About Talula Finding and Adopting Me

Like a child who had glimpsed a sliver of hope, yet was too afraid to reach for it or look directly at that light.

A Rabbit Munching on Carrots

On the pale, bone-chilling snowfield, Orson wore the uniform of the Abyssal Hunters and sat on the branch of a dead tree.

As he swung his legs back and forth in midair, he wrote something in the notebook in his hands.

"What are you writing, Orson?"

Another infected member of the Abyssal Hunters, Petrova, looked up and asked curiously. She too wore their uniform.

Their assignment was "vigilance and reconnaissance," but in an environment where there was not even a snow slope within two kilometers, anything short of a phantom crossbowman would be detected immediately.

That was why neither of them was especially tense. Orson was slacking off, while Petrova made small talk to pass the time.

"An outline."

"Huh?"

"Something like a story synopsis. Tonight, I'm planning to tell Ino about Fist of the North Star—a passionate story about a man in the post-nuclear wasteland who still followed justice in his heart, punished evil and upheld good, constantly tore open his clothes in public, and made all sorts of strange noises."

"...Why does that just sound like a pervert to me?"

Petrova sighed. Orson was a "reserve member of the Abyssal Hunters," as well as the settlement's "temporary substitute teacher." He could sometimes tell gripping, fascinating stories, but every now and then, he also came up with bizarre nonsense that made no sense at all.

A Laterano and a Lupo dragging around a rich Caprinae kid while evading the Sicilian Mafia and wreaking havoc all over Lungmen? Not even an Ursus wild rabbit would believe a story like that.

"Come to think of it, how's Ino doing?"

Petrova shook her head, refusing to think any further about those absurd "Orson bedtime stories," and asked about the shy Liberi boy.

"His personality is still pretty timid, and he still likes sticking behind Sasha, but lately he's started doing some housework on his own. And last time, he even made this for me."

Orson pointed at the scarf wrapped around his neck. The material was not very good, but the craftsmanship was surprisingly solid.

"Oh... So that was why he kept secretly watching me knit."

Petrova sighed with emotion, then admitted she was a little envious.

"I specifically picked out a hundred stories that real men had to read! But somehow, Ino's feminine charm just keeps getting higher..."

Orson rubbed his hair, looking a little awkward.

At first, he had only wanted Ino—the future Mephistopheles—to walk the right path, so he had taken especially good care of him.

But judging by the outcome, Ino had not become strange... yet had somehow become strange in another sense.

"Um, Petrova, it's normal for a kid to knit a scarf for someone, right?"

"Of course. It means he's a thoughtful child."

"Then it's normal for him to like coming over during meals, right?"

"Mm. It probably makes him feel safe."

"And it's fine that he keeps staring at me while studying, right?"

"Of course. It means he studies diligently."

"So it's pretty common for him to crawl into my bed while sleeping, then."

"Turn yourself in."

"Hey!?"

That was right. Although Ino was steadily progressing toward becoming a good young man with four virtues under Orson's guidance, his innate "sickly" personality seemed to be slowly wrapping itself around Orson in a different way.

Orson had already decided that the moment Ino started watching things like Brokeback Mountain, Beast Senior, Bel Canto Classroom, or Dark and Profound Fantasy Tales, he would pack up and run.

A clingy, soft white-haired guy with a childish voice—Orson was straight, but he was not sure whether he might accidentally hand his soul over to Mephistopheles... no, Lucifer.

"The signal came through."

Petrova's voice pulled Orson from his worries. A signal had come from the distant village. Orson closed his notebook and lightly jumped down from the tree.

Soul Tuning—Wide-area Low Frequency.

Invisible Originium Arts waves spread outward from Orson as their center. This was a detection ability suited for open terrain, capable of scouting areas beyond one's line of sight.

"No problem. There's no Enforcement Team ambush nearby."

Orson stopped using his Originium Arts, and only then did Petrova send the signal.

Not long afterward, a group returned from the distant town. It was FrostNova's team. They had brought back transport carts loaded with supplies, and everyone looked relaxed.

"How did it go, Big Bear?"

Petrova asked one of the Abyssal Hunters members. He grinned broadly and gave her a thumbs-up.

"The trade went great! That village is one of the few that's friendly toward the infected. Not only was there no Enforcement Team ambush nearby, they even agreed to establish long-term trade with us!"

"That's wonderful..."

Petrova let out a long breath, while Orson stared at the leader of the Abyssal Hunters, the big rabbit FrostNova.

"...What is it?"

FrostNova frowned and asked.

"It feels like you're in a really good mood today, FrostNova."

"In a good mood? There's nothing to be happy about."

FrostNova replied coldly. Big Bear beside her suddenly remembered something and slapped his palm.

"Oh, right. The village chief saw that Big Sis's long ears were cute, so he gave her a few carrots."

"Big Bear!?"

A flush immediately spread across FrostNova's pale cheeks. She scolded Big Bear in embarrassment and anger.

"Come on, don't be so nervous, FrostNova. I'm not going to steal your carrots from you. Take your time chewing them—Mmph!"

Before Orson could finish, his mouth was stuffed full of snowballs. The group immediately burst into cheerful laughter.

"Orson, you made Big Sis FrostNova mad again today!" "When did I do that!?"

"I saw you tugging her tail, then Big Sis chased you down and pelted you with ice!" "How is that making her mad... That's petting a rabbit! Petting a rabbit doesn't count as making her mad...!"

Conversations like that had already become a regular occurrence.

