CHAPTER 18: A SCUMBAG’S GUIDE TO ERGONOMIC SUPPORT

Consciousness returned to Natalia in fragmented waves. First came the pain—a deep, gnawing ache that radiated from her core outward, clawing at every nerve ending. Her head pounded with each pulse of her heart, the telltale sign of Aspect Overload. She’d pushed too far, channeled too much power through her body at once.

The second sensation was motion. A steady, rhythmic jarring that seemed to sync with the throbbing in her temples. Up and down. Forward and onward. The third was warmth—a solid heat source pressed against her side, her head resting against something firm that vibrated with... a heartbeat?

"Mmmph," she groaned weakly, the sound barely audible even to her own ears.

Her body felt impossibly heavy, as if her bones had been replaced with lead. The effort required to simply breathe seemed monumental. Her eyelids fluttered, struggling against their own weight as she fought to orient herself.

Bioluminescent growths on the cavern ceiling swam into blurry focus. The stone floor moved beneath her in a steady progression. Not her moving—being moved. Being carried.

An arm, solid as steel, supported her knees. Her head nestled into the crook of a shoulder broader than she remembered. Through the haze of pain and confusion, a realization dawned on her with horror.

She was being carried.

A flush of heat crawled up her neck, entirely separate from the fever-like symptoms of her Aspect Overload. Natalia attempted to push herself upright, to voice a protest, to establish some control over the situation. Her muscles betrayed her, refusing to respond with anything more than a weak twitch.

"S-Satori...?" Her voice emerged as a pathetic, breathy rasp that she barely recognized as her own.

And then she felt it. The hand. The one supporting her weight. It wasn’t on her back as she’d assumed. It was cupped firmly, securely, over the entire curve of her left ass cheek. His fingers were strong, his grip possessive, his palm radiating heat through the material of her suit.

No. No, no, no.

Satori was carrying her through the tunnels with one arm, while the heavy porter’s bag containing their loot was slung over his other shoulder.

"You’re awake." His voice was low, coming from behind the expressionless oni mask still covering his face. "Don’t try to move yet. You’re suffering from severe Aspect Overload."

With every powerful stride he took, his calloused fingers created subtle friction against her. A new horror dawned as she remembered—the tear in her suit from when he’d tackled her away from falling debris. His hand wasn’t just on her suit; the pads of his fingers were making direct, rhythmic contact with her bare skin.

"Put... me down," she managed, the words coming out as barely more than a whisper.

"Can’t do that, Fox." He didn’t break stride. "We’re still half a mile from the exit, and you can’t walk. The longer we stay in here, the greater the risk of reinforcements arriving to avenge their queen."

The repetitive pressure of his fingers, the warmth of his body, the overwhelming masculine scent of sweat and smoke that clung to him—it all combined into a sensory assault on her exhausted, over-sensitized body. A small, shameful sound escaped her throat, a breathy "Ahhn..." that was half pain, half something else entirely.

He stopped walking.

The oni mask tilted down toward her face. Through the narrow slits, his eyes met hers—sharp, intense, and completely unreadable. He knew. He knew she was awake. Knew what she was feeling. Knew she was utterly powerless to stop him.

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t speak. He simply adjusted his grip, his fingers flexing just slightly against her bare skin, before resuming his steady march toward the Gate’s exit.

Natalia choked back another involuntary sound, burying her burning face against his shoulder. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not with him. The stepbrother she’d looked down on for years shouldn’t be carrying her like a princess in a fairy tale. Shouldn’t be touching her body so intimately. Shouldn’t be making her feel so...

No. She refused to finish that thought.

"Almost there," Satori said after what felt like an eternity of silent marching. "Exit’s just ahead."

Natalia kept her face hidden against his shoulder, unwilling to meet his gaze again. Her mind raced with contradictions. This was the same disgusting pig who’d leered at her for years. The same useless Zero who’d spent his days playing games and eating junk food. Yet now he carried her with ease, his formerly soft body transformed into something solid and strong enough to bear her weight for kilometers without faltering.

"Why..." she began, then had to swallow to wet her parched throat. "Why did you hide it?"

"Hide what?" His voice was carefully neutral.

"Your Aspect." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. "The fire. You’ve had it all along, haven’t you? You let everyone think you were a Zero."

His stride faltered slightly, almost imperceptibly. "I told you, I didn’t know I had it. Not until recently."

"Liar." The accusation came automatically, a reflexive rejection of his explanation. "Nobody suddenly manifests at eighteen. It’s impossible."

"Apparently not." There was an edge to his voice now. "Believe what you want, Natalia. It doesn’t change what happened in there."

