Asta clenched her fists, her eyes burning with sudden determination.
But before she could utter another word, Kazuki paused.
The porcelain-white puppet slowly pivoted in mid-air, drifting back toward her with the predatory grace of a mischievous brat who had just spotted a fascinating new toy.
The mechanical joints hummed softly as the petite figure closed the distance.
Through Herta’s usually lifeless crimson eyes, Kazuki’s unabashed playfulness shone through, locking onto Asta’s gaze.
Even the sterile, climate-controlled air of the space station seemed to thicken, swirling around her with a teasing, electric charge.
He drifted so close that Asta could trace the delicate, violet floral patterns painted onto the puppet’s synthetic cheeks.
Her breath hitched.
The heat that had just left her face rushed back with a vengeance, painting her skin a deep, furious red.
Subconsciously, she shrank back, her shoulders pulling inward.
Her fingers dug into the hem of her uniform, knuckles turning white as she stammered, “M-Madam Herta?
You’re…
you’re a bit too close…”
Kazuki completely ignored her rising panic.
Pushing his luck, he floated a fraction of an inch closer, raising a slender, jointed arm as if to affectionately pat her head.
There was just one problem: the Herta puppet was simply too short.
Even hovering, his fingertips only managed to brush the soft strands of her pink bangs.
Unbothered by the lack of reach, Kazuki simply pointed the puppet’s toes downward, simulating a tiptoe stance in mid-air.
With a crisp, echoing thwack, he flicked her forehead with a porcelain knuckle.
The strike was decisive, sharp, and utterly devoid of hesitation.
“What’s the panic?” he asked, folding his arms.
He began to slowly orbit her, his tone dripping with a masterfully feigned disdain.
He drew out the last syllable in a musical, teasing lilt.
“I just saw you looking like an absolute fool, ready to charge in and throw your life away when your legs can barely hold you upright.
If you actually rushed out there and got yourself killed, it would be the Herta Space Station’s reputation on the line.
I refuse to let the universe think my acting Lead Researcher is just a little idiot who only knows how to put on a brave face.”
Despite the harshness of his words, he didn’t back away.
He lingered in her personal space, casually swinging his short, synthetic legs with an air of absolute nonchalance.
“I don’t have the time or the patience to clean up your messes.
If you can’t even handle a few scattered stragglers, I might as well take over the station’s trivial administrative garbage myself.
I’ve never tried playing station master before; I’ll treat it as a new sociological research project.
There is no need for you to force yourself.”
Asta froze.
A flicker of genuine bewilderment crossed her amber eyes, quickly followed by an overwhelming, irrational urge to punch the priceless puppet in the face.
The erratic thumping of her heart morphed into a chaotic blend of embarrassment and exasperated amusement.
She bit her lower lip, unable to stop herself from testing the waters.
“You…
you’re actually worried about me, aren’t you?”
Kazuki arched a delicate synthetic eyebrow.
The amusement in those crimson pupils deepened into something darker and far more entertaining.
Instead of retreating, he leaned in until the cold tip of the puppet’s nose nearly brushed against hers.
“Worried?” he drawled, his voice dropping an octave.
“Of course I’m worried.”
He watched Asta’s eyes widen in surprise, then ruthlessly shattered the moment, suppressing a laugh as his tone shifted into pure mockery.
“I’m worried because you’re far too easy to tease.
If something actually happened to you and you lost that pretty little head of yours, my future days aboard this station would be dreadfully boring.”
The flush on Asta’s cheeks violently spread to the tips of her ears.
Her mouth opened and closed, completely devoid of words, trapped in a paralyzing intersection of anger and deep shame.
Yet, staring into the familiar, doll-like face of Madam Herta, she simply couldn’t bring herself to explode.
Having delivered the most infuriating lines imaginable, Kazuki stayed exactly where he was.
He hovered with his arms crossed, projecting the aura of a smug owner waiting for a cat’s fur to puff up after a bath.
Seeing her pout and avert her gaze, he drifted forward again.
“Go deal with the situation already.
Don’t just stand there looking dazed.
If you actually encounter a threat you can’t handle…”
He paused.
Asta subconsciously looked up, meeting his gaze.
Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he let the words hang in the space between them.
“Remember to scream loudly.
I’ll bring a comfortable chair so I can have a front-row seat to the legendary scene of Asta turning the tide.
Naturally, if you’re willing to beg me just a little, I might consider lending a hand.”
It wasn’t a promise of salvation; it was blatant, unadulterated mockery.
Before she could even process the insult, he turned and strolled down the metallic corridor.
The puppet’s short legs moved at a leisurely, agonizingly slow pace.
He intentionally dragged his feet, waiting to hear the inevitable flustered stomping behind him.
Asta stood rooted to the floor, the phantom chill of the puppet’s knuckle still lingering on her forehead.
Her mind was a chaotic mess.
She felt thoroughly choked by his infuriating remarks, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that today’s ‘Madam Herta’ was dangerously magnetic.
He was saying the most aggravating things, yet he made it entirely impossible for her to summon any real anger.
All she felt was the helpless, dizzying sensation of being completely toyed with.
