You Smell Like His Perfume
"An Emissary of Order and Abundance can catch a cold too?"
"That kind of overturns my expectations."
Aboard the sleek aircraft, the mechanical noble carried a cup of mellow crimson tea toward Sunday and offered it to him.
Screwllum.
The most uniquely positioned member of the Genius Club.
—Unlike the other members, whose main occupations were genius and whose side jobs included witch, embroidery master, or fruit stall owner.
His main occupation was Emperor of the Inorganic Empire, while genius was merely his side job.
In every sense, he was a figure among figures.
"I don't know why, but I keep getting a bad feeling."
Taking the tea from Screwllum's fingers, the man with chicken wings growing from his neck took a light sip. His expression did not look good.
He was naturally Sunday.
The unfortunate fellow who should have been searching the entire universe for Seeds of Chaos, seeking a suitable spokesperson for the Human Race, and trying to invite Screwllum onto his team, but had hurried toward Jarilo because of Blondie's appearance.
"A bad feeling... Could it be a curse left behind during your battle with the Masked Fool?"
"One of my friends is hunting the Swarm for her offspring. Her understanding of life is unparalleled. Would you like her to examine you?"
Screwllum spoke to Sunday in the manner of a rational life-form.
"Seeking Ruan Mei's help?"
"But I don't think I need treatment right now."
Sunday abruptly drained the tea. Its warmth seemed to ignite the thoughts in his heart in an instant.
His sister's charming, lovely face sprang into his mind, like the brightest flower of spring, making one unable to help but feel affection for her. Yet what surfaced immediately afterward was the hateful face of that bastard who