Chapter 192: So You Are Also...
After receiving the notebook Rekka had entrusted to him, Sunday made his way toward the Data Bank to finalize a few preparations. The soft hum of the archives greeted him as the doors slid open, but he certainly hadn't expected to find Dan Heng standing inside, quietly sorting through a pile of laundry.
Normally, a crewmate folding clothes wouldn't warrant a second glance. But as fate would have it, Dan Heng was currently holding that specific garment.
It was the Robin Ita-shirt. The obnoxiously bright, signed limited-edition merchandise that Rekka had shoved into his hands a few days prior.
Sunday froze.
Dan Heng froze.
"So you are also..." Sunday began, his voice dropping an octave.
"No, no, no, I'm not." Dan Heng practically shoved the fabric behind his back, his usually stoic composure fracturing as he hurriedly waved his free hand. "This shirt is—"
"It's fine. There's no one else here." Sunday took a slow step forward. "I won't tell a soul."
The look in Sunday's eyes underwent a terrifying metamorphosis. The aloof, elegant demeanor melted away, replaced by a burning, intense camaraderie.
'So you are also a fan of my sister.''What a coincidence. I am also a fan of my sister.'
"No, it's not what you think! You've completely misunderstood!" Dan Heng's facial muscles locked into an incredibly stiff grimace.
"I know. It's official merchandise," Sunday continued, completely ignoring the denial. "Limited edition, personally signed, boasting an exceptionally high collectible value. If I recall correctly, this specific design is the anniversary commemorative model from Robin's debut... I still have the ticket stub from that very concert." He coughed lightly into his fist. "Er, I mean, I kept it in my capacity as her elder brother."
The corners of Sunday's mouth twitched, curling upward in a desperate effort to maintain his dignified facade.
Dan Heng stared at him.
'I didn't expect you to be this kind of Sunday...'
An unbidden image surfaced in the Express guard's mind: Sunday sitting in the front row of every single Robin concert, decked out in sunglasses, a surgical mask, and glowing fan apparel, pretending to be an ordinary civilian while screaming his lungs out.
Dan Heng opened his mouth to clarify the situation again, but the sheer weight of Sunday's expectant gaze stopped him.
Forget it. Let the misunderstanding stand. Even if he admitted the truth, it just meant he had one more ridiculous shirt taking up space in his wardrobe. If he insisted on explaining Rekka's involvement, it would only drag everyone into an inescapable vortex of embarrassment.
"Yes, that's right. I quite like her songs." Dan Heng nodded, his voice laced with deep helplessness. "I hope you can keep this a secret."
He would just have to pretend he was an avid listener.
Sunday's eyes practically sparkled. 'You have taste.'
"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
"...Um, thanks."
The misunderstanding had officially reached catastrophic proportions.
Dan Heng watched Sunday leave the Data Bank with a completely blank expression. Once the doors hissed shut, he looked down at the neatly folded, aggressively pink Ita-shirt in his hands and sank into deep existential contemplation.
Why exactly did I keep this shirt?
An image of a certain chaotic culprit looking at him with wide, innocent eyes flashed through his mind. Dan Heng's knuckles popped as his fists tightened around the fabric.
"Good morning, everyone."
Rekka strolled into the Parlor Car, sporting an appearance that would instantly trigger a violent, weapon-drawing stress response in any native of the Xianzhou Alliance.
"What is this?" Stelle blinked, lowering her coffee cup.
"I'm cosplaying Yaoshi."
Aha-kimi stole his power—Aha was bad. Big Sis Yaoshi helped him pull out the Voracity fragments—Yaoshi was good.
In the dead of night, who could have predicted that a certain ancient senior of the Astral Express would sneak aboard the train, quietly shove a massive fragment of the Aeon of Voracity into his junior's body, and simultaneously drain every ounce of power from his system?
It was easily the most wicked incident in the history of the Astral Express.
However, the moment Aha messed with him, Yaoshi had intervened to help. Could this mean...?
Whatever the cosmic politics at play, Rekka had made his decision. Today, he would spend all his waking hours praising Yaoshi and ruthlessly slandering Aha. Tomorrow's Path change was tomorrow's problem; today, he was a devout follower of the Abundance.
His current form, however, was an incredibly accurate manifestation of the Plagues Author.
"Looking closely, you're actually... quite pretty right now." Stelle rubbed her chin, leaning over the sofa to size him up.
She hadn't gotten a good look at him in the dim morning light, but under the bright lamps of the Parlor Car, the details were striking.
