Dorothy's Black Oil Bath

Healthy engine oil for the body! Dorothy's entire body had turned bright red. Her hair was its original fiery red. Her eyes were red from crying. Her clothes were soaked in blood (nosebleed plus gang member's blood). Her face was flushed from embarrassment at being caught crying by me. Now, which of these was the most serious issue?!

The correct answer! The nosebleed, right? Ah, too bad—that's the wrong choice. The real answer is number one: her hair.

"Dorothy…! Let's go!"

I stretched my fingers toward the collapsed tower while draped limply over Dorothy's back.

"Ugh! Huff! Huff…! Ah, we've still got time."

"No. You could forget any second. Straight there."

Right. To preserve Dorothy's memories intact, we needed to recharge her with that black solution. The black solution was called Memory Storage Solvent—something like this game's version of petroleum. Should I just call it oil? Too much hassle otherwise. Most machines were packed full of this Memory Storage Solvent, this oil. And just like a red sports car that needed plenty of engine oil, Dorothy piggybacked me and climbed the hill with all her might.

The tower probably had tons of it by design. It had been running perfectly fine, after all. Tsk. Possession in a game world, but was this really right? I kept second-guessing the game's lore knowledge.

It didn't take long before we reached the tower's wreckage and quickly spotted our target.

"There it is!"

At the tip of my finger was one of those drum barrels you could find anywhere—back alleys of the City, the wasteland, the heart of the City, even Mega Corp headquarters. They played the role of wooden crates in fantasy games.

"Phew!"

"Ugh…!"

Relieved, I slumped fully onto Dorothy's back, and her neck flushed even redder. Her arms, extended from her back, thudded down the oil barrels she'd been carrying. The ones she'd hauled from the tower one by one loaded onto the small truck. Using her force field to lift the barrels while also carrying me—Dorothy slapped her hands on her hips and lifted her blood-smeared nose proudly.

She was waiting for praise. I ruffled her majestic red hair vigorously.

"Whoa! Amazing mercenary! Amazing Black Ops!"

Only after basking in the pets did Dorothy finally set me down. Whew, dizzy. Unlike Dorothy, whose blood was just smeared like snot, I'd actually lost a ton of blood. Under my white dress, a half-moon stain of blood had spread. All from my own nose.

"You look like baby Dracula with milk dribbling down your chin."

What kind of horrific imagery was that, Dorothy? Flaunting her wild imagination, Dorothy giggled "uhi-hi" at my horrified expression. Frowning hard, I cranked open a valve on one barrel with all my strength and drained it.

"I could do it myself…"

"No."

Dorothy puffed her cheeks and hopped onto the truck bed with a determined "hup! hup!" Leaving her to use the core any longer was too risky. I tapped the full oil barrel and nodded.

"Get in."

"Eut…!"

"…?"

But Dorothy just avoided my eyes and fidgeted. Huh? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Had I not explained clearly? I racked my brain. No… I'd definitely told her it was a bath in the black water. It was Dorothy who'd said that.

As I tilted my head and stared, Dorothy bowed her flushed face and mumbled.

"Even if it's you, Tiara… already… naked…."

"Wha… what… wha…."

For once, even I stammered, squeezing my eyes shut to avoid looking at her body. No, why was she embarrassed? We're both girls. And right after, What the hell is this crazy bitch thinking? The two thoughts collided, making my head spin worse. Ever since splitting my brain to control online and offline bodies, my head felt off—like I was on the verge of split personality.

Forcing my eyes open, I stirred the pitch-black oil wordlessly. Finally, Dorothy grinned "euheu-heu" and said,

"Just kidding. I'll go in with clothes on."

Huh. Her tone was a bit off. I sneaked a glance up, and sure enough, those red eyes stared right at me. Was it day six since we met? After I chased off the bully kids, I'd felt that chilling sensation from Dorothy. The feeling of being marked. The spine-tingling drop when a menhera locks onto you… It hit again.

"…Dorothy?"

