Date: 359.987.M41
Location: Hive Kathion
Sector: Lower Hive
The heavy thud of boots struck the cold metal floor in unison. The private army of the Korvax family, clad in full plate armor, moved through the darkness. Their helmets were equipped with thermal sensors and night-vision capabilities. The beams from the flashlights mounted on their rifles cut through the gloom, revealing the bodies of heretics lying scattered about. Their skin, tainted with forbidden symbols, had begun to turn dark from the reaction with the chemicals. Bloated from five days of decay, the corpses emitted a rather nauseating stench.
Omega walked at the head of the group with a calm demeanor. His hands tightly gripped a Hotshot Lasgun, modified to be shorter and more powerful. The power cables connecting it to his backpack hummed with a low, potent energy. A Plasma Pistol hung at his waist.
He surveyed the scene with cold eyes through his round spectacles, which also possessed thermal and night-vision functions. Although his skin stung from the residual chemicals, he paid it little mind.
It had been five hours since they began exploring every nook and cranny, every room of the slums and factory complex, starting from the border of the Thalric territory all the way to this central point.
What they found was not entirely unexpected. During the inspection, the soldiers under his command, as well as Omega himself, discovered that many of the inhabitants here had died before the attack even commenced. Skeletons were found everywhere in the slums. Some had been killed for vile rituals or as sacrifices to their dark gods.
But most of the corpses he saw had died of starvation. Omega possessed the skill and knowledge to determine the cause and time of death. He could see that the people living here had perished amidst darkness and hunger, suffering far more than the heretics themselves.
"Check every square inch," Omega's voice rang out through the muffled comms system as he issued further orders. In his mind, there had to be survivors. The chemical weapons they used could be countered by standard-quality gas masks. given that the rebels and heretics possessed anti-tank weapons and rocket launchers, it was highly probable that they also had access to gas masks and might be hiding somewhere, waiting to ambush them.
"Do not be careless. The Lower Hive is not just a single plane. These rebels could be hiding in ventilation shafts or basements ten levels deep. Check thoroughly... anything still alive that isn't one of us is a target for purge." He looked at the dilapidated factory, now in ruins. The walls bore heretical symbols and faint traces of Chaos energy that he could sense, deeply ingrained in the filth.
This place is tainted, Omega thought with concern. He knew well what Warp energy could do. It could be used to attack, create, destroy, or protect others—that was the exception for pure Warp energy used correctly.
But the horror of Warp energy lay in its ability to twist everything it touched. Bodies exposed to it could mutate hideously. Or minds could warp until they shattered into madness, becoming unstable, weak, and susceptible to the seductions of daemons.
This place had to be burned to the ground completely.
...The results of Thalric's administration... inefficient to the point of speechlessness, Omega thought with disdain. Letting people starve and die slowly while simultaneously breeding heretics.
Suddenly...
"Kill them... Omega... Kill them all... Spill blood for me..."
A familiar whisper echoed in his head. It was low and vibrating, like the sound of grinding metal. The voice of a daemon from the Warp, just as it had been every day since he could remember.
"Do you see? That dried blood... it is not enough... The void here demands filling... Are you the master's sword, or are you just a serving dog waiting for orders? Scream it out. Just scream: Blood for the Blood God."
Omega gritted his teeth under his mask. The hand holding his gun trembled slightly. He tried to suppress it with his rigorously trained discipline. He could certainly withstand its provocation, but that didn't mean he wasn't annoyed and irritated by the constant whispering in his ear.
"Silence..." he cursed softly, causing the subordinates following him to pause in suspicion, surprise, and wariness.
"Is something wrong, sir?" a soldier asked. Omega inhaled deeply, the sound loud through his gas mask.
Hiss.
"Nothing... proceed to the central hall. The point where sensors detected the last movement before we released the gas." He stepped over the soulless body of one of Kael's cohorts who had died miserably in front of the steel valve door they had tried to open, not bothering to even look at the corpse. To Omega, these people were merely scum, trash that had turned to worship the dark gods.
