Cholo Tales
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Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch.35
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 06:12:43 +0000 UTCAN: The unlucky witch makes an unexpected and unwelcome return. But it is mitigated by a cute evening visit.
Once again I'm back in the company trade hub, heading straight to the food court using the elevator and enduring that repetitive, mind-numbing music. Once I arrive, surrounded by the seemingly endless options of food choices and dining areas, I start looking for my only contact here—Wilma, the witch. It's been quite some time since our last encounter, so she should have found something useful for me by now. Anything, really, because I didn't have high expectations for that girl to begin with.
Or that she didn’t die, or she wasted the entire time licking people’s fluids from the floor.
I gave her a simple task, and in return she'll receive some fruit I grabbed before coming to this dimension—pineapple and mango. Basic but fresh fruits that might make her a little happy in her endless depression trapped in this place.
However, I'm mostly here because I have a good amount of credits to spend, thanks to the recent captures. The plan is pretty straightforward: buy one upgrade for myself, one for my people, then join a PvP match. For that occasion, I'll bring Brutus since companions are allowed in those fights. The little monster has grown considerably and proven his strength—especially after he practically killed a behemoth. I have high expectations for him, and it'll be a good test for myself as well.
I keep looking around, following the painted pathways while paying no attention to the many people lingering throughout the food court. They don't glance my way either, which suits me fine.
After searching for a considerable time, I still can't find that insect girl anywhere in the expansive floor, and I'm starting to get irritated. I wanted to save time with that idiot's recommendations instead of having to search each floor myself or being forced to ask random strangers for directions or recommendations, which is already bad because they will want to sell me their shit instead.
It was just one job—a single, simple job that I asked of her.
After walking around for another stretch, I click my tongue in irritation as I still can't locate her. I mentally prepare to start the search on my own and turn around, heading back toward the same elevator I came from.
But a brilliant green flash of light suddenly appears directly in front of me.
A strange green fairy materializes—very small, about the size of my hand, with long emerald hair and wearing what appears to be a single-piece green dress that shimmers with its own light. She giggles musically and asks in a high, sing-song voice, "Where are you going, handsome stranger?"
I immediately scrutinize her carefully. She looks somewhat similar to another fairy that seems familiar for some reason, though I can't quite place why. But that condescending, playful tone she's using tells me exactly what I'm dealing with.
Fae. And fae are notorious for their amoral little games.
"What do you want?" I cut straight to the point.
The fairy begins playfully bouncing around in the air, her tiny wings creating small sparkles of light with each flutter. "This one has been watching you for quite some time! Like a lost puppy looking for his master, but in this case your dear friend Wilma, right?" She spins in a small circle, clearly enjoying herself.
I narrow my eyes at that revelation. "Looking for that idiot? Yes. Friend? Absolutely not."
The insect witch is an acquaintance at best, and barely that.
The fairy claps her hands together happily, producing tiny sparks of green light that dance around her fingers. "Ooh, so cold! But this one knows where their silly little contractor is hiding! You see, she is property of the fae since she signed the contract, and lately she was pretty dumb about it too. Being dumb gets you a very thorough spanking!"
She giggles again, clearly delighted by whatever fate has befallen Wilma.
"So you knew where she was this entire time and didn't bother telling me? You just watched me walk around aimlessly, wasting my time for your own entertainment?" I scowl, crossing my arms.
"Why not? It's absolutely delicious fun!" she replies with another musical giggle, spinning in a graceful circle before striking a theatrical pose. "Watching contractors stumble around like blind birds never gets old!"
The fae.
Truly annoying little shits, and it's generally better not to engage with them directly unless absolutely necessary. So that means Wilma is pretty much fucked forever—doomed to an eternity of suffering in their twisted garden or whatever hellscape they've dragged her to.
What a fucking idiot she turned out to be. Should have known better than to make any deals with the fae.
But one thought comes to mind.
"So, are you going to take me to her, or are you just here to waste more of my time?"
"Maybe..." the fairy says coyly, hovering just out of arm's reach while batting her eyelashes and sticking out her tiny pink tongue. "Depends on how nicely you ask! Or maybe if you play a little game with me first? I do so love games..."
Yeah, no. Absolutely not.
"I'm not here for stupid games," I state flatly, then turn around and resume my path toward the elevator. I'd rather search every floor myself than deal with fae nonsense.
However, much to my genuine surprise, the fairy makes a high-pitched, squeak and frantically flies around my head in erratic circles. "Wait, wait! Sorry, sorry! I have to take you there! Please come with me! Otherwise they'll pull off my wings and leave me crawling on the ground like a worm!"
I stop dead in my tracks and blink, turning to look at her with genuine confusion. Why would she reveal that kind of information? Aren't fae supposed to be secretive and mysterious about their internal politics and punishments?
But then the fairy quickly covers her mouth with both tiny hands, her mismatched eyes—one green, one gold—going wide with what looks like panic.
She didn't actually mean to let that slip, did she?
I study her more carefully now, noting details I missed before. Her dress, while pretty, looks somewhat worn around the edges. Her wings, though they shimmer, have small tears that suggest she's not exactly treated well.
And now that desperate look in her eyes...
"You're just the fodder, aren't you?" I observe with growing understanding. "Bottom of the food chain, sent to do the grunt work while the real players stay comfortable in their courts."
The fairy's shoulders slump slightly, though she tries to maintain her playful demeanor. "This one is a proud member of the first Elysium garden! Just... temporarily assigned to... field operations..."
"And if you fail to complete whatever task they gave you, they'll punish you." It's not a question.
Her tiny hands tremble slightly as she nods. "Please, I'll do anything! I can't go back empty-handed! They'll rip my wings for real and put me in a jar forever! I'll be trapped there, as they fill it with all that sticky, disgusting stuff! I’ve seen it, forever in that disgusting goo forever drowning in it!"
