The Wardrobe Ordeal
Leah hadn't slept a wink all night. It wasn't due to urgent business or heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. There was just one reason.
'I can't sleep.'
Once the overload ended and the adjustments were complete, this prosthetic body moved without a hint of fatigue. Even after excessive exertion that should have battered it here and there, there was no issue at all. Was that why? She had no idea how to sleep in this body. There was no sense of exhaustion, no drowsiness whatsoever.
Leah had tried her hardest to force herself to sleep, but it was no use.
'If there's a brain in there, it should need rest... Or maybe it has some other function?'
Sleep was also a form of brain rest. No brain existed that didn't require it, but this prosthetic body was far more advanced than he'd imagined. It wouldn't be surprising if it had technologies Leah was completely unaware of. It was the body she was using now, yet she knew absolutely nothing about it.
'Maybe because of the nanobots.'
Leah absently tapped her head.
'Whatever. If it doesn't get tired, that's fine. I'll research it gradually. Or just ask Luca.'
The boy was one of the sharpest minds Leah had ever encountered in her 25 years—one she could count on one hand. Thinking of him brought another sigh.
"Haa."
In all her 25 years of living, she'd never wrestled with so many dilemmas at once.
'Being called nuna by a guy. Telling him I'm actually a man.'
Which choice would preserve even a shred of her pride?
"This fucking—."
A curse rose to the tip of her tongue. She barely swallowed it back.
When her mind had been occupied before, it hadn't been so bad. Trivial worries were a luxury when survival was on the line. But now, in this moment of stability, they loomed like massive obstacles.
'Why the hell do I have to deal with this bullshit? Is there anyone else in the world agonizing over crap like this?'
"Those goddamn Favila bastards. I should just kill them all—."
She nurtured the hatred inwardly. She'd never harbored this much venom toward enemies she'd faced on the battlefield.
'Still, I can't tell him I'm a man. No way in hell.'
No helping it, then. She'd have to threaten Luca. With her mind made up, she stepped out of the room.
It was the quarters the Errant had provided—surprisingly spacious, with a comfortable bed that she was quite satisfied with.
As she exited, she glanced at her newly regenerated left hand. It was the day after she'd said she'd rejoin them. Roughly 30 hours had passed since her arm shattered.
'A brand-new arm growing back. Amazing. ...Is "growing" even the right word?'
She wasn't sure. Idle thoughts bubbled up unbidden.
"It's ambiguous. First time with a body like this."
"Leah, what'd you just say?"
Out in the lobby, the Errant's women were lounging on the sofa.
"Talking to myself. You ready?"
She brushed it off and moved to leave, but—
"Hold on, you're going out like that?"
Seriana pointed at her clothes. A fair criticism. She was still wearing the battle-worn outfit. It had been washed, but the seams were frayed, holes punctured through, and faint bloodstains lingered like stubborn ghosts.
"It's a bit big, but take my clothes. Ditch that."
Seriana darted into her room and returned with a red T-shirt and black slacks. Their sizes—and heights—differed greatly, so only something loose and versatile would do. The T-shirt hung baggy, and she had to cuff the slacks multiple times at the hem.
As she reached for the padding Roena had given her, Seriana and Roena stopped her.
"Um... Leah, what about underwear?"
Seriana eyed her chest. Amid the loose T-shirt, something asserted its presence. Unlike before, the prominent protrusions at the center of her breasts.
Leah flushed with sudden embarrassment. A wave of humiliating shame surged from within. Instead, she responded with forced bravado.
"I washed it, but it's not dry yet."
"I see. Still, you can't go like that."
This time, Roena fetched a bra from her room.
"It's an old one I used to wear. Lucky I hadn't tossed it."
Leah alternated glances between Roena's chest and the bra. It did look small for Roena's size. ...But it was a black lace number with frills.
'This is a bit...'
"...Just take it. Pull the padding high, and no one'll see."
"No way. Don't be shy. You've gotta wear it properly."
Roena approached with the bra in hand, sparking a tussle. She tried stripping off the padding to force it on, while Leah resisted.
"Stop it! I'll handle it myself!"
"Don't act like a kid—you're an adult!"
Roena yanked off the padding. Leah fought desperately but couldn't use her full skills against her, limited to feeble struggles. Pinned to the sofa, her clothes were being peeled away. Furious, Roena tickled her to break through the resistance.
"Eahaha, wait, Roena!"
'Damn, the senses are too sensitive!'
Roena ignored her, tickling harder. Leah writhed with a flushed face, leading to unintended contact. Roena's hand gripped her breast firmly.
"Ha-ut!"
"Huh?"
"Oh my."
The sharp, stimulating sensation drew an involuntary moan. Roena froze at the sound from Leah's lips; Seriana covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with amusement.