They deserved to be eliminated and to suffer. They were not worthy of any mercy whatsoever. They would die destitute and in the most brutal way possible. And since they were former soldiers, such actions were even more unacceptable.
Suddenly, Omega sensed something in a factory building further ahead. It was a strange feeling, the same sensation he felt when detecting Warp energy. He thought, What is that? There must be something.
"Ten of you, follow me. We will investigate over there." Omega turned to the troopers who were inspecting the alleyways and slums, pointing towards that factory. They nodded in acknowledgement immediately before moving in an orderly fashion.
Omega and the ten soldiers approached the factory before conducting a careful and tactical inspection. They slowly pushed open the doors and surveyed the room cautiously. The atmosphere inside was, to say the least, horrifying.
Each room was used like the twisted laboratory of a mad scientist. There were test tubes and numerous experimental devices that seemed devoid of ethics, their nature suggesting they caused immense damage to the subjects or whatever was being tested. Symbols of the Chaos Gods were plastered everywhere—on walls, on utensils, or even on the mutilated human corpses used as sacrifices.
Omega and the ten men showed little reaction to the sight. In truth, they were quite accustomed to such things. Many had served as private soldiers for the Korvax family for years, and their main duty, aside from combat, was maintaining order and eliminating dissidents.
Many times they had searched the dwellings of slum workers and found similar things. It made them somewhat used to and numb to these matters, and they knew how to keep them secret.
"Sir, I think it's starting to get more dangerous," one soldier spoke up, gripping his gun tightly.
Omega, who was analyzing various things, turned in the direction the soldier was facing. He saw that the interior of the factory ahead was filled with a green mist that stank beyond description.
Every soldier knew immediately what they were about to face. They began to show signs of anxiety. It wasn't anxiety born of fear of death, but the anxiety of dying in vain, as they were currently ill-equipped to fight the disciples of the Plague God at full efficiency. Each of them was armed with a Hotshot Lasgun and other secondary weapons.
For standard soldiers in the Imperial Guard, the Hotshot Lasgun was a relatively rare and expensive weapon. It possessed greater penetration and destructive power than the standard Lasgun they used, with a much higher chance of piercing Space Marine armor than standard weapons. However, it also required more maintenance.
But for the Korvax private army, this weapon was standard issue, and it was extremely powerful compared to the weapons the PDF forces possessed. Yet in this situation, they would have preferred flamers, grenade launchers, or light machine guns.
"Should we call for someone with a flamer, sir?" a soldier asked Omega uncertainly. He turned back to look at the soldier, thinking everything through thoroughly before replying with cold resolve.
"No, doing that would be a waste of time. It might not be much, and I will lead the way myself." Having spoken, Omega was the first to walk into the mist. The others followed suit. Although they felt fear of being afflicted by the plague, they knew that to stop something like this, they had to destroy the vile altar of the plague worshippers first.
As they entered the mist, the first things Omega and the soldiers felt were the dampness and the stench that penetrated their suits. Although their helmets had night-vision functions, in this situation it wasn't very suitable as their visibility was reduced to about 5 meters. Omega ordered everyone to switch their vision mode to thermal imaging.
They endured until the eleven of them walked past a zone filled with numerous industrial machines, all rusted and wrecked. It was clear they hadn't been repaired for a year, since the end of the war against the Genestealers.
Just then, a sound echoed from the darkness and the mist. The sound of something light and lifeless, yet at the same time heavy.
Omega and the ten soldiers immediately felt a surge of paranoia. They increased their caution. Omega felt slightly irritated by this sort of thing and also quite concerned because he knew daemons came in many forms, or blessed mutants. They were all extremely dangerous and both predictable and unpredictable at the same time.
Seeing the anxiety in the posture of the ten soldiers, he grumbled internally a little and sighed. These soldiers were more skittish than usual. He didn't know if they were new recruits or not.
If they were just new recruits who had recently come to serve Lord Valen, he wouldn't blame them or be surprised. But if they were veterans, he would definitely punish them if they survived.
