Garfield had no intention of stopping them. At first, this made both Imhotep and the curator secretly rejoice.
Then the curator started crying.
Actual tears streamed down his face as he watched Garfield eat.
This was food meant to sustain hundreds of people. Garfield, however, could easily consume the rations of ten grown men in a single meal.
If they failed to find a suitable place within three days, the entire expedition would return starving, assuming they returned at all.
Even though Garfield had clearly stated that he wasn't here to arrest anyone, the reincarnations of Imhotep and Anck-su-namun still avoided him instinctively.
This was not rational fear, but psychological trauma carved deep into their souls by their era.
Imhotep understood one thing very clearly.
As long as he himself did not attempt anything evil, Garfield would not interfere.
But the moment he crossed the line… Garfield would erase him.
That was the truly terrifying part. This unfathomable orange cat…
Whether he really was an apprentice of Kamar-Taj or the third prince of Asgard almost didn't matter anymore.
Did it?
Imhotep shifted his gaze to the curator's mysterious helper…
A bald Asian man in a long black windbreaker, shirtless underneath, wearing shorts and flip-flops. A cigarette hung lazily from his lips.
Two bald heads stood side by side at the edge of the carriage, gazing out at the endless yellow sands.
Their destination lay less than half a day away.
"Wang." Imhotep said slowly, "Don't you plan to help me? If I obtain Anubis's power, I'll share it with you."
The bald man took a drag from his cigarette and shook his head.
"Aren't we already helping you? Otherwise, do you think you'd have resurrected so smoothly?"
Imhotep frowned. "I'm talking about the orange cat."
The bald man shook his head again.
"To you, that cat is a divine messenger. And now he claims he's an apprentice of Kamar-Taj and the third prince of Asgard."
He laughed dryly. "If I get involved with that, I won't only die."
"My parents would crawl out of their graves and beat me until even they don't recognize me."
He placed both hands on Imhotep's shoulders and spoke sincerely.
"So it's not that I don't want to help you. It's that we can't help with this part."
"Just finish your task. If you really get the power, I'll help you clean up the mess afterward."
Something about those words felt… off.
Imhotep frowned, sensing a problem he couldn't quite grasp. In the end, he had no choice but to trust the man, for now.
"…Fine," Imhotep said. "I'll try."
"Go for it," The bald man replied.
Imhotep nodded. "Mm."
The two bald heads exchanged a look filled with brotherhood. There really should've been background music.
Garfield, who had been squatting nearby and watching the entire exchange, felt that the moment desperately needed that Legend.
Just because I took one more look at you in the crowd,
I never forgot your face…
He was halfway through mentally humming, when the bald man suddenly locked eyes with him.
He walked over and said helplessly, "Brother, I think you're thinking about something weird."
Brother?
He's speaking Chinese?
Garfield looked up suspiciously. "Brother, what are you talking about?"
The bald man chuckled.
"It's not easy meeting a fellow villager out here, especially in a place like this."
"Oh." Garfield replied seriously. "Then I've got good stuff."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar, handing it over.
Moments later, Garfield and the bald man were squatting together on the roof of the train.
Neither man nor cat cared about the scorching heat radiating off the iron carriage beneath them. The desert wind howled past as the train thundered onward.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream