Chapter 566

NO. 148: He/She knows all that, just doesn't want to face it (x(4k)

When Miss Lei Miule caught the sudden scent, her head still felt like it did when she got up to use the bathroom last night, buzzing all over.

A hangover headache won't easily fade, especially when your age is no longer young enough to be called a maiden.

Even in this age there are many methods to preserve youthful appearance, and even merely studying some special 'Originium Arts' can maintain one's youthful looks, making women from Terra's land to the Terra Federation deeply feel how wonderful and great this world and era are, but……

Even if ordinary races can here find the means to rise and stand alongside the longevity species, alcohol remains excessively so.

It not only tests your liver capacity, but also tests your nerve quality.

Those elixirs, potions, cosmetics that let youth linger, even longevity cultivation, do not directly enhance the overall degree of internal organ strength and nerve strength.

Indeed, such a comprehensive strengthening 'panacea' does exist, but it is obviously not cheap, and not very cost-effective for contemporary women pursuing beauty.

Compared to such a panacea, using several different types of beauty and health products with different focuses at the same time is much cheaper.

And if you're not in a hurry to pursue these, merely purchasing a single option that skips makeup and beauty steps is even easier.

Miss Lei Miu Le is obviously not the type of woman who would fill her vanity table with big and small medicines.

She only picks a few basic health cultivation books from her sister's Blessed Gospel Class, then casually practices.

Even fishing two days and drying nets three days doesn't count; it should be three days drying nets, one and a half days setting traps, and finally fishing half a day—such diligence makes her combat power advance slowly, ranking second to Miss Kong in the Penguin Logistics core team.

Of course, she has actually been diligent recently.

Now she's at the level of three days drying nets, one day setting traps, one day fishing, which once made her sister astonishedly ask Mo Si Ti Ma and De Ke Sa Si and others: "What stimulus did this child receive?"

But how long this diligence, stimulated by the initial monster fighting in the border zone's foreign region, can last is unknown; at least after over a month of such diligence, her internal organs and nerves have not been strengthened enough to match her boasting.

It's impossible to drink against the Star Bear officer, let alone just metabolizing the alcohol is enough to choke.

Especially when that white-haired dumb dog initially, to mess with De Ke Sa Si, went straight for the strongest liquor—in the border zone where productivity and technology far surpass Dragon's Gate City, demanding the strongest bottle is practically asking for death.

You have to pray in your heart that the boss won't give you a bottle labeled "Internet celebrity exclusive".

After all, the difficulty those so‑called streamers undertake to attract attention… is worth noting; some streamers have first‑grade cybernetic augmentation, meaning full‑body cybernetics—you can decide for yourself.

Lei Meile and Lappland can be said to be dead together; their main difference is merely the physical difference between Sarkaz and Rupert—quite obvious, since the Sarkaz's racial traits are so distinctive they can be told apart from almost all other races in their homeland.

Only the Sarkaz, who bear demonic, vampiric, cyclopean and other fantastical traits, can be called a demonic race; though they stand opposed to the Sarkaz, they maintain an inseparable close bond.

But aside from that, the Sarkaz remain unique.

Because of their halo, their unfathomable resonance, their innate familiarity with special mineral firearms, and even the law they believe in—all of this fills Aomo's view with a strong sense of "artificially cultivated life forms".

It is not the mechanical law, distinction, or physical traits, but an awakened mental resonance and an obvious gene‑directed talent for special firearms—these are like an artificial army specially forged for war.

Resonance is used to distinguish friend from foe; firearms talent is used for rapid troop training.

Angel types such as Seraphim and Mostima possess such obvious and deliberate artificial control; after gathering information on other races of that world and finding only the Sarkaz so peculiar, his suspicion of this guess greatly increased.

But this isn't important, after all these angels never truly mobilized their entire populace for war; after the Terra Federation intervened, most of them live peacefully like Seraphim and Mostima.

Although their long‑standing same‑kind lifestyle dooms them to face many inconveniences in alien societies—for example, losing resonance‑capable kin makes all interpersonal dealings feel awkward, even alien.

But there are also Sarkaz like Mostima who actively shut off their resonance, and Sarkaz like Seraphim who still have resonance but have grown accustomed to not using it when dealing with outsiders.

As for those who cannot get used to it… the Blessed Gospel Class still welcomes them.

