Chapter 17

As a result, you gained nothing, besides running back and forth until you were half-dead, and you even made David's older brother laugh?

Gaining peace of mind is also a gain, and besides, you see...

Aomo pushed the terminal in his hand across the table, and it drew a straight line that Morrison pressed down with his hand; when he released it, a complete projection appeared in midair.

On it was the calm-profile side face of a horse girl, and beside her a companion with a stern expression.

Below the picture there was also a question of whom they were waiting for, plus a small speculation.

Morrison raised his hand to draw a line in the comment section, but seeing Aomo's raised five fingers faintly trembling with current, the metal terminal flew straight into his hand.

Tsk, I've noted the title; I'll look it up later and read it to you!

Morrison clicked his tongue in annoyance, determined to challenge him with any possible criticism or even insults below.

You're over a hundred—can't you act more mature? Aomo, putting away the terminal, curled his lip, then glanced at the projection on it, his expression slightly tightening.

In any case, they really were waiting there.

What? Your heart moved? Are you considering taking my advice again and picking the trainer specialty?

Vampires might also be fit for the devil's bit in myth, especially with Morrison's current smug grin, giving rise to a feeling of evil temptation and incitement.

No plans—I don't even know why they're looking for me.

You really don't know? Morrison still wore that smile, his tone teasing, "Unexpected?"

In contrast, Aomo remained calm and indifferent.

Missing it means no fate; I think today's exam condition is okay, so you should still get me a ticket—I can pack my luggage tonight.

You little brat, think more about puberty hormones, like... uh, that cyborg girl's voluptuous curves! "So greasy—every time I wonder why you grew a mouth."

You're no different! Morrison alone didn't want to be told by this guy who knows how to raise people's blood pressure.

Greasy middle-aged and elderly folks, after eating go to sleep; if you sleep soundly, you won't need to get up at night to ask for help.

This time I recorded it! Morrison pulled out a pen from his pocket, "Just who shouldn't have a mouth!"

Then he saw Aomo motionless, the pen in his hand already flown away, and as he tried to snatch it back quickly, a cluster of white light flashed before his palm.

The obvious stinging pain made him pull his hand back instantly, seeing the faint gray-black marks on it covered by a pallid white, then looking at Aomo gripping the recording pen, he twitched the corner of his mouth:

You learned Holy Light at nineteen—I can't even imagine when I'll become a filial son.

Holy Light? Aomo's expression turned subtle, "That's just an illumination technique; I can't fulfill the mental essence of studying Holy Light."

Besides, he's preparing a bloodline awakening to become a half-demon; those demons who study Holy Light are somewhat rebellious.

An illumination technique can burn this badly? Morrison exclaimed.

Could it not be your own problem?

After putting the recording pen with its shared program audio track deleted back on the table, Aomo turned to gather the utensils on the dining table, preparing to send them to the kitchen to wash.

Even though savings have increased and quality of life improved, we never hired a housekeeping robot, but we bought a dishwasher.

No need to hand-wash like when we were kids.

Genetic modification made you an artificial day-walker, unafraid of sunlight, but it merely weakened the sun concept while erasing UV harm to you," Aomo, lifting the stacked dishes, looked at his foster father with a poor complexion, "Those are all dead things.

Even with spirit-guiding spells mixed in, they still restrain you, even more than before your genetic modification; that expectation of light, that purifying vow, will deepen the harm to you—you know that better than anyone.

You're just pretending it's not happening and didn't bring it up to me... saying that would likely make the atmosphere even more oppressive; Aomo, who actually doesn't care much about this, naturally omitted it, didn't look at his complex expression, and simply turned and walked to the kitchen.

Open the device, place the utensils in their respective categories, turn the knob, press the button, and then just wait for the vibrating equipment to finish clearly.

Is this what my friends told you, or did you figure it out yourself?

The voice came from the doorway—it was Morrison leaning against the door.

To feign indifference by asking in this pose, a little cleverness, is obviously meaningless to someone like Aomo, but to ease the other's anxiety he will still answer honestly:

Neither.

Aomo stared at the dishwasher and shook his head.

I just looked over your medical report.

... boring, I'm leaving, I'm leaving.