Now this is more interesting. A desperate fae can be a useful fae if I’m careful, that is, although at the same time I don’t want to mess too much with the fae, but this dumbass is giving me an opportunity.
"Anything?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"...Anything," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper.
I take a step back and consider this opportunity, rubbing my chin as I weigh how to use this desperation to my benefit. With my limited knowledge about the fae, I have to be as specific as possible to avoid being screwed over by technicalities and loopholes that they're so fond of exploiting.
But why confine myself to just one favor when a fairy like her might prove useful for Menagerie? Or I could release her in the other kingdoms to cause strategic mayhem... The possibilities are intriguing, but I need real leverage first; something she can't wriggle out of later when she is no longer desperate.
So I lean forward slightly and whisper, "I ask for your True Name."
I know what I’m doing.
And it's a calculated gamble but I'm fairly certain she wouldn't give it out easily. But desperate times might call for desperate measures on her part. At the very least, it would set a strong precedent for the following negotiations and let me gauge just how cornered she really is and what I could potentially gain from this.
And naturally the fairy freezes completely at my demand, her tiny body going rigid in midair before she tumbles backward and falls onto her mini butt with a soft thump. She stammers incoherently, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the water.
And she stays like that for a short while before she manages to squeak out, "I... I... I... I... I... I acce—"
But before she can complete that sentence, space tears itself apart with a sound like ripping silk. Pale hands appear at the edges of a swirling purple rift, forcibly expanding the opening wider with deliberate slowness. And that is when another green fairy emerges—much larger, probably the size of a toddler, with practically identical features to the smaller one except for a thick metal collar around her neck.
However, she wears a manic grin as her piercing emerald eyes lock onto the smaller fairy.
"Oh my, oh my... such a disappointing little sister," the larger fairy purrs, her voice carrying honeyed sweetness yet I can tell the dangerous undertone. "I had such low hopes for you, and yet here you are, groveling before a contractor, you."
That was enough to cause the smaller fairy to panic and try to flee, but she's caught effortlessly by a glowing green aura and pulled back very slowly. She obviously doesn’t go silent but she screams and pleads, her voice breaking with raw terror.
"Please! I was just about to complete the task! He was going to—"
"Going to what?" The larger fairy tilts her head with mock sympathy, her smile growing wider. "How utterly precious. How utterly hopeless."
I crease my brow and watch in silence without intervening. I know better than to interfere in this mess, and like I repeat myself many times in my head, I don’t want any more trouble. Besides, everyone around us continues with their activities as if nothing wrong is happening, because they simply don’t care.
The bigger fairy circles her smaller counterpart like a cat playing with its prey. "You see, dear sister, incompetence has its price. And you have raked quite the debt lately and your price has come due." She licks her lips and her playful tone makes the threat infinitely more unsettling than outright anger would.
"Please! Save me and I'll be your servant forever! I'll do anything you want!" The unlucky fairy turns her terrified gaze toward me. "Please! You wanted my True Name—take it! It's—"
But she never gets to finish her plea as a hand wraps around her head very slow. "Now, now, that's quite enough dramatics for one performance." With a casual, almost playful motion, she snaps her smaller counterpart's neck with a sickening crack.
And everything goes silent, somehow that crack echoing around us.
But it doesn’t end there as she then opens her mouth wide and bites the head off, before she proceeds to devour the little one; complete with exaggerated chewing sounds, satisfied humming, and even a forced moan of pleasure.
Once she is done, she rubs her stomach afterward with childlike satisfaction, then lets out a contented burp.
"Kyahihihihihihih! Who's the fairest of them all? Meeee ♪" She giggles while wiping her mouth with her wrist.
I know I have mental defenses but that is still disturbing and morbid to watch.
The fairy then turns her full attention to me, those green eyes studying me with newfound interest. "Well now, that tedious business is concluded! I must say, you're far more entertaining than I anticipated. Manipulating one of us into nearly surrendering her True Name? Impressive work, even if she was hopelessly incompetent." She performs a graceful curtsy. "You simply must come meet my associates. They're absolutely dying to make your acquaintance."
"No." I state flatly, not even bothering to consider it.
Not after witnessing that delightful family reunion.
That execution has convinced me beyond any shadow of a doubt that I want absolutely nothing to do with the fae—not now, not ever.
However, the little monster just giggles, her head tilting with fake innocence. "Oh, but surely you care about your partner? Poor Wilma is having such an... enlightening experience with our hospitality. Though I suppose we could change a few things if you cooperate."
I roll my eyes. "I barely know her. She was just another contractor—why would I care what happens to some failure who couldn't avoid getting herself enslaved?"
My words might sound harsh but I'm not lying. Her disappearance is merely an inconvenience. My fleeting compassion extended only to offering her some food and hearing her out, in exchange for information, nothing more.
"How deliciously ruthless!" The fairy claps her hands. "I do so appreciate people who understand the value of pragmatism. But you see, we've taken notice of your particular... talents. Consider it a professional opportunity rather than a social call."
I know that Fae "opportunities" are exactly what nightmares are made of.
"Think of the possibilities! The adventures we could share! The stories we could write together!" she continues, spinning in the air with manic enthusiasm. "I could be your guide, your patron, your dearest friend... or perhaps something more intimate?"
"No."
My answer only causes her to pout before I turn away and start walking away, and it seems she isn’t following me which is the best outcome. However, when I reach the elevator and press a random button to take me to another floor she slips inside just as the doors close, trapping me with her.
"Oh, come now, don't be such a spoilsport!"
And the elevator starts its descent.