Snatching the bra from Roena's hand, Leah bolted.
"...I'll put it on and come out."
'Hah... Luca's teasing is nothing compared to this.'
Irritated by her body's unknown reactions, she fumed. The heightened senses that aided combat were now a curse.
In front of the mirror, she stripped and donned the black lace bra. It contrasted seductively with her pale, refined face—a rare beauty. But...
"The problem is me."
'Haa. Gotta get used to it. Can't keep reacting like this forever.'
At least two months minimum. If things went wrong, a lifetime in this body. She couldn't afford these reactions every time.
'No whining, Lean Primoor.'
"Maybe I should enjoy it?"
Hands on hips, she struck a pose accentuating her chest—then reality crashed in, reddening her face.
'No, this isn't it! Hell no.'
Hating the sight, she quickly layered on the T-shirt and thick padding.
Opening the door, she found Roena fidgeting anxiously.
"Leah, sorry. I went too far, huh?"
Roena apologized immediately. Leah replied curtly.
"I wasn't like this before. This damn prosthetic's too sensitive. Got it?"
"Uh... sorry."
"It was cute~ Leah. Let's head out now."
Seriana's words grated inwardly, but reacting would mean defeat. Leah followed silently.
The group was three: her, Seriana, and Roena. In the car to downtown, an awkward silence hung heavy. Lost in thought, Leah pondered.
They were shopping for daily necessities. A personal mobile terminal, small sundries, and most importantly, clothes. Most things were already aboard the Errant, but clothes were key.
They headed straight to Sakar's clothing district in the city center, brimming with outfits from various brands: kids' wear, casuals, combat suits, suits, dresses—everything.
"Leah, what kind of clothes did you usually wear?"
Roena asked cautiously.
"Plain stuff. Mostly neutrals, loose fits."
'Screw up here, and I'll end up in weird outfits.'
Her recent decision: she'd endure daily wear. Simple skirts or dresses were tolerable.
'To a point. But nothing too girly. No frills or makeup junk.'
The first stop was a casual women's specialist shop. Roena thought as they entered,
'Gonna make up for that slip-up! Dress her in pretty clothes, shower her with compliments to cheer her up.'
The opposite of what Leah wanted.
Seriana scanned the displays.
"Essentials: two pajama sets, three combat outfits, underwear later. Stock up on casuals... Space flights mean few shopping chances~"
"Never really dressed up, so I dunno."
"I'll recommend some!"
Roena jumped in. That was the spark.
Her ordeal began early morning. Fighting Bashi's slave auction would've been easier.
'Women...'
They took turns fetching outfits. At first, they respected her input: neutral jeans, slacks, hoodies, shirts—loose and androgynous.
But soon, frilly, patterned, flashy ones appeared, defying her wishes. She rebelled midway...
"Just buy it. Why try it on?"
"No! Outfits need coordination. You have to try them!"
"How long you gonna torture me? No."
Roena gave her a pitying look.
"Truth is, I had a little brother who died... He'd be about your age if he'd lived. Makes me wanna spoil you..."
Tears glistened—seemed genuine.
'Damn. Pulling that now?'
"...Fine. I'll try 'em."
After that, she became a mannequin for three grueling hours. Memorable ones:
First, a white sundress. Her first skirt.
Second, short dolphin shorts with a sleeveless top. "For lounging at home," they said. Hah. Don't even.
Third, blouse shirt with a miniskirt and black stockings. "Office look we wanted to see."
More flowing, cumbersome garments followed. Each time, the clerk and Roena gushed—pretty, suits you, cute—but it fell flat for Leah.
After the chaos, she glared and vetoed the frilly, body-hugging ones.
Roena mistook the glare for regret.
'Hasn't worn stuff like this much. Grew up on battlefields... At 20, she must crave dolling up inside.'
Secretly, Roena bought the rejected ones.
'Debut gift—she'll love it. Sneak 'em in.'
Oblivious to Roena's innocent scheme, they shopped on. Pajamas: one plain, one bunny set on Roena's rec—unworn, of course. Underwear: Seriana led; Leah, resigned, grabbed whatever.
'Buy now, ignore later.'
Easier that way. As the torment ended, Roena clapped, remembering something.
"Alright! Dress time now."
"Sure... Wait, dress?"
"Oh, didn't tell ya. Needed for the next job. Gala requires dress code."
"The job—Sakil Cartel?"
Seriana chimed in.
"Yep, party on Kairen Island. We'll infiltrate. Details later~"
'A job.'
A mercenary's job was a mission.
'Mission. I can handle any mission.'
Clenching then releasing her eyes, steeling herself, Leah followed them into the unwanted battlefield.