Chapter 42: You’re a slut

Cyrus tossed aside the towel he had been using to dry his hair and cast her a casual glance.

"Your door was locked. Did you expect me to leave you sleeping in the corridor?"

She hurriedly checked herself from head to toe. The buttons on her training uniform were all intact, the zipper still fastened. Only then did she release a long breath of relief.

His sharp tongue cut in again, "Relax. With a figure like yours, I’d rather take care of things myself."

Her chest wasn’t even as full as his. Everything about her was small. Like Astin, Cyrus had once wondered whether she was actually an adult.

Bunny’s eyes widened. "Cyrus, what exactly are you saying?"

"Who was it that sneaked me onto his own bed?"

And who had stolen her clothes to do unspeakable things in the middle of the night?

Cyrus said nothing. He stepped closer. His tall frame cast a heavy, oppressive shadow under the light. Bunny scrambled backward at once.

"One more step and I’ll scream for help!"

In the next second, he yanked away the silk quilt wrapped around her. His voice was cold and teasing, "I haven’t even complained about the sweat stench after your training, yet you’re the one biting back first."

She looked at the deep set of his brows and eyes. The expression didn’t seem like a lie. She sniffed her own clothes. The smell of sweat that had soaked the fabric and then dried was enough to turn her own stomach.

A sentinel’s nose was several times more sensitive than hers. How had Cyrus managed to tolerate that sour odor at all?

She jumped off the bed, back pressed to the wall, and edged toward the door while watching him like a thief, not forgetting to warn him, "There won’t be a next time."

Then she fled the pervert’s room as if escaping for her life.

For a sentinel this difficult to control, vigilance and distance were the only sensible choices.

Cyrus watched the woman’s panicked retreat. The corner of his mouth lifted by the width of a single pixel.

The more she feared him, the more excited he became.

The more she refused to let him touch her, the more he wanted to pin her down on the bed and take her without restraint.

He pulled the covers aside and unceremoniously climbed back in to sleep.

At dinner, Xander had specially prepared fish soup to nourish Bunny after her hard training. When she reached the table, she found only two empty seats left.

One was beside Cyrus. The other was at the farthest diagonal corner.

She walked the long way around and sat at the opposite corner—anything to avoid sitting next to Cyrus. Xander quietly took in the entire scene.

He ladled a bowl of soup for her, then sat beside her and carefully picked the bones from the fish, treating himself like a full-time nanny.

Bunny’s favorability toward this male "mom" skyrocketed. She ate while chatting with him.

"Xander, your cooking is amazing. Did you teach yourself?"

He shook his head. "My father taught me."

She was puzzled. "But aren’t you...?"

Didn’t he lack maternal DNA?

Xander used the shared chopsticks to place the carefully deboned fish into her bowl. "My father was a sentinel stationed here thirty years ago."

"He found me outside and brought me back."

So Xander held the status of a wasteland refugee rather than a Federation citizen. He had been a defective product overlooked in one of the breeding batches. On the way to being destroyed, his father had taken pity and secretly taken him home to raise.

Before Xander reached adulthood, however, his father had been reassigned to 616. After that, all contact was lost.

Without citizenship, Xander could only work illegal jobs on Terra to survive.

Only after awakening as a sentinel did he re-register his identity with the military.

In order to search for his father, he escaped the cages and voluntarily applied for a post in 616. By the time he arrived, his father was already dead.

According to the records, he had died together with a guide inside the base in a tragic manner.

Bunny realized she had touched someone else’s painful past and immediately wanted to slap herself for being so thoughtless.

"I’m sorry."

Xander didn’t mind. The man was already dead; there was no point in tormenting oneself. Staying in this place meant death could come at any moment.

For sentinels like them, death was simply an ordinary occurrence.

"It’s fine, Bunny. Death isn’t frightening."

Bunny set down her spoon. "Then what is?"

Xander looked at her gently and spoke two soft words.

"Loneliness."

Loneliness was true forgetting—the cruelest torment and punishment in this world.