"We could have such magnificent fun together! I promise the experience would be absolutely unforgettable—one way or another!"
I don’t think she is throwing a tantrum, but she is totally complaining.
But I keep my mouth shut and wait for the ride to finish.
"You know," her tone returns to that fake sweetness, "stubbornness can be such an endearing trait... until it becomes tediously repetitive. Are you quite certain you won't reconsider? We are one of the most generous patrons after all."
And she just giggles as she keeps her eyes on me.
I stare straight ahead at the elevator doors, counting the seconds until I can escape this place while trying to ignore her increasingly unsettling laughter echoing in the confined space.
I pity those who willingly choose to work with these monsters.
Thankfully, the ride grinds to a halt and the doors open. I step off the platform without so much as a backward glance. And that seems to be enough to push her patience over the edge.
"Fine! You're such a boring asshole! If you won't come to us, then I'll just bring the problem to you instead!" Her angry words come as a sharp, petulant sound.
But the last part is what causes me to stop mid-step.
Bring them here?
Before I can say something. A strong green light flashes in front of me, forcing me to close my eyes for a moment.
And once they are opened I am greeted by the sight of two new arrivals.
The first one to quickly take notice of is Wilma. Except unlike the other times she is hogtied, ball gagged, a leather leash biting into her neck as she lies in a pathetic heap on the cold ground. If that wasn’t bad enough she was blushing and drooling from her gag, making a lot of muffled sounds. And it is hard to even look at her for longer than a few seconds for the sheer amount of second hand embarrassment I’m feeling.
So naturally my gaze shifts to the second arrival.
She is… different to say the least. Taller, carrying herself with absolute control. Where Wilma is frantically pathetic and hunched, this woman is glacial, imposing stillness. She exudes an aura of elegance and unquestionable authority, clad in a highly detailed black-and-white uniform that seems a fusion of aristocratic fashion and military regalia. A fitted coat, tailored to perfection, hugs her voluptuous frame, ending high above knee-length boots that gleam with polish.
Her face is porcelain-like, framed by long, straight black hair cut into severe blunt bangs that shadow her eyes, reinforcing the initial impressions.
She is practically the opposite of the unlucky demi-human.
The woman surveys the scene, me included, with a cool, dismissive indifference as she pulls the leash, eliciting the dumbass to moan.
Is this idiot even suffering or getting off this?
I can only let out a sigh, a long, weary sigh. I drag my cool cybernetic hand down my face before a frustrated groan escapes me. Even though I refused to go with this little shit, she has brought the problem directly to me. I can already imagine what a mess this is going to become and what I don’t want to get involved with.
The fairy merely giggles at my expense. She zips in a tight, mocking circle around my head before landing, atop Wilma’s skull. She bounces lightly before pulling a strand of hair, eliciting a pained whimper from my fellow contractor.
"You see," she chirps, her voice dripping with malicious glee, "this little contractor has been exceedingly naughty! Exploiting a very annoying contractual loophole for years—a venial sin we so generously overlooked—but she was suffering, and that was barely enough as entertainment but then she stopped delivering us that." She leans down, as if sharing a delicious secret. "And then—oh, this is the best part—she decided to go snooping in archives that were decidedly not hers to peruse. She got caught. Being naughty is one thing; being caught on the other hand…."
She straightens up, spreading her arms wide.
"She deserves punishment, don't you think? After all, I am the fairest judge of them all!"
“Yes, you are Leaf.” The woman replies.
Leaf?
As if on cue, the noblewoman yanks the leash harshly, causing Wilma to cry out in pain this time.
And if before wasn’t enough evidence then now I can tell without a shadow of a doubt that Wilma is thoroughly fucked. Completely and utterly screwed.
But… Tough luck.
I turn on my heels and start making my way back to the elevator, having seen enough of this bullshit.
But the green fairy immediately flies in front of me, blocking my path. Without hesitation, I draw Wilt and Blush, switching to shotgun mode and aiming it directly at her face, practically pressing the barrel to her head.
"I have things far more important to do than this circus," I state coldly. "Don't waste my time. I'm not interested, and I don't care what you people do to each other. I don't even want to be associated with the fae in any capacity. How many times and in how many ways must I tell you this before it penetrates your thick skull? Or do you all lack brains?"
Bold but direct, I’m simply tired. I don’t even care about this fairy's strength. I'm drawing a line here and won’t back down.
Although, I cannot tighten my grip on the trigger.
"Aww, you really are no fun at all!" she pouts, crossing her arms and turning away with exaggerated offense, eyes closed in disappointment. Then she disappears in a blur of green light.
So I look over my shoulder and see the gothic woman immediately drops the leash and delivers a vicious kick with her boot, sending Wilma tumbling across the floor toward me. "Get out of my sight, you pathetic trash. I vomit at the fact that you share even the slightest resemblance to my form."
Without another word, she turns around as dozens of floating pale hands materialize from thin air, carrying an elegant dark mantle that they drape over her shoulders. All of them vanish from sight in an instant, leaving only the faint scent of a strange perfume.
I look down at the demihuman, who looks back at me before she somehow makes a gasping sound as she tries to wiggle free from her rope.
I actually feel offended by this whole thing.
With a resigned sigh, I holster my weapon and kneel down, grabbing the thick ropes binding Wilma. I move to an empty table nearby and put her down before drawing a knife to cut through and remove the gag.
She doesn't waste a second before throwing her head back to gasp loudly for air, but the dramatic gesture causes her to lose balance and fall off the table face-first onto the floor with a solid thump.
"Idiot..."