Energy‑body angels—capable of resonance.

Highly perceptive angels—capable of resonance.

Angels with a mechanical halo on their head and even mechanical wings—can achieve resonance through added modifications.

As for other angels that cannot resonate, treat them like Leblanc!

What the heck, this is Lauteran! (hot take)

Even if you don't go to the Blessed Gospel Class, there are still special thematic districts, such as those welcoming individuals and groups with exceptionally strong perception; the Holy Terra Federation already accepts many extraterrestrials from the present world, and there are also large numbers of special world‑immigrants, among whom groups with the same resonance are not few.

Communities and clusters formed by those with defective social skills also exist.

But that's getting off track.

The Sarkaz are indeed born with more talents than many other races of the same world, and they also have combat talent bonuses; one can see pallbearer‑like warriors who slash beasts' blood vessels with their nails, but that too is the result of countless training and real combat.

Lei Meile, lacking such perseverance, still ends up with a straightforward headache.

But she also caught a clear scent, so besides her head buzzing, her stomach growled.

The buzzing in her head made her unwilling to move, while her growling stomach urged her to get up quickly; in the standoff, her stomach won.

She stumbled out of bed, not bothering with her loose, sagging clothes, walked to the living room, and saw someone holding a plate, setting it on the table, even calling out: "If you have a headache, drink that hangover soup on the table first."

"Oh~!"

Instinctively she followed the other's words, picked up the thing and drank it; in an indescribable strange taste, Lei Meile instantly sobered: "Oh! What is this!"

She turned her head again to look at that person: "Huh! It's actually you! Little—seems not so little Aomo!"

"Although I also don't advise you to keep calling me Boss Aomo, but not‑so‑little Aomo isn't pleasing either."

Aomo, who had shrunk from 15 back to about 14, gave her a glance, then turned back to the kitchen; Lei Meile glanced at the fried egg, sausage, and sandwich on the table, swallowed, slipped a sausage stick into her mouth, then ran to the kitchen doorway, seeing him tossing the salad, and asked: "Is this made by Qianni?"

"Swallow it first before speaking; it's just breakfast for four, not much trouble to prepare."

As Aomo said that, he couldn't help feeling a bit pathetic.

It used to be just two servings, but at the office it became eleven servings.

Why, with only five people, do we need eleven servings? It's hard to understand, right?

"And, can you get used to the salad and coffee on the table? I'm also thinking of making some Italian pasta—I recall seeing you discuss recipes in the group."

"It doesn't matter; we've stayed in places similar to Dongyan, we can accept both Eastern and Western breakfasts, but is it okay for you to get up this early?"

Lei Meile, having swallowed the sausage, asked: "Or is it that sleeping on the sofa is uncomfortable?"

"... It's fine, the sofa here is of good quality." Aomo said, giving her two more looks,

no sign of a furtive smile, expression natural, his gaze locked on the pudding still in the transparent refrigerated layer, like a starving ghost reborn.

The stereotype in the intel that Lauteran people all like sweets seems to be true.

Then it's not her.

It's not her words...

「Wow, who prepared breakfast? It couldn't be you, right? Lei miu le? Dekesas, take a look! Xulagu might have a big sunny day! 」Obviously Lapulan de's voice came from far to near.

「Don't say metaphors that locals don't understand, this should be Aomo's doing. 」Dekesas's voice followed closely.

「…Really, 」Lapulan de, peeking into the kitchen, looked at Aomo's back, 「How's your cooking? Little guy, huh? Have you grown a bit? 」

「Actually, I've withdrawn a bit, recovery and consumption are still locked in a tug-of-war, 」Aomo said, handing over a big bowl of prepared salad to Lapulan de, gazing deeply into her eyes, 「Please take it to the table; there's also a bowl of hangover soup on the table, you try it too. 」

「? 」Lapulan de, slightly puzzled by Aomo's sudden gaze, looked at his retreating figure as he went back to being busy, feeling a bit doubtful.

「How did he just look at me? 」She, holding the big bowl, walked to the doorway and asked Lei miu le, who had arrived earlier, 「Is there something wrong with the hangover soup? 」

「No problem? I drank it, feeling much better—what, how are you looking at me? 」Lei miu le completely missed their interaction, just asking Aomo, 「Aomo! When will you bring out the pudding? 」

「At least ten minutes have passed, that's your after-meal food, not the main course. 」

「Eh——! 」

「Cut the eh, I'm giving you the right to go eat at the table directly, no need to wait for me. 」

「Sure! 」

Neng tian shi immediately launched an attack like the double furnace triple red.

