Editing HEAVY OBJECT:EX Chapter 6 (section)

===Part 1===

“…”

Wearing a prisoner’s uniform, Quenser frowned toward a hamburger in the room of a monastery.

This feast should have been a wondrous treasure for a boy who was only issued soap-like rations, but he had a reason to be less than thrilled.

When Eric had brought the food, he had frowned too.

“Don’t think about it too much. It tastes fine and it’s nutritious.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this made from those Draupnir bell crickets that attacked our maintenance base?”

“I said not to think about it! I was eating these things every day like it was normal just last week. The food was the one highlight of working here. There’s nothing wrong with the ingredients, so just eat it!”

“Um, Eric, did you see the bug cage when you got back?”

For some reason, Eric paled and looked away from Quenser.

That was when Quenser noticed Eric looked like he had not been eating much lately.

“Wait, what did you see? Be honest with me! Just tell me!!”

“You’re really better off not knowing. …There were worms and caterpillars too…”

“It’s not just one kind!? They’re mixing them all together!?”

If whole bell crickets had been skewered or fried, he might have been able to build his resolve. But he had no way to brace himself mentally when he had no clue what was being transformed into burgers and fries or how it was done. It was a lot like the difference between the fear of being ordered to jump from a cliff with the bottom visible five meters down versus when it was too dark to see the bottom.

“Also, well, this should be safe.”

Eric pulled out a small bottle.

A clear liquid sloshed around inside.

“It’s whisky. This brand is well-known among our men. It’s nearly 120 proof, so I wouldn’t drink it all at once if I were you. This is the kind of drink where you spend two hours nursing a single glass.”

“…That isn’t some kind of bug extract, is it?”

“Alcohol is made by breaking down the sugar in plants and then brewing or distilling it, so it should actually be more expensive to use some other ingredient. I doubt there’s anything to worry about.”

That said, they would not normally be issued something like this. It would be distributed as a special event after a battle. It was meant to celebrate victory over the Baby Magnum. Quenser was seriously conflicted over whether he could drink that.

“Your interrogation will continue tomorrow. I recommend forcing yourself to eat to keep your strength up. You said you don’t know where Saint Skuld is, but not knowing is the most dangerous thing during interrogation. Do you really not know or are you playing dumb? Who knows what a professional interrogator will do to figure that out.”

“Hey, Eric. Do you think what Urd and Verdandi said is true? I mean that stuff about Skuld being a serial killer who uses her battles to hide the bodies.”

“I don’t know.” Eric breathed a heavy sigh. “I’ve heard the Pilot Elites are treated pretty well, but does it really go that far? …I want to trust that the world has some sense, but I did find it odd how persistent Saints Urd and Verdandi were about this.”

Eric shut his mouth when he heard footsteps through the solid wood door. The Faith Organization must not have tolerated speaking about the Pilot Elites behind their back.

Eric faced the door and said one last thing.

“I don’t know when you will be released, but bear with it for now. Being a student should give you an advantage over a normal soldier. Don’t give up hope.”

The door opened and closed.

Quenser took a deep breath now that he was alone.

“Now, then.”

He set aside the burger and fries problem and glanced toward the bottle of whisky. But not to drink it. He tore off a sleeve of his prisoner’s uniform, twisted it into a rod shape, and stuck it into the bottle. Once the whisky had soaked into it, he used the electrodes of the fluorescent light to light it. He now had a makeshift alcohol lamp.

He knew something that was worth trying out before he had his fingernails torn off, had a truth serum injected into him, or had electrodes attached to his balls.

By moving a stone in the wall, a trapdoor opened.

It would be a dangerous journey, but it was better than discovering his own masochistic tendencies in a small locked room.