Aslan recalled a thought he had entertained long ago: if his existence could appear in one branch of the Type-Moon world, then countless other branches must also exist—each with their own version of Aslan. Just as every mirror reflects a different angle of the same person, so too would every parallel world birth its own variations of him.
Somewhere, inevitably, there would be a female Aslan. And not just one—entire branches of them.
The girl before him, with her uncanny resemblance, was clearly one of those versions. Even the ambient mana of the world resonated with a familiarity that set his Mystic Eyes at ease. This was still the Type-Moon universe, governed by laws he knew.
And yet… the air carried a divine presence unlike anything he had ever encountered. Even in all his travels across Europe and the Middle East, searching tirelessly for the Mecha God's wreckage, he had never once smelled the lingering breath of gods.
That alone confirmed it: this was not his original world, but a parallel one where gods still walked.
"Tell me your name," Aslan muttered, half-dreading the answer.
The girl's face lit up. "Of course, big brother! Call me Estee Lauder! I'm your sweet little sister—I can cook, clean, guide your travels, solve difficult problems, even scam people if needed. So please, just let me go this time!"
She jingled a coin purse meaningfully. The clink of metal was heavy and familiar—probably gold, though knowing her type, it wouldn't be surprising if she had slipped some brass inside to bulk it up.
Aslan nearly collapsed. Estee Lauder. Of course. Why wouldn't the me of this world end up like this?
While he was still processing, she whipped out a forging hammer, conjured a plush chair from the earth, and gently floated him onto it. Without hesitation, she began massaging his shoulders with practiced hands.
"Brother, listen," she cooed. "Those gods treat humans as nothing but pets and livestock. Please, don't help them. I just want to live a stable life as a simple girl. Isn't that reasonable? And if you want me stronger, I can be stronger. If you want me gentler, I can be gentler. Anything for you, big brother."
As she spoke, she quietly activated a maintenance device, releasing the elf within to service the Supreme Masterpiece. At the same time, she pulled out a pocket-sized massager, clearly planning to pamper both man and machine before sneaking away.
Because above all else, Estee Lauder valued survival.
Her thoughts drifted as she worked: If only I were stronger, I'd pound the gods themselves into cutlets. Dip them in egg wash, roll them in breadcrumbs, fry them golden and crispy! One day, maybe I'll kick Odin and punch Zeus, then ride home atop two conquered dragons. For now though… well, dreams are dreams.
Reality was far crueler. She remembered the words of certain magicians—this world was wrong, the gods should have vanished long ago. No one knew where such a broken timeline might lead.
But for now, she was just a girl on the run, caught in the hands of someone who looked uncomfortably like her. Her gaze flicked uneasily toward the crimson mecha. If the gods could truly create such artificial divinities, did humanity even have a chance?
Estee Lauder sighed inwardly. Forget the future. Right now, I just need to survive. My background is unknown, whether I truly have a brother is uncertain—but my acting skills? Impeccable.
She raised the massager toward Aslan, all smiles once more, even as her heart plotted escape.
-End Chapter-
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