The remaining leg of the journey passed without incident. Under Talulah's ironclad surveillance—which extended right down to muting Jeanne even if she started mumbling in her sleep—Jeanne found herself entirely devoid of any opportunity to voice a single speculative thought.
And so, Rhodes Island chugged along peacefully toward Chernobog. Everyone on board was thoroughly satisfied with the quiet peace—save for one thoroughly disgruntled individual.
"You wait, Talulah! I'm keeping a tally of this grudge! Once we get back home, I'm going to figure out how to settle the score with you..."
Jeanne muttered darkly, sitting in her room surrounded by an ominous stack of texts filled with the devil's own language. The great Saintess was currently engaged in a desperate, solitary war against evil to purify these accused objects before they could poison human sanity.
Well, the dramatic truth was far less heroic: Talulah had simply cornered Kal'tsit, procured a thick workbook of advanced collegiate mathematics, dumped the stack in front of Jeanne, and effectively locked her in the room.
There was no literal threat forcing Jeanne to finish it; Talulah had simply tossed off a breezy, casual "No worries if you can't manage it," before turning on her heel and walking away.
So if! What kind of phrase was "can't manage it"? Was there anything Jeanne couldn't do? Convinced she possessed zero weaknesses, Jeanne took the bait, falling squarely for Talulah's transparent reverse psychology.
Yet, within ten minutes, Jeanne had to concede a bitter truth: mathematics was her true nemesis. Some things simply defied comprehension. If your brain wasn't wired for it, no amount of stubborn grit would bridge the gap.
Even her prophetic insights refused to help her here. At best, her instincts would cough up a final numerical answer while completely omitting every single intermediate step, leaving her staring blankly at the page in utter frustration.
Still, if I just give up now... Jeanne pictured Talulah's smug, triumphant grin and felt a surge of pure indignation. I don't care how long it takes, I, Jeanne, am going to beat this mathematical demon!
Sitting upright with fierce determination, Jeanne scowled at the blank page.
Fafnir sat quietly nearby, watching the spectacle with a mixture of amusement and profound pity. Even a child like her could see right through Talulah's simple trap. Why was someone so brilliantly sharp elsewhere struck completely brain-dead the moment she encountered numbers?
The little dragon shook her head, watching Jeanne clutch her hair in agony. Truthfully, watching Jeanne struggle like this was so entertaining that Fafnir decided to skip lunch just to stay and watch the show.
"I knew your math skills were rusty, but this is a genuine tragedy," Talulah said, stepping back into the room and taking in the scene. She glanced at Jeanne's face, then down at the workbook, where page one remained as pristine and untouched as the day it was printed. "You haven't even written a single number!"
"It's still on page one," Talulah continued, picking up the workbook and flipping through the terrifyingly empty pages. "Honestly, if you handed this to Amiya, even our little Cautus would have scribbled something down by now. This looks like it just came off the factory press!"
She shook the book in front of Jeanne's face with a mischievous smile, letting her teasing expression do her work. Jeanne felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up her neck; she had to admit, she looked thoroughly pathetic right now.
It had been days since she received the stack, and her only major scientific discovery was confirming that her mathematical talent wasn't just zero—it was sitting comfortably in the negatives. She simply lacked the hardware to process the nonsense.
With a long, dramatic hiss, Jeanne deflated like a punctured balloon, sliding face-first onto the desktop. All her previous fighting spirit evaporated into thin air. From an objective standpoint, his efforts had been a complete and total failure.
She surrendered entirely, sprawled across the desk like a salted fish devoid of all earthly dreams.
"I mean, I knew you struggled with numbers, but being this hopeless is practically unheard of on this entire planet," Talulah chuckled, resting a hand on the slumped woman's head. Jeanne didn't even have the energy to swat her away; she was thoroughly burned out. "Alright, alright, don't look like the world is ending. So you're bad at math, big deal. Everyone has blind spots, don't they?"
Talulah offered a few words of comfort, suddenly worried that she might have pushed the joke a fraction too far. Why was the great warrior looking like she was mourning her ancestors?
"Seriously, are you actually upset about this?" When Jeanne continued to play dead without a peep, Talulah's playful confidence faltered. "Okay, fine! I take it back! I'm sorry, alright? Say something!"
She leaned in close to check if anything was wrong, parting the silver hair to inspect the motionless form.
Hoo... shoo...
A soft, steady rhythm met her ears. Jeanne wasn't mourning at all—she had fallen fast asleep mid-exhaustion, having overloaded her brain cells to the point of an emergency shutdown.
Talulah stared down at the sleeping woman with a helpless sigh, realizing she had spent a solid ten minutes pouring her heart out to a brick wall.
Thank goodness Fafnir is the only witness, Talulah thought, glancing around the quiet room. If anyone else saw me fussing over this idiot, my dignity would never recover.
Nearby, Fafnir was busy munching on a snack she had produced from thin air, her tiny jaws going crunch, crunch as she watched the domestic drama unfold with wide, unblinking eyes.
No one outside this room ever guessed how much hidden depth lay behind the child's blank exterior, but under her silent gaze, every single detail was cataloged.
Without warning, Talulah reached down and scooped the sleeping woman up into her arms, cradling her with surprising gentleness. Fafnir's chewing sped up instantly, his eyes widening like twin camera lenses capturing the footage.
As Talulah adjusted her grip, a stray thought crossed her mind. Is this woman getting heavier? I swear she weighs more than she did last month.
Although the extra weight meant nothing to a seasoned fighter like Talulah, the subtle shift caught her attention. Where was she even storing the extra mass? She certainly wasn't getting taller, and her frame looked identical to how it always had.
Despite being fully confident in her own physique, a flicker of petty, bitter envy always sparked in her chest whenever she looked at Jeanne's physics-defying proportions.
Carefully laying Jeanne down on the cot, Talulah stared at the offending assets for a lingering second, her fingers twitching with a sudden, mischievous impulse to see if she could pinch them just to test their density.
"Miss Talulah, I brought those files you left... outside!"
Amiya stepped into the room to return a batch of documents, her voice trailing off as she caught sight of the scene.
What greeted the young Cautus was the sight of Talulah hovering dangerously close over Jeanne's chest with outstretched hands. Amiya's face flushed a violent, nuclear shade of red before she whipped around and sprinted out of the room at light-speed.
Hearing the sudden scuffle at the door, Talulah froze, her entire body locking up like stone. By the time her brain caught up and she turned to investigate, the corridor was entirely empty.
Amiya clutched her burning cheeks in a panic. I knew it! The rumors were true! She shook her head violently, trying to scrub the vivid image out of her brain. Why did I have to walk in on that?!
Blame for this unfortunate education lay entirely on Roma's shoulders, whose messy habit of leaving inappropriate literature lying around the ship had finally corrupted the innocent rabbit leader.
My reputation is officially ruined, Talulah thought, staring blankly at the doorway. If she chased after Amiya now to explain that it was all an innocent misunderstanding, would the child even believe her?
Returning her gaze to the sleeping idiot, Talulah reached out and delivered a sharp, echoing flick to Jeanne's forehead, before finally collapsing onto the mattress beside her to catch some sleep of her own.