Biting down on her reddened lip, she stomped her boot against the floor plates at his retreating back.
Still, her fingers tightened around her communicator, and she hurried to catch up.
It wasn’t out of any misplaced romantic affection—she simply had to see what other maddening things this bizarre version of Madam Herta would say next.
Just as she closed the distance, Kazuki stopped dead in his tracks.
He pivoted slowly, arms still crossed, watching her clumsy attempt to brake before crashing into him.
Raising an eyebrow, he projected his voice down the hall.
“What are you dawdling for?
The station still requires your brilliant command, Madam Lead Researcher.”
His tone retained that nonchalant playfulness, slightly softer than before, yet utterly unapologetic.
He wore an expression that practically screamed, I am here to watch you make a fool of yourself.
Stepping aside with an exaggerated bow, he offered her the lead, only to fall into step right beside her.
He could have transferred his consciousness back to his office in a microsecond.
Instead, he chose to walk the physical corridors, glancing up at her every few steps like a mischievous brat parading his favorite pet.
He wasn’t escorting her; he was just terrified of missing the punchline to a joke only he knew.
Asta felt a prickle of unease under his constant, calculating gaze.
She quickened her pace, her heels clicking sharply against the metal grating, but she didn’t dare pull too far ahead.
She was terrified he might shout something even more embarrassing down the empty hall.
Forced to maintain a careful, agonizingly close distance, she cursed this version of Madam Herta eight hundred times in her head—yet she couldn’t bring herself to actually walk away.
The tall girl and the petite puppet walked side-by-side.
There was no romantic ambiguity in the sterile corridor, only the suffocating, heavy tension of a predator playing with its food.
Kazuki was in absolute control, pulling the strings and waiting for Asta’s next reaction to entertain him.
Suddenly, a sharp, mechanical whir echoed from the blind corner ahead.
It was just the routine scan of the Herta Space Station’s internal defense grid, but in the dead silence, it sounded like a gunshot.
Asta let out a short, breathless gasp.
Her steps faltered, her heart seizing in her chest as her entire body locked up in terror.
In the fraction of a second it took her to react, Kazuki moved.
He didn’t step in front of her to block the imaginary threat.
Instead, the puppet vanished, instantly reappearing directly behind her.
A cold, porcelain finger traced the line of her shoulder.
Leaning in, he pressed his face near her ear, his voice dropping into a low, deliberately eerie hiss.
“Ooh…
judging by that heavy mechanical grinding…
could it be a Void Ranger that slipped through the cracks?”
Asta was already on a knife’s edge.
Feeling that phantom breath against her neck and hearing the dreaded name of the Antimatter Legion sent her over the edge.
Her hair practically stood on end.
She shrieked, stumbling forward in a clumsy panic, her boots tangling together.
Catching herself against the wall, she whipped around, her amber eyes rimmed with angry, frightened tears.
“Madam Herta!
Why would you scare me like that?!”
Kazuki stared at her pale, teary face.
He clutched the puppet’s stomach, doubling over as a burst of relentless, echoing laughter filled the corridor.
He laughed so hard the puppet’s anti-gravity stabilizers wobbled.
It took him a long moment to catch his breath.
Slowly, he raised a jointed finger, pointing toward the corner where a harmless, spherical Patrol Robot had just floated into view.
“Making a fuss over absolutely nothing,” he mocked, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.
He mimicked Herta’s usual cadence, stripping away the icy detachment and replacing it with pure, unfiltered teasing.
“The defense system just finished a routine sector scan.
To jump at a little beep…
you really are useless.
With courage this pathetic, how do you plan to guard my station?
If you actually met a Legionnaire, wouldn’t you just faint from fright before they even drew a blade?”
Despite his relentless roasting, he made no move to leave.
He drifted backward, keeping perfect pace with her, his crimson eyes locked unblinkingly onto her reddened, watery gaze.
The more flustered she looked, the more fascinated he became.
Asta stared at his blatant amusement, drowning in a toxic mixture of fury and humiliation.
She bit her lip so hard it nearly bled.
That fleeting, erratic heartbeat from earlier had completely vanished, replaced entirely by the burning shame of being played for a fool.
“Madam Herta!” she snapped, her voice trembling.
“You…
you did that on purpose, didn’t you!”
Kazuki didn’t possess a single ounce of guilt.
His laughter only grew richer.
He floated closer, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet, innocent expression.
“Scare you on purpose?
Me?
How could you accuse me of such a thing?”
He dragged out the syllables, admiring her fiercely pouting face, before delivering the final, infuriating blow.
“I was merely helping you run a practical drill.
I needed to observe your reaction to a sudden emergency.
And the result?
Dreadfully underwhelming.
It seems I’ll have to subject you to much more rigorous practice in the future.”
Riding the high of his own amusement, he didn’t hold back.
Reaching out, he pressed a cold, porcelain fingertip directly into her pouting cheek, poking the soft flesh as if teasing a ruffled, angry rabbit.
He hovered there, completely untouchable, the mockery in his crimson eyes overflowing as he savored his absolute victory.
[Elysian’s Note:
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