Editing CubexCursedxCurious:Volume1 Chapter3 (section)

===Part 5===

Staying in the cold abandoned factory was no help in recovering one's energy. Through the use of a rather unsightly manner—namely, using Chupacabra Bandage as a rope, Mummy Maker returned to her base—the room at the hotel.

Fortunately, the one who objected to this method of transport was currently sleeping behind her. As the embarrassing act continued, she left the message "I will rest for a while, I leave things to you" and simply went to sleep. Due to the difference in body size, moving her did take quite a bit of work.

Mummy Maker lightly laid Peavey down on the soft bed in the hotel suite. Although she felt that the armor worn on Peavey's arm was in the way, she had no idea how to remove it and could only leave it there.

As the covers were pulled over Peavey, seductive breathing noises could be heard from her sleep.

She must be quite relieved now—Mummy Maker felt a mysterious sense of warmth in her heart as if a fire had been lit. At the same time, she recalled the weight of the hand rubbing her head dozens of minutes earlier.

That was her first time. Not beaten but to have her head rubbed by someone. Not pulled roughly but to have her hair gently caressed. Standing so close together, hearing voices that were not scolds. Experiencing for the very first time, that all this could be so pleasurable.

Asking a woman she met the first time to spoil her, even Mummy Maker was surprised at her own behavior. However—why? —She could not restrain herself, as soon as she wondered whether or not she would have such a chance in the future.

Simply recalling the memory filled her heart with happiness. Dreamily, dreamily. It was as if her memories were washing away. The memories of her parents locking her in a closet, setting fire to it in hopes of obtaining insurance money, thus resulting in her near-fatal wounds and the loss of one eye.

She watched Peavey's sleeping face. The face of someone who should simply be a colleague.

Was she looking for a surrogate mother here?

Never experienced an ideal mother's touch, was she projecting her desires onto Peavey now?

It must be. That blonde hair, those heavily scarred hands which could not be called beautiful, that smell of tobacco... All these were identical to the mother who had tried to kill her. Hence, this person who was not her mother resembled her mother all the same. This was mistaken escapism, an act of substitution, she understood. Even though she understood—she could not suppress her feelings of tenderness. All she wanted to do now was continue watching that sleeping face forever.

But sooner or later, Peavey was heading towards death. Having lost an arm, her combat ability was severely compromised. But she did not care about that and intended to fight with nothing but pride as her weapon. How worrying.

Mummy Maker noticed the notions surfacing in her mind.

—Wishing Peavey could stay.

—Hoping she would not die.

—Wanting her to stay longer.

—Well then, what could be done?

A knight like her would definitely not listen to pleas asking her not to fight. As her auxiliary, such a suggestion was not permitted either. Even if a plan was come up to prevent her from fighting—such as asking the Knights Dominion to send reinforcements or a substitute candidate, Peavey would probably ignore orders and go forth to fight alone. Hence, rather than trying to stop her from fighting, Mummy Maker needed a way to allow her to fight in safer manner.

Assist Peavey in battle? Rejected. She would only be a hindrance. That was why she became an auxiliary in the first place.

Then what other ways were there—she thought to herself—and finally an idea occurred to her.

The orders issued by the Knights Dominion were to "Destroy Fear-in-Cube," nothing more.

Exterminating the Japanese sword and Yachi's family was not part of the mission. Even though letting them go would surely result in a scolding, it would not be grounds for punishment. If necessary, they could simply send another knight.

In that case, there were options open to her.

Even though it might prove futile, it was better than doing nothing—

Plans crystallized in her mind. The only condition was it had to be carried out in secret. Surely, even a plan of this level would incur the displeasure of Peavey? After all, this was merely her own willfulness.

If it were to be done, it had to be put into action while Peavey was asleep.

Once again, Mummy Maker turned to watch Peavey's sleeping face. Suddenly, a mischievous urge occurred to her as she tried to caress that blonde hair. Then—

"Hoho, are you trying to take revenge on me?"

Half opening her eyes, Peavey teased. Mummy Maker frantically withdrew her hand.

"...No, nothing much, I just... Felt like trying once... That's all."

Pulling her hood tight she hid her face. How embarrassing.

"Continue and sleep peacefully. I will go out to scout for a bit."

"Oh my, how diligent in your work."

Mummy Maker turned around. Just as she was about to step out of the room, she heard a voice from behind:

"Beware and take care."

These were also words she had never heard before.

Without noticing, she began to break into a light run.


As soon as Mummy Maker left the room, Peavey entered light sleep once more.

Her first priority was to rest and recover her body and spirit.

Her spirit was fine. It was always fine at any given moment. She will definitely destroy those stinking tools. Definitely, definitely, definitely.

What about the body, then? —She pondered.

An injured body, an exhausted body, and unfortunately, a body whose bleeding had been staunched by a contemptible Wathe.

Then she realized. Truly, it was too contemptible.

Having lost an arm, prevailing against two Wathes without a plan would pose quite a challenge.

What could she do? She no longer cared about image. Trash must be cleaned out as soon as possible. Although a minimum amount of rest was necessary, staying out for too long would be akin to forfeiting the match. She was still about to fight, even alone she could still fight. The dishonor of losing to a mere tool would be an insult amongst insults. She had to think of a plan, she had no choice but to come up with a plan—

Even if it meant resorting to a method that disgusted her so much she would vomit—a plan that her earlier self would have mocked and ridiculed a few hours ago. Had someone suggested this to her, she would have instantly considered them fallen to the level of lowly insects, but now, even such a way of doing things—

That is right, she had already thought of the way. The question was whether she would actually choose to use it.

Motion. Rejected. Motion. Rejected. Motion. Rejected—motions with identical content and their rejection. Every member of support personnel had their own pride and mission. Risking everything at their disposal, they repeatedly made decisions of tradeoff.

Once she reached her conclusion, she fell into deep sleep.

To replace the arm she had lost, a most contemptible arm finally reached out towards the most despicable solution.