With a groan, the pale girl pushes herself up, her wings buzzing frantically as she tries to regain some semblance of dignity. Now without the fairy breathing down my neck I can see that my only contact is covered in bite marks and scratches across her exposed skin. Her unique dress is torn with ripped pieces and holes that definitely weren't there before, along with plenty of wet and dry stains which thankfully don’t have an odor.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD!" she practically shrieks, scrambling to her feet and immediately latching onto my normal arm. "You actually came for me! I mean, I hoped you would, but I also kind of figured you'd just write me off…”
I was planning on that.
"Get off," I say flatly, shaking my arm until she releases her death grip.
She backs away slightly but continues hovering nearby, clearly still shaken. "Right, right, personal space, I forgot. Sorry, it's just—do you have ANY idea what those twisted fae put me through? The redcaps alone... my fucking GOD, Adam, they are absolutely shitty! And don't even get me started on the—"
I cross my arms and decide to give her a moment to collect herself before cutting her off. Thankfully, the witch notices my expression and attempts to organize her thoughts.
"Okay, okay, so you want the info I promised, right? Because I actually managed to get some pretty juicy intelligence before one of those Leaf clones found me and dragged me away with some bullshit excuse. Due process my ass." She reaches into what remains of her upper chest area and pulls out a crumpled, stained piece of paper. "Kingdom building, city management, civilization stuff—just like you requested! Had to sneak around the AOE floors, CIV floors, and even some HOI4 areas. Never actually played those games myself, so not really my scene, but I got what you needed. I think."
She hands me the paper, and despite being crumpled and dirty, I can still make out the writing—mostly floor numbers and specific vendor locations. It's what I asked for, so I guess she did an okay job.
"Hmm. You actually delivered."
"Yep! And you know what? Since you saved my pretty little butt from eternal torture, I should make it up to you..." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively while moving closer. "If you know what I mean..."
"No." I immediately step back and my hand reaches for my weapon. "Absolutely not. Don't ever suggest that again."
She instantly deflates like a balloon.
"I didn't come here to save you because I cared about you specifically," I continue, making my position crystal clear. "I had some minimal sympathy for your situation, yes, but that's the absolute limit. I would never risk my neck for you again—I didn't even plan to this time, but the fae were being particularly petulant about the whole situation. Unlike you, I have people I actually care about, people who are counting on me, and a greater purpose. Most importantly, I have a child on the way and responsibilities that matter infinitely more than some stupid girl who couldn't be bothered to read the fine print."
Wilma's face falls, my explicit rejection hitting her like a physical blow. She looks hurt for a moment, but after processing my words, she nods slowly. "Right... right, of course. That makes complete sense. I'm just some random disaster you barely know who got herself into trouble. I shouldn't have assumed... You're absolutely right. Sorry for being a retard."
But that regretful, apologetic demeanor suddenly shifts to something else entirely. "Wait, wait, wait—did you just say a kid on the way? Oh my god, you're going to be a daddy? That's actually kind of hot! How many hot women did you knock up in your harem?! Do you even have a harem now? Did you go full alpha male and—"
My hand shoots out and grabs one of her wings, pulling it up and practically lifting her entire body by that fragile-looking wing.
"YEEOWCH! OW OW OW! Sorry, sorry! Bad joke, terrible timing, shitty me! S-SORRYYYYYY!!!!!" she yelps, frantically waving her hands.
I give one more firm tug before releasing her. "Keep your mouth shut about my personal life. Okay?"
"Got it, no hot breeding jokes, noted and filed away forever in the 'never mention again' category," she says, rubbing her wing gingerly and wincing. "You know, the weirdest part about my whole kidnapping wasn't even their cruel games—it was when they brought in that woman from earlier, Kuro if I remember correctly. Like, damn, that woman is legitimately sexy as hell, total onee-san with serious mommy dommy energy, you know? It was hot and incredibly painful, but I wouldn’t mind have my head crushing in those thic—"
"Focus," I snap, getting increasingly frustrated with her complete inability to stay on topic for more than thirty seconds.
"Right! Right, sorry, my brain is still completely scrambled," she says, shaking her head vigorously. "Okay, so the actually useful stuff. Remember when we talked about Metal Gear Rising last time? You absolutely need to check out their floor—MG20. Armstrong himself is there selling his incredible nanoheart upgrades, and he even throws in free lessons on how to properly scream 'NANOMACHINES, SON!' and ‘I HAVE A DREAM’. It's absolutely peak, and given that you're stuck in a cyberpunk setting, it would be perfect."
I blink once. That actually doesn't sound bad, ignoring the second part, and she's right—it would fit well with both Remnant's advanced technology and my transhuman heritage.
"Best part is it's surprisingly affordable and comes with a full warranty," Wilma continues, her enthusiasm growing by the second "Only seven credits total. And just as I expected, Armstrong is fucking amazing in person. Big guy, loves his patriotic speeches and his vision of Super America. Very loud, very passionate, very BASED, and especially memeworthy, so he's totally trustworthy in my book."
Memeworthy... right.
I reach into my pocket dimension and pull out the promised payment—fresh pineapple and mango; placing them on the table. Wilma's eyes go wide as saucers and she starts drooling shamelessly.
"Oh my sweet, beautiful, real food!" She immediately grabs the mango and takes a massive bite without peeling it, juice running down her chin in sticky streams. "Y-You have absolutely no idea how amazing normal food tastes after licking floors and toilets for god knows how long." She takes another enormous bite, then another, practically stuffing her cheeks like a starving hamster and making a complete sticky mess of her face.
Well, I got what I came for and now have a clear destination. Starting with that nanoheart upgrade should be a good start for this visit.
"Hey, Adam?" I stop and look back at the pale insect girl, who's wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving smears of mango juice across her cheek. "Thanks for getting me out of there. I know you didn't do it for me specifically, and I know I'm just some random idiot you barely tolerate, but... thanks anyway. I won't forget this."
