Chapter 69

Of course it hurt.

Even as Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion groaned every time his fingers pressed into a knot, her eyes slowly drifted shut again. She was too exhausted to fight the pull of sleep.

Commander Dezeb Avganis eased the pressure and worked his hands from the nape of her neck down toward the edges of her shoulder blades. When he poured on a little more oil, Erabelle stirred and asked in a small voice,

“...Is that medicine?”

There was unmistakable hope in her tone.

Dezeb snorted.

“It’s just massage oil.”

He grumbled that if she didn’t break that habit, he would make her regret it, but the moment Erabelle shivered in pain, his hands softened and he began working the muscles more gently.

She still kept groaning.

You should’ve taken it easy.

Did she seriously think she could complete an A-Grade Center program?

Still complaining under his breath, Dezeb moved down and began kneading the knots in her calves.

Erabelle had buried her face in the pillow and was holding her breath.

Unconcerned, Dezeb worked his way through the muscles of her other leg.

The room had gone very quiet.

Almost too quiet.

He wasn’t even sure she was breathing anymore.

“You alive?”

“I... don’t think so.”

Whatever.

Dezeb sank his teeth into the delicate skin at the back of her neck.

Even then, Erabelle weakly called for an ambulance again.

That made him laugh.

***

The Center’s operating hours suddenly changed to 10 a.m. through 6 p.m.

The rule applied only to those who had not yet completed the program.

And since Erabelle was the only non-completer in the entire Center, she alone was now forced to leave promptly at closing time.

Free time meant time to think.

And thinking terrified her.

So she set about erasing every spare moment even more aggressively than before.

“It’s 30 cp.”

“Can’t you knock it down a little?”

“At 30 cp, I’m practically doing it for free. A repair shop would charge you 50. I’m only asking for the cost of the parts.”

It wasn’t that people were still mistaking her for Center staff.

After doing a few favors that weren’t quite favors, she had somehow accumulated a regular customer base satisfied with her work.

Two birds with one stone.

She earned money, and she eliminated time to think.

Even so, the nuclear bombs Dezeb had dropped into her life kept bobbing back to the surface of her mind, so Erabelle threw herself into filling every last gap in her schedule.

“Other support types are nicer.”

“I can be nice too, for 30 cp. I’ll even wipe your network usage logs as a complimentary service.”

“So I just leave it at the front desk?”

“Yes. I’ll fix it right away and have it back to you today...”

Beep-beep.

Erabelle shut off the alarm mid-sentence.

Time to get back to training.

“Why do you keep doing training you can’t clear anyway? You always score 79.”

Erabelle answered the curious customer politely.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Then go treat him well! What a noble soul! Truly a paragon of self-sacrifice!”

“The laptop. Hand it over, please.”

“Why? What are you planning to do to our Johnson?”

That was certainly a straightforward name.

A little too transparent about what the device was apparently used for.

“By the way, do you make house calls? My induction cooktop’s broken.”

The customer who had just thrown a fit about her touching Johnson abruptly switched to another repair request.

“Long-distance calls are a little... difficult for me.”

The flagship was enormous.

To someone with Level 2 perception, it was practically a world unto itself.

How was she supposed to know where this humanoid monster lived?

Erabelle had no desire to embark on a cross-ship expedition for a handful of coins.

“I’ll pay 100 cp.”

“I’ll go anywhere.”

“You’re refreshingly transparent.”

Maybe just Johnson.

In any case, the man seemed pleased with the promise of premium 100 cp customer service and gave her a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Erabelle decided that if a scan later showed anything wrong with her clavicle, she would immediately get a medical certificate for the injury.

“Just come fix it before dinner. It isn’t far. About ten minutes by transit rail from the Center.”

Fair enough.

If an induction cooktop was broken, it probably did need to be fixed before dinner.

Erabelle still didn’t really understand the urgency.

Why bother cooking when food was something you could simply buy?

Then again, this other world was one long sequence of incomprehensible things.

After clocking out, she gathered the parts most likely to be responsible and headed to the customer’s home.

Seeing the sergeant’s girlfriend fussing anxiously over dinner made her think of Dezeb.

