After wrapping up a quick strategy eting with the girls of the Pinus Sylvestris, Steven stepped out of the makeshift conference room without hesitation.
Action spoke louder than words—and since he'd already agreed to help retrieve that file, the next step was obvious: make a move.
And when it ca to finding out the location of an ultra-classified docunt, there was one particular friend of his currently lying in a hospital bed who probably had the answer.
Even if she didn't know exactly where it was stored, she'd at least know who might know. After all, she used to work at the front desk. Wasn't digging up intel basically her job?
Besides, he was the one who put her in the hospital in the first place—it was only right to drop by with so fruit or sothing. While he was at it, he could also check in on Zofia. She'd been quiet lately.
With that thought in mind, he started heading toward the hospital they'd visited before—only to bump right into a very familiar girl.
White hair. Crimson eyes. Her appearance gave her identity away instantly.
But now, instead of the bloodstained nun's habit she usually wore, she had changed into an everyday-style long dress with soft frills and pastel colors.
For a mont, he almost didn't recognize her.
"…That's much better. Next ti, could you please pay a little more attention to hygiene?" he said, eyeing her from top to bottom. "You were practically dripping in blood and gore last ti. How were you not grossed out?"
He studied her carefully now.
Without a weapon in her hands, she looked nothing like the monster she usually was in battle.
She was just a pretty, charming, almost doll-like girl with an unsettling gaze.
In fact, he had to admit—this little shark was gorgeous. Especially those eyes… there was sothing about them that could almost steal your soul.
The problem was, those eyes never looked at him like a normal girl would. No, it was always that weird, predatory gleam, like she was watching a particularly juicy piece of at.
He wasn't worried she'd just up and bite him, but… she did give off the vibe of soone who might swallow him whole without warning.
"I didn't really mind the ss," she said with a sweet smile. "But if you didn't like it, I'll try to be cleaner next ti. See? I'm clean now, aren't I?"
She twirled in place like a dancer, elegant and playful, letting the sun catch on the folds of her skirt. Then she t his gaze again, smiling with childlike charm.
You'd never guess this girl had amnesia, or that she could slaughter enemies like a living weapon.
"Yeah, yeah. You're clean and pretty. I never said I didn't like it. I just thought it didn't seem great, that's all. But honestly, stuff like that… shouldn't it depend on what you like? You shouldn't change who you are just to make soone else more comfortable."
Steven shook his head and rummaged through his inventory for a few seconds before pulling sothing out.
It was a dazzling gem—clear as crystal, glittering like starlight—and a small, ordinary carving knife. He handed both to her.
"Also… I've been so busy I didn't get a chance to give you this before. Rember the gift I promised? Here it is. You can carve it however you want. If you run out of materials, just ask for more."
It was a long-promised present—and he never forgot promises. Now that he finally had a free mont, he figured she might as well have sothing to occupy her hands.
Specter stared at the diamond in her palm, then tilted her head slightly as she savored the aning behind his earlier words.
Her smile curved wider—just enough to be noticeable—and without warning, she reached out and pulled him into her arms, wrapping his hand (still holding the gem) against her chest.
"To do what I like, without worrying about how others feel, huh? Aren't you just encouraging to beco a selfish little girl~?"
Her voice was soft, lodic—and just a little dangerous.
"I think I'm starting to understand why Captain feels so strongly about you," Specter murmured softly, her tone flirtatiously dangerous. "The more ti I spend with you… the more delicious you seem."
She licked the corner of her lips with her lilac tongue, and the look in her crimson eyes deepened—like she wasn't just seeing him, but tasting him with her gaze.
"You're doing it again—talking nonsense," Steven replied, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, who eats who isn't set in stone yet. For now, just have fun carving that gem. Later I'll show you my handiwork. But right now, I need you to stay and watch over this group, alright? Shouldn't be a problem for you."
He had only interacted with the Pinus Sylvestris briefly, but that was enough for him to determine these girls were clearly key figures in this particular Side Story.
And if that was the case, then for the sake of his precious World Acknowledgent Point, they absolutely couldn't afford to die.
Leaving them in Specter's care wasn't ideal—but it was reliable. Even if she had amnesia, her combat abilities were unquestionable. In a place like Kazimierz, she could walk sideways and people would still get out of her way.
"There's no problem~" she said, dragging out the word. "But why do you always get to do the fun stuff without ? I wanna go play too!"
