Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume19 Chapter 2 (section)

===Part 3===

Quenser Barbotage was seated with his arms around his raised knees. He only found angry glares wherever he went, so he had to stay indoors. And this was the most calming place for him.

He sat within the Object hangar constructed in the colder part of Eurasia.

“Move, you fool. This is the front line for us maintenance soldiers.”

“Noooo!! Please don’t kick me out of my last utopiaaaaa!!”

“We have no need for a meatball curled up on the floor. If you want a place here, then start working that brain of yours.”

The cute Princess, who wore a skintight special suit resembling a sailor uniform with its unique collar and the pouches around the hips, tilted her head curiously while her emotionless eyes watched Quenser cling tearfully to the old maintenance lady’s leg. Her short blonde hair shook from the motion.

“Is that the latest fad?” she asked.

“Absolutely not! A wrinkly old lady dominatrix!? How niche a kink are we talking about here!? That’s like several levels of avant-garde past what I’m comfortable with. I’m still trying to figure out the appeal of moms, okay!?”

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Quenser’s eyes widened as he made his case, but the old lady simply kicked him away.

The rest of the battalion’s anger was not going to die down anytime soon.

The Princess, however, clasped her hands behind her back and fidgeted awkwardly.

“Quenser, I have a riddle for you: what is February’s biggest event?”

“Eh? We’re doing riddles now?”

“I’ll give you a hint: it starts with a V.”

“???”

Quenser could only tilt his head.

The Princess got most of her information from the old maintenance lady or Frolaytia, so whether they were telling the truth or just messing with her, she often had a very Island Nation-centric view of things.

The old lady, who knew a lot about Island Nation celebrations, sighed.

“That event was artificially set up that way. …Hey!! What imbecile filled up the #3 grease!? Use that stuff in the icy weather out there and it’ll freeze!!”

“Grease? Grease, huh? I guess even nuke-resistant Objects need that stuff.”

“They aren’t protected by a futuristic forcefield. They can only withstand a nuclear attack thanks to being 200 thousand tons.”

“Give me something – anything – to do. But please make sure our Object doesn’t freeze up out there. That has to be one of the stupidest ways to die.”

“Ignorant boy. Most weapons – including tanks and fighters – have a long history of battling against the dangers of ice.”

The Princess had been zoned out, but she finally responded here.

“Ice…chocolate ice cream. Yes, that could work.”

“Eh? Um, Princess? Do you like to make sweets?”

“Do you want me to make some for you? Hee hee hee.”

“Bff!?”

Quenser couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

The 37th’s potatoes lived off of flavorless rations that looked like giant erasers, so anything with real flavor that was made with an identifiable process was the greatest luxury. If you weren’t the commander like Frolaytia or the Pilot Elite like the Princess, you weren’t allowed to bring any inefficient personal items with you.

The old maintenance lady was the one who had told the Princess the legend of February 14 in the Island Nation while they were working, so she sighed while watching the ignorant battlefield student.

Quenser was trembling with excitement at this wonderful opportunity.

“You mean I’d really get a girl’s home cooking? And not just ‘home cooking’ as a euphemism for mixing gasoline and detergent to make a napalm bomb in the kitchen!?”

“If you really want me to, Quenser.”

“Hip hip hooray!! I can finally say goodbye to those boring rations! I can move beyond my days of mere subsistence and start to enjoy my life!!”