Once Erabelle repaired the induction unit, the woman thanked her, paid the 100 cp, and offered her dinner as well.

To be honest, it felt less like hospitality and more like the woman wanted to verify that the repair actually worked. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

Either way, Erabelle accepted the free meal without complaint.

<Something came up. I might be a little late.>

While eating, she casually sent Dezeb a message.

Like the sergeant’s girlfriend, he was oddly serious about meals, and unless something unusual happened, the two of them ate dinner together every day.

Erabelle hadn’t given much thought to the habit.

She hadn’t even considered it unusual.

Because by now, it really wasn’t.

<Okay.>

His reply was brief.

For a moment, she wondered if she had bothered him.

She was still thinking about it on the way home.

***

...Huh?

Later that evening, after finishing both the repair and dinner at the customer’s home, Erabelle stepped into the entryway and stopped.

The house was strangely quiet.

After a brief hesitation, she carefully walked farther inside.

It was difficult for a house she had personally chosen down to the smallest detail to feel unfamiliar.

Tonight, somehow, it did.

Every light was off except the one in the bedroom, which only made the whole place feel more unsettling.

It looked exactly like a scene from a horror movie.

Back then, Erabelle had never understood why people in those movies crept closer instead of simply closing the door and leaving.

Now she understood perfectly.

Maybe they were seized by the same irrational fear that walking away would only make things worse.

“Um...”

Are you here?

She honestly hoped no one was.

Then she heard retching from the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Erabelle hurried toward the sound.

“Dezeb?”

Then she stopped dead.

He was hunched over the toilet, retching.

His hair was disheveled, and one long-fingered hand rested loosely against his head.

When he glanced toward her, the corners of his eyes were red.

“You’re back?”

He asked it casually.

Then gagged again.

“I’ll contact the hospital immediately.”

“Hospitals are scary.”

He gave a small laugh, then retched once more.

His body swayed.

Erabelle rushed forward to support him, though holding up a man who was easily twice her size was a considerable challenge.

He bent down and inhaled slowly along her small body.

Deeply.

The sensation of an animal’s muzzle passing over her skin made Erabelle tense.

“Ah. I’m getting worse. This is really bad, Erabelle.”

“Did something happen? I can call First Officer Ol—”

“Why are you calling him by name? Are you two close?”

Close with what, exactly?

His head?

His hands?

His feet?

Erabelle, who was not personally acquainted with any part of Ol’s anatomy, shook her head.

“We are not close.”

Is he on drugs?

Ordinary intoxicants barely affected him.

If it wasn’t that, then why was he suddenly acting like this...?

“What were you doing?”

“I fixed a TV.”

“Here we go again. Was it fun?”

“Not particularly.”

She kept answering his grumbling in short, clipped responses, but her hands and feet were trembling.

Dezeb pressed his face into her hands.

“D-Dezeb, your temperature...”

“What? Do I have a fever?”

“You’re burning up.”

He chuckled softly.

His breath brushed against her palm.

“You really do everything.”

He pushed himself upright, rested his overheated head against her small shoulder, and fished a cigarette out of his back pocket.

“Erabelle.”

“Yes?”

He clicked the lighter several times, failed to get it going, and finally gave up, slumping against her again.

“Comfort me. Pat-pat.”

Erabelle immediately began patting his broad back as though soothing a child.

Dezeb let out a long breath.

“You’ve barely started going to the Center, and you already have people you know.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

But for Erabelle, maintaining smooth social relationships wasn’t optional.

For an undocumented, stateless person, it was a survival skill.

Dezeb buried his nose against the nape of her neck and drew in another long breath.

It felt as though her entire body were being swallowed.

“Erabelle.”

“Yes.”

“Did you eat dinner?”

“I was just craving a late-night snack.”

At her quick answer, he chuckled again.

Then, as though nothing had happened, Dezeb calmly stood up, brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth, and asked if they should order pizza and beer and watch a variety show for the first time in a while.

Erabelle agreed immediately.

The only problem was that the bathroom was attached to the bedroom.

Which meant it took her quite a while to get out.