Chapter 182: The So-Called [Container]
Rovel strolled down the bustling street, casually supporting Wendy's fair, supple thighs with one hand. In his other hand, he held a half-eaten ice cream cone, his gaze sweeping across the colorful storefronts in search of their next destination. Wendy sat comfortably perched on his shoulders, one hand resting lightly atop his head for balance. She took delicate, tiny bites of her own ice cream, her cyan eyes observing the lively crowds below.
They wandered through the commercial district in this rather intimate posture, drawing more than a few curious glances from passersby. Since the Honkai experiment had robbed Wendy's legs of all sensation, she didn't register the warmth of Rovel's palm resting against her bare skin. She remained completely oblivious, even when his fingers gave her soft thighs a few subtle, experimental squeezes.
"Mmm...!" Wendy suddenly yanked on a fistful of Rovel's hair. She might not have been able to feel his wandering fingers, but from her vantage point, she could see exactly what he was doing. Did he really think he could just take advantage of her in broad daylight? Even a former Valkyrie had her limits. Still, despite her annoyance, she didn't pull hard enough to actually hurt him. It was merely a physical warning, a silent protest to vent her flustered dissatisfaction.
"Hey, Wendy, do you want to go get a haircut or something?" Rovel asked, his eyes catching the glowing neon sign of a high-end salon just down the street. He tilted his head slightly to address the girl resting upon it, completely ignoring his previous crime.
"A haircut?" Wendy echoed, blinking in surprise. She reached up and pinched the ends of her long bangs between her fingers. They had grown out quite a bit, long enough to completely obscure her vision if she didn't brush them aside. "Does Rovel prefer girls with short hair?"
The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. A split second later, the implications of her own question hit her, and a faint pink dusted her cheeks.
"Honestly? I'm just a sucker for a pretty face. As long as a girl is cute, the hair length doesn't matter to me—ow, ow, ow! Hey, my scalp is going to be ripped off!" Rovel yelped, his casual teasing instantly punished. Wendy had grabbed his hair again, and this time, she wasn't holding back. Her slender fingers twisted the dark strands with genuine force.
"Hmph!" Wendy huffed softly, turning her head away with a tiny pout. Seeing Rovel genuinely wince and rub his head, she finally relented, loosening her grip and smoothing down the messy strands she had just pulled.
"Well, since you didn't say no, I'm taking that as a yes. Next target: the salon!" Rovel declared cheerfully. He tightened his grip on Wendy's legs and suddenly broke into a brisk jog down the pavement.
Wendy let out a startled squeak. To avoid losing her balance and tumbling backward, she quickly lowered her center of gravity, wrapping her arms around Rovel's head in an awkward, clinging hug. As she pressed against him, a startling, plush elasticity met the back of Rovel's neck. He blinked, a dry amusement flickering in his eyes. Her figure was actually incredibly impressive, easily rivaling Raiden Mei's level of development. Considering Wendy looked even younger than Bronya Zaychik, her future potential was downright terrifying.
"Idiot, slow down..." Wendy chided, her voice carrying a soft, coquettish edge as she buried her flushed face into his hair.
A few moments later, the duo arrived at the glass doors of the salon.
Rovel pushed the door open, the overhead bell chiming pleasantly. He carefully lowered Wendy into one of the plush leather styling chairs. "Master Tony, if you'd be so kind, please give this beautiful young lady a trim."
Hearing his shameless teasing in front of a stranger, Wendy's cheeks flared a brilliant crimson. She shot Rovel a sharp, embarrassed glare through the reflection of the vanity mirror.
"Leave it to me, darling." Master Tony, the flamboyant head stylist, gave a confident wink. He twirled a pair of silver shears expertly around his fingers and immediately began assessing Wendy's features, conceptualizing a new look. Wendy, who had spent most of her life training in Schicksal facilities, knew absolutely nothing about fashion or styling. She sat perfectly still, resigning herself to whatever the enthusiastic barber had planned.
With a few guiding suggestions from Rovel, Master Tony went to work. The silver shears snipped away the heavy, overgrown locks, transforming her hair into a neat, shoulder-length bob. He carefully trimmed her bangs, lifting the dark curtain that had previously shadowed her face. The new cut perfectly framed her delicate features and fully revealed her striking cyan eyes, completely washing away the gloomy, depressed aura that had clung to her earlier.
"Absolutely perfect." Master Tony stepped back, forming a dramatic orchid gesture with his hand as he admired his handiwork. He spun the leather chair around with a flourish, presenting the newly styled Wendy to Rovel. "Well, young man? What do you think of my masterpiece?"
"Very cute," Rovel said sincerely, his eyes lighting up with genuine appreciation.
A visible wave of heat surged up Wendy's neck, painting her cheeks in a deep, rosy hue. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to handle the direct compliment.
After a final wash and a thorough blow-dry, Wendy stared at her reflection in the brightly lit mirror. A small, tentative smile curled the corners of her lips. She looked lighter, freer. Rovel watched her from the side, noting how her new appearance bore a striking, almost uncanny resemblance to Seele.