More than twenty days had passed since Orson had been found by Talula while near death.

At some point, Orson had shed his status as a prisoner and servant. He got along well with everyone and became a "certified substitute teacher." His Soul Tuning Originium Arts gradually became manageable at a basic level, and sometimes, like today, he even went on missions with the Abyssal Hunters—only to return and be hung from the rafters by Patriot.

Sasha, or Faust, had become increasingly skilled with his crossbow, while Ino, or Mephistopheles, had become increasingly skilled at tailing Orson (?).

His life with the Guerrilla Force seemed to be gradually improving, but Orson did not think so.

"I looked all over the settlement and couldn't find you. Sure enough, you're here, Big Sis Talula."

Orson came to the room where Alina slept. Talula sat beside the wooden bed with her eyes half-closed, only gently opening them when she heard Orson's voice.

"I was just resting for a while... Welcome back, Orson."

Talula smiled at Orson, but Orson's expression was somewhat heavy.

"...You still haven't made up your mind?"

"—"

Talula looked away and did not answer Orson's question.

A Campfire, Slowly Dying Out

To change an object's shape, one only needed to carve it with a hammer and pickaxe.

To change an object's state, one only needed to alter its temperature with flame or ice and snow.

But to change a person's "soul"... what price would have to be paid?

"Let me think about it..."

That had been Talula's answer to Orson then, and it remained her answer even now.

She still could not make a decision—whether to refuse Orson's dangerous proposal or acknowledge that he should seek out the possibility of a miracle.

"FrostNova returned from another village. We successfully established a trade relationship with them, Big Sis Talula. Using the baijiu the Enforcement Team carried last time, we traded for enough food to last at least ten days."

Orson reported the results of the latest mission to Talula. She nodded slightly, then looked toward Alina beside her.

"We're steadily moving forward, Alina. Right?"

Talula reached out and gently stroked the Elafia girl's hair.

"..."

Orson watched silently from the side. He had received no response from Talula, nor had he eased the taut string within her that seemed ready to snap at any moment. He also had no way of knowing the nature of the black noise now entangling Talula's soul.

During this time, in order to "satisfy his vanity," in order to "avoid being condemned by his own conscience," Orson had done many things. He had tried to change the Reunion Movement, which would one day become the enemy of the world, as much as possible.

Although he had done many things, although he had already integrated into this group, Orson did not know whether any of it would matter.

He always felt that everything he had done might completely vanish along with Talula's "collapse," like a snowman beside a roaring bonfire.

Whenever Orson saw Talula's white score, which looked ready to shatter, he frowned. He wanted to ease her tense nerves, but he did not know the relationship between Alina and Talula, nor could he do anything for either of them.

He only knew that Alina was someone special to Talula, and that in the game's main story... there had been no little deer in the Reunion Movement.

Could her death be the final straw that caused Talula to collapse completely?

If that was the case, then he had to forcefully perform Soul Tuning on her. But the process would probably take a long time, and there was absolutely no way he could do it in secret.

Orson had previously tried using "Soul Tuning" on a living creature—more precisely, on a member of the infected Enforcement Team.

In the end, the other person completely broke down and defected, while Orson himself fell unconscious for several hours after using that ability for the first time.

Even "destruction," which did not require precision, consumed a great deal of analytical power. A more delicate "repair" definitely would not be something he could accomplish easily.

"Let's go, Orson. The meeting is about to begin. Let's celebrate FrostNova first, then think about how we'll get through tomorrow."

Talula rose from her chair and prepared to leave the room.

"Are you all right, Big Sis Talula?"

Orson's concern made Talula smile.

"You ask me that every day, Orson. Of course I'm fine. I will be fine. My compatriots are waiting for me, and I am 'undying'—a fighter who will keep moving forward no matter what, one who cannot be defeated."

"You know that's not what I mean... Sigh."

Watching Talula's retreating back as she left the room, Orson sighed. He picked up the pen from the nearby table and added another mark to the calendar beside Alina.

Orson looked at the still-sleeping Elafia girl. Her white score remained pure, except for one missing fragment. Orson believed he could repair it, but the only problem was that Talula did not seem ready for it yet.

"You've worked hard. You've also been trying all this time to keep her from collapsing completely, haven't you? I'll keep an eye on her. I won't let her stray onto the wrong path, and then... I'll let the two of you reunite."

After all, having only one "fake teacher" in the settlement was really not enough.

Orson nodded faintly to Alina, then left the room and followed Talula toward the campfire.

It was afternoon. Members of the resistance gathered around the campfire in the center of the settlement, discussing how they should continue their efforts with varying expressions.

"Although we established a trade relationship with the village near the southeast today, to be honest, the resources we can use are still far from enough."

FrostNova sat on the ground with her ears drooping, her tone serious.

"The source of medicine has always been a major issue. More than seventy percent of our food so far has come through trade, but there aren't many villages or outposts left nearby that we can explore. Most of the villages farther south are under noble control. We might run into unnecessary trouble."

FrostNova laid out the settlement's current difficult situation, and everyone fell somewhat silent.

"That's right. The farther south we go, the greater the resistance we may face. Noble spies, private armies, Enforcement Teams, even army groups—any of these forces could come into conflict with us. Moving in groups will become more dangerous. What we need to do now is acquire more reliable communication devices as soon as possible, as well as systematic coded signals that are easy to learn... To be honest, those goals will not be easy to achieve."

Talula thoughtfully responded to FrostNova. As Talula pondered their future route of action, several infected came to her side.

"Talula—"