Chapter 11: Sigh, I Really Can't Do Anything With You
March 7th watched with wide eyes as Rekka stood up, casually straightening his collar with the focused air of a man heading out to negotiate a multi-million-dollar corporate merger.
"Wait, wait, wait!" She lunged forward, her hands clamping down on his sleeve in a panic. "Are you actually going? I was just joking! That ice cream machine is ridiculously expensive! I saw it in a shopping broadcast the other day—it costs hundreds of thousands of Credits!"
"I know," Rekka replied smoothly.
"You know, and you're still going?!"
"Because I have my ways." Rekka glanced back over his shoulder, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "I said I'd make it happen, so I'm making it happen."
A few minutes later, Rekka pushed open the heavy metal doors to the Astral Express's storage room.
The dimly lit chamber was packed to the brim with forgotten junk, obsolete mechanical parts, and scrap metal left behind by generations of previous Nameless who had traveled aboard the Express. To anyone else, it was a graveyard of trash. To Rekka, it was a goldmine of highly volatile, extremely useful raw materials.
March 7th trailed closely behind him, her confusion deepening into outright concern as she watched him dive into a pile of rusted gears, rummaging through the scrap like a highly motivated raccoon.
"You... you plan to use this junk to make me an ice cream machine?" she asked, kicking a dented metal plating out of her way.
"To be precise, I am using these discarded components to assemble a custom refrigeration unit for you," Rekka corrected, tossing a heavy copper coil over his shoulder. "As long as the thermodynamic principles remain consistent, the origin of the materials is irrelevant. In fact, the cooling efficiency of these military-grade antique components completely eclipses modern civilian market products."
"But... that stuff is totally filthy!" March protested, wrinkling her nose.
"A little soap and water will fix that right up."
Rekka held up a disassembled, heavy-duty condenser tube, squinting as he inspected its structural integrity against the flickering overhead light.
Half an hour later.
A terrifying, bizarre contraption now sat heavily on the storage room's workbench. Standing about half the height of a person, it looked less like a kitchen appliance and more like a jury-rigged explosive reactor. Thick, exposed wires snaked around its chassis, and heavy-duty coolant pipes jutted out at aggressive angles.
"Mission accomplished." Rekka clapped the grease and dust off his hands, admiring his masterpiece with a proud nod. "I'll just have Mr. Yang slap a nice casing on it later."
Fabricating a suitable exterior shell would be absolute child's play for someone with Welt's unique... talents.
"Come on, let's go find Mr. Yang."
Rekka gestured casually toward the mess of sparking coils and pressurized pipes that looked entirely capable of leveling a small city block.
March 7th swallowed hard, taking a cautious step back. "Is... is this thing actually going to work? And not, you know, blow us up?"
Despite her reservations, the two of them managed to haul the heavy, menacing mechanical monstrosity out of the storage room and into the Parlor Car.
Welt Yang was sitting comfortably on the plush sofa, a steaming cup of tea in hand, quietly enjoying the serene view of the starry cosmos drifting past the Express's windows. The peaceful atmosphere shattered the moment he heard the heavy thud of machinery hitting the floorboards.
Welt slowly lowered his teacup. His eyes locked onto the metallic beast resting on the carpet.
"Rekka..." Welt began, his voice carefully measured. "Is that a liquid nitrogen launcher?"
"...Actually, no. It's an ice cream machine I built for Senior March."
"Why would an ice cream machine require the structural integrity of a liquid nitrogen cannon?" Welt asked, entirely deadpan. From his highly experienced, veteran perspective, if this jury-rigged contraption suffered a catastrophic failure, the resulting blast yield would be roughly equivalent to a high-explosive bomb capable of snapping the Astral Express clean in half.
Well, Welt thought, adjusting his glasses. If the core destabilizes during operation, I'll just have to suppress the blast radius immediately.
Fortunately, Mr. Yang's efficiency far exceeded Rekka's initial estimates. In less than ten minutes, Welt had completely neutralized the machine's terrifying aesthetic. The reactor-like core was now safely enclosed within a sleek, elegant white casing, complete with a thoughtfully designed transparent observation window on top.
"Wow! Now it actually looks like something you'd buy from a high-end department store!"
March 7th couldn't contain her excitement a second longer. She practically glued herself to the machine, leaning in to inspect it from every conceivable angle. "Can we really use it? Can it actually make thirty different flavors?!"
"Theoretically, yes." Rekka patted the smooth top of the casing. "Want to do the honors?"
Fresh milk, heavy cream, sugar, and an assortment of rich fruit jams were quickly gathered. Following a digital recipe, they poured the mixed ingredients directly into the machine's top feeder.
Rekka hit the power switch.
The machine hummed to life with a low, satisfying purr. Through the transparent observation window, the heavy-duty internal mixing paddles began a slow, rhythmic rotation. Within seconds, a thick layer of white frost bloomed across the surface of the internal condenser tubes, and wisps of freezing vapor drifted out from the ventilation gaps.