What happened in there. The words echoed in her mind. What had happened? She’d fought the Nest Mother with everything she had. She remembered launching her attack, a concentrated sphere of telekinetically controlled debris. After that, nothing.

"Did I..." she hesitated, hating how vulnerable the question made her feel. "Did I kill it?"

"You obliterated it." There was something like respect in his tone. "Blew a hole clean through its thorax the size of a car tire. Never seen anything like it."

"Of course I did," she murmured, lifting her chin slightly. "It was only a D-Rank."

"And then you collapsed," Satori continued, ignoring her bravado. "Your Aspect burned too hot. You were floating in the air one second, then dropping like a stone the next. I caught you before you hit the ground."

The implication hung in the air between them. He’d saved her. Again. First from the falling debris, now from cracking her skull open on the cavern floor. The debt between them was growing, and Natalia hated it.

"I would have been fine," she lied.

"Sure." The single word dripped with sarcasm.

They emerged into a larger chamber. Ahead, the rust-colored shimmer of the Gate’s entrance rippled like an oil slick suspended in the air. Freedom was just meters away.

"We’re here." Satori’s voice softened slightly. "Can you stand?"

Natalia wanted desperately to say yes, to push herself out of his arms and walk through the Gate under her own power. But when she tried to shift her weight, her muscles screamed in protest, sending fresh waves of agony through her overtaxed body.

"No," she admitted.

His grip tightened slightly, securing her position. "Then we go through together."

Without further discussion, he strode forward into the shimmering portal. The transition was always disorienting—a moment of weightlessness, a kaleidoscope of sensations, the feeling of being turned inside out and reassembled. Natalia closed her eyes against the nauseating sensory input.

When she opened them again, they were back in the abandoned warehouse in the Industrial District. The corporate liaison who’d briefed them stood a few meters away, his expression shifting from boredom to surprise as he took in the sight of them.

"What happened?" the man asked, stepping forward.

"Successful mission," Satori replied curtly. "The Nest Mother is dead. We have the Core and secondary harvests."

The man’s gaze moved from Satori to Natalia and back again. His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. "Aspect Overload? First-timers always push too hard."

Natalia wanted to disappear. The humiliation of being seen like this—weak, helpless, cradled in the arms of her stepbrother—was almost worse than the physical pain.

"Payment," Satori said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "And a transport back to the residential district."

The liaison nodded, tapping on his tablet. "Verification confirmed. Funds are being transferred as we speak. As for transport..." He touched his earpiece. "I’ll have a car brought around."

"Thank you." Satori’s voice was cool, professional. "Where can I set her down while we wait?"

The man gestured to a small break room off the main floor. "Couch in there. I’ll bring water."

Satori carried her into the indicated room and gently lowered her onto a worn sofa. The release of his hand from her body should have been a relief. Instead, Natalia felt strangely bereft, the absence of his support leaving her adrift in her own weakness.

He stepped back, finally removing the oni mask. His face was flushed from exertion, a sheen of sweat highlighting the new angularity of his features. When had his jaw become so defined? When had his eyes gained that intensity?

"You should drink something," he said, turning away to retrieve a bottle of water from a small refrigerator in the corner. "Aspect Overload dehydrates you."

Natalia struggled to sit up, managing only to prop herself against the arm of the couch. Her body still felt disconnected, responding sluggishly to her commands.

Satori returned with the water, unscrewing the cap before handing it to her. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, sending an inexplicable jolt through Natalia’s already overstimulated nerves.

"I don’t need your help," she said reflexively, even as she accepted the bottle.

"Clearly." His tone was dry, but there was no real bite to it. He settled into a chair across from her, studying her with those unsettlingly perceptive eyes. "You know, you could just say ’thank you.’"

Natalia took a long drink, using the action to avoid responding immediately. The cold water was blissful against her parched throat.

"For what?" she finally asked. "For groping me while I was unconscious?"

A flash of genuine anger crossed his face. "For carrying you three kilometers through hostile territory. For harvesting the Core and secondary materials while you were out cold. For completing the mission so you could get your precious ring."

"I didn’t ask you to—"

"You didn’t have to," he interrupted. "We’re partners, Fox. That’s what partners do. They pick up the slack when the other falls."

Before she could formulate a response, the liaison appeared at the door. "Car’s here. Ready to go?"

Satori nodded, then turned back to Natalia. "Can you walk now, or do I need to carry you again?"

Natalia pushed herself upright, ignoring the protest of her muscles.

"I can walk," she insisted, taking a tentative step forward. Her legs wobbled treacherously beneath her, but she remained standing through sheer force of will.

"Alright then," he said, moving toward the door. "Let’s go home."