Keisha Winsler (3)
Last time I wrote something playful, too many of you clowns started calling me a fossil, so I'll keep this brief.
Stay away from the Dimensional Integrated Community's communication channels.
Anyone who tries anything funny gets their planet vaporized along with them. That is all.
I'm sure some of you are thinking, 'Ah, but I'm strong, so maybe I'll be fine?'
Well….
Either way, for those of you who fancy yourselves hot stuff, feel free to give it a try.
A flood of user comments poured in beneath his short, ferocious announcement.
Keisha Winsler, Director of the Magic Engineering Research Institute, let out a long sigh and closed the community window.
"Haaah…."
Her sigh was laced with a tangle of complicated emotions.
What a humiliation this was, courtesy of a Juddak who spouted nothing but ridiculous bravado.
Hacking, of all things.
Most of the community users were probably thinking exactly the same thing.
Now… what was it called again? A status window?
Some users who'd been whisked from Earth to other worlds supposedly gained abilities known as a System or a status window — and among them were said to be powerholders not unlike the current Juddak. The Dimensional Integrated Community was crawling with all manner of rare ability-holders she'd never heard of or seen before.
Of course, even those admins were nothing compared to the Juddak who presided over every dimension in existence.
Still, it stood to reason that the Juddak was one of those ability-holders himself.
Because, honestly….
[A message from the Administrator has arrived]
— "I-I am a lowly third-rater… who was defeated by the Massage Chair-nim… ooooh!" Read that out loud in your own voice and I'll lift your probation. :)
There was no way someone who sent messages this vulgar could be some grand, transcendent powerholder. No — he absolutely had to not be one.
Her 'maybe…?' daydreaming over the past while had clearly been nothing but a silly infatuation.
She turned her head toward the glossy black massage chair. As her eyes settled on the chair sitting in the center of the room, they wavered like a ship caught in a storm.
'J-just a little bit?'
The moment she caught herself thinking it, she flinched.
"Nnngh…!"
Honestly, being defeated(?) by the massage chair was no big deal in itself.
His condition was simply that she do her job properly as a Patdak. In exchange, he'd said, he would take her words seriously.
'And a self-proclaimed emperor wouldn't just pretend a promise never happened… probably.'
So the massage chair was nothing more than a game — a trifling wager, a bit of amusement on his part.
Have you ever even tried one of these? Will you still look down on me after you've sat in it yourself?
It had to be a provocation born of that petty little psychology!
'L-like I'd lose to it?'
She picked up the cup on her desk and took a slow sip.
It was that beverage everyone in the Dimensional Integrated Community had been buzzing about lately — Zero Coffee, purchasable only by users of VIP3 rank or higher.
She herself was a VIP4 user who had spent a whopping ten million points to reach that tier, and she currently held seventy million Karma Points.
It was the perfect drink for someone like her, who couldn't touch ordinary coffee because of her insomnia. A revitalizing beverage with zero side effects on the human body — and a superb taste to boot.
Her heavy, leaden head began to feel lighter, and her fogged mind started to sharpen and clear.
"Haaah…."
Not long ago — no, just a few days ago — she had lived just fine without the help of drinks like this.
And yet even after drinking the awakening beverage, some lingering heaviness refused to lift.
For all its VIP4 pedigree, Zero Coffee was not quite the miracle elixir that restored the body to perfect condition.
"Hah."
The sighs kept coming. How could they not?
Her body had already gotten a taste of what full, insomnia-free condition felt like.
That softness. That deep relief.
It melted away the fatigue that piled up from a hard day's work and poured vitality back into a body worn creaky by stress. She couldn't forget the sensation of brimming energy, as though she'd returned to the vigorous days of her youth. A single brief session was enough to transform the quality of her life.
The gap was so vast that unless she drank Zero Coffee, she could barely endure going without the chair.
'I suppose you could say I've already lost just by depending on Zero Coffee….'
She shot a wary glance at the massage chair.
A truly dangerous piece of furniture. One use, and it was a swamp from which no one ever climbed out.
It was a device that exerted some vast, unconscious influence, giving off a vague, formless dread that she might stop being herself.
'And besides, it supports… multiple modes….'
Her ears turned scarlet.
Thus she sank into an endless spiral of anguish over the massage chair — until an unexpected visitor pulled her out of it.
