Therapy Planet No. 13 – Chapter 9: Towel

Do you have pajamas?

“That’s not possible.”

Lui glared at Angel, generally catching onto this woman’s tricks. 

She could retract her own skeleton. While this technique could seldom be taught outside of the military academy, this does not rule out the natural abilities of other races—after all, there were thousands upon thousands of different races in the universe. The Federation conducted censuses and published figures, but these were only rough estimates, at best. 

And this woman in front of her who called herself ‘An Ran,’ despite only reaching her shoulders, may have changed her own stature. 

Aware of how the military academy’s uniform looked, Lui was a little thankful that she had not worn her complicated dress uniform. Otherwise, the other party could have gleaned even more information from her bars and epaulets. 

Even her self address, ‘An Ran,’ could be fake. 

“…Alright.”

Angel pouted, releasing the pressure with extreme reluctance. 

Perhaps seeing the resolution on Lui’s face, Angel was keenly aware that, in order to deal with a war-horse like this, she had to plan slowly. 

In any case, she had always been patient in getting what she wanted; she could wait. 

The first step of any hunt was to set some bait. 

“What do they look like?”

Angel leaned against the yellowing wall languidly, ordering Lui about, “If you won’t kiss me, then grab a towel for me from the bathroom…some of my wounds were torn open just now. It’s bad if the bedding gets dirty.”

Even though it was dirty long before that. 

Lui lowered her eyes. The sight of Angel in her entirely unfitting white clothing reminded Lui of the prison clothing she’d worn herself while she was detained. 

On top of the clothing, which did not fit her form at all, she was also wrapped in white bandaging from head to toe. Patches of red bloomed like roses on the bandaging; it was painful just looking at it. 

Lui ‘hmph’d’ coldly before moving wordlessly to the bathroom to find a towel for Angel. 

Truth be told, the bathroom was just four bare walls surrounding a space so small even turning around was difficult. 

Lui seriously suspected that whoever designed this place was one of those retrophiles—[1]古风控, lit. ancient aesthetic-con, the -con referring to someone’s preference, likes, or tastes. Retrophile was the best I could do.

Thick patches of rust coated the walls. There wasn’t even a sink, only a water spicket installed in one of the walls and two towels, both of which had been thrown haphazardly into a washbasin on the ground. 

Right, it was something one would only see on one of those backward planets: plastic, flamboyantly red, part of it broken, and even a brightly colored sticker of two mandarin ducks pasted on its inside. The formal name for this line of product was a ‘washbasin’.

Lui: “…”

It’s a pity it wasn’t made of wood, Otherwise, it definitely could be displayed in a museum for visitors to admire. 

She picked up one of the towels and found that the white fabric was already stained with quite a bit of blood—she hadn’t seen it at first glance, thinking it was due to the color of the washbasin. 

Seeing the splotches of color, Lui was sure that both towels had met with destruction at Angel’s hands. 

And after that destruction, the fallout had not been dealt with, either. 

Was this intentional? It was definitely intentional, right?!

Her face filled with chilling harshness, Lui grabbed one of the towels and started rubbing it under the spicket. There was nothing blocking the flying water droplets as they accumulated on the floor into a puddle, soaking the hem of Lui’s pants mercilessly. 

…This kind of difficult environment reminded Lui of an experience she had hiding in the slums not too long ago. 

Even though the technology of the present day had advanced, the conveniences and boon of these advancements were not enjoyed ubiquitously. 

Lui remembered reading in the history books that, before the existence of the Federation’s government, there would be frequent demonstrations to improve the quality of life on certain planets, but even this kind of resistance faded after the establishment of Star Link. 

The conditions of life, whether material or spiritual, had to be satisfied. 

Star Link was the light that allowed people at the lowest rungs of society to be satisfied with their miserable lot in life. 

Star Link was hope, a beacon, the foundation on which each person’s most basic desires were met. 

Even though Lui could stomach this kind of life separated from high-tech, that did not mean she had to foot the bill for someone else’s behavior. 

As the towel was soaked, the dried blood stained the entire towel pink. 

The aroma of blood dispersed through the room. Lui was no stranger to the smell, but there was a hint of strangeness that made Lui realize what was different about this particular scent. 

Hmmm…

Cloaked beneath the ordinary scent of blood, there seemed to be a trace of a…fragrance?

It was difficult to describe: neither a natural, floral fragrance nor a manufactured, artificial scent, and faint. According to reason, the smell of the blood should have thoroughly covered the scent, but it slowly spread through the room like steam, boring into her nose.  

Despite her hesitance to admit it, Lui loved the scent.

The injury on her left arm was slightly itchy. Lui paid it no heed, and after rinsing it with cold water, the peculiar sensation went away. 

She shook out her arm, wanting to resