Such a large surveillance monitor being left on all the time is truly a waste of energy.

Just as Scott Harris was about to press the power button, the intelligent system suddenly spoke: “Alert, someone has intruded into Surveillance Zone 2! Alert, someone has intruded into Surveillance Zone 2!”

Surveillance Zone 2 was not just anywhere—it was that abrupt cliff connected to the sea of stars, the very edge of this land.

Mason was startled by the voice, rolled over and sat up, and hurried over.

Scott Harris frowned, his gaze landing on the screen, where he saw a figure climb up from beyond the cliff, landing precisely and nimbly on a block of black stone.

He was tall and lean, and as he landed, the muscles in his arms tensed into a beautiful arc. A breathing mask on his face concealed his features completely; only when he turned his head could one see the sharp line of his jaw.

Mason immediately noticed the black-gold band clamped around the man’s arm and blurted out, “Holy crap, someone from the space prison!”

The man stood on the black stone, scanning the area with his face, then suddenly stopped, facing directly toward the camera.

He shrugged, lifted his foot, and walked toward the screen.

When he got as close as possible, he raised his hand and pulled off the mask, revealing an extremely handsome face. His eyes were a very light color, and when he squinted, there was a strong air of arrogance about him, though it was quickly softened by a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.

The man wiped the lens with his thumb, looked down with a smile, and said, “Dear, since I never get a reply from you, I came to find you myself.”

Chapter 4: A Gift of Consolation

God said, this world does not always go as one wishes. On the first day he opened his eyes in the wasteland, he saw a ghost with his own eyes. —Ester, “Neverland”

Caught off guard by that face suddenly so close to the screen, Scott Harris’s pupils contracted slightly. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up twice, exposing half of his forearm, where the lean muscles visibly tensed, then relaxed again in an instant.

Although he managed his emotions quickly and his expression returned to normal almost immediately, Mason still noticed.

He had only known Scott Harris for less than half an hour, so he couldn’t claim to understand him at all. So he couldn’t figure out whether Scott Harris’s instinctive reaction was out of wariness, nervousness, or something else… Whatever it was, it only made him more anxious.

He had clearly caught that phrase “never get a reply,” so he lowered his voice and nervously asked Scott Harris, “Is this the… the terrorist you mentioned?”

But Scott Harris didn’t answer. He stared unblinkingly at the screen, as if watching a lion prowling nearby, his fingers moving to the edge of a red button, tapping it lightly, and said in a cool, detached tone, “I replied.”

Mason: “Huh??”

He opened his mouth and stared blankly for a moment, only reacting when he heard the overly handsome man on the screen chuckle. He realized that Scott Harris’s words weren’t meant for him, but had been transmitted to the other side of the screen.

The man gave a low “hmm,” raised his eyebrows, and asked, “What did you reply?”

He seemed too lazy to even open his mouth when he spoke, his voice low and a bit careless.

Maybe it was the “space prison” stereotype being too demonized, or maybe it was Scott Harris’s earlier description that made people uneasy. The man clearly didn’t look the least bit “vicious,” and what he said was quite ordinary, but Mason still felt nervous listening to him.

He unconsciously pinched his fingers, turning to wait for Scott Harris’s answer. His intuition told him that Scott Harris would definitely not say anything to please the other party.

“Forgot, there were a lot. I suggest you check for yourself when you receive them.” Scott Harris said with a straight face.

Mason: “……” For some reason, he felt like this guy was lying with his eyes wide open.

Scott Harris paused, then calmly added, “But it seems even the cosmic super-signal avoids you. Maybe you’ll only receive it in another 27 years.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a clear “ding” sounded from the other side of the screen.

The man straightened up a bit, pulled out a communicator and glanced at it. One hand was still braced on the edge of the screen, the other swiping the communicator a couple of times.

He only glanced at it before laughing, waving the communicator in front of the screen, “A single period. That’s ‘a lot’?”

Mason: “……”

Scott Harris didn’t care at all about being exposed. “It contains a lot of meaning.”

Man: “Such as?”

Scott Harris: “Such as wishing you a speedy return to prison.”

“……” Mason thought for a moment, then quietly slid off the console and onto the floor. In this situation, he really didn’t want to show his face—he wanted to live a few more days.

The two on either side of the screen, one leaning on the monitor, the other on the console, both leaning forward, eyes lowered, their postures casual and relaxed, looked just like two old friends having a casual chat.

But the way they chatted… made Mason’s face turn green just listening.

However, after slumping under the console for a while, Mason started to feel something was off—the man had gone to all this trouble to find them, chatting for ages while holding onto the monitor, but showed no intention of approaching the villa.

He pondered for a moment, couldn’t figure it out, and couldn’t help but sneak a peek.