.”

Irey, both amused and annoyed, stepped back two steps and started unbuttoning his already soaked shirt. “I was planning to, but you were hogging the bathroom.”

Shelley curled his lips, lazily draping his arm over Irey’s shoulder. “Let’s shower together, there’s plenty of room.”

……

The next morning, Irey accompanied Shelley around the city to inquire about cars. However, the results were unsatisfactory. They asked everywhere but didn’t get any useful information.

It wasn’t that no one in Duhaat drove or that no one was willing to sell cars. The problem was the city’s residents were highly hostile to outsiders, and no matter how they asked, they only received vague and evasive answers.

“You need to ask at the trade bureau. Information on residents willing to trade is registered there,” the restaurant owner said while wiping plates with a greasy cloth.

“The trade bureau is in Nantes,” Shelley said, staring at the restaurant owner.

“Yeah,” the owner said nonchalantly, “You can just send a letter, telling them you want to buy a car in Duhaat. They’ll register your information, and then someone selling a car will contact you.”

“How long will that take?” Irey asked.

The owner thought for a moment. “Sending the letter will take at least a week. Their information review might take fifteen days to a month, and then they’ll reply to you…”

“Is there no other way?” Shelley interrupted.

The owner shrugged. “You can go directly to the trade bureau, which will take half a month for the trip, and another half month for registration…”

Irey frowned, grabbed Shelley’s hand, and walked out.

The outdoor sunlight was just right, but the temperature was too low. The bright sunlight shone on the thick snow that had fallen overnight, making a crunching sound under their feet and leaving deep footprints.

“Still asking?” Irey looked at Shelley.

Even Shelley, who was reluctant to give up easily, had to admit that continuing to ask was unlikely to yield much. Besides, with snow everywhere, transportation was already inconvenient, and his toes were nearly frozen.

He didn’t even want to speak, his voice full of fatigue, as he lifted his foot to head towards the train station, “Maybe I should just buy the train.”

“If you have that kind of money, can’t you just give me a raise?” Irey pulled him back.

Shelley sighed deeply.

Snow on the branches fell with a rustle, startling a crow into flight. The pitch-black bird flew away squawking, leaving a splatter of droppings on the snow in front of them.

“A bunch of useless bastards, not one of them willing to help,” Irey spat into the snow. “If the communication network was still up, we wouldn’t need to beg them. A single call would get it done. Now, everything has to be done by writing letters. Writing this, writing that, a month or two wasted just like that. It’s maddening.”

“If the network were still up, you wouldn’t even need to make a call. Just post a trade request on the software,” Shelley said. “In less than five minutes, the data system would match you with the right buyer, and within ten minutes, you could finalize the transaction.”

Irey was stunned for a moment, looking at Shelley. “It could do that?”

This question made Shelley laugh, “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Irey said honestly, “I’ve never used it.”

“What brand of phone did you use before?” Shelley asked. “Never used Manta? Manta Tech is the world leader in data flow systems.”

“Your phones are too expensive. I can’t afford them,” Irey said. “All my phones were hand-me-downs from Caroline, Fanyas, and Rock…”

Shelley stared at him wide-eyed, “Aren’t those flip phones?”

“So what if they are? Got a problem with flip phones? I’ll tell you, flip phones are great!” Irey raised his voice, counting the benefits on his fingers. “High cost-performance ratio, long battery life, durable enough to survive a drop. And they have all the necessary functions: calling, texting, taking photos. What more can a smartphone do? Just go online and watch videos, and they cost dozens of times more!”

“…” Shelley blinked. “They offer personalized data recommendations, filter out irrelevant information; AI summarizes key points and breaks down lengthy messages; online payments, shopping, appointments…”

A string of functions left Irey dizzy. “They can do all that?”

Knowing little about smartphones, even if Irey Halton got the phone Shelley gave him, he would probably just use it to search for movies and videos.

