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After about another hour, as the blue-haired girl's body trembled violently like a robot receiving a command, Bokue Keikain pulled her into a tight embrace.
For nearly two hours, they hadn't left this desk once. Now came the final moments.
"Now I'm... completely charged."
The speaker wasn't Bokue but Astarte.
Perhaps the long, intense charging session had drained her energy, preventing her from maintaining her usual machine-like precision of thought. This time, she didn't use those system-prompt-like prefixes.
As Bokue's arms tightened around her in the office chair, Astarte wrapped her pale arms around his neck, lifting her face to whisper in his ear:
"Thank you for the meal, Master. Astarte loves Master most of all."
"...Mm."
Even Bokue was momentarily stunned by the blue-haired girl's sudden declaration.
After all, Astarte would never have said something like this before. Having been treated as a disposable biological weapon since birth, she'd always considered herself a tool.
And tools didn't need subjective consciousness—they only stated objective facts.
Yet this was Astarte's first time expressing subjective feelings—likes or dislikes.
Thinking about it, if this continued, Astarte would gradually become more like a normal girl rather than the artificial life form she'd been.
That wouldn't be bad at all...
As Bokue pondered this, the blue-haired girl nestled in his arms gently tugged at his collar.
"[Reminder], Master said earlier that after charging Astarte, you'd check on the Director. I believe now would be perfect timing."
"Right."
Bokue hadn't forgotten.
Though was it his imagination, or did Astarte's tone carry a hint of anticipation when mentioning this?
Was that... right?
Buzz buzz—
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
"Wait, someone's calling..."
As shameful as it was to admit, Bokue's heart dropped when he realized he had an incoming call.
He'd promised Asagi last night he'd come home early, yet he'd stayed out all night. This morning had been Yuuma and Aya, now Astarte, and probably Natsuki next.
He'd completely forgotten about his actual girlfriend...
But when he saw the caller ID, he was both surprised and relieved.
It was actually Yuuma calling?
"...Hello? Yuuma?"
Without hesitation, he answered and brought the phone to his ear.
The moment he spoke, the short-haired girl's energetic voice came through.
"Hey Bokue, Bokue! Reminder—you forgot something this morning."
"I forgot? What was it?"
Bokue grew more puzzled.
"Tsk tsk, looks like you really did forget."
Yuuma clicked her tongue on the other end.
"Remember what you promised Miss Minamiya yesterday in the Prison Barrier? About having Aya Tokoyogi wear a maid outfit and work for Miss Minamiya to earn her own living?"
"Oh..."
Bokue froze.
Come to think of it... yeah, that had happened.
"That should jog your memory, right?"
Yuuma hummed.
"But you forgot to take Aya with you this morning. Though since I'm a prison escapee and shouldn't appear before Miss Minamiya, I'll just teleport her directly over. You handle the rest, Bokue."
"Uh, sure." Since he was going to charge Natsuki anyway, Bokue agreed.
"OK, I'll hang up then. I'll send her right over, then I need to catch up on sleep." Yuuma seemed to stifle a yawn on the other end, adding drowsily:
"Got up so early this morning, now it's noon and I'm tired again... Well, that's it then."
The call ended.
Bokue believed the short-haired girl's promise to "send her right over," so after pocketing his phone, he waited quietly.
But a minute passed with no sign of the promised delivery.
Did she get the wrong place?
Bokue fell into contemplation.
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
Meanwhile, in the break room next door—
Unable to fall asleep even after completely soaking her black stockings, Natsuki stared expressionlessly at the suddenly teleported, disheveled twelve-layered beauty before her. She threw off the covers and sat up on the bed's edge.
"Disheveled" was putting it diplomatically.
More accurately, she was covered in semi-transparent white glue-like liquid, reeking of hawthorn flowers from head to toe.
The smell was so strong that even Natsuki, sitting three meters away on the bed, could clearly detect it.
For the first time, the psychologically twenty-six-year-old gothic girl experienced the feeling of "not knowing what expression to make."
"Aya Tokoyogi, though I don't know why you suddenly appeared here, we've known each other this long—this is the first time I've seen you in such a state."
Like she'd just been fished out of a pool full of semen.
Natsuki added mentally.
But that was too explosive to say aloud.
"Well, now you've seen it..."
Aya rolled her eyes, too exhausted to argue.
She had no energy left to argue anyway. Since arriving at the hotel last night, she'd become a fountain—except for a few hours of sleep, she hadn't stopped. This morning had been even worse, then that sudden "pressure release" had knocked her unconscious.
Now she'd just regained consciousness only to be dumped here.
"Looks like that guy really put you through the wringer."
Natsuki sighed, complaining casually. But before she could ask, the break room door suddenly pushed open from outside.
Then came a certain youth's voice from the doorway.
"Oh, so that's where Yuuma teleported her—right here."
!!!
In the break room, both witches trembled at that voice, turning toward the source like a switch had been flipped.
Natsuki managed better, just instinctively shifting her gaze.
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