Rekka sat down, crossing one leg over the other. The hand resting at his side unconsciously shifted, his fingers curling into an elegant, divine hand seal. Yaoshi hadn't just gifted him the ethereal veil draped over his head; his body was adorned with complex armlets, heavy jeweled necklaces, wooden prayer beads, and blooming lotuses that seemed to sprout from the air itself.
"He really is quite pretty," March 7th agreed, trotting over to scrutinize him from a few inches away.
"But I'm a guy," Rekka sighed, his voice flat.
"What's wrong with being a guy?" Stelle tilted her head, her tone dripping with righteous indignation. "Can't a guy be pretty? Can a man not possess this level of stunning beauty?"
"...Fine, you're right." Rekka exhaled a long breath, immediately giving up on arguing with the galactic baseballer.
He rolled his shoulders. Beneath his original two arms, several extra limbs extended from his shoulder blades and ribs, swaying uncontrollably in the air. These newly grown appendages moved like the wooden arms of a poorly strung marionette, their joints stiff and entirely lacking coordination.
"If you set foot on the Xianzhou looking like that, I'm afraid..." Himeko murmured, taking a sip of her black tea as she eyed Rekka's multi-armed silhouette.
"I'm afraid they'd immediately call for the Cloud Knights and order an orbital strike," Rekka finished for her. "I'd better stay locked inside the Express for now and wait for the Path to switch tomorrow before I even think about going outside."
March 7th leaned in closer, extending two fingers to cautiously pinch the edge of the translucent veil hanging beside Rekka's ear. The texture was bizarre—extremely soft, yet carrying a faint, chilling coolness. It didn't feel like woven textile at all, but rather a physical manifestation condensed from pure, divine energy.
"It's a pity the color is a bit plain," March muttered, rubbing the fabric between her fingertips.
"Whoa... March, does this count as lifting the bridal veil?"
Stelle's brain completely short-circuited, allowing the startling comment to slip past her lips without a filter.
March 7th blinked. "?"
"Does... does it?"
"It totally does." Stelle rubbed her hands together, a mischievous glint igniting in her golden eyes. "Let me have a lift too."
Before March 7th could even process the absurdity of the request, Stelle lunged forward, grabbed the other side of the ethereal fabric, and dramatically flipped it over Rekka's head.
"So, what exactly is 'lifting the bridal veil'?" March asked, tilting her head.
"I don't know. I just heard that the Xianzhou has this custom. I think it's something kids do when they play house," Stelle answered confidently, nodding to herself.
"Lifting the bridal veil is a traditional ceremony strictly reserved for weddings." Rekka stared at the two idiots with a completely deadpan expression. "Which one of you is planning to marry me?"
A heavy silence descended upon the Parlor Car.
"Okay! Then we have to include the bride kidnapping part!"
Stelle was the first to break the silence. With zero hesitation, she ducked low, hoisted Rekka over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and bolted for the hallway.
"Whoever grabs him, keeps him!"
"Are you a caveman?!" March 7th stomped her boot against the floorboards and immediately sprinted after them.
"Put me down," Rekka demanded, his voice completely devoid of inflection as he bounced against Stelle's shoulder. His extra wooden arms flailed uselessly in the air.
"I won't! I snatched you, so you're mine!"
"Why are you kidnapping me?"
"For the marriage snatching!" Stelle yelled back enthusiastically, her boots pounding against the carpet.
"Put Rekka down! He's mine!" March shrieked from behind.
"Whoever grabs him, keeps him!" Stelle threw a taunting face over her shoulder without breaking stride. "First come, first served! March, you're too slow!"
Just as Stelle was about to burst through the doors into the passenger cabins, March 7th dug her heels in, activating a sudden burst of speed. She launched herself through the air, tackling Stelle directly around the waist from the side.
"Stop right there!"
Stelle stumbled hard from the kinetic impact, nearly crashing to the floor along with her 'loot'. She quickly widened her stance to steady herself, glaring down at March 7th, who was currently clinging to her waist like an angry, pink-haired koala.
"You're playing dirty! Why are you grabbing the player instead of the prize?!"
"I don't care! Put Rekka down first!" March locked her arms tighter around Stelle's midsection, digging her heels into the floor.
"I won't! He belongs to me now!" Stelle refused to yield an inch, violently twisting her torso to shake the archer off.
And so, a chaotic scuffle devolved into a literal, high-stakes tug-of-war. Stelle maintained her iron grip on Rekka's upper body, while March 7th desperately grabbed hold of one of Rekka's flailing legs. The two girls dug their boots in and began to pull with all their superhuman might.
"Let go!"
"You let go first!"
Suspended horizontally between the two Trailblazers, being yanked back and forth like a frayed piece of rope, Rekka stared blankly at the ceiling. He could practically feel his spine preparing to snap.
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