As a seasoned expert who had spent years navigating the lawless underbelly of Twilight Street, Pardofelis had honed an instinctive ability to discern whether soone harbored ill intentions toward her.
That was why she found the current situation so perplexing.
The woman standing before her had clearly caught her red-handed in the act of theft—yet despite possessing skills far beyond ordinary, she radiated not a shred of malice. If anything, there was an inexplicable kindness in her deanor, almost as if...
She knows .
But that was the crux of the problem.
"I don't know her!" Pardofelis thought, her mind racing. "Who is she, really?"
The Pardofelis of this era was not yet the future fusion warrior infamous as the "scaredy-cat." Her thoughts were far from the high-level strategizing of a MANTIS—instead, they swirled in frantic, survival-driven circles.
After a long, awkward silence...
"Uh, boss..." Pardo raised her free hand (the other still caught in Raiden i's grip) and gestured between them. "Have we... t before?"
Raiden i froze.
The truth was, the bizarre circumstances that had thrust her into this era—more than fifty thousand years before her own ti—had left her disoriented. The sheer impossibility of her situation made it difficult to fully adapt, and she often found herself lost in thought, struggling to reconcile past and present.
Fortunately...
"Boss, do you have so... unspeakable difficulties?"
Pardofelis, ever perceptive—or perhaps simply well-practiced in avoiding sensitive topics—quickly picked up on Raiden i's hesitation. To her, this was just another survival tactic: steer clear of dangerous conversations.
Of course, her natural curiosity ached to dig deeper. But Pardo had long since learned that curiosity, for soone like her, was a luxury she couldn't afford.
So instead, she pivoted smoothly.
"Boss, do you know Sister Aponia?"
Then, with a sheepish wiggle of her trapped wrist:
"And... isn't it a little awkward for us to be standing here like this?"
Raiden i blinked, then released her grip.
"Ah. My apologies."
She exhaled slowly before answering. "Yes, I know Aponia. I ca to Twilight Street specifically to seek her help."
Pardo's eyes glead with sudden interest.
"Oh?" Her mind whirred, already piecing together possibilities. "Can I ask... what kind of help you're looking for from Sister Aponia?"
Raiden i hesitated again.
The truth was, she was still adjusting. Monts ago, she'd carelessly addressed Pardo by na—a mistake that could have been disastrous. Now, fully aware of the stakes, she reminded herself:
This isn't the Elysian Realm. These aren't data constructs. They're real people, living real lives—fifty millennia before my ti.
The MANTIS project might not even exist yet. The "future" she knew was nothing more than distant possibility here.
That ant she had to tread carefully.
Aponia, with her foresight, might warrant a different approach. But with Pardo...
"I just need to ask her a few questions," Raiden i finally said, offering neither lie nor full truth.
Pardo's ears perked up.
"Ah! Just questions, got it, got it." She clapped her hands together. "Sister Aponia does help people with their problems."
Then, with a sly tilt of her head:
"Though... nobody who's asked her things ever goes back for seconds."
That was new information—sothing not recorded in the Elysian Realm's archives. Raiden i filed it away silently.
anwhile, Pardo let out a relieved sigh.
"Phew! So you're just a 'guest.' Really had worried for a sec—uh?"
She didn't miss the way Raiden i flinched at the word guest—a reaction so sharp it bordered on reflexive. Like trauma. Or so kind of conditioned response.
Pardo wasn't one for psychology jargon, but she knew when to change tactics.
Her next move was simple:
Might as well lead her there.
After all...
Everyone in Twilight Street knows where Sister Aponia's sanatorium is. And this boss? Definitely not soone to ss with.
Being caught mid-theft by a stranger was proof enough of that.
So...
Whether I take her or not, she'll find it. Might as well tag along and see what's up.
Still...
Sister Aponia's all gentle smiles and soft words, but sothing about her creeps out.
Decision made:
I'll just drop her at the door and duck out. Maybe peek from a corner...
With that, Pardo slipped back into her street-smart persona.
"Boss, you're in luck! You've got the best guide in Twilight Street right here."
She launched into her usual routine—honed from years of scraping by:
- eting soone new? Start with "brother" or "sister"—small titles, big potential returns.
- n? Complint their looks. Won? Go for "kind-hearted beauty."
And within minutes...
"Y'know, Sister i, life's got its rough patches, but nothing you can't bounce back from! Look at —no family, no nothing, still kicking around just fine!"
She nudged Raiden i playfully.
"Bet those fancy high-rollers with their banquets and dramas aren't half as free as we are, huh?"
Sohow, she'd already weaseled out Raiden i's na *and* clocked her gloomy mood. Now, she was in full pep-talk mode.
And oddly enough... it worked.
Not fully, of course. Raiden i's burdens ran too deep for a few words to fix. But for the first ti in what felt like ages, the weight on her shoulders lightened—just a fraction.
"Thank you, Pardo."
The thought ca unbidden, followed by another, quieter one:
If only I'd been this patient back then. If I'd tried—even once—to respond instead of shutting him out...
Would that impossibly beautiful, "non-existent mory" have beco real?
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