Chapter 17

“I told you we should’ve used sedatives.”

Here we go again. He had repeated it so many times by now. There was no doubt he was taunting her—but at this point, Erabelle Vermilion couldn’t care less.

Right now, the only thing that mattered in the entire universe was water. Water. Water...

“It would’ve made things much easier. Why are you so opposed to it?”

“I... I’m not...”

She had never said she was opposed to sedatives.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not a fan of pumping meds into myself either.”

Liar.

Since her voice refused to cooperate, Erabelle shook her head in weak protest. Her limbs trembled violently. And then, once more—her vision blacked out. The sudden darkness terrified her enough to spark a fresh wave of tears.

How long... how long is this going to go on? Even in the middle of her psychological collapse, a sudden wave of clarity washed over her. A small mercy—at least it meant her mind hadn't completely shattered.

“Looks like you finished the water.”

She tightened her grip on the bottle.

He let out a quiet chuckle at the sight.

...Don’t laugh...

Even as her vision kept cutting out, Erabelle held onto that bottle with every ounce of strength left in her fingers. Survival instinct had thoroughly overwritten despair. She felt... strangely proud of herself.

Dezeb laughed even harder. How can anyone laugh at a time like this?

Was it a privilege reserved strictly for high-level Adaptants? Or just Otherworlders?

After letting her drink about half the bottle, he shifted his position.

When her eyes finally registered the reality of what was happening again, tears welled up instantly.

Why in the world doesn’t this even hurt...?

Truthfully, the sedatives would have been useless anyway.

Just as Dezeb had said—there was no pain. Yet with every breath she drew, her vision spun and distorted. That vertigo hurt far worse than any physical wound.

What... what even is this...?

Still, it’ll be over soon, she thought, for no logical reason at all.

Her cognitive faculties were just as impaired as her speech; she couldn’t process thoughts properly. So, naturally, her assumption was dead wrong.

“...Ah!”

He tugged at her arm once more.

“Ahhhghk!!”

So much for the water—it had accomplished nothing. Pitiful, embarrassing sounds kept spilling from her lips, but even the shame of it faded quickly. She couldn’t afford the luxury of thought anymore.

The night dragged on far longer than she had ever anticipated.

The following morning, Erabelle finally forced her eyes open—barely.

Her eyelids were so swollen she could scarcely lift them. How long was I crying...?

Shuddering uncontrollably, she pushed herself up on both arms. Her spine felt ice-cold, hollowed out.

There’s no way this is normal.

She winced, clutching her lower abdomen.

Goddamn it... The curse slipped out before she could catch it.

Erabelle glanced behind her.

Her vision blurred again instantly.

She snapped her head away, terrified she’d break down weeping if she looked a second longer. Trembling from head to toe, she began crawling forward.

Hhh... Sinking her teeth into her lip to choke back the whimper in her throat, she slithered off the edge of the mattress with unsteady limbs.

Dezeb, already awake, quietly watched her desperate struggle, but she was far too delirious to notice his gaze.

Shaking violently, Erabelle reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out a heavy plastic case.

Inside, she retrieved a small pill bottle and an injector cartridge.

Painkillers and tranquilizers. Both were strictly banned substances—because they functioned infinitely better than any legally prescribed pharmaceutical on the market.

She swallowed two pills dry, then plunged the needle expertly into her lower spine.

Curling into a tight ball on the floor, she shuddered in silence for a long, grueling moment.

“...Shit... that hurts like hell...”

She swore again under her breath, then, for reasons unknown even to herself, began reciting a fast list of foods.

Pizza, fried chicken, steamed dumplings, beer brands—some familiar, others she couldn’t even place. Her muttering grew rapid, rhythmic, until the medication finally surged through her system, straightening her posture with a sharp jolt.

She glanced at the wall clock, then methodically disposed of the injector. Walking over to the closet, she pulled out her undergarments and uniform piece by piece before heading straight for the bathroom.

“......”

Left behind in the bedroom, Dezeb remained motionless for a long time. Then, slowly, he buried his face in both hands, his broad shoulders shaking.

He was laughing—quietly, but intensely.

Finally, leaning his weight on one forearm, he pushed himself up from the bed.

“...What a bizarre woman.”

Erabelle Vermilion was the first person who had ever made him laugh during... and after. No one else had ever accomplished that.

Still chuckling, he ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Come to think of it... this is also the first time I’ve ever been left alone in bed afterward.”

From inside the bathroom, the steady sound of running water echoed out.

If she had acted even slightly differently, Dezeb wasn’t entirely sure he would have spared her life.