I pause for a moment, looking at her before I keep walking.
"Don't mention it."
-------------------------------------------------------
I appear in my backyard and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I feel the changes coursing through me. It's like being reborn—a completely new sensation that I've never experienced before. Every cell in my body feels enhanced, energized in ways I didn't know were possible. There isn't really a good word to describe this incredible feeling flowing through my entire body.
Taking a look around, I notice that Brutus isn't in sight, so he must be sleeping somewhere, which that’s okay. While scanning the area, I spotted a large decorative rock near the garden path. Once I get close to it, I look down at my normal hand and clench it into a tight fist before throwing a direct punch.
The rock explodes into fragments, pieces scattering across the grass in all directions. I smirk as I examine my knuckles—not even a scratch, no soreness, nothing. Before the nanoheart installation, the best I could do was maybe cause a hairline crack, and my arm would be throbbing for hours afterward. Now my fist remains in perfect condition.
Lowering that arm, I raise my cybernetic one for comparison. While my prosthetic could already accomplish feats like this, now my organic limbs possess the same raw destructive power. All thanks to the nanomachines that my new heart constantly produces and circulates throughout my entire system. Combined with my information defenses, nobody will ever suspect the true source of my abilities.
Now, with my aura, the company's defenses, and these nanomachines working in perfect harmony, I'm virtually physically invulnerable to conventional attacks. And that not even counting how well it synergies with my semblance.
As expected, my transhuman heritage facilitated both the installation process and the future maintenance although just like Wilman said it has a warranty. Even better, the model I purchased was a superior nanoheart design far more advanced than first-generation; that means that my skin won't turn pitch black when activating the nanomachines, nor will I develop those grotesque scars that look like something is about to burst from within. There isn't even visible evidence of heart transplant surgery, thanks to both my enhanced physiology and the doctor, which was kinda expected since he had a lot of robotic arms. Nobody would suspect that I now possess new boons and will keep it a secret as long as possible or never reveal as to catch my enemies off guard. Most importantly, it compensates for kinetic and blunt force trauma that aura cannot adequately protect against and that would also play in my favor to fool people.
I also acquired a complete set of enchanted work tools from a Minecraft stand, which was very cubic. Despite the somewhat absurd origin, these implements will prove both effective and productive for our needs. The entire set cost only three credits—an absolute steal considering their many properties. I'll distribute them to the villagers who can make the most productive use of them, especially in our agriculture and construction sectors where they will have the greatest impact.
The other places Wilma mentioned in her notes were either excessively overpriced or completely impractical. One example being a floating island, for instance, would be impossible to explain to anyone and would draw the exact kind of unwanted attention that could prove catastrophic. Not just attention from other kingdoms, but Salem herself might take notice, and I still know far too little about that immortal witch and her long-term plans to risk that level of scrutiny. Even if that island was perfect for agriculture, faster growth and protection of the crops from any possible threat.
Either way, I should assign a Pod unit to investigate the Grimlands more thoroughly. Yes, that's an excellent idea—I should have thought of it sooner. I'll assign the task to whichever unit finishes their current mission first. I cannot have them abandon their current assignments, after all.
Adjusting my coat, I enter my house and walk through the hallways toward the workshop. However, as soon as I open the door, I'm greeted by the sight of the original Pod hovering near the workbench. He quickly turns around upon sensing my presence.
"GREETINGS, COMMANDER. HOW WAS YOUR VISIT TO THE TRADE HUB?"
I raise an eyebrow in mild surprise. Pod actually starting casual conversation and asking about me? Either he's starting to relax around us, or he's developing a personality beyond pure work functionality. That's actually a positive development.
"It went well, I have no doubts that it will be beneficial." I responded. "Any news?"
"NO SIGNIFICANT UPDATES FROM DOMESTIC AFFAIRS. NEITHER FROM THE MILITARY AFFAIRS. AND NO NEW REPORTS FROM UNIT 9S AT THIS TIME," Pod answers and then pauses for a moment. "HOWEVER, THIS UNIT DOES HAVE IMPORTANT NEWS TO REPORT."
"Go ahead." I nod, curious about what he wants to say.
Pod turns back and hovers toward the rear of the workshop, where he lowers himself to carefully pick up something before returning. What he carries immediately captures my attention—a massive curved sword that's more accurately described as an oversized katana crafted entirely from bones. I can see the razor-sharp edge despite its jagged, tooth-like protrusions along the blade. The weapon's length reaches approximately three-quarters of my height.
"SINCE COMMANDER TAURUS HAS BEEN OCCUPIED WITH OTHER PRIORITIES, THIS UNIT TOOK THE INITIATIVE TO BEGIN PRODUCTION OF THE REQUESTED WEAPON USING THE GULPING TERROR'S BONES. THE DESIGNATION REMAINS UNCHANGED: LEVIATHAN FANG."
I step closer and extend my hand to grasp the longsword's handle. Pod releases his hold, allowing me to feel its full weight—which isn't actually as excessive as I expected. Of course, it's significantly heavier than Wilt and Blush, but not so unwieldy that the weight alone would tear my arm off. Still, I'll definitely need to practice before I can wield this massive weapon and also learn new stances as I won’t be able to apply the combat knowledge I acquired from using my mechashift weapon.
"THIS UNIT ALSO IMPLEMENTED IMPROVEMENTS TO THE ORIGINAL SCHEMATICS TO REDUCE OVERALL WEIGHT WHILE MAINTAINING STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY FOR OPTIMAL HANDLING," Pod adds with what might be pride in his work. "THIS UNIT RECOMMENDS AT LEAST ONE MONTH OF INTENSIVE TRAINING BEFORE ATTEMPTING TO ENGAGE ANOTHER BEHEMOTH-CLASS GRIMM WITH THIS WEAPON."
