Arknights, but the Family Has Fallen Again, Again, Again — Part 19

"From the moment you got aroused by her body, your dignity was already completely on the floor," Kal'tsit said sharply.

To her, Oute reacting to the "women" of Terra was practically no different from Oute reacting to the "females" of Terra.

Oute could have kept arguing, but that would only make things worse, so he simply changed the subject. "Want to take a walk together?"

"A clumsy transition." Kal'tsit raised her head slightly, then sighed. "It's nearly past midnight."

"You want to take a walk at this hour?"

"You should have come up with a more appropriate turn of phrase."

"Your excessive fatigue during the day has disrupted your body clock, but you did not need to make mistake after mistake."

With her back to Oute, she forcefully yet awkwardly grabbed his right hand, practically dragging him forward.

"Where are we going?"

"Your office."

Oute's eyes widened.

No!

What did you mean by that!?

Didn't you say I didn't need to keep making mistakes!?

You were dragging me to work overtime at this hour!?

Noticing Oute's stiffness, Kal'tsit turned back, though her pace did not slow in the slightest.

She said, "Resisting work? Now I'm starting to believe you really did lose your memory."

"Could it be that warped desire for control was something you learned later in life?"

She smiled unconsciously. "What a misfortune. After three years apart, your brain has returned to Rhodes Island, but every bone and muscle in your body is already desperately waiting for your commands, Doc Otter."

"The lynx... smiled..." the nun said timidly.

More than smiled—she had even switched back to a more intimate form of address.

"..." Kal'tsit's pretty face immediately turned cold again.

She looked straight ahead once more and put in a little more force, changing from pulling him along to outright dragging him.

That undoubtedly affected Oute's wound.

"Ah, that hurts! Be gentler!"

Kal'tsit readily complied, immediately changing to holding his hand.

And so, another strange tableau emerged.

In the corridor at midnight, Kal'tsit deliberately stared straight ahead, the lights shining on her face. She held Oute's hand as she walked forward. In the darkness, the nun clutched Oute's lapel and followed closely behind. Between the two of them was Oute, restrained from both front and back.

The cold light could not pierce his hood, but his body language told the full story of his misery.

In short: it looked extremely gossip-worthy.

Chapter 22: He Won Again and Again

"Doctor Oute, wake up." Kal'tsit was already dressed. Standing beside Oute's unusually crowded bed, she looked down at him.

The white-haired man slept peacefully, his brow no longer furrowed and the melancholy gone from his face, as though the past had truly drifted away from him.

Though it had been her own decision, the sight of Oute's sleeping face still irritated her for some reason.

Or perhaps it was the other sleeping face beside Oute that stirred her anger?

Kal'tsit herself probably could not sort out those complicated emotions.

Last night... or rather, early this morning, Kal'tsit had dragged Oute through three straight hours of work.

The results were gratifying.

From a first-person perspective, she had once again experienced Oute's work efficiency.

Although Oute had been exceptionally rusty when first taking on many tasks, he learned—or rather, rediscovered those working abilities—very quickly.

So quickly that it frightened Kal'tsit.

Had he truly lost his memory?

Until she had tested him seven or eight times through every possible method, Kal'tsit would never dare believe that so easily.

After all...

Though it could not account for the intelligence resources Kal'tsit held, only two out of PRTS's one hundred and sixty-seven simulations of the operation to rescue Oute had succeeded.

If Hedley and the other two were included, the rescue operation's success rate itself would rise dramatically, but they would also have to face far more unpredictable consequences...

Yet, just as she had hoped—and feared—the hardest part of the operation had all occurred before they brought the Doctor back.

Since Oute awoke, everything... had gone unbelievably smoothly!

Victory, victory, and still victory.

That unbroken string of inevitable victories only made Kal'tsit more afraid, more furious.

Back then, he had promised victory, and he had likewise brought victory after victory.