It had been her first time. He knew her body must be a complete wreck. He had honestly expected her to pass out and remain unconscious until sometime tomorrow morning. If she had, he would have let it slide.

Dezeb reached for the simple desk clock and turned it toward his face.

7:10 AM.

The exact minute Erabelle usually began getting ready for duty.

“Yes, the delivery has been completed. Please confirm receipt and provide your sign-off. Also, regarding the numbered limited-edition sneakers, you’ll need to process that request through the Number store.”

Why do people keep listing limited-edition sneakers on standard military supply forms...? If there were anyone in command who actually enforced procurement rules, she would have reported the violation in a heartbeat.

Erabelle read out the web address for the Number store. On the other side of the comms screen, Kancher stared back at her with a thoroughly bewildered expression.

“You seem surprisingly fine today.”

“Yes, I am completely fine.”

Against all odds, she had survived. She hadn’t been turned into bio-sludge, and she had opened her eyes to see the morning sun. She had even reported for her shift right on time.

Granted, she had relied heavily on high-grade illegal pharmaceuticals, but Erabelle Vermilion was—shockingly—completely intact.

The sky hadn’t fallen. The ground hadn’t split open. She wasn’t dead.

It was genuinely remarkable.

How is that even possible? Is this just how these things normally go? She stole a fleeting second to reflect on the events of last night.

Well, how would I know? Everything I know about this came from books... Yeah, maybe this is just how it always goes.

Even in the original web novel, there was always non-stop crying and screaming—whether from overwhelming ecstasy or from being physically torn in two.

But the only thing that mattered right now was that the sky, the earth, the station—everything remained untouched. I remained untouched.

In fact, she felt physically better than usual. The narcotics certainly helped, though it wasn't as if she didn't rely on chemical support regularly anyway.

There was just something... subtly off. Or rather, something felt right, in a way she couldn’t quite articulate. Perhaps it was simply the psychological relief of having stayed alive.

“So, what was all that about last night...”

“Last night...”

Before she could form an answer, Aries sauntered over and cut in.

“What the hell? Why do you look so completely normal?”

It was rapidly turning into a full interrogation. Why? I haven’t done anything wrong...

“Didn’t you hook up with Dezeb yesterday? I saw you stumbling around like you’d lost your damn mind, so I figured it was finally happening.”

She had. But there was zero reason to confess. It involved Commander Dezeb Avganis, which meant absolute silence was her safest tactical play.

“Then why are you walking like nothing happened? Hey, walk a few steps for us.”

That bastard just demanded I prove I can walk. It was the perfect excuse to get the hell out of there.

Erabelle offered the pack a polite, rigid nod.

“Yes, I have warehouse duty. Please excuse me.”

As she turned and strode away, the Dogs began barking loudly behind her back.

“Wait, what? She actually did something with Dezeb? What did she do?”

“This is old news. Didn’t you hear about the bet?”

“Bet? What bet?”

I can hear every single word you’re saying. Wasn’t that supposed to be a secret...?

“It still hasn’t happened, has it? If he actually touched her, she’d be crawling on her stomach right now.”

I was crawling. This morning.

“What exactly is going on between her and Dezeb? Huh? What bet?!”

“Something’s wrong. Why isn’t she dead?”

“Dead? Who? Hey, answer me!”

God, the barking is way too loud... Can someone please shut these Dogs up for five minutes?

Sigh... Of course her life had turned into a literal combat zone. And not just any combat zone—that specific kind.

Let’s see... the average lifespan of Dezeb’s lovers was roughly one week.

If you excluded the days they didn’t sleep together and started counting strictly from yesterday, that meant Erabelle had approximately six days left.

Fantastic. I have six days to live. Erabelle forced herself to concentrate on her remaining tasks. Maybe, just maybe, last night was a one-time thing.

She wasn’t ready to surrender just yet.

After all, Commander Dezeb Avganis had a very explicit preference: masculine physiques with tall, perfectly proportioned builds. Even if you completely disregarded the masculine requirement, Erabelle’s proportions didn’t come anywhere close to that standard.

She possessed a Level-2 baseline body; there was physically no way to stretch that into a supermodel frame.

Which means... I’m not even within his target demographic.

Which meant last night was almost certainly enough to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps he had simply felt a passing whim regarding low-level bodies. Those things happened.

Like when someone who exclusively eats high-end organic food suddenly gets a craving for greasy junk food. Or when someone who has lived in a penthouse their entire life finds themselves oddly fascinated by a cramped studio apartment.

Completely understandable. The universe was a vast and mysterious place, after all.

He’s probably had his fill by now. I’ll be fine, Erabelle reassured herself.