"Ignore it. Keep moving, quickly," Omega ordered. They moved on, increasing their vigilance. But at the same time, many felt as if they were weakening and catching a cold. The fear in their hearts began to rise.
"Stop being scared. If you're afraid, you should resign. Move forward and pray to the Emperor to protect you from the plague and keep you from becoming Poxwalkers," Omega threatened. Now he was certain that almost all of them were veterans. The soldiers who heard him felt a great fear of Omega himself, because both his tone and his demeanor seemed more terrifying than the large, ugly Genestealers.
"Acknowledged, sir," several soldiers responded in unison. But just then, while they were stopped to listen to Omega, the soldier at the rear of the formation was unaware that a figure was walking up behind him, moving through the green mist and getting closer and closer.
Slash!!!
A rusted blade chopped directly into the middle of the unfortunate soldier's head. The rusted blade, which should barely have been able to cut metal, sliced through the high-quality helmet like paper. The soldier collapsed lifelessly to the floor instantly.
"Die, you corpse-emperor worshippers!!! For Grandfather!!!!" Kael, who had survived the chemical weapons five days ago, shouted happily while using a rusted bolt pistol to shoot another soldier who hadn't yet turned around. The soldier's body was blown forward instantly, his insides destroyed by the large caliber round.
Currently, Kael had received the Grandfather's blessings in full. He felt abundant life within his body. His condition was hideous; his face was withering and rotting, his hair had almost completely fallen out, and pustules and abscesses covered his body. It was a horrifying image for normal people, but for them, these were the marks of those blessed by the Grandfather.
The second Kael fired the bolt pistol and killed that soldier, the other soldiers turned around immediately with great speed, including Omega. They didn't wait for this heretic to move or do anything else.
Nine Hotshot Lasguns opened fire on Kael until he was riddled, reduced to a heap of rotting meat full of burn marks. Omega walked over to inspect the damage before using his psychic powers to create fire and burn the corpse to prevent it from resurrecting. Who knew if people might come back to life again? Prevention was best.
Once done dealing with this, he led the remaining men deeper until they saw a room ahead that might be the center of the altar releasing the Chaos energy.
Omega planned and assigned tasks to the remaining soldiers carefully before slowly moving closer to that room. They walked slowly, making as little noise as possible to avoid detection. When they reached the edge of the door, the soldier at the very front slowly peeked his face out to see what was inside.
What they saw was a large hall. In the center stood an altar to Nurgle, the Plague God. Inside were nearly 100 heretics worshipping the altar, which was constructed from mutated rotting flesh and sacrifices of various filth.
The soldier relayed the information to Omega in the center. Upon acknowledging this, Omega had everyone get into position immediately. Once in the appropriate positions, Omega and the other soldiers grabbed grenades, pulled the pins, and threw them into the room.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Nine explosions rang out. As the sound of the explosions faded, Omega and the remaining 8 soldiers rushed into the room immediately, aiming their Hotshot Lasguns and shooting everything not killed by their grenades. The disciples of the Plague God fell like autumn leaves. Their bodies, full of the rot of yesterday, were destroyed by laser beams.
The laser beams from their guns caused immense damage to their bodies. A single shot could explode their heads or sever their limbs.
And especially with Omega's modified Hotshot Lasgun, its power was even more terrifying. His gun could easily create a fist-sized hole in their torsos. In no time, the disciples of the Plague God were completely eliminated.
The 8 remaining soldiers fired double taps into the corpses or stabbed them with bayonets to ensure they were dead. Omega prepared to use his psychic powers to destroy the heretical altar, but suddenly...
One soldier noticed a corpse on the floor. It was quite different from the corpses of the plague disciples they had just killed. This corpse had signs of rot, true, but it had the appearance of a male figure with fingers bearing unusually long claws. Its eyes and mouth were shut tight. There were two small horns on its head, and its skin was covered with marks of Chaos symbols.