The menhera alarm blared in my head.

Q. This is… right?

A. Shh.

"But, Tiara."

"Yeees…?"

I backed away step by step… Thud! My back hit the truck's railing. Dorothy planted a hand beside me… Wait, this was a kabedon. Why were you doing it?!

"Who's Theia?"

Flames flickered in Dorothy's eyes.

Theia? Oh, back then… When my brain nearly split jumping between Outernet and wasteland… I'd shouted in both at once. That's when she heard the name.

Hmm. So Theia knew my "baggage" was Dorothy. I no longer doubted Theia cared for me deeply… but this dopamine addict—who wasn't far off from tentacles—could do anything, and I had no idea what.

"Tiara?"

I snapped my head up at her call, and there were Dorothy's cheeks puffed out massively.

This time, no menhera wiki needed. Dorothy was furious. And holding it back so she wouldn't snap at me.

"…Sorry. I'll tell you everything."

I'd learned from being tossed around by Theia. I appreciated the effort for my sake, but getting dragged into half-baked plans blindly was the worst. And I'd been forcing that on Dorothy every time.

"Hmph!"

Pow! Dorothy headbutted right into my blood-soaked chest. Sandwiched between the railing and her head, I ruffled her hair and cheek frantically to show my remorse.

"I'll tell you everything."

As I kneaded her deflating cheeks like punctured balloons, she mumbled while nuzzling my chest,

"Make it a story game."

That was fine, whatever.

"I'll make even more fun ones later."

"Mmm. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Anything's good. As long as it's with you, Tiara."

That familiar face gazed up with clear eyes. Back to the old weepy, pathetic Dorothy.

"Phew…."

I caught my breath, stroking her root-to-tip red hair…

"Ah, right! Dorothy…! Hurry and get in…!"

I shoved her hastily toward the full oil barrel. Nearly forgot because of her dizzy eyes. But Dorothy clung tight, blushing again, refusing to go in.

"Don't worry. I'll turn around."

I got her embarrassment. I wouldn't want to strip in front of her either. Back at the Research Lab, how did we shower together? I hadn't cared about living then, hadn't seen Tiara's body as mine, so it felt natural.

"It's just…."

Fidgeting, Dorothy finally held her breath—hup!—and dipped her feet in slowly, one by one. Black oil sloshed out.

"Ughhh… Hey, Tiara…?"

"Yeah?"

Leaning back against the barrel for a rest, I turned to her call.

"I'm gonna try to hold out as long as possible… but… I talk in my sleep a lot? If I fall asleep… could you get in the truck?"

Oh. That was it. I chuckled and brushed off her worry.

"Don't sweat it. I won't tease you at all."

"That's not…."

"Let's do the story game."

Sleep-talking was cute. Snoring or teeth-grinding? Fine too. She'd spent sleep time in private rooms, so she didn't want to show that side.

"Okay…."

Mumbling acceptance, Dorothy settled in. I began the tale.

"Once upon a time, Netdiver Dorothy…."

"No, you're the Netdiver, Tiara? This time you're the protagonist. I'll be the master!"

"Mmm. Sure."

I wasn't great at TRPG game mastering anyway….

Leaning my dizzy head against the barrel, I listened to Dorothy's voice. Honestly, low expectations. She was sensitive and loved stories, but weaving them was different…

"On the outskirts of the City, the 70 District's wasteland was swarming with bug hordes merging and splitting. When government forces swept in to wipe out the Resistance's secret Research Lab, the wasteland gangs hid in the canyon depths to evade them."

…Huh?

"They spotted the troops withdrawing via drone. And what's this? They found a beautiful! Cute! Red-haired girl! As the wasteland gangs chased rare prey, Netdiver Tiara appeared before them!"

Why was it so clean? Didn't she know I was chased by gang members…?

"What does Tiara do?"

Why so plausible…? Hypnotized, I came to only when Dorothy splashed oil and tapped my head.

"Ah, uh. Yeah. Of course I save her. Block bullets with gauntlet force field core."

