Noon, South Entrance of the Bartolomeo Art Center

Benny and Zoe strolled leisurely to the southern exit of the first floor, having nearly completed their exploration of the art center's exhibits. They stood by the entrance, casually flipping through the brochures handed out by the staff.

The pamphlets detailed everything: information about the exhibits, schedules for the next few days, dining and lodging options for attendees, and even promotional material for the co-organizer. To top it off, there were recommendations for local tourist attractions and, most enticingly, a collection of highlighted artwork from the exhibition—perfect for collectors.

“What a shame. That fool Martín Remerez has a piece here,” Benny remarked, his tone laced with mock regret. “I can’t even send him a sarcastic email about it.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow, already sensing the mischief in Benny’s voice.

“Otherwise,” Benny continued, “he’d know I’ve retired here.”

He gave a helpless shrug, though his expression revealed more amusement than genuine disappointment. It was clear he wasn’t just content selling forgeries to unsuspecting buyers; he also relished the idea of taunting other artists.

“You could always claim you saw it in the promotional material online,” Zoe suggested, shaking the booklet in her hand.

The contents of the brochure, as well as the works displayed, were readily available on both the Bartolomeo Art Center and Hamilton Academy of Fine Arts’s websites. Martín Remerez’s pieces were prominently featured, too.

“Critiquing his work in detail isn’t something you can do just by looking at photos,” Benny replied, shrugging again. “If I leave out the specific flaws, it won’t have the same impact.”

Benny’s reasoning was simple: the nuances he planned to criticize could only be observed in person. Claiming to have scrutinized the piece online would only raise suspicion. Reluctant to compromise his critique or expose his presence, Benny decided against sending the email.

“Well, this is getting dull,” Benny said abruptly, glancing at Zoe. “Should we grab lunch? Are you coming back this afternoon? What about tomorrow?”

The exhibition spanned three days, with plenty left to see. Some of the international artists whose masterpieces adorned the first floor were even scheduled to perform live demonstrations in the following days. Despite this, Benny’s interest had already waned.

“I’m not coming back,” Zoe replied with a shake of her head, her tone decisive.

Seeing Benny’s lack of enthusiasm, Zoe spoke candidly. She had already examined every piece with meticulous detail using her Transparent World 4.0, leaving nothing unseen. Besides, she’d achieved her primary goal and find a kindred spirit, so there was no need to linger.

“Alright then. Let’s find something to eat—”

Benny’s words were cut short by a sudden series of loud explosions.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The unmistakable sound of fireworks echoed through the air.

While fireworks lacked visual impact during the day, their boisterous noise was more than enough to create a lively atmosphere. The Bartolomeo Art Center had obtained a permit to set them off promptly at eleven, igniting them near all four entrances.

The bursts of sound were thunderous, drawing the attention of many. Zoe glanced briefly toward the fireworks before turning her gaze back, ready to continue their conversation.

That’s when she heard it—a distressed cry from behind her, near the south entrance:

“Ah! My Maya!”

Zoe turned to see a young woman, Camellya, standing anxiously at the doorway. She was looking skyward, clearly distraught as her pet crow, startled by the noise, flapped wildly into the air.

The din of the fireworks had drowned out her plea, and most passersby were too preoccupied to notice her predicament. Camellya, who had planned to head out for lunch, seemed utterly unprepared for the situation.

Zoe acted without hesitation.

Releasing a faint aura of killing intent, she created an invisible wall around the panicked bird, subtly redirecting its chaotic flight. The crow, disoriented by the invisible barrier, hesitated midair before coming to a halt.

Zoe followed up with a precise release of 50N of telekinetic force, gently but firmly pulling the bird toward her. At the same time, she infused a subtle emotional suggestion of calm and submission into the crow, ensuring it didn’t struggle.

Moments later, the bewildered crow found itself perched obediently on Zoe’s outstretched hand.

Both Benny and Camellya froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.

From their perspective, the sequence of events seemed almost magical. The crow, mid-flight, had inexplicably paused, flapped its wings twice, and then glided gracefully down to land on Zoe’s hand as though responding to an unspoken command of a goddess.

The entire scene exuded an air of effortless elegance.

“My god!” Benny exclaimed after a stunned pause. “ELEGANTO!!! That was... elegant! Too elegantooh!”

He turned to Zoe, his expression one of awe and admiration. “That move was absolutely incredible!”

Benny couldn’t help but feel humbled. In his eyes, Zoe had executed an act so smooth, so refined, that it bordered on the divine.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I admit it. You win. I should take off my suit and become your apostle right now—or better yet, you deserve a church of followers for this!”

Zoe shot a glance at Benny but chose not to explain further.

If anyone had witnessed her mental power or heard the crow speak, Benny would not have been so quick to use polite words.

In truth, her actions were far from graceful. They were downright brutal.

Her method relied on raw power. Although her psychic strength wasn’t particularly high—only at fifty kilograms—it was more than enough to handle the little crow.

She essentially grabbed it by the neck and yanked it from the sky.

Not far away, Camellya saw this and rushed over excitedly, her skirt rippling in the wind as she ran.

Without hesitation, she bowed deeply before Zoe, her breath slightly uneven, her lips flushed as she hurriedly spoke, "Thank you!"

Afterward, she cast a look of anticipation and happiness at Zoe, then glanced at the obedient crow perched in the woman's hand.