He stopped beside it before thrusting his bayonet into the middle of its chest to ensure it was dead. But suddenly, it woke up. Evil green light shone from its mouth and eyes. In the blink of an eye, it used its long claws to attack the soldier until his body was torn to pieces. The high-quality armor, which could withstand laser fire and bullets from standard small arms, was sliced by the claws as if it were paper.
Omega, who was preparing to burn the altar, turned around and his face went pale immediately. He didn't think such a thing would be here.
"Daemonhost!! Keep your distance from it and try to kill it as fast as possible!!!!!" Omega shouted while gathering his psychic energy. Stress and exhaustion began to overwhelm him. The voice of the daemon in the Warp did as well.
Omega had barely finished speaking when the Daemonhost lunged with incredible speed. It leaped at the nearest soldier. Long, sharp claws swiped once across his chest armor. All five claws sliced through the armor and the soldier's flesh with ease. The unfortunate soldier's body collapsed onto the corpses on the floor instantly. The remaining three soldiers hurriedly opened fire on the twisted figure with rage. Dark red laser beams struck the body, causing sizzling sounds and the smell of burning, but it remained unfazed. High-pitched laughter echoed throughout the hall.
Omega gritted his teeth, trying to gather his concentration amidst the chaos. The whispers in his head that used to provoke him changed to mocking laughter, but he brushed it aside indifferently.
He saw another soldier knocked flying into a wall, motionless. The other two tried to retreat and provide covering fire, but the speed of the vile daemon was far superior to normal humans. It closed in on one soldier and threw him against the altar until his body fell to the floor. Only 4 soldiers remained standing, falling into a state of terror.
"Fall back! Now!" Omega shouted. His voice was imbued with the authority of psychic power, snapping the 4 soldiers back to their senses, and they hurriedly jumped back as ordered.
Omega stepped out to face the Daemonhost. His single remaining eye behind the round glasses glowed red with dark purple energy. The atmosphere around him began to distort. The temperature in the room dropped sharply until frost formed on the floor and walls.
The Daemonhost turned to look at him. The wide grin on its twisted face was repulsive. It growled low before rushing at Omega with high speed. But this time... it did not meet prey.
Omega raised his hand. Massive psychic energy exploded from his body as an invisible shockwave. It slammed into the Daemonhost in mid-air until it halted and was pushed back, crashing into the wall before falling to the corpse-littered floor. The Daemonhost roared with fury. It tried to get up, but Omega gave it no chance.
"Return... to the hell you came from!" Omega focused his concentration on a single point. He used his psychic power to pin the Daemonhost in place. Its body began to tremble. A howling scream rang out, not from the mouth of the flesh body, but from the overlapping dimension. The glowing green light began to dim, replaced by purple flames erupting from the void.
Those purple flames were not ordinary fire, but psychic fire that burned the soul and the connection to the Warp. The flesh body of the Daemonhost began to disintegrate and turn to ash rapidly. The scream of the possessing daemon began to fade until... silence.
The body completely disintegrated, leaving only a black scorch mark on the concrete floor and an aura of evil that slowly faded away. Omega lowered his hand, breathing heavily. The other soldiers could see beads of sweat seeping out from under his green beret. He had used his psychic power to deal with it, and now he was quite weak and stressed. Although he had powerful psychic abilities, drawing them out to full efficiency was extremely difficult.
Because the more violently he used his psychic power, the greater the chance that daemons would possess and seize his body.
Silence returned to the hall once more. Omega swept his gaze around. The 4 surviving soldiers stood still in shock and dread. They had just seen the true power of their commander. Power that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Omega said nothing. He walked over to inspect the bodies of the dead soldiers silently, confirming they were truly gone, before they could rise again as walking corpses to turn and fight the survivors.
"Salvage the usable weapons and their ID tags," he ordered with a voice as flat but decisive as ever. "We still have work to do... I know you will complain, but we must finish tomorrow's work before the Sanguinala festival begins."
__________
The relationship between Eric and Lira developed rapidly, beyond what he had expected. The nervousness he once had towards her charm began to be replaced by the intimacy of a colleague. She possessed quite good psychology and was very fun to talk to; he felt at ease chatting with her.
