[Eden City - Source Formula Research Center]
Like most citizens of Eden City, John had no concept of high-tech facilities.
He gripped the steering wheel.
Above, patrolling drones swirled around.
The vast buildings, full of design, loomed high above, distant from real life, filled with coldness and danger.
After parking, following into the Source Formula, this feeling grew stronger.
Its interior was like a base for shooting holographic advertisements—gray matte walls, high-precision electronic doors, corridors embedded with light strips, an exceptionally tidy hall, exactly like the ones seen in TV commercials.
The dome was high above.
The reception desk long.
The reception personnel remained expressionless.
Bismarck walked in, holding a severed hand, wearing a blood-stained shirt.
Everyone at the reception and passing by acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
