Inside the clinical, high-tech sanctuary of Herta's lab, the air was still.
Herta sat at the edge of her desk, stroking her chin as her violet eyes locked onto Hiroshi. He was sitting on the edge of the medical cot, trying his best to look small and inconspicuous. The way she was looking at him was deeply unsettling; it was the exact gaze an Interastral Peace Corporation executive might give a newly discovered planet made of solid gold.
To a member of the Genius Society, the universe was a series of locks waiting for the right key. But in a cosmos watched over by Nous, the Aeon of Erudition, some doors remained barred even to the most brilliant minds.
Hiroshi was a glitch in that system.
A tenfold increase in cognitive function wasn't just a "buff." To Herta, it was a crowbar she could use to pry open the secrets of the Imaginary Tree. It enhanced her intuition, her creative leaps, and her data processing speeds exponentially. With him, she could finally outpace her rivals—and perhaps even the Aeons themselves.
Hiroshi, meanwhile, was sweating. She's calculating my ROI, he thought miserably. I can practically see the spreadsheets in her eyes.
He knew he couldn't hide it. It was a passive aura; eventually, her sensors would have tripped or she would have simply noticed that she felt like a god every time he brought her coffee. Better to be a willing collaborator than a lab specimen.
Herta broke the silence first.
"Serve me, little thing."
Hiroshi's breath hitched. A flush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. "Serve? Like... the dinner I was planning to cook?"
Herta shifted, crossing her legs. Her dark, high-heeled boots caught the lab's fluorescent glow, and her taro-purple stockings looked smooth and immaculate. She leaned back, her expression shifting from cold scientist to something more imperious.
"You know exactly what I mean," she said, her voice dropping all pretense. "Your ability is fascinating. And more importantly, it is useful to me. I can give you anything you desire—safety, Credits, a permanent home on this station. In exchange, you will be my private battery. Do we have an agreement?"
Hiroshi went quiet. He looked at his hands, realizing the weight of the moment. Herta was actually negotiating. For a woman who viewed most people as dust, the fact that she was offering terms instead of just taking what she wanted was a testament to her version of "kindness."
"Madam Herta," he whispered. "Do you really not mind? You're the greatest mind in the galaxy. I'm just... me."
Herta raised a hand, cutting him off. "I care about two things: the mysteries of the universe and whether you can help me solve them. The rest is just... noise."
She stood up, her movements fluid and purposeful. She walked to the bed and patted the mattress beside her. "Well? My time is the most expensive commodity in the station. Have you made your choice?"
Hiroshi looked up at her. If he agreed, the threat of being turned into a girl was gone. He'd have the most powerful woman in the sector as his patron. "I... I've decided. I'm willing, Madam Herta."
A small, triumphant smile played on her lips. "A wise choice. Now, lie down."
"Right now?!"
"I have a breakthrough to finish, Hiroshi. Efficiency is key."
An hour later, the lab was a disaster zone.
Hiroshi lay staring at the ceiling, his pupils practically spinning in his head. He hadn't moved a muscle, yet he felt like he'd run a marathon across the surface of a sun. Every time he thought he'd reached his limit, the "recovery" aspect of his own aura would kick in, dragging him back to consciousness just in time for Herta to tap into the "power bank" again.
Herta, by contrast, looked revitalized. She sat up, smoothing her hair, her eyes glowing with an eerie, sharp intelligence. Unlike the previous "accident," she had been fully conscious this time, savoring the way his presence cleared the fog from her mind. It was a deep, soul-level satisfaction.
He's more than just a housekeeper, she thought, watching his chest heave. He's a catalyst. If the IPC or the other Geniuses find out about this...
A sudden, sharp spark of possessiveness flared in her chest. She didn't want to share her research tools. Especially not this one.
"Listen to me, little thing," she said, her voice firm. "You are not to show this 'gift' to anyone else. Not the staff, not the Trailblazers, no one. Am I clear?"
"Crystal... Madam..." Hiroshi groaned.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A cheerful, high-energy voice drifted through the reinforced lab door. "Madam Herta? Are you in there? I've got the latest data from the Simulated Universe! I'm coming in!"
Herta's eyes widened. She looked at the torn fabric on the floor, the disheveled bed, and the half-conscious Hiroshi. If March 7th or a researcher walked in now, the rumors would reach the IPC headquarters before dinner.
"Quick! Hide!" Herta hissed.
"Where?!" Hiroshi scrambled, looking for a closet that didn't exist.
The doorknob turned.
"No time!" Herta grabbed a thick, oversized duvet from the cot. With a strength born of desperation, she yanked Hiroshi toward her, forcing him to curl into a ball at her feet, and threw the blanket over him. She sat on the edge of the bed, her long skirt draped over the heap where he was hiding.
"Stay still," she commanded under her breath. "Don't even breathe."
"Mmmph," Hiroshi muffled, buried in silk and the scent of roses.
The door slid open, and a pink-haired girl stepped in with a bright, oblivious grin.