During lunch break today, Eric chose to sit and eat lunch and talk with Lira in her office. Although there was a clear warning against bringing food into the room, she didn't scold him. Regardless, it seemed she enjoyed it when he discussed machinery and how to use that hologram with her. That cogitator was something Gestalt hadn't taken with him, and it was still in this room.
Luckily, its usage method was quite similar to a computer, so he was able to learn and use it fluently within a short time. Even though it couldn't do as much as a Windows 98 computer, it was certainly better than a typewriter.
Maybe I should try baking some snacks and share them with her, Eric thought. He wanted to return the favor, as he knew that usually, the Mechanicus didn't let anyone mess with complex technology much. Although the mask they wore was one of faith, from another angle, it looked more like a monopoly.
"Hey, Lira..." Eric spoke up as he set down his glass of water. "I saw a device that looks like a large computer abandoned behind the factory. It looks like its structure might still be usable. If we bring it back to repair and use it to manage the inventory system, it should reduce the burden of handwriting a lot. What do you think?" Eric risked asking. If he was lucky, she might know how to repair these devices, and he might get a new work tool—a computer instead of a typewriter. If it really happened, he would be very happy.
Lira paused her hand, which was polishing a gear, upon hearing Eric's question. Then she looked up at him with eyes that had changed. It wasn't a look of anger or dissatisfaction, but a gleam of fanaticism typical of a disciple of the Machine God that Eric was starting to get used to. Which was quite strange because, although he had never tried, if he asked other Tech-Priests or Enginseers, he would surely be scolded. Or worse, he might mysteriously disappear and be found as a new Servitor.
"Oh, Erica... I'm afraid that's impossible," she replied in a polite but firm tone. "That machine has served this factory for over 200 years. Its machine spirit is far too weary to be awakened for such heavy labor again. Allowing it to rest in the tranquility behind the factory is a distinguished reward it has earned after its final drop of sweat and oil was spent."
Following that, she continued to describe—with a passionate air—the complexity of electronic circuits, which he understood to some extent, and the roaring hum of the cooling fans from decades past. Eric sat there listening, nodding along to go with the flow, though internally he was skeptical.
It's obviously just an obsolete computer that no one wants to fix. And what kind of computer is used for 200 years? It should have been replaced by a newer model long ago. Electronics like this shouldn't even be that durable, Eric grumbled to himself.
Normally, a computer shouldn't last that long; even ten years is considered a good run. But she said that machine has been in use for 200 years. Just how tough is it? Despite his thoughts, he chose not to challenge her beliefs or faith. Doing so would undoubtedly cause trouble.
"Ah... I see. I understand now," Eric said, smoothly cutting the conversation short to change the subject. "By the way, there are only nine days left until the Sanguinala festival. Do you have any plans? The Upper Hive seems quite lively."
As far as Eric knew, Sanguinala was a festival held to honor the Primarch Sanguinius, a figure often depicted as an angelic being with white wings, striking hair, and a handsome, merciful face. As one of the sons of the Emperor of Mankind—whom they worshipped as a god—Sanguinius had sacrificed himself in battle and remained revered to this day.
Lira looked away from the machinery and turned toward Eric, offering him a soft smile.
"That's right. A festival to commemorate the sacrifice of one of the Emperor's sons. I think I'll attend the prayer services at the main cathedral and perhaps browse the antique markets. And what about you, Erica? Surely an accountant like you won't stay stuck with paperwork during the holidays, right?" Lira asked back, her voice tinged with amusement.
"I'm thinking of going out to enjoy the festivities too," Eric replied with a thin smile. Though he was still hesitant about his specific plans, he figured he could decide on that later. He felt a bit more confident talking about general topics that involved common sense and human emotion.
"Why don't you try offering a prayer? Pray at the Church of Saint Lucilla, or perhaps contribute to the funds for its restoration," Lira suggested while pulling a mechanical component from a drawer and beginning to disassemble it.