Well, probably less time since I have martial talent.
"I appreciate the concern, but I'm not worried about the learning curve," I respond, then move my cybernetic hand to grip the sword with both hands. I execute a few practice downward swings to get a better feel for the weapon's balance and momentum. The bone construction gives it a unique weight distribution that feels different from conventional materials. "You definitely outdid yourself with this one, Pod."
"THIS UNIT APPRECIATES THE POSITIVE ASSESSMENT, COMMANDER. THE BEHEMOTH'S BONE MATERIAL PROVED CHALLENGING TO WORK WITH DUE TO ITS DENSITY AND UNIQUE GRIMM PROPERTIES, BUT THE RESULTS EXCEED INITIAL PROJECTIONS."
With this I can fight the behemoths more effectively now, or have a much easier time handling the average ancient grimms which tend to be big as well.
I send my new weapon to my pocket dimension, then retrieve the large backpack with the enchanted tools.
"Pod, distribute these to the contracted villagers," I say, handing over the backpack. "They should be able to determine which tools suit their specializations best."
"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER. THIS UNIT WILL ASSESS INDIVIDUAL SKILL SETS AND CURRENT PROJECTS TO DISTRIBUTE ACCORDINGLY FOR OPTIMAL PRODUCTIVITY GAINS."
With the new order he is quick to leave the workshop, carrying the backpack with his deceptively tiny hands as he heads toward the portal to Kuo Kuana.
I start to follow him, intending to return to my office to check if there was new work, but I pause mid-step. There's something I need to check first. The ship girls have been operating independently for some time now, and I realize I haven't been receiving regular reports from them. A check up is in order.
So I make a quick call to the squad leader, Atago.
It takes a few seconds before she answers. "Hello, Commander! Did you miss your big sister? I certainly missed hearing from you~"
That’s certainly different from before.
"Atago, anything significant to report from your patrols?"
"Nope! Unless you wish to hear about our cute Asanagi's progress with her target practice, or perhaps Kawakaze's surprisingly eloquent poetry classes? She's quite the hidden artist when she's not being all stoic. And dear little Asanagi has been asking about you constantly, Commander. She's absolutely smitten, you know~ Perhaps you should visit her room to—"
What?
"Maybe another time," I cut her off before she could finish that sentence. "I need to know about any recent behemoth sightings in your patrol routes."
"Nothing of that caliber, Commander! And that includes the areas that previously seemed to be designated behemoth territory, so it's safe to assume whatever was there before was just passing through our patrol zones. Our previous encounters were likely mere coincidence. So far, we've only had small skirmishes against common Grimm—nothing particularly challenging for us." She has taken the more professional tone back it seems.
But that doesn’t change that she said something important.
"You've been actively engaging Grimm without telling me?"
"Correct! But don't worry your handsome head about it~" And she goes back to being flirty. "We always request confirmation from Pod when possible to avoid potentially provoking any behemoth-class. We're very careful, I promise! I can send you pictures of our recent targets if you'd like."
I frown slightly at the mention of Pod managing the ship girls' operations in addition to his other duties. I guess he has taken the whole support role very seriously. "Please do send those images."
Moments later, pictures appear directly in my vision. I see various aquatic Grimm—multiple shark variants, sea dragons, a massive turtle-type Grimm, and even several whale-class specimens and there was a person silhouette as reference to their size too. Which put them very big monsters. But what catches my attention immediately is an image of a Leviathan in the bunch, one of the most ancient and dangerous sea Grimm known to exist that hasn't evolved as a behemoth that is.
Yet Atago mentioned it so casually, as if it was just another routine target.
"I see. Excellent work, all of you," I say, then pause for a moment. "But regarding that Leviathan—were you personally involved in that fight?"
"No, Commander. That particular hunt was handled entirely by Asanagi and Kawakaze working in perfect tandem." There's clear pride in her voice. "The creature was much larger than the other targets but too slow and predictable in its attack patterns. Both girls easily maintained safe engagement distances while launching coordinated torpedo salvos. The sustained bombardment it’s what killed it, and didn’t seem to have anything special or any way to engage in ranged combat making the standard hit-and-run tactics the most effective method to deal with them."
That makes perfect sense, from a tactical standpoint. Ship girls would naturally favor long-range naval engagement over close-quarters combat, especially against larger, slower targets. The Brachydios fight on land had been an exception due to the very fucked circumstances.
"Do you think the three of you could handle a behemoth-class threat now?" I ask directly.
There's a moment of silence, which I actually appreciate—she's considering the question seriously rather than giving me an immediate, potentially overconfident answer.
"Yes, Commander. I truly believe we can handle that level of threat. But I would strongly prefer it if we could upgrade and complete our rigging first. We're all three missing several critical gun modules, and our anti-aircraft systems are... well, let's just say they're lacking in both range and stopping power. A fully equipped loadout would significantly improve our success probability and reduce unnecessary risks."
"I can make time for that," I tell her. "Coordinate with Asanagi and Kawakaze for a day when all three of you can take a day off. So we can go together to acquire your upgrades."
"Will do, Commander! I promise it will be quick—I know how busy you are with everything else.”
And with that, she ends the call.
Still, since when she was this…flirty? Or the right word would be, salacious?
I guess… No, this is definitely a consequence of Atago’s ‘reward’.
But that isn’t important for now.
Learning that the ship girls had incomplete loadouts irritates me somewhat. I should have asked about this the moment they joined, how much easier and faster the Brachydios fight would have been if they had completed and upgraded loadout?
Yet there is no point in crying over spilled milk.