She pouted in exaggerated disappointnt, clinging to him in a girlish act of spoiled affection. But she still let go of his hand—though not without a soft, lingering complaint.
"Next ti, I swear I'll bring you along," Steven promised, scratching the back of his head. "This ti's just a covert op, y'know? I'm running under a fake identity. Next ti there's a proper fight, I'll bring you for sure. Promise you'll get to enjoy yourself."
He felt a little guilty. He had promised to bring her along, but most of the ti she ended up being left behind or on standby. It wasn't very responsible of him.
Still, the next ti there was real chaos—yeah, she'd be the first person on the team sheet.
"Okay~ Then it's a promise."
Like a little girl sealing a playground pact, she hooked her pinky with his and squeezed his hand.
Her fingers were cool and soft—just like her smile—and he couldn't help but laugh.
"Yeah, it's a promise."
He reached out and patted her head like a doting older brother, ruffling her silver hair gently before finally turning to leave, stepping out of the dilapidated factory and heading toward his destination.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
anwhile, at his destination—a high-class hospital used exclusively by key figures of the Armorless Union—the mood was… less than peaceful.
Here sat the pitiful Platinum-ranked Centaurea of the Armorless Union, and her current situation could only be described as tragic.
This hospital wing, nearly an entire floor unto itself, was reserved only for the Armorless Union's elite. Normally, Centaurea would be enjoying the benefits of that privilege: lying comfortably in bed, catching up on her half-finished knight novels.
But instead, she was stuck in a wheelchair, engaged in a silent stare-down with two of her higher-ups.
Correction—three, technically.
Behind her, still fresh out of the ergency room, lay a Darksteel-ranked superior—currently in a coma, hooked up to every machine imaginable.
Honestly, if she wasn't worried about the consequences, she'd have been tempted to pull the plug out of sheer spite.
Was this a hospital or a company retreat?! She was supposed to be recovering, not hosting a damn upper managent reunion!
Her dead-fish eyes stared blankly at the two equally miserable Lazurite-ranked bigwigs in front of her.
Both of them were in wheelchairs, too.
Compared to her condition, they had it worse.
Monique was the lucky one—just so fractured ribs and a broken neck. Painful, sure, but with ti, she'd walk again.
Roy, on the other hand… Roy looked like he'd been steamrolled.
Bandages wrapped around all four limbs, immobilized from head to toe—only his head still moved, like so sort of cursed mummy.
Even she was curious: who the hell did this to him?
Of course, the one in the worst shape was still the Darksteel-ranked superior behind her.
Being on the brink of death was bad enough, but the man had also lost an entire arm. No one even knew who the hell had been strong enough to do that to him.
Thinking about it like this… it really did feel like the higher your rank, the heavier your injuries.
She quietly wondered to herself when the other two Darksteels would be wheeled in to complete the full set.
Bitter thoughts like that were the only form of entertainnt she had left.
Thankfully, since they were all fellow patients, none of the higher-ups were in any shape to be giving orders or pushing paperwork.
The only reason they'd even gathered here was thanks to the command of those other two Darksteels—ones still conscious, at least.
Officially, they claid the three should stay close together to "watch each other's backs."
But anyone with half a brain could tell what that really ant:
They were to serve as bodyguards for the comatose Darksteel lying behind them.
"I an, co on guys, can we not just stare at each other like this?" Roy finally broke the unbearable silence with his usual smooth, slightly smug voice. "If we've got ti to waste, we might as well make it fun. How about a round of cards?"
"I don't mind," Centaurea replied dryly, "but are you sure you've got the hands to play with? Or wait—do you even have any usable limbs left?"
"Hmph. I've still got a mouth, haven't I?" Roy shot back. "All I need is soone to help play the cards for . Right, Little Platinum? You can be my hands. Shouldn't be too hard for soone like you."
He cast a sideways glance at Centaurea—the least injured among them—and felt a sudden wave of envy.
Look at her: barely any damage, just a few cuts and bruises. Must be nice to have connections. anwhile, he was hanging onto life by a thread, only his brain and… a certain other part intact. That was it.
"Besides," Roy continued, flashing a grin at Monique, "what else are we supposed to do like this? Pillow fight with shopping bags? Or just get beat up by shopping bags?"
< >
Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
sdrive.google/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
< >
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