Upon hearing the name of the church, Eric remembered it immediately. That church had been used as a refugee camp during the war against the mutants. It was a place filled with memories—the hard beds, cramped rooms, and the less-than-friendly stares from others. Many of his new friends were met there: Vann, Maria, Rosa, and Livia. And, of course, Sister Celine, though he hadn't spoken to her much and didn't know her fate or if she had survived the war.
But there was a thought that lingered.
Why hasn't a church like that been repaired yet? Based on his observations, most buildings and structures in this area had already been fully restored. Other places were finished, yet the church remained in disrepair. He dismissed the thought; it wasn't really his business, after all.
"I'll think about it," he replied
—————-
Today, Eric went about his work as usual, though he occasionally heard rumors. There was concern regarding the troop movements and the relocation of the Korvax family's private forces within the Lower Hive. Although it felt far removed, many living in the Upper Hive who knew of this couldn't help but worry. Eric tried to ignore it; it didn't affect him directly, after all. When it was time to clock out, he headed back to his residence as he always did.
The atmosphere on the train toward the residential district was still packed with people, smelling of dampness and sweat. Yet, Eric didn't feel as stifled as he usually did. He leaned against the door, watching the lights from the various stations flash by while humming a soft tune. When he reached his destination, he walked along the familiar path at a leisurely pace.
Eric waved at Livia in front of her hair salon. She grinned broadly and shouted a joke about the new hairstyle she had given him herself. Eric couldn't understand it; the style didn't look bad or ugly at all, yet she always found a way to tease him. It made him a bit annoyed, but he didn't say anything back.
As he was about to turn into the alley leading to his apartment, Eric's eyes caught sight of an old bookstore. The dim orange glow inside looked warm and inviting. He stopped in front of the shop, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Lately, I've had to talk to Lira more often. There are still technical terms and jargon used in the machine industry that I don't know yet, he murmured to himself. As a former corporate employee, he was familiar with computers and electronics, but he wasn't well-versed in the specific "technical language" of this world. Even if he could communicate fluently and read or write, he lacked the specialized vocabulary. Perhaps learning these terms would make their conversations more interesting, or he might gain some vital information. It might even be a way to indirectly please her.
This was a good opportunity. Eric decided to step into the bookstore immediately. He figured that buying two or three books on specialized mechanical terminology used by the Mechanicus wouldn't hurt. At the very least, it would give him interesting topics to discuss with his "new friend" more confidently the next day. However, he secretly feared there wouldn't be any books on the subject, as the Mechanicus were notorious for hoarding their knowledge.
Eric browsed for a while until he found two volumes of "Technical Lexicon of the Mechanicus." He meticulously checked the edges of the pages, his finicky nature ensuring there were no creases, before heading to the old metal counter to pay.
As he was reaching for his money, the shopkeeper—a middle-aged man—paused and looked at his face, breaking into a wide smile.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave, customer," the man said cheerfully. "Since you are one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen—second only to my own wife, of course—I have something special to offer you."
Eric's brow twitched, and he felt an immediate surge of irritation at being commented on regarding his appearance.
Second to his wife? Is that a compliment or what? How annoying, he grumbled internally. He wanted to pay and get out of there as fast as possible, but since he hadn't paid yet and his curiosity was piqued, he stood his ground to see what it was.
The shopkeeper pulled a hardcover book from under the counter, which was in significantly better condition than the others, and placed it in front of him.
Eric frowned slightly as he picked up the book to check the basic information. He skimmed through the contents, quickly assessing its value and utility. Although initially piqued by the owner's comment, once he saw the content—which looked incredibly interesting and potentially very useful—his attitude shifted.
The book contained information he never expected to find, and he certainly wasn't going to miss out on it.
"This one too," he said briefly, laying down extra money on the counter. The shopkeeper chuckled softly before packing all three books neatly into a bag and handing them over.
"Thank you for your business, milady. I hope you enjoy the books from my shop," the owner said cheerfully, a full smile on his face.
