[Resonance Interwoven: The Hunt (Main) / Propagation (Sub)]
On the other side of the mattress, Stelle and Rozaliya were escalating their midnight turf war with frantic, sleep-deprived intensity. With a sharp metallic clack, Rozaliya's mechanical tail-clip and the heavy whoosh of Stelle's baseball bat swung wildly out of control in the tangled sheets. One stray hit nearly sent Little Rekka straight to the afterlife.
Long Night Moon and Liliya shot them synchronized, absolute death stares from the edges of the bed.
Without missing a beat, Liliya's own tail-clip darted out like a striking viper, clamping down hard on her sister's tail just inches before it could smack into Rekka's face. Properly chastised by the silent threat of violence, Stelle and Rozaliya sheepishly stowed their respective 'tools of the trade' away and obediently pulled the blankets up to their chins, pretending nothing had happened.
So, had the chaotic commotion awakened Rekka?
Shhh. Some things were better left unsaid.
Why does life fall into slumber? A philosophical question, perhaps, but right now, it was just a highly convenient excuse to keep his eyes shut.
However, Long Night Moon quickly fluttered her eyes open again, her gaze piercing through the dim lighting of the Express cabin.
Why was there an impudent Memokeeper sneaking into the room without permission in the dead of night? Sneaking in was one thing, but to do so while he was resting...
Long Night Moon shifted her attention, studying the calm, relaxed lines of Rekka's face. She stared at his tightly closed eyelids for a long moment before a slow, highly meaningful smile curved her lips.
Ah. So that's how it is.
Black Swan was currently stuck in a wall.
As the universe well knew, Memokeepers were memetic lifeforms, entities of pure thought and memory that were practically impossible to deal with through conventional physical means. However, if one employed specialized tricks—like deliberate memetic contamination or psychic barriers—they could be targeted and trapped quite easily.
And to trap a Memokeeper of her caliber? One simply had to forge an indestructible fortress out of high-density thoughts. For a genius, this was hardly a difficult task; the sheer density and weight of a genius's mindscape were unimaginably vast.
"Good evening, um... dear Trailblazer. Could I perhaps suggest that this is actually just a tiny, insignificant misunderstanding?"
Pinned waist-deep inside a shimmering, translucent wall of pure psychic energy, Black Swan offered an incredibly awkward, stiff wave toward Rekka.
Oh, so we're doing the classic 'getting stuck in a wall by accident' trope now.
Rekka sat in his manifested thought-space, looking at the stunning, elegant woman trapped before him with a dry, half-amused smirk.
Let the record show: this woman was Black Swan. She was a master Memokeeper, a graceful entity skilled at infiltrating absolutely anywhere she pleased. Tonight, she had decided to secretly slip into the Astral Express to peek at whatever wonderful little memories she could harvest. Unfortunately for her, she had walked straight into a trap.
"Could you... perhaps let me go?"
Black Swan tried to kick her legs, her elegant heels swishing uselessly against the void. The wall forged from Rekka's concentrated thoughts didn't yield a single millimeter. It was completely indestructible.
Oh no, she realized, her violet eyes widening slightly. I've run into a massive problem.
"Um... shouldn't you be paying more attention to the lovely young ladies sleeping outside?" Black Swan's signature enigmatic smile fractured into a strained, stiff curve.
Rekka leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Why exactly do you think I caught you in the first place?"
"Um... because the situation out there is a bit too complicated for you to handle?"
"Exactly."
Black Swan fell utterly silent.
Out in the physical world, Rekka's body lay perfectly still on the bed with his eyes shut tight, while his consciousness kept Black Swan securely imprisoned in his thought space. Why on earth would he let her go? If he released the barrier and woke up, he would have to face the four chaotic little 'ancestors' currently fighting over blanket space.
I absolutely refuse to open my eyes. I'm just going to pray this is all a hallucination.
"So, you genuinely plan to keep me stuck in this wall?" Black Swan sighed, her shoulders slumping. "The young ladies outside... you really don't plan to deal with them?"
"I don't plan to." Rekka's answer was crisp, immediate, and utterly unapologetic.
"Then... exactly how long do you plan to stay in here?"
"Until dawn."
"And... can I leave at dawn?"
Rekka tilted his head, his smirk widening. "When did I ever say you could leave?"
The corner of Black Swan's mouth twitched violently.
Although she had somewhat expected this outcome, it still stung her pride. She gritted her teeth and tried to struggle one last time, twisting her waist and pulling her arms. The psychic walls remained completely unmoving. Not a single microscopic crack appeared in the barrier. Exhaling a long, defeated breath, she finally gave up the futile struggle, her gaze softening as she looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and pleading.
"Trapping a lady in your thoughts like this... it really isn't gentlemanly behavior, you know."
"I am not a gentleman," Rekka replied, his expression deadpan. "And you are not an ordinary lady. You are a Memokeeper who trespassed into someone else's private dreamscape without a shred of permission."
"Alright, alright... I admit it. My actions were indeed highly inappropriate."