If failure did not exist in his dictionary at all, then... had that failure back then also been another kind of victory?

A cruel victory?

Another exchange tactic?

Perhaps Terra had never had a place on the Doctor's chessboard from the very beginning?

After traveling together for only a short while, had he unhesitatingly sacrificed Theresa for his own ends?

Kal'tsit waited for a long time, studying Oute's sleeping face as she thought.

Her anger drove her to do something, but there was nothing she could do to Oute.

When it came to Oute... she could only choose to protect him and care for him.

Even the thought of outward compliance and secret defiance could not properly take shape. Her anger could only remain anger.

And so, after calling to him the first time, Kal'tsit stayed silent for a long while.

Oute's expression twisted briefly at her wake-up call, but once he found a new pillow to hug, his face became peaceful again.

A new pillow!?

You shameless bastard who went into heat over an Aegir!

That sight shifted the focus of her thoughts. Kal'tsit had initially wanted to kick him, but in the end, she bent down instead.

She sat beside Oute. Her lips, slightly dry from the winter air, moved close to his ear, and she gently breathed, "Hoo—"

The warm air tickled Oute's ear canal. Frowning, he released Specter's body and instead hugged the other side, where there was now nothing at all.

Kal'tsit straightened up as though nothing had happened.

Her cool hand slipped through a gap in the covers, moving from Oute's face to his neck, then deeper beneath the blanket until it rested against his chest.

Thump, thump-thump, thump.

His heart had not returned to its healthiest state, but that was not an issue with the therapeutic device.

Further monitoring was needed to ensure his safety...

"Doctor Oute... Doc Otter, wake up. It's getting late."

It was actually quite early: December 24th, 6:31 a.m.

After calling to him the first time, Kal'tsit had "wasted" twenty-four minutes.

"Doc Otter died fighting Doc Slacker..." Oute brushed Kal'tsit's hand aside and mumbled, "Let me sleep a little longer..."

I just called him "Doc Otter" again!?

Though no one had seen it, Kal'tsit reined in her surprise and forcibly put on a poker face.

After a pause, she said, "Based on the report provided by PRTS, Doctor Oute, your sleep time over the past twenty-four hours has already met your physiological needs."

"Furthermore, five hours of deep sleep alone is sufficient to ensure that you have enough energy at present."

"Based on the above..."

Oute's palm covered the old lynx's mouth.

Oute had already sat up, and the blanket naturally slid down.

His upper body entered Kal'tsit's view. A scar still pink in color stretched across the area above his heart.

It was skin that had been accelerated in its recovery through Originium Arts. Since it had not yet been fully metabolized and covered in a layer of dead skin, it looked particularly tender and pink.

Kal'tsit's hand had just been resting there.

Looking closely, she saw that the contours of Oute's muscles had completely faded during his three years of sleep. Only by pressing down hard would she likely be able to find faint traces of them.

Without firm muscles to fill them out, his broad shoulders looked somewhat gaunt, even stirring Kal'tsit's protective instincts.

In the past, Doc Otter's physique had been far healthier than this... though even at his strongest, his physical condition could never have resisted the coercion of any adult woman of Terra...

Kal'tsit gathered her thoughts, removed Oute's hand with a cold expression, and put on her earpiece.

Then she snapped, "Are you awake? Or are you sleepwalking?"

"Hard to say." Oute looked at the sleeping nun beside him, then at Kal'tsit. "PRTS, what time is it?"

The voice came from the terminal again. "Good morning, Doc Otter. The current time is 6:34 a.m."

PRTS had specifically used the terminal to speak to others. This was already the second time Kal'tsit had seen it happen. While there were no broadcasting facilities in the bedroom, making the terminal a reasonable choice, still...

This was a special response from the PRTS system toward Oute.

It deserved attention.

Without showing anything, she told Oute, "Hurry up and wash up. Put on your protective suit."

"Many employees of Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals have never even seen you."