Hopefully, completing all three ship girls' loadouts won't cost me much considering the prices so far. But it's definitely a worthwhile investment, regardless.
But with that done, I finally return to Kuo Kuana, appearing directly in my home instead of my office. I want to check a couple of things—mostly whether I wrote a diary or journal in my childhood and simply forgot about it over the years. I probably haven't left anything written or hidden away, but I still want to check to be certain.
However, as I walk across the living room heading toward the stairs, I notice there's a note on the table where we usually gather for tea. Beneath it sits a simple sandwich, carefully wrapped, which piques my curiosity.
I pick up the note and recognize Kali's handwriting immediately. She's gone out with Ilia, Kawakaze, and Asanagi—maybe just for a stroll, or probably showing the ship girls more of Kuo Kuana, perhaps taking them out to eat. With things improving around here, there are more activities available, which is genuinely nice.
I should take Ilia on a calm stroll sometime soon as well. The beach is nice but just walking on the shore as a date might get old fast.
It strikes me as slightly unusual—not that they went out together, but that Kali left a physical note instead of sending a message. Probably an old habit, or like Sienna, she simply forgot about the convenience. Not that I mind it at all. The sandwich is a thoughtful touch, and I appreciate the gesture.
I unwrap it and take a few bites. It's exactly what I needed. The familiar taste brings back some memories.. She must have made it with that in mind, which brings a small smile to my face.
After finishing it and wiping my hands clean, I head upstairs to check my room. I want to search through my shelf and closet for any books or journals I might have overlooked. There's always the possibility that something got buried and forgotten over the years—if not for practical purposes, then at least for nostalgia's sake.
I open my closet first and start methodically searching through my clothes, pushing aside garments I haven't worn in years. Occasionally, I pause to examine something that triggers a memory; a shirt that Ghira and Kali gave me for a birthday years ago, or the original ceremonial robes from my early White Fang days. I could sit down and reminisce, but I force myself to focus on the task at hand.
I search through drawers, behind books on my shelf, even in the back corners where dust has accumulated over time. Nothing. No hidden journals or forgotten notebooks or even lost toys. I suppose I didn't overlook anything after all.
That's fine—at least I can be certain now.
However, as I straighten up from checking the last drawer, I pause and look around the room. Something strikes me with sudden clarity: I'm currently alone in this house. Completely alone, with no one expected to return for hours.
And I know exactly what I want to do with that opportunity.
I leave my bedroom and walk down the hallway, my footsteps echoing slightly in the empty house. After passing a couple of doors, I find myself stopping in front of one very specific door.
Blake's bedroom.
Standing there, I take a deep breath and reach for the handle. But my hand recoils the moment I touch the cold metal, as if burned by contact. THAT shouldn't have happened at all. I narrow my eyes at my own response and force myself to grab the handle again, pushing the door open.
It wasn't locked—it never was locked.
The room is exactly as she left it. Always the same, similar to my room in layout but distinctly hers in character. The forest-green bedspread, black curtains that she preferred for reading, her dedicated library shelf filled with books I remember her reading by lamplight during quiet evenings, and her desk arranged meticulously. Yet notably, nothing is covered in dust. Kali has been cleaning this room regularly.
Fuck…
I really, really don't want to tell her the news about Blake's current situation. Hypocritical of me, perhaps, but that conversation will have to wait for now.
I stand in the doorway for a long moment, uncertain what I'm even doing here. I'm not angry anymore—that rage has burned itself out over the months, thankfully. I'm not indifferent either, though I wish I could achieve that emotional distance. I'm simply... conflicted. Conflicted about what this room represents, what it meant to our family, and what it means now in her absence.
Because I understand that the opposite of love isn't hate—it's indifference. And I'm clearly not there yet.
Eventually, I walk into the room and find myself sitting on the edge of her bed. The mattress feels exactly the same, the familiar give under my weight.
A somewhat impulsive idea occurs to me, and I reach under her pillow. To my mild surprise, my fingers encounter the edge of a small notebook. I pull it out and check it—just a simple planning journal with to-do lists and a mini-calendar. Mundane entries about daily chores, her study schedules, training reminders, and small personal notes.
The last recorded date is from before Father's death. Which makes perfect sense, unfortunately. Everything changed after that terrible day—Blake's priorities, her presence in this house, her relationship with all of us.
Everyone changed in some fundamental way.
I return the notebook to its place under the pillow and continue searching the room with the same methodical approach I used in my own space. I check behind books, in desk drawers, even in places that might serve as potential hiding spots. Part of me wonders what I hope to discover—some genuine explanation for her choices, perhaps, or insight into why she didn't fight harder for what we once had.
No… I’m not putting all the blame on her. Everyone fucked up.
But in the end, I find nothing significant. Just the ordinary remnants of a life interrupted, frozen in time like a museum exhibit of who Blake used to be.
A dry, humorless chuckle escapes my lips. It was dumb to think I might discover something meaningful here. Without ceremony, I simply leave her room, making sure to lock the door behind me this time.
I walk back down the stairs, the empty house somehow feeling smaller and more confining than it did when I first arrived.
I suddenly hear something like a door closing and the distinct clatter of a plate coming from the kitchen, which strikes me as odd. Maybe someone left something open, and the wind closed it, or perhaps a bird accidentally entered through an open window.
I head toward the kitchen to investigate, expecting to find that nothing serious has fallen or broken—just some minor disturbance that needs addressing.
However, when I enter the kitchen, I'm genuinely surprised to find Sienna digging through the refrigerator while wearing nothing but a white bathrobe, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles.
I blink several times, as I definitely wasn't expecting to encounter her here. Finding Sienna raiding my kitchen was literally the last thing on my mind when I went to check the noise.
