"Alright, alright—stop covering your eyes."
黄金船 finally stopped walking and gave the stiff, tightly coiled 永恒流星 in her arms a couple of shakes, signaling they'd arrived.
"Just kill me already… what kind of torture is this?"
Meteor refused to accept reality. Compared to being carried by 鲁道夫象征, this was somehow worse: every horse girl who saw her being carried by Gold Ship wore the same expression—first disbelief, then sympathy.
It was unbearable. Truly unbearable.
And then—Gold Ship casually dropped her onto something soft.
Meteor sank like she'd landed in a giant marshmallow, her whole body nearly disappearing into the cushion.
Gold Ship grabbed Meteor's arms, the ones shielding her face, and lifted them up as if they weighed nothing.
"Look."
Meteor slowly opened her eyes.
In front of her was Gold Ship's face—proud, smug, and bright with the kind of "Behold my masterpiece" energy only she could radiate. Gold Ship pointed with one finger at what was beneath Meteor.
"W—Whoa…!"
Meteor's gaze locked onto the wheelchair and refused to let go. Her small hands immediately began tracing every edge, every curve, every seam—like she was afraid it might vanish if she blinked.
The wheelchair was pure white, clean enough to look holy. The armrests were wide and imposing, almost throne-like. On both the left and right sides stood vertical control sticks—one on each armrest.
The hubs—front and back—were partially hidden inside the body, with the wheels widened outward to increase stability. The wheel covers wore a ring of white protective plating, and on top of that: embossed star shapes.
But the stars weren't the usual cheerful yellow.
They gleamed like ruby-red gemstones.
Red etched lines ran across the body as well—complex, numerous, but never messy. Every intersection of those lines formed sharp angles, lending the whole machine a dangerously sleek edge. It wasn't just "pretty."
It looked fast.
"Beautiful, right?" Gold Ship yawned, and faint dark circles were visible under her eyes. "I poured more blood, sweat, and nonsense into this thing than anything I've ever built."
She wasn't lying. This was her biggest project yet—she'd stuffed it with everything she could, and even cannibalized leftover parts from her "Little Gold Ship" build to make sure nothing went to waste.
Gold Ship walked to the side and patted the armrest with the affection of someone petting a prized racehorse.
"I installed three motors," she said. "One for the front wheel system, one for each rear wheel. Same model as the ones in my Little Gold Ship ride."
Meteor's ears twitched.
"And the speed?" Gold Ship grinned. "Not sixty kilometers per hour like you asked."
Meteor's heart skipped.
"It's eighty."
Meteor's breath caught.
"And if you disable the power consumption limiter…" Gold Ship leaned in, voice dropping like she was sharing contraband. "Top speed hits ninety kilometers per hour."
Meteor's eyes were wide enough to swallow the sun.
"For comfort," Gold Ship continued, "the front wheel suspension had to stay basic because of space constraints. But the rear wheels?"
She tapped the back with reverence.
"Air suspension."
Meteor's hands stopped moving.
Then Gold Ship's expression shifted into "and now for the really fun part."
"Oh—and your crutches."
She pressed a button on the center of the left control stick.
With a crisp mechanical sound, the armrest split at the center and opened outward—revealing two compact shapes inside, like crutches folded in half.
"All you do is unfold them and flick downward—like this."
Gold Ship demonstrated. Each segment extended from the one above it until the crutch reached full height.
Clack.
"Tada. One crutch."
Then she pressed another button. The locks released, each segment telescoped back in, and the entire crutch collapsed neatly into a compact bundle that fit back into the armrest cavity.
Meteor opened her mouth.
"I—"
"Hold that thought," Gold Ship cut her off instantly. "I'm not done."
Then she pointed at the right control stick.
"Press the button on the right stick."
Meteor reached out. Her hand wrapped around the control stick perfectly—no strain, no awkward grip. It fit like it had been built for her specifically.
She wiggled her fingers unconsciously, clearly enjoying the feel.
Gold Ship chuckled. "You can fondle it later. Press it."
Meteor pressed the button.
A low hiss sounded—like compressed air being released.
From beneath the wheel guards that covered half the wheels, tracks extended outward. The wheelchair body lifted slightly as the system deployed.
Meteor's jaw slackened.
Gold Ship proudly declared, "Now you can climb stairs without getting out of the chair. Convenient, right?"
The excitement on Meteor's face slowly drained.
Her expression turned pale.
Gold Ship blinked, suddenly uncertain. "What? What's wrong? Don't tell me you hate it—"
Meteor swallowed.
"I… I only have one question."
Gold Ship leaned forward, tense. "What?"
Meteor's voice came out smaller than she intended.
"How much is this?"
Gold Ship's face froze for half a beat.
Meteor stared at the wheelchair again—its materials, the engineering, the sheer insanity of it all—then looked back at Gold Ship.
Even if she didn't care about money… this was the kind of thing that made numbers feel dangerous.
She hated owing people. Hated it.
Gold Ship relaxed instantly.
Oh, it was that.
Then, seeing Meteor's anxious, small-animal posture—neck tucked, shoulders drawn in—Gold Ship felt the wicked urge to tease her.
She cleared her throat, straightened her back, and raised a hand with solemn dignity.
Then she held up nine fingers.
Meteor's eyes widened. "N-nine… ten thousand?"
Gold Ship shook her head slowly, maintaining eye contact.
Meteor's throat bobbed. "Ninety thousand…?"
Gold Ship shook her head again.
Meteor's fingers curled so hard her nails pressed into her palm. "N-nine hundred thousand…?"
Gold Ship—still shaking her head—flicked those nine fingers twice in front of Meteor's face for emphasis.
Meteor's brain visibly short-circuited.
"N… n… nine hundred… million…?!"
Her tongue stumbled over the words. Her teeth were shaking. In her head, she was already desperately trying to remember the race schedule—trying to calculate what races she could enter soon to rebuild her finances.
Gold Ship finally snapped.
"PFFT—HAHAHAHA!"
She doubled over laughing.
Meteor stared at her, horrified.
Between laughs, Gold Ship waved her hand. "Relax! I'm not charging you."
She wiped at the corner of her eye, still grinning.
"Call it… an early Christmas present."
"…Huh?" Meteor blinked. "Christmas?"
Gold Ship shrugged like it was obvious.
"One day early. Close enough."
Meteor looked down at the throne-white, ruby-lined, ninety-kilometers-per-hour monster of a wheelchair.
And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter116)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter144)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 118
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 111
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 80
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 112
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 80
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 74
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 48
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 50
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 47
Uma Musume: From Beginner 42
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