"Core use confirmed! Coin toss!"

"…."

She'd even added probability. Where'd the coin come from? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Looking back, Dorothy dunked herself hastily and muttered,

"I-it seemed more fun this way."

"…Okay."

I nodded, and Dorothy beamed "uhi-hi!" Thrilled. Astonishing that Dorothy, clueless about TRPGs, invented this system herself.

Dorothy… maybe game dev talent? A shiver at the stray dog's new potential—then a huge hand burst out. Gauntlet core activated. The translucent hand stretched, grabbing a wrecked monster truck tire.

"Heh! Use this for the coin!"

"O…kay."

She flicked the translucent hand; the tire spun dozens of times in midair before crashing. Boom…! Dust choked the air, but Dorothy coughed and laughed "uhi-hi!" Had I apologized enough? The thought flashed, but…

"Success!"

Her innocent grin just looked happy.

Happy Dorothy listened closely to my deeds, her mood visibly complicated.

"So Theia was like… a mom? Big sis? Couldn't abandon her."

"Mmm, got it. But remembering there were people outside would've been nice."

Ahem. I cleared my throat, thumping my occiput against the black barrel in apology.

"Sorry."

"And Netdivers are stealthy, infiltration types, right? Smashing challengers one-on-one was cool, but mercenary fits better."

Super pissed, she'd even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poked at me on purpose.

"Eut… Take that back…!"

"Ca~ncel."

…Of course, total pushover. Crunch! Her oil-dripping hand mussed my giggling hair.

"Yaaawn… Wait… lemme sleep… get in the truck… you have to?"

She trailed off, head lolling against the barrel.

"…."

I touched her fingers on my head. Calluses everywhere. Black Ops backstory… story part, so I didn't know details. But from her reactions and speech during tales, she still recoiled hard from violence. Must've endured something brutal in training. I'd wait patiently till she told me herself.

"Tiara… get in the truck… sleepy…."

"It's fine."

Tingling from my touch, she stirred briefly. Her sleepy tantrum was adorable. I tucked her hand back in, wedged a cloth-wrapped pillow under her neck. She dozed off instantly.

"Sleeping like that will wreck your back."

Even cramped in the barrel, Dorothy slept soundly. Close up, her breathing went ssss… ssss. Black-dyed hair. Soft cheeks.

"Tiara."

And sleep-talking.

"Hngg…."

Daring to compare a Netdiver to a mercenary? I'd tease her with every word later. Hiding my dark glee behind a smile, I focused on her murmurs.

"Tiara."

Yeah, yeah, Dorothy. Keep going.

"Mine."

Uh.

A. RUN. NOW.

Menhera alarm blaring in my head, but I couldn't move. Slurp…!

"Eup… Dorothy? Dorothy?! Wait!"

Her snake-like forearm coiled around me, dragging me into the barrel.

"Tiara. If you leave me alone again… won't let you off."

"Sorry. But… could you let go?"

Her arms locked my waist and nape in a rear naked choke variant, slowly submerging us.

"Eek…! Uwaang…!"

Drained of energy, I couldn't resist. Barely pushing off the barrel with my feet… Her skin pressed through clinging clothes. Squelch squelch.

"H-hey…!"

Dizzy from the sensation, I shook her, but Dorothy just smiled faintly, eyes closed.

Damn. So this was her sleep-talking. No wonder she insisted on the truck.

Q. Hot girl hugging you—feels good, right?

It… does, but. Fresh off MaMaman's tentacles, it was like seeing a lid after sprouts—pure panic.

But in the end… Splash!

"Euheu-heu… Tiiiaraaa…!"

Tightly embraced in her lecherous smile, I got sucked into the barrel.

"Pffht…! Never going near again…."

Making my hollow vow as I shook viscous oil from my face—that moment, a familiar, thus creepier message floated up.

I reflexively touched my cheek. The spot where the expressionless blonde beauty had suddenly kissed me.

"MaMaman…?"