Sienna straightens up and turns around, revealing that she's holding a plate loaded with various cheeses, others already partially consumed. Her mouth is obviously full, and there are cheese crumbs scattered around her lips. She manages to take exactly one step toward the counter before her golden eyes lock onto mine, and she freezes completely nearly causing both the cheese and plate to tumble from her hands. She manages to catch both just in time, then looks at me with a distinctly flushed face as she slowly, carefully swallows her mouthful.
"A-Adam?!" she stammers once she can speak clearly, her usual composed demeanor completely shattered. "I thought you would still be busy working in your office for hours! You weren't supposed to be back yet!"
"I just came back to look for something in my room," I reply, crossing my arms and taking in the scene before me. "Are you planning to sleep here tonight?"
"Y-Yes, I kind of... I just..." She tries and fails to form words. Her ears twitch nervously as she struggles. Finally, she sighs in resignation, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Yes, I was planning on staying tonight. I didn't want to make that long walk back to my house, especially not... in my current condition." She sets the plate down carefully on the counter.
"That's perfectly fine. But raiding our refrigerator like you haven't eaten in days?" I ask with mild amusement, noting the way she's unconsciously protecting her still-flat stomach.
She blushes deeply, her ears dropping low as she looks away and rubs her arm nervously. "I've been... really hungry lately. Like, constantly hungry, but specifically for certain things. I've been craving cheese almost obsessively. It's embarrassing, but I literally couldn't stop thinking about it all day." She pauses, then adds quietly, "I even dreamed about cheese last night."
Something clicks in my mind, and I end up chuckling softly at the realization. However, that reaction causes Sienna to immediately bristle, her embarrassment quickly transforming into indignation as she stamps her foot.
"It's not funny, Adam! This is serious!"
I raise my hands in a placating gesture, trying to suppress my amusement. "No, no, nothing like that. I'm not laughing at you. You're just experiencing pregnancy cravings, aren't you? Didn't Kali mention this might happen?"
The expectant mother perks up slightly at the explanation, then sighs with a mixture of relief and frustration. "She hasn't really talked to me much about specific symptoms in detail yet. But yes, that was actually part of the reason I came to the manor today—I wanted to ask her about some of these... strange changes I've been experiencing." She pauses, scratching her cheek. "I really didn't think discussing pregnancy would be this awkward or overwhelming, but here we are."
"I suppose I should have announced my arrival, but I found Kali's note and assumed everyone was out for the evening."
"You probably should have," she agrees with a slight shrug, but then reaches for another slice of cheese and takes a bite, her eyes practically rolling back in satisfaction. "But honestly, I was too distracted and focused on trying to find more cheese to really notice." She swallows with obvious pleasure, then takes an even larger bite, making a small sound of contentment.
"Why does this taste so incredibly good?!" she asks around her mouthful. "I mean, I've had cheese before, obviously, but this... this is like the best thing I've ever tasted in my entire life. It's crazy how good it is."
A soft purring sound starts emanating from her as she continues eating, though she seems completely unaware she's doing it.
I can't help but smile. "You know you're purring, right?"
Sienna freezes mid-bite, her ears immediately perking up in alarm. "I'm... what?" She swallows quickly and touches her throat with her free hand. "No, I'm not—"
"You absolutely are," I say, taking a step closer to her. "It started the moment you began eating the cheese."
Her face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Oh gods, I didn't even realize... This is so embarrassing!" She tries to stop the purring, but it only seems to intensify as she focuses on it.
"It's not embarrassing," I say, moving closer until I'm standing right beside her at the counter. I've liked that from the beginning. It's just way too adorable. "You purr when you're happy. I like it."
She shoots me a look but the purring doesn't stop. If anything, my comment seems to make it slightly louder. "Don't tease me about this, Adam. I already feel ridiculous enough with all these changes."
But I can't resist pushing just a little further, teasing a little more. "I have to ask though—why are you just wearing a robe? Did you come here straight from a bath?”
Although her hair isn't wet.
Sienna looks down at herself, seeming to suddenly remember that she isn’t wearing anything else but that robe. "Oh, this? I'm just comfortable this way," she says with surprising straightforwardness, adjusting the belt around her waist. "Regular clothes have been feeling... restrictive lately at night. The robe is loose and soft, and it doesn't press against my stomach."
That's unexpectedly direct, but it makes sense given her condition. I reach over and take a small piece of cheese from her plate, popping it into my mouth.
It tastes... fine. Normal cheese. Nothing particularly special about it.
"Hey, that's mine!" Sienna protests immediately, clutching the plate protectively against her chest. "I was saving that piece!"
I raise an eyebrow at her fierce reaction. "It's just cheese, Sienna. There's more in the refrigerator."
"But I was eating that specific piece!" she insists, still hugging the plate. "You have your own food!"
The territorial behavior is almost amusing, but I decide not to push the issue further. She's clearly dealing with enough new changes without me adding more even if it would be amusing to keep teasing her.
"Alright, alright. The cheese is yours," I concede, stepping back. "I should probably get some rest, anyway."
Sienna relaxes slightly, setting the plate back on the counter but keeping it within each. "I should probably head to the guest room too. Thank you for... not making this more awkward than it already was, Adam."
"Just try to get some proper sleep," I tell her as we both head toward the kitchen exit. "And Sienna? Next time you have a particular craving, you don't need to sneak around. Just ask."
She nods, clutching her plate of cheese as we separate in the hallway.
…
…
Except later she would take my words to a different level.
Comments
Luis Vilca
Pregancy cravings are quite interesting, girl can hate pickles her whole life and then she be eating a whole jar of them and think it is the most delicious thing in the world
Shorter than joe Mama
...cat likes cheese?