"Director! The Crown Prince is here to see you right n—"
"Move!"
BANG—
The laboratory door slammed open, and a handsome blond man shoved a researcher aside as he strode in.
"Hmmm…."
The Crown Prince, dressed in a black shirt embroidered with golden threads, swept a cool gaze across the laboratory and furrowed his brow.
"Still a pigsty in here, I see…."
"…."
At the Prince's irritable voice, Keisha's mind snapped back to attention.
With the Prince in such an ugly mood, the very air seemed to grow heavy and dense.
The Crown Prince's status spoke for itself, but he was a legend among mages as well — a genius among geniuses who had reached the Seventh Circle before turning thirty.
It was only natural that the ambient mana churned in response to his emotions.
Yet she did not cower.
"I hardly expected to receive an uninvited guest today."
"Then you should tidy up ahead of time, like any competent person would."
"I do happen to have rather a lot of work, Your Highness."
She shot back with a sniff.
True, the Prince's hot-blooded temperament and violent streak had once put them in political opposition, but these days they were sailing in the same boat.
There was no need for her to tremble and quail before him.
She, too, stood at the very pinnacle of magic engineering — not a person to be treated lightly.
"By the way, what is that?"
The Prince's eyes narrowed as he jerked his chin toward the massage chair.
"…."
Keisha's mind went blank at the question.
How was she supposed to answer that?
A massage chair?
And if he asked where on earth it came from, what then?
Her thoughts whirled into a frantic knot.
Yes, their political interests aligned and they were holding hands for the moment — but this was the man with whom she'd once clashed fiercely over the very survival of magic engineering. He was not someone she could afford to look weak in front of.
But before she could cobble together a single excuse, the Prince was already striding over to the chair and plopping himself down into it.
"Th-that's a device we're developing for the interrogation and confession of criminals…!"
"Mmmm."
Rmmmm rmmm rmmm—
That damned chair, apparently possessing no principles whatsoever, started up all on its own the moment someone else sat in it, kneading away without hesitation.
"…."
She'd assumed that calling it an interrogation device would pique his interest, but it seemed she was already too late.
"Mmm…."
Vrrrrr— tap tap tap—
The finely drawn brow of the Crown Prince — who normally scowled like an angry cat at all times — smoothed out with uncanny ease.
"Hm. So I suppose the prisoners these days are treated to such luxurious services."
The corner of the Prince's mouth curled upward. He had clearly realized the excuse was slapped together on the spot. It was, without a doubt, sarcasm.
"…."
"…."
Wiiin wiiin—
The Prince's face twitched. She could see him forcibly reining in the softening muscles of his face, struggling to keep his expression under control.
"Did I give you too generous a budget? To think you were secretly developing this."
"…It's nothing like that. It has absolutely nothing to do with the budget."
Her face mottled red and pale.
"Really? Well, whatever it is, it seems remarkably effective. I'd like to…"
"Absolutely not."
"I beg your pardon?"
"No means no. It's mine."
"I'm not trying to take yours, I was going to commission a new…"
"It's handmade. A one-off product that came about by pure chance — additional units are impossible to produce."
"…."
"And threatening to cut my budget won't work either."
"…."
The Crown Prince stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.
Is this woman insane? I always knew she wasn't entirely normal, but does she seriously expect me to believe that right now? It's not as though she's asking for anything outrageous — well, granted, this contraption is extraordinary, but still?
The Prince's eyes sharpened into a glare.
Yet there was not the slightest hint of retreat in her expression. It was like the old days, when they'd stood opposed over his demands to dismantle magic engineering altogether.
The Crown Prince opened his mouth, intending to lecture her at length over her stubborn refusal that wasn't quite a refusal—
Rmmm rmmm— wiiin wiiin— thrum— wiiin wiiin—
"Mmmm…."
—and suddenly couldn't be bothered. His body and mind, worn down by exhausting work and the palace's endless intrigues, were melting loose, knot by knot.
…Right. I didn't come here to bicker anyway.
Still… still, we're partners in this venture. Surely one chair between colleagues…
The Crown Prince's expression flip-flopped between extremes, comically fast.
"Uh… mm…."
Watching him, Keisha's own expression grew equally conflicted — and no less ridiculous.