After solving the hairstyle issue and paying the bill, they stepped back out into the afternoon sun. This time, at Wendy's fierce and stubborn insistence, Rovel switched to carrying her piggyback. Sitting on his shoulders like a child had simply drawn way too much unwanted attention, and she refused to endure another hour of public embarrassment.
However, this new arrangement presented a minor logistical issue. Because Wendy's legs were completely paralyzed, she couldn't grip his waist to stay up. Rovel had to use both of his hands to support her thighs, leaving him with no free hands to hold their snacks. The solution they silently agreed upon was simple: Wendy would act as his hands, feeding him, while Rovel would serve as her legs. It was a perfect, symbiotic compromise.
Wendy wrapped her slender arms securely around Rovel's neck, resting her chin near his shoulder. A clean, masculine scent drifted from his collar, filling her senses. The sheer proximity made her heart flutter, a fresh wave of warmth flooding her already flushed face.
"I want to eat that..." Wendy murmured softly, extending a finger toward a bustling street vendor enveloped in a cloud of savory smoke.
"Barbecue?" Rovel raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "I didn't peg you for a street food fan. I always figured you were the type to stick to strict, proper diets."
"In the past, whenever we finished our deployment missions, Captain Clark and the rest of the squad would always drag me out to relax," Wendy explained, a nostalgic softness entering her voice. "Captain Clark loved to drink. She always swore that the absolute best pairing for cold alcohol was hot, greasy barbecue. Eventually, those little roadside stalls just became our unofficial gathering spot."
"However..." Wendy's voice trailed off. A heavy trace of sorrow flickered through her cyan eyes, swiftly chased by a dark, chilling undercurrent of hatred. She blinked, forcefully burying the bitter emotion beneath a mask of calm indifference before Rovel could catch it.
"After I was subjected to that experiment, my legs gave out. I haven't been able to stand since, let alone go out for barbecue," she recounted. Her tone was eerily flat and detached, as though she were reciting a boring history lesson rather than the tragedy that ruined her life.
When Schicksal had first selected her as a test subject, she had been overwhelmed with surprise and genuine excitement. They told her that if she could successfully synchronize with and control the power of the Gem of Desire, she would instantly ascend to the legendary ranks of an S-Rank Valkyrie. It had been her ultimate dream, the pinnacle of everything she had bled and sweated for.
Unfortunately, reality was cruel. The experiment was a catastrophic failure. She did not receive the recognition of the Gem of Desire. The process had been agonizing, tearing through her nervous system like liquid fire. Yet, thanks to her exceptionally high natural resistance to Honkai Energy, she miraculously survived the ordeal.
While the failure had stung, Wendy hadn't let it break her spirit. She firmly believed that as long as she continued to train and fight, she could still achieve the title of S-Rank Valkyrie through her own raw effort. But fate had a much darker twist in store. What she hadn't anticipated was that, despite the synchronization failing, the Gem of Desire had settled into an exceptionally stable state within her body.
For Schicksal, the physical preservation of a Herrscher core had always been a logistical nightmare. These artifacts constantly bled terrifyingly high concentrations of ambient Honkai Energy. Anyone with even slightly below-average resistance who wandered too close would be instantly corrupted, mutating into a mindless Death Soldier.
Because of this extreme radiation hazard, containing a single Herrscher core required the construction of massive, specialized underground facilities. These bunkers drained astronomical amounts of funding, demanding constant maintenance, regular structural rebuilds, and the permanent stationing of elite squads just to cull the wild Honkai Beasts that naturally spawned from the leaked energy.
The annual financial drain of securing just one core was staggering. Unless Schicksal managed to unearth a divine relic like the Key of Blank, there was simply no technology on Earth capable of perfectly sealing a Herrscher core without massive overhead costs.
And so, because the Gem of Desire had stabilized within her flesh, the higher-ups made a cold, calculated decision. Wendy was stripped of her humanity and officially designated as the living [Container] for the gem. It was a sickening truth: if Schicksal simply surgically removed the gem from her spine, her nervous system would heal. Her legs would recover, she would walk again, and she would return to her rightful place as the Oceania Branch's most outstanding A-Rank Valkyrie—a true seed for the S-Rank mantle.
But after the dust settled on the experiment, that future was stolen from her. She was shackled to a wheelchair, forcibly branded with the title of [Container] under the grand, hollow guise of "protecting the world." It was the ultimate betrayal. To Wendy, Schicksal was nothing more than a conglomerate of bloodsucking hypocrites. They preached about noble sacrifices, yet they were perfectly willing to sacrifice innocent girls just to save a few billion dollars on containment facility maintenance.
"Well, since that's the case, we're just going to have to eat to our heart's content today! We aren't leaving until we're absolutely stuffed!" Rovel declared, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. As he spoke, his fingers subtly shifted, giving the back of Wendy's thigh another deliberate, secret pinch.
Wendy's breath hitched. Her cheeks instantly flared an incredibly vibrant shade of rose. The spot Rovel had just squeezed wasn't just her thigh anymore—his hand had definitely wandered up to the edge of her buttocks.
And the worst part?
She... she could actually feel that.
This absolute bastard...
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