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Inside Clara's room in the Mechanical Settlement, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the frozen wasteland outside.
Warm orange light from the fireplace danced across the walls, casting a soft glow over the girl's focused profile. Clara sat at her desk, flanked by an open manuscript of complex mechanical designs on her left and the high-grade Overworld parts Kenta had brought her on her right. She was scribbling intently in a notebook—equations and schematics that looked like gibberish to Kenta.
Not wanting to disturb her flow, Kenta sat quietly on the edge of her bed, watching her work. There was something peaceful about it, a rare moment of domesticity in a world governed by survival.
"Mmm~"
After ten minutes of frantic sketching, Clara finally straightened her back and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Habitually, she leaned back to sink into the softness of her bed, but instead of a pillow, her head landed against a firm, warm chest.
Clara froze. She slowly tilted her head back, her red eyes widening as they met Kenta's downward gaze.
"Ah! I-I'm so sorry, Big Brother Kenta!" she stammered, scrambling forward. "I was just so excited to have the missing parts... I completely forgot you were sitting there! Please don't be angry!"
Kenta looked at her panicked, adorable expression and thought: This is what eyes were made for. He waved a hand dismissively, his voice dripping with gentle reassurance. "It's alright, Clara. Watching you work so diligently is a rare kind of happiness. I could watch it all day."
The girl's face flushed a deep pink. She looked away, her small hands tugging at the hem of her red coat as she tried to hide her face behind her hair. "Ugh... Big Brother Kenta is saying those embarrassing things again..."
Her cheeks grew even hotter, turning the color of a ripe apple. Her eyelashes fluttered like startled butterflies, and her bare feet shuffled restlessly against the floor. She looked utterly pitiful yet incredibly precious, like a blossoming flower trying to hide from the sun.
Kenta's heart did a complicated gymnastic routine. AW-S-L, he thought, referring to the "dying from cuteness" slang of his past life.
To prevent himself from being hauled off by the Silvermane Guards for "suspicious behavior," Kenta quickly activated his mental firewall. Step 1: I am not a lolicon.Step 2: My feelings are strictly fraternal.Step 3: Clara is the light of the world.Step 4: If I keep thinking like this, I'm going to end up in a labor camp.
While Kenta was busy wrestling with his internal monologue, Clara finally regained some of her composure. She turned back to find Kenta muttering nonsensical phrases about "transmigrator business" and "three years is a small price to pay."
"Honestly," Clara whispered, shaking her head. "Big Brother Kenta talks such nonsense sometimes."
But just as a tender, quiet warmth began to fill the room, the door crashed open.
"Clara, Mr. Svarog requires—"
A small patrol robot whirred into the room, its optical sensors snapping to the scene on the bed. If Kenta had a thermal scanner, he would have seen the robot's CPU temperature spike into the red zone as it processed the data.
The silence was deafening. Clara pulled her knees to her chest, looking like an ostrich trying to bury its head in the sand. She looked exactly like a teenager caught "exercising" with a boyfriend by a sudden parental intrusion.
"Um... hello?" Kenta offered lamely.
The robot didn't return the greeting. Instead, its eyes began to flash a violent, strobing red. A harsh siren wailed through the room.
"BEEP! HIGHLY DANGEROUS TARGET DETECTED WITHIN FIVE-METER RADIUS OF CLARA! IDENTITY CONFIRMED: INDIVIDUAL KENTA! ALARM SENT! NOTIFYING LORD SVAROG!"
"Six hundred sixty-six," Kenta cursed, using the slang for 'impressive.' "You really called for back-up immediately. This isn't just a snub; this is an execution order."
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps began to shake the floorboards outside.
"Big Brother Kenta!" Clara cried out, her eyes full of worry.
Kenta reached out, ruffling her white hair one last time. "It seems our time is up. I'll make myself scarce. If Svarog gives you a hard time, let me know. I'll give his servos a 'tune-up' next time he's powered down."
Clara nodded, then shook her head frantically. "No, Mr. Svarog is family!"
Kenta offered a noncommittal grin and vaulted out the window with the grace of a cat.
He had barely hit the ground when a tall, imposing figure in a heavy fur coat appeared in the window frame. Svarog's singular, mechanical eye locked onto Kenta's retreating form. Without a word of warning, the robot raised his hand and unleashed a palm cannon.
"STAY AWAY FROM CLARA!"
Kenta executed a nimble roll, the energy beam scorching the earth exactly where he had been standing. Wow. I think I actually pissed him off this time, he thought.
"Mr. Svarog! No!" Clara's plea echoed from above, but it only seemed to make the robot's aim more aggressive. A volley of energy beams chased Kenta across the courtyard.
Kenta drew his black sheath, the broken blade still safely tucked inside. Using the hilt and the reinforced scabbard, he parried the glancing blows as he sprinted for the iron gate.
"Svarog! I'm going to reprogram your dreams to be about scrap metal!" Kenta yelled, his voice trailing off into the wind as he cleared the gates.
Svarog remained at the window, his mechanical frame casting a long shadow over the room. He turned to look at Clara, who was curled up on the bed like a child who had done something wrong. For a brief second, a flicker of something almost human—a flash of protective complexity—passed across the robot's singular, unblinking eye.
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