A sex slave.
What was a sex slave? Jonas hadn't really known before, but he figured it was probably much like being the employee who worked the most overtime at the Alt Conglomerate: exhausted to death, unpaid, and possibly unable to get a decent rest. By all rights, the words "sex slave" should never have applied to Jonas, yet somehow they did.
Yes, Jonas felt he had become a sex slave.
But even a sex slave got time to rest, like right now.
"I finally have a little time to rest these past few days. Calling it 'running around in circles' doesn't even begin to describe how busy I've been. I've wanted to split myself in two, or just upload my consciousness to the cybernetwork and make thousands upon thousands of copies to handle all the work."
Jonas brewed a cup of coffee and took a small sip. Feeling considerably more refreshed, he slowly began to relax.
It was hardly his fault. He had been running all over the place these past few days, practically becoming a regular at the research department.
Eiffel handled ninety percent of the Alt Conglomerate's affairs, but there were some things she wouldn't handle, because she didn't understand them either. Rather than muddle through unfamiliar fields with only a partial understanding, she might as well leave them to Jonas, who already knew them well but was too lazy to run around.
Jonas, who hadn't been this busy in a long time, got a taste of what it was like to be Eiffel. Physically, it wasn't a problem, but mentally, it was another story.
Fortunately, the research results were satisfactory.
While Jonas was resting, a Communicator call came in.
It was from Chelsea.
"What's up? Did you need something?"
Jonas yawned and rubbed his temples, feeling