The slipper footsteps truly faded away; then Aomo turned his head and glanced at the empty doorway, somewhat speechless.

From little cleverness to this three-minute enthusiasm, then to being easily coaxed—it's really often hard to tell who's the adult and who's the child.

But Aomo himself is already 19, no longer able to call himself a minor; the time we've lived together has piled up to the point of being too lazy to complain—Aomo feels this is a bad development.

We're already too lazy to say anything—doesn't that mean we're utterly hopeless?

If I really ignored this guy, wouldn't I become that suspicious uncle again, with messy hair, dark circles, and a wrinkled suit?

Considering vampire literature, even after all these years of development, there are still people afraid of vampires in reality; at such times, wouldn't there be a situation where 'one day he gets a call from the police station telling him to come to the detention center to pick someone up'?

Although in the end it will surely be just a misunderstanding.

But that such things can still happen to now is too troublesome! Just thinking of this future possibility, Aomo's 'annoyance radar' will blast, making him tirelessly lecture that useless adult, and then, on the road to being called a 'male mom,' he'll inject nitrogen.

Chill, dad can't nag?

Since someone must be on the first page of the household register, why can't it be me? Well, Aomo doesn't actually have that thought, unless Morrison tries to trick him into calling him dad again, in which case he'll subconsciously 'counterattack,' conducting a redistribution of the dad claim.

Ding—

The dishwasher's busy-end sound came suddenly, solidifying Aomo's dazed, scattered gaze; he then let out a long sigh.

What am I thinking? Maybe I'm lacking urgency too? After all, I'm still in the college entrance exam period......

After tidying the utensils, Aomo picked up the terminal, typed a message to inform Kailifu that he decided to intensify review tonight, then greeted Morrison watching TV in the living room, and went to his own room.

As for luggage... we'll prepare it later.

The horse girl matter, the new friend matter, and even the travel destination—all are set aside for now; first fulfill the student's duty, focusing on reviewing knowledge points—this plan of mental concentration isn't difficult for Aomo.

The basic source-energy cultivation concentration method, or meditation techniques, calming mind methods—basically the same, things taught in middle school classes, can have some effect, and like Super Dream, can in some sense serve as psychological regulation techniques.

Doing it before bed can also aid sleep.

Tonight will pass like this, peacefully, until dawn when the second round of evaluation.

There were no further sudden developments or changes; it was just that no reporters came looking for them anymore, and the horse girls seemed to have no enthusiasm for a second round.

That makes sense; it's not as if they'd be detained for two rounds just because of one remark—Aomo isn't Zhuge Liang, and they aren't Liu Xuande.

However, he knew that Mihama Bourbon was currently without a trainer, and this matter had once sparked a fairly popular discussion thread on the forum, concerning some otherworld transmigrators who, relying on their knowledge of the game 'Uma Musume,' thought they could plan training for the horse girls.

Compared to them, Bi Ze, who also had a bit of armchair theorizing, was relatively better, after all Bi Ze never really intended to take the trainer certification exam, then mislead people by copying so-called game experience.

However, no matter how you look at it, I, who am still taking the college entrance exam, could never become a pre-arranged trainer; my professional knowledge is still insufficient, and I wouldn't pass the procedure either.

Aomo's search yesterday, besides putting my mind at ease, was also out of curiosity about what thoughts they were holding at that time.

Did they want to consult me? Or was it that my guess had some error worth her getting excited enough to come personally and say it out?

It seems this curiosity is destined not to be satisfied in the short term; the unhurried Aomo avoided the reporters who wanted to interview, found the place she had agreed on with David, and waited there to meet up with Bi Ze.

Speaking of which, after the first day's interview, to those TV station reporters tasked with heavy publicity, Aomo would also be considered a rather troublesome familiar face—better not to interview if avoidable.

But the incident of 'horse girls waiting at the exam venue' that happened the next day also let reporters from several other programs catch a whiff of some special news.

Although borrowing their interviews could, if handled well, offer a chance to see those two horse girls again, the other consequences this behavior might provoke are not something Aomo is willing to bear.

So he still slipped away.

The power of public opinion is still too deep for a young person to grasp.