Meanwhile, Aomo, still tearing open the noodle packaging, looked up and saw Dekesas still standing, and belatedly apologized: 「Sorry, I used your ingredients without asking first. 」

「It's fine, these things have been piled up for days as well, 」Dekesas said, a bit embarrassed about this, 「I haven't had time to deal with them these days. 」

That really isn't fresh... Aomo muttered to himself, he also habitually checks the fridge in the morning and only then sees these ingredients, feeling unable to put them back, his thrifty reluctance to waste stirring.

The young lady of Dekesas's household probably wouldn't understand, and even if she did it wouldn't be worth mentioning; Aomo merely looked at her embarrassed expression, still not wanting to admit that possibility.

Seeing her still wearing that custom outfit that conspicuously shows her curves, even the coat unnecessary to wear at home still hanging, Aomo couldn't help but recall the feeling upon waking, silently turning back to pour the noodles into the boiling water.

「Like that, as long as I didn't mess up your arrangements, it's fine. 」He said calmly.

Actually, no need to recall the procedure; he'd made bacon egg sauce spaghetti at the office before, Chazuo unexpectedly liked it, liked to pair it with coffee, but Aomo felt that pairing was a bit odd, better to drink milk.

「Hmm. 」

He heard Dekesas's agreement, then immediately heard the footsteps—not moving away but coming closer, to the point that he stood aside and asked: 「Need help? 」

「No need, my height is still okay for now. 」Aomo said, lowering his head to point at the small stool used for tiptoeing below, fortunately Lapulan de and Lei miu le didn't notice.

Otherwise, I wouldn't know what kind of joy it would be.

「Hmm… when did you recover to this state? 」

「Just like this after waking up. 」Aomo lifted the chopsticks and stirred the noodles, although unnecessary, he always wanted to avoid the risk of sticking to the pot and the noodles.

Moreover, he also needed to do something to relieve the awkwardness.

From the hesitant tone in which Dekesas asked that question, he could sense something, sense something that also made him feel awkward.

「Waking up… what time did you wake up? Won't you be sleep-deprived? 」

「Eight forty-two, I should have slept enough; last night I slept very soundly. 」

「That's good, actually… last night I saw you curled up side‑sleeping on the sofa, so I carried you to the bedroom. 」

This remark inevitably made Aomo turn to look, and he saw Dékèsàsī with a calm expression; such candid self-revelation instead made Aomo feel ashamed.

"... Oh, I see."

It wasn't good to ask if the other had a habit of hugging pillows, so I could only call out: "The spaghetti will be ready in a moment; go eat, you're just as hungry as I am—I at least found something to tide me over."

"Hmm..."

Dékèsàsī turned and left decisively, the slipper sounds remaining steady; while listening attentively, watching Aomo in the pot tilt his head, he continued to quickly stir the noodles.

"Maybe I'm overthinking it……" he thought.

Women born on lands with a culture similar to that of Yìluó Qū, and those who have lived in the cultural sphere of Ānměi Qū, tend to be more open than I expected, not minding intimate contact with the opposite sex.

Moreover, even if he had grown a bit older midway, he was still just a boy.

He was merely a minor……

The other's earlier hesitation was probably based solely on some strange feeling.

And outside the door, Dékèsàsī raised a hand to feel his own ears, deep blue with a whitish tint— they stood erect, not turning red, merely growing warm, just like the tail she kept tensed beneath her coat.

Last night, that curled-up side-sleeping posture, that familiar sleeping pose let her see at a glance that this child lacked a sense of security, let alone stability, and certainly not sleep quality.

So she simply held him and brought him into the bedroom.

Even though the bed already had two adult women lying on it, making it a bit cramped, placing a child there was no problem.

But if that child were to grow up midway, he would appear more mature than Bài Sōng, who first came to Penguin Logistics.

That might not just be a matter of crowding……

Dékèsàsī knew very well what sleeping poses Néng Tiānshǐ and Lāpǔlándé would have.

And the thing I had been hugging in my dazed state… seemed to have an answer as well.