“Next time, remember to bring a rope or a birdcage,” Zoe casually reminded while passing the crow to her.

“Sure.”

She watched as Camellya happily took the crow from her hands, a face lit with joy.

Zoe couldn't help but recall how, earlier, this girl had argued fiercely with the tourists upstairs. Zoe remembered the girl's sense of solitude, which, in a way, mirrored her own.

Though she had originally thought to avoid engaging with her, now that their paths had crossed, Zoe saw no reason to deliberately steer clear.

After a brief pause, Zoe said, “Quite beautiful.”

Camellya blinked in surprise, a bit flustered and unsure whether the woman was referring to her or the crow.

“The crow’s feathers,” Zoe continued, her tone soft yet thoughtful, “when they flutter through the sky, look like a mix of iridescent black.”

She smiled, as though to reassure Camellya that it wasn’t just her who found beauty in the crow—perhaps subtly reminding her she wasn’t as alone as she might sometimes feel.

To Zoe’s surprise, the comment seemed to strike a chord with Camellya, making her even more excited and delighted than if Zoe had complimented her directly.

Still absorbed in gently caressing the crow, Camellya froze for a moment before exclaiming, “Th-thank you!!!” Her voice was high with excitement, almost trembling.

With a faint blush blooming across her cheeks, she quickly turned and ran off, leaving a sense of exhilaration in her wake.

Benny, who had been silently observing the scene, stared at Zoe, momentarily stunned. “What the hell?! How are you so good at this? Were you trying to make her breathless on purpose? I didn’t think you leaned in that direction.”

Despite his occasional reservations regarding relationships or orientations, Benny was aware of how times had changed.

“The stigma from before is kind of celebrated now,” he muttered to himself, half thoughtfully, half amused.

He gestured toward the retreating Camellya, his astonishment barely concealed. “Are you going to ask for her number next?”

Zoe rolled her eyes at him, unbothered. She wasn’t trying to make him gasp for breath—who speaks in old fashion all the time?

“Let’s go. Time to eat.”

Seeing that Benny still had more to say, Zoe grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away with exaggerated force, leaving no room for resistance.

February 26th, 11:00 PM.

After completing her daily "killing intent" experiment on the balcony plants, Zoe relaxed on the sofa in the living room.

Earlier, she had visited an art exhibition, confirming that there were no “like-minded” individuals around. She and Benny had lunch together before heading back.

The afternoon passed as usual, studying signal modulation, demodulation, and common baseband coding schemes with Benny.

Today, they also delved deeper into the key issues in radio communication—something they had only touched on before.

In radio communication, keys are crucial for ensuring the security of transmissions, preventing unauthorized access or eavesdropping. These keys are used to encrypt and decrypt content, ensuring that only the correct recipient can decode the message. There are various algorithms and methods used for these keys in radio communications.

Benny eagerly explained, giving detailed examples of commonly used radio communication key algorithms and principles.

Zoe quickly grasped the concepts and now felt capable of deciphering most standard radio communication signals.

However, some key algorithms were so complex that even her mind would need extensive time and practice to break them down.

The entire afternoon sped by in such intense learning.

After some leisure time in the evening, a little exercise, and decoding two more radio channels, the day had nearly passed.

Zoe closed her eyes and focused, recording the day’s data into her memory palace.

37th Record: February 26, 2024

1. Changed training method, inducing high-frequency self-vibration in all muscles. This works both physical and mental training. Current time held: 24.4 seconds. Current strength: 6.2 tons.

2. Initially confirmed no like-minded individuals, only another solitary four-color synesthete like me.

 

Once done, she toyed with her pet, Platinum, for a moment before deciding to read some novels. That was when she stopped.

She noticed a flicker of white light from the public phone booth two hundred meters away, followed by a brief darkness, and then another flash of white light before it disappeared again.

The old neighborhood of Wingsgone New Village still had such relics of a bygone era: ancient phone booths. While they seemed to only make calls, in reality, they also recorded the numbers dialed, allowing the booth to answer if you dialed back. However, the ringing function had been removed, and only a brief flash of light indicated a call.

The flickering lights meant someone had dialed the phone booth.

Two flashes indicated that the caller had hung up and redialed.

Then, all went quiet.

Zoe knew at once that it was Rohmund Miguerro calling.

This was the contact Zoe had given Rohmund: the public phone booth in the middle of the neighborhood.

She had chosen the phone booth to ensure discretion and safety. Even though Rohmund had shown complete loyalty after the emotional transformation, that didn’t mean Zoe trusted him entirely.

If Rohmund were to trace the contact, he would only find the phone booth, not her exact location.

Zoe never used the phone herself, so the nearby surveillance cameras couldn’t capture her going to the booth even once. Even if Rohmund tried to investigate, it would lead nowhere, and the consequences for his interference would be severe.

After all, no one would suspect that Zoe could notice the phone booth’s signal from two hundred meters away.

This indirect form of communication was a one-way method for Rohmund to alert her.

There was no need for Zoe to pick up the phone. The flashes were enough to notify her that Rohmund needed something.

Zoe muttered to herself, “Is there something urgent?”

She had asked for tungsten carbide balls when she visited Rohmund at the internet cafe the other day, requesting them as quickly as possible.

It seemed that the task had been completed efficiently, as only a little more than a day had passed since she made the request.