Something stirred uncontrollably inside Bunny’s heart. As someone from the old Earth, she had been taught from childhood that one must live no matter what.

Schools, parents, teachers, society... almost everyone said the same thing: cherish your life, live bravely, realize your personal and social value.

Yet almost no one had truly valued a person’s emotional needs, because those were considered unimportant.

Depression had once even been dismissed as something people simply faked.

Living in loneliness had produced wave after wave of souls who chose to end themselves.

Bunny placed her small hand over the back of Xander’s. With her tiny palm she could only cover a few of his fingers.

She smiled at him and offered comfort. "It’s all right. I’ll keep you company."

Her eyes were clear as mirrors—because Xander had never seen a lake.

His lashes trembled lightly. He answered with quiet happiness, "All right."

He watched her drink the fish soup in big mouthfuls. The light in his lowered eyes grew deeper and darker. Even he himself had not noticed the pathological possessiveness and heat in that gaze.

Yes... he wanted Bunny to stay with him for a lifetime.

A sharp scrape of chair legs against the floor drew everyone’s attention. Cyrus stood up and left the dining hall before finishing his meal.

San frowned. "What’s wrong with him?"

Arden shrugged. "Who knows? Another one of his episodes, probably."

At that moment, Bunny’s peripheral vision caught the bruises around Brandon’s eyes. "Brandon, who hit you?"

The moment the topic was raised, the puppy looked ready to die of grievance.

After the game that day, Brandon had been too angry to let it go and went looking for Astin to settle the score. But a 2S+ sentinel stood no chance against a 3S. Predictably, he had been thoroughly beaten again.

Once Bunny learned the full story, she offered a few words of comfort. After all, she also disliked that foul-mouthed crocodile.

Brandon acted spoiled and demanded a hug for comfort. Looking at how he showed off his chest muscles for her every day, she reluctantly gave him one.

Across the table, Astin had naturally overheard the complaint. He had always despised this slutty dog—just as he despised his own flashy half-brother.

Nothing but a streetwalker who sold his body.

He pulled a thoroughly contemptuous face and sneered coldly, "Useless in a fight, but excellent at selling sex."

Brandon lifted his head from Bunny’s arms. "You green-haired bastard—say that again?"

Astin’s expression was pure provocation. "I said you’re a slut. Which part is wrong?"

Brandon couldn’t swallow the insult. The moment the wounds healed he forgot the pain and lunged forward to start a fight. Xander’s voice turned sharp in an instant:

"If you’re going to fight, take it outside."

The two locked eyes, then really did roll out to settle it.

Bunny felt a little worried. Brandon couldn’t beat Astin to begin with, and that green-haired guy had even dared to threaten a guide. Wouldn’t he beat Brandon half to death? Xander simply pulled her back into her seat.

"Don’t worry about them. Even if they cripple each other, there are still medical pods."

She remained half-convinced. "Do they fight like this often?"

Xander brought a napkin and wiped her mouth, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Sentinels have too much energy and live under constant mental pressure. This is just one way they vent it."

A good fight sometimes made things more bearable.

Bunny suddenly recalled the ancient military phenomenon of "camp explosions"—one man going mad could drag the rest into mutual slaughter. Terrifying.

A rough, calloused fingertip brushed her lip, sending a slight sting. It seemed Xander’s thumb had accidentally scraped her.

"But you don’t need to worry. Sentinels have many ways to release energy—weighted training, combat drills, boxing, hunting aliens... and also..."

She instinctively pressed, "And also what?"

Xander fell silent. The abrupt quiet carried a subtle atmosphere. Bunny clearly felt the gazes of the other sentinels settle on her one after another.

Teasing. Playful. Provocative... and a hint of expectation.

She didn’t understand why they were looking at her like that—like a pack of hungry wolves with green light in their eyes staring at a plump, snow-white little lamb.

A thread of fear stirred inside her.

Until San set down his utensils, voice light and completely lacking seriousness, "And also being handled by the guide."