“If you bought a Manta MX3.0 or later, it would support 3D holographic photo registration, online dating, and match you with a suitable partner without leaving home,” Shelley said. “The same goes for finding like-minded friends, companies to work for, or employees to hire… as long as the registered information is detailed enough, the data flow will accurately match you with the right person.”

Irey was dumbfounded, his brain working furiously before he spoke. “Are you saying that in the past, when the telecommunication network was still up, I didn’t need to queue at the tax office at six in the morning, and could just pay the tax on my phone?”

Shelley couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Irey was still processing the information, muttering various consonant-laden exclamations about the gap between him and modern civilization. Shelley put his hands in his pockets, suppressing his complicated emotions.

Before meeting Irey, he had naturally assumed that everyone in the world had a smartphone and used advanced data flow systems. But a rational look at the average income of lower-city residents made it clear how common and normal it was for Irey not to have a smartphone.

Not just him, but probably the entire 70% of the world’s lower-city population couldn’t afford one.

They were disconnected from modern technology, their information not recorded in the data flow, excluded from the “mainstream” composed of a few. They had no voice, no information, no existence.

But now everything was different.

The virtual pyramid constructed by the internet no longer existed. In the face of disaster and death, everyone was equal.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Shelley said.

“You’re hungry?” Irey checked the time, “It’s almost noon. What do you want to eat? That barbecue place we passed yesterday looked good…”

“No, too smoky.”

“How about that burger place in the north? I saw someone with their fries just now, smelled great…”

“No, too greasy.”

“My god, what do you want then?”

“Something not smoky, not greasy, no meat, not too heavily seasoned, but still filling.”

“Why don’t you kill me and eat me instead?”…

The third day in Duhaat was no different from every other day on their journey.

Calm and mild, nothing exceptionally good happened, but nothing bad enough to be unbearable either. They just went on living, eating, resting, walking around the city center in their free time, making notes for the next step of their journey on paper.

In those few hazy moments, Shelley had a strange illusion. It felt as if he was born on this journey, and all the joy and boredom, enthusiasm and dullness of the trip were his entire life.

Like a drop of amber, sealing his soul, reflecting the fleeting glimmers of his past life.

After nightfall, the temperature dropped sharply, the north wind howled outside, blowing the snow into tiny ice grains scattered like salt. Shelley lit the fireplace in the hall, the flames crackling amidst the dreary wind, finally warming a corner of the cold.

Irey sat by the fire, continuously knocking on a wooden chair. The chair was part of the dining set, but this one seemed to have some quality issues. The backrest wood was uneven, and one leg was shorter, making it wobbly when sat on.

He didn’t know where he found the tools and wood from, but he began the repair work with great interest.

Shelley sat on the sofa a few steps away, reading a book. The firelight danced on the yellowed pages, casting blurry shadows.

The clinking sounds continued unabated, and Shelley looked at him with amusement. The Alpha, across from him, had nails and wood chips in his mouth, his brown eyes focused as he concentrated on the spot that needed hammering.

“Aren’t you tired? You spent the whole day out asking around, and now you’re back to do carpentry,” Shelley lazily asked, sprawled on the soft sofa, flipping through the pages of his book.

“Do you think everyone is as precious as you?” Irey held a piece of wood, aligning it with the chair leg, then aimed the nail and hammered it in. “Just wandering around town for a day, walking a few kilometers, that’s all.”

“A few kilometers is a lot! What measurement standard are you even using?” Shelley complained, reaching down to touch the blister that had already burst on his foot.

Thanks to this journey, his physical abilities had improved several times over. He could probably even run a marathon tomorrow.

“Besides, why bother fixing it?” Shelley stretched out his foot, kicking the chair. “We’re leaving in a few days anyway, who cares about a chair?”

“Of course, you care, young master.” Irey hammered in another nail, then took out a second one from the toolbox. “You looked at this chair at least three times during dinner, thinking I didn’t notice? Fixing a chair is no trouble, just put a shim under it, so it won’t wobble, saving you from being annoyed.”

Shelley stared at Irey, his throat moving up and down several times, but he couldn’t say anything.