Eric ignored the man's flattery. What he wanted was the knowledge within, especially the content of the book the owner had suggested. Having secured all three books, Eric hurried out of the shop and headed back toward his residence—his safe haven—not forgetting to warily scan his surroundings out of habit.
The sound of the key turning in the lock signaled his entry into the sanctuary he cherished most. The apartment was compact but neatly organized.
He placed the bag containing the three new books on the desk with care before starting his usual routine. He shed his tidy accountant's outfit and showered, washing away the fatigue and the lingering scent of the factory. Once dry, he slipped into his most comfortable lounge clothes.
They were clothes that allowed him to feel relaxed without feeling too exposed. To be honest, even though he was starting to get used to it, he still wasn't a fan of wearing a bra.
Eric went to grab some canned meat and bread he had stocked up on. He toasted the thick slices of bread and warmed the meat. The familiar aroma of the food filled the room. He took his plate and sat at the table by the window, which overlooked the twinkling lights of the Upper Hive at night.
He took a spoonful of meat, chewing slowly while thinking about the upcoming Sanguinala holiday in nine days.
What should I do for this long break? he wondered indecisively.
Should I go celebrate with Livia at her shop? She'll probably throw a loud party. Or should I ask Lira to walk through the antique markets like she planned? And what about Vann? He'll definitely find a way to tease me if I don't show my face. Or maybe I should just invite all three of them to a bar... that way I don't have to choose and can celebrate with everyone at once, Eric thought, smiling at his clever idea.
But at the same time, another thought surfaced.
Or should I just turn off the lights, lock the door, and spend the whole day in bed reading these books? Spend my precious holiday resting—just sleeping or reading? Eric sighed softly, smiling to himself. While he had gained the courage to meet people more often, he still lacked confidence in large crowds. On the other hand, if he just stayed in bed, he would miss the festival.
What a headache.
After finishing his meal, Eric decided to put aside the holiday planning for now. His eyes drifted to the paper bag from the bookstore sitting on the corner of the table. He remembered that besides the technical books, he had bought one more.
"Let's see... besides the introduction, what else does this one have to offer?" Eric murmured to himself.
He picked up the hardcover book. The cover was elegant, adorned with blood-red roses intertwined with swords. At first glance, it looked like a typical historical novel, or perhaps a work of literature or fiction. It was obvious that with roses on the cover, it was a romance novel. As soon as he opened the introduction and skimmed through a few pages, his eyebrows arched high, and a smile involuntarily tugged at the corner of his mouth, accompanied by a short, inward exclamation:
...This is amazing.
The content wasn't philosophy or history at all; it was a full-blown adult romance. The language used to describe the passionate love scenes and relationships was... so detailed and vivid that Eric's face flushed slightly. Not from the shyness of an innocent girl, but from the excitement of a man who had found a favorite toy.
Eric flopped down on the bed, his pale legs swinging comfortably. He continued to turn the pages, engrossed in reading. Although outwardly he was a shy and beautiful woman, inwardly he was still the same man—though his behavior and personality had changed slightly. He wasn't prejudiced against such things; in fact, he found it far more relaxing than reading a language textbook.
"What does that word mean...?" he murmured softly, encountering archaic slang or jargon in an unfamiliar, suggestive context. He simply ignored it, focusing on the overall meaning, which was enough to allow him to appreciate the story.
While engrossed in reading a crucial scene, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
How embarrassing would it be if someone else saw him like this?
The image of Lira walking in and finding him in oversized pajamas, lying face down reading a thick, steamy novel. Or the image of Livia realizing this usually polite young woman was secretly reading something like this... Just the thought made Eric quickly shake his head to dismiss it. A shiver ran down his spine, a mixture of horror and amusement. If it were Livia, she'd surely laugh, and might even ask to borrow the book. But what about others? Lira might think he was a pervert.
"Whatever... who's going to see me? This is my room."
Eric muttered to himself softly, trying to mask the slight apprehension that had crept in. He shifted to find the most comfortable position on his favorite pillow. Before I lower my head to read further...
Oh, I've already bought it. It would be a waste of money not to read it...