Exactly two minutes later, the machine let out a cheerful, crisp Ding!
Rekka pulled the dispenser lever, catching the swirling, perfectly textured soft-serve in a waiting paper cup. A rich, sweet scent of authentic vanilla immediately filled the air.
"Let me taste! Let me taste!"
March 7th's eyes practically turned into sparkling stars. She snatched the cup from his hands and took a massive bite.
"—! So good!" She gasped, her cheeks puffing out happily. "The milk flavor is incredibly rich! And the texture is so smooth!"
She demolished the entire cup in three bites, licking her lips before turning her predatory gaze back toward the machine.
"Can we make more?"
"Of course. It's your machine."
"Then I want strawberry! And chocolate! Oh, and mint! And... and..."
Rekka raised an eyebrow. "Are you absolutely sure your stomach can handle all that?"
"This lady's stomach contains a pocket dimension!" March 7th declared righteously, placing hands on her hips. "Besides, everyone knows desserts go into a completely separate stomach. Didn't you know that?"
Half an hour later.
March 7th lay completely paralyzed on the Parlor Car sofa, groaning softly. She had successfully annihilated ten full cups of ice cream.
"I... I think I really can't take another bite..." she wheezed, clutching her slightly rounded stomach. "Could you... help me move this to my room?"
"Does this count as your second wish?" Rekka asked innocently.
"No!"
"Alright, alright."
Working together, Rekka and March hauled the heavy ice cream machine down the corridor and into her bedroom—though, given her Trailblazer physique, March ended up doing the vast majority of the heavy lifting despite her food coma.
She collapsed face-first onto her bed, rolling over to gaze at the brand-new appliance sitting proudly in the corner of her room. A deeply satisfied smile spread across her face.
"This lady is officially an ice cream machine owner! I can eat it whenever I want!"
"Just remember to pace yourself," Rekka advised, leaning against the doorframe. "You're going to give yourself a massive stomachache if you binge like that every day... Anyway, what about your remaining two wishes? Have you figured out what you want?"
"Not yet." March shook her head, her pink hair bouncing against the pillows. "An opportunity like this needs to be saved and thought over carefully! What if I run into a situation where I need something super rare or impossible to find? It'll totally save my life then!"
"A wise tactical decision," Rekka nodded approvingly. "Retaining an unexercised option holds far greater intrinsic value than immediate liquidation, especially when handling high-variance environments. There's no need to rush the redemption process. As my Path randomly switches in the future, my utility variables will expand exponentially. The potential return on investment you could yield later might completely shatter your current expectations."
March 7th blinked. She stared at him for a long, silent moment, her big eyes totally blank.
"I didn't understand a single word of that," she finally admitted. "But... I feel like you just called me smart?"
"You are entirely welcome to interpret it that way."
Rekka glanced around her room. It was a cozy, vibrant space bursting with youthful energy. The walls were plastered with dozens of photographs she had taken across countless different worlds, each one carefully preserved in mismatched, colorful frames. A large, incredibly soft Pom-Pom plushie sat faithfully at the head of her bed.
"Hey, Rekka."
"Hmm?"
"Tell me... what do you think I should ask for with my last two wishes?"
March sat up, crossing her legs on the mattress. She pulled the Pom-Pom plushie into her lap, resting her chin on its oversized ears as she looked up at him with bright, curious eyes.
"As long as it isn't something completely absurd—like asking me to pluck a literal star out of the sky or casually erase a galaxy—I'll do everything in my power to make it happen," Rekka said, offering a light shrug. "Though, a word of advice: try to make your wish on a day when I'm walking the Path of Erudition, or something equally productive. If you catch me on a day I've shifted to the Path of Nihility, I might just stare at a wall and tell you that your desires are fundamentally meaningless."
Gurgle.
A loud, ominous sound suddenly echoed from March 7th's midsection.
Her relaxed expression vanished instantly. All the color drained from her face at a terrifying speed, leaving her deathly pale, before a bright, embarrassed red flushed violently across her cheeks.
The ten cups of dairy and sugar had finally launched their counterattack.
Rekka sighed. Deliberately pitching his voice into the nasally, exasperated tone of a certain famous blue robotic cat from Earth's ancient television archives, he shook his head.
"Sigh... I really can't do anything with you."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sealed medical packet.
"Here. A rapid-acting gastrointestinal relief patch. Just stick it directly over the area that hurts."
March clutched her stomach, looking at the packet in utter bewilderment. "How... why do you just have something like this on you?!"
"Because after watching you inhale your fourth cup of ice cream, I quietly slipped away and asked Pom-Pom for one," Rekka replied dryly, tossing the patch onto her bed. "I knew perfectly well that telling you to stop eating wasn't going to work."
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