"I don't care if you admit your mistake or not," Rekka shrugged dismissively. "If you want to leave, then you're going to spend time with me in here until the sun comes up."
"...Alright. Fine. I understand."
Satisfied, Rekka casually waved his hand. The psychic space warped, instantly generating a smooth stone platform for her to comfortably lean against, followed by a polished wooden table materializing between them.
"So, what board game do you want to play?"
When Long Night Moon eventually projected her own consciousness into the thought space to check on him, the scene she walked into was nothing short of comical.
"Fabricate."
"Flawless Defense."
"Attack."
"Dodge."
The two of them were intensely throwing down holographic cards on the table.
[Where exactly did this Memokeeper come from?] Long Night Moon asked through their mental link, looking at the half-trapped Black Swan before casually strolling over to Rekka's side.
"I have absolutely no idea." Rekka glanced up at Long Night Moon, a spark of inspiration hitting him. He snapped his fingers, manifesting a third chair. "Hey. Want to play Fight the Landlord?"
In reality, the daily shift of his Path did not affect the psychic wall trapping Black Swan whatsoever. To release the Memokeeper, all he needed was a single conscious thought to dismiss the barrier, even if he wasn't currently drawing on the Erudition.
Morning light filtered through the cabin. Rekka rubbed his temples, groaning softly as he sat up and pulled back the heavy covers. The left and right sides of his mattress were completely empty. The only evidence of the midnight turf war were the lingering, faint scents of perfume and the scattered strands of gray, pink, and blue hair left behind on the pillows.
Today's roll: The Hunt + Propagation.
Wait. Does this mean I can transform into Sam now?
Rekka's eyes lit up with sudden, overwhelming joy at the thought of piloting the badass mecha. He focused his energy, trying to summon the armor.
Nothing happened. He could not.
Sighing in disappointment, he turned his gaze toward the reinforced glass window. In the vast distance, the vibrant, swirling nebulae of the Asdana star system rotated slowly in the cosmic void. The terrifying spatial rifts that had been violently torn open during the recent divine war had mostly healed over. It was a clear sign that the Interstellar Peace Corporation was more than willing to pour endless funds into the reconstruction of this galactic money pit.
After all, the IPC had specifically dispatched Aventurine here for the sole purpose of auditing Penacony's chaotic accounts. Making money was always their absolute top priority.
"Boss. Boss."
A soft, monotone voice broke his train of thought. Little Blue Light stood by his bedside. She was dressed in a pristine, frilly black-and-white maid outfit, complete with a crisp white bow hairband tied neatly into her silver-gray hair. Her clear, highlight-less gray eyes stared unblinkingly at him as she held up a silver tray laden with a steaming breakfast.
"Boss. Eat breakfast."
Looking at her deadpan expression and the tray of food, Rekka inexplicably felt like he was living out that classic historical drama scene where the treacherous wife offers her bedridden husband a bowl of poisoned medicine.
Ironically, this exact action was a literal practice of the Propagation Path. The Path of Propagation wasn't just about endless swarms; its core actions fundamentally included nurturing and sustaining life. Feeding someone could absolutely be classified as a nurturing behavior.
Rekka eyed the frilly apron. "Who exactly gave you those clothes...?"
"Little Blue Light is a real person now. Real people need to wear clothes! Stelle gave Little Blue Light this outfit!" She nodded with absolute, deadpan seriousness, pushing the heavy silver tray an inch closer to his chest. "Boss. Eat breakfast. If you do not eat breakfast, you will die."
"I won't die from skipping one meal."
"You will be hungry. Being hungry is uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is bad." Little Blue Light furrowed her brow, her voice taking on a strangely intense, rhythmic cadence as she emphasized every single word. "Little Blue Light does not want Boss to be uncomfortable."
Rekka's heart softened slightly at her blunt logic. He looked down at the perfectly plated eggs and toast. "...Did you make this?"
"No. Himeko made it. Boss eats it."
Hearing that Himeko was the one who cooked it instantly made his stomach tie itself into a knot of pure anxiety. He picked up the fork with extreme caution, half-expecting the eggs to explode or taste like engine oil.
Surprisingly, Himeko didn't seem to have infused any of her uniquely 'trailblazing' culinary experiments into the meal today. It actually tasted incredibly good.
"Is it delicious?" Little Blue Light asked, tilting her head.
"Delicious," Rekka confirmed, swallowing the last bite.
Little Blue Light immediately raised both her hands in a silent, robotic cheer. Then, as if suddenly remembering a highly critical protocol, she hastily added, "Boss, after eating, Little Blue Light will collect the dirty dishes!"
Rekka handed the empty porcelain plate back to her. She happily accepted the tray, her silver hair swishing as she turned on her heel to walk out of the room. Just as she reached the doorway, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder to look at him one last time.
Rekka blinked. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt that Little Blue Light's lingering gaze seemed a bit... off.
Whatever it was... when she looked at him just now, it definitely didn't feel like she was just looking at her boss.
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