My question lingered in the air without an answer.
What the hell was that?
I was certain I had heard that exact phrase before.
During the long one-thousand-Chapter marathon, I remembered switching to the audiobook so I could rest my eyes.
Back then I didn’t recall a single word that was said. However, what I did remember was a particular phrase.
I remembered it clearly because the narrator’s voice suddenly shifted from European to sounding like a Mexican gang head.
And the words he said?
This was a phrase known only to one character.
The saintess and princess of the third most powerful continent, later revealed to be Jake’s sister.
Valentina Solrath, Saintess of the Holy Olthia Empire.
’But what is she doing here? Did I miscalculate the world’s timing?’
As if responding to my thoughts, her lips parted again, and she asked with a slight tilt of her head:
"Do you have Mikky Chocolate?"
"Uhmm... No," I replied instantly.
She gave a small nod and turned back to the road.
’What’s wrong with her?’
Did she really go around asking strangers for chocolate?
"Do you... always do this?"
The pink-haired girl lingered for a moment, then splashed through a puddle.
I turned back to the street with a nod. "So why did you ask me?"
"Because you’re really ugly..." she said flatly. "And everyone knows ugly people always find something to obsess over, just to soothe their ugly soul."
I opened my mouth to argue but shut it almost at once.
"I guess you’re right."
Neither of us said another word. We simply stood there.
It wasn’t that I was incapable of small talk.
Valentina was part of the main cast and the younger sister of the protagonist.
Getting involved with her meant getting involved with the main character.
Which meant problems and incidents would cling to me like flies.
And I, Allen Park, wasn’t ready for that.
I wanted to be the best, yes.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to die trying.
If trouble came to me, I’d deal with it.
’That being said... what is she doing here?’
If the academy entrance exam was a week away, then sure, it made sense for Pantheon City, where I lived, to be buzzing with academy hopefuls.
But this was inside a back street labeled "18+," and she looked no older than a middle-schooler.
To avoid trouble, I stepped three paces to the side.
And, as if copying me, she stepped three paces too, standing right beside me.
I turned toward her, and she stared up at me. Check latest chapters at NoveI(F)ire.net
Without a word, I moved four more steps away.
And just like before, she followed.
When I was about to move again, realization struck me.
Valentina Solrath, in the novel, was known as a quiet, lazy saintess with a slightly unhinged streak.
But she was never the type to badger anyone.
In fact, she disliked being around people.
’Is she into ugly guys?’
The thought made my face twitch as I looked away from her. ’No way, right?’
Not even I, who was stuck in this body, liked it. Why else would I want to alter it?
I cleared my throat. "Can you tell me why you’re following me?"
The small girl gazed up at me.
Closing her eyes briefly, she puffed her cheeks in the cutest way imaginable.
"Hmm..." She squeezed them tighter. "I’m hungry."
That was what I wanted to ask, but her voice spoke first:
"Can I drink your blood?"
Valentina licked her lips as though ready to spring at me. "Your blood smells really good."
Why was she talking about blood?
Valentina was half-demon, but she despised blood because it tasted awful. Holding back her bloodlust didn’t weaken it, it only made it worse.
That was exactly why Jake had given his sister to the Holy Empire.
They needed a saintess, and Valentina had the attributes.
But the empire later discovered that unless she drank a rare blood type, she would eventually turn fully into a demon.
That was why they created Mikky Chocolate, while searching for someone with that blood.
’In the series, no such person appeared, at least up to where I stopped reading.’
Then did that mean... Allen?
Allen Vanderbilt had that exact blood type?
Without realizing it, my hand drifted to my neck, as if guarding it from her hungry eyes.
’Is fate spitting in my face?’
Just when I had convinced myself not to get tangled in the plot, this happened.
But even I knew my earlier resolve was pointless.
I had read enough "extra" tagged novels to know you could never escape the plot.
Maybe that was why my mouth opened on its own and asked:
"How much are you willing to pay for a gallon?"