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Inside the master bedroom, Hiroshi stared at his phone, his face lighting up as he saw the four-digit number.
"Yes! Over four thousand!" he blurted out.
The next second, he felt a sharp, playful nip on his ear. A shiver raced down his spine. Herta, who had been holding him from behind, let out a sleepy, displeased huff. Her voice carried the groggy irritation of a genius whose REM cycle had been prematurely terminated.
"What are you shouting about so early?" she scolded, her breath warm against his neck. "Don't you know that some people actually value their rest?"
"Sorry, Madam Herta! I didn't mean to—"
Herta didn't seem interested in the apology. "Hmph. You woke me up. How do you plan to make amends for the lost research time I was just dreaming about?"
"I..."
Before Hiroshi could suggest making a particularly good breakfast, Herta's next command left him pinned.
"Lie down."
"Eh? Madam... what are you planning?"
Herta's tone became impatient, leaving no room for negotiation. "You're asking a question you already know the answer to. This is your lesson. Don't make me repeat myself."
"Uh... alright then."
By now, Hiroshi had long since traded his psychological resistance for a quiet acceptance of his fate.
When it was finally time to actually get up, Herta looked revitalized, her eyes sparkling with an intensity that suggested she could solve the mysteries of the universe before lunch. The energy she'd burned through on the Simulated Universe project seemed completely replenished.
"Here. Drink," she said, handing him a reagent. This wasn't one of her usual "experimental" mixtures; it was a refined tonic specifically tuned to Hiroshi's biology to prevent him from collapsing under the strain of being her personal power bank.
"Thank you, Madam," Hiroshi muttered, drained.
As he lay there, Herta asked casually, "Is there anything you want, little thing?"
"I... I'd like to rest for a few days. If that's okay?" Hiroshi had entered a complete "sage state." His worldly desires had evaporated, replaced by a desperate need for a nap that didn't involve being a human pillow.
"That won't do," Herta refused mercilessly. "Ruan Mei, Screwllum, and I are in the middle of a critical phase for the Simulated Universe. Besides, I restore your energy every time, don't I?"
"Ugh... fine."
After serving Herta and ensuring she was ready for her meeting with the other geniuses, Hiroshi left the room and headed toward the Department of Applications.
As he walked, his mind returned to the System. I have enough for two pulls. But the capacity is the problem. I can only hold one ability and one item at a time.
He checked with the System: If I draw an item, can it be stolen?
[Consumable items vanish after use. Non-consumables cannot be destroyed. If stolen, the Host can render the item ineffective remotely.]
Good to know, Hiroshi thought. But I still need more power to protect myself. If I lose an item, I'm defenseless. Abilities are safer.
He made his decision. He spent 2,000 points to expand his ability capacity and the remaining 2,000 to draw a new skill. The names flickered across the screen in a golden blur until they snapped into focus.
[NEW ABILITY: Teleportation]
Concept Effect: Instantly travel to any location seen by the eyes, ignoring the physical laws of space and distance.
Anywhere I can see? Hiroshi wondered. That seems limited... unless "seeing" doesn't just mean the naked eye.
He decided to test a theory. He pulled up his phone, found a clear photo of the Reception Hall he'd taken a few days ago, and focused on it. Take me there.
With a sudden, violent surge of dizziness and a high-pitched ringing in his ears, the bedroom vanished. In a heartbeat, he was standing in the middle of the hall, tucked behind a pillar.
Immediately, he heard voices. Two staff members were huddled nearby, whispering furiously.
"Hey! Have you heard the latest? That cleaner—the one Herta promoted—they're saying he might be her illegitimate son!"
"No way! Madam Herta doesn't do 'relationships.' She only cares about her puppets and the Simulated Universe."
"Think about it! Maybe she used her own genes to cultivate him in a lab. It explains why he appeared out of nowhere and why she's so obsessed with him. She's biased because he's her 'creation'!"
"Eh... when you put it that way, it actually sounds plausible."
Hiroshi's face flushed with indignation. The imagination of these 'geniuses' is truly something else, he thought bitterly. I'm being 'unspokenly' handled by her, and they think I'm a lab-grown heir!
He couldn't take it anymore. He stepped out from behind the pillar, his face set in a scowl.
"Hey! What kind of nonsense are you spreading?!"
The staff members jumped, nearly leaping out of their skins. When they saw Hiroshi—wearing a high-end suit identical to the one worn by Herta's own puppets—their faces went ghostly white.
"When did he get here?!" one whispered, trembling.
"How much did he hear?" the other added, looking ready to faint.
They realized then that whether he was an illegitimate son or something else, Hiroshi's status was now untouchable. If he whispered a single word of this to Herta, they wouldn't just be fired—they'd be lucky to find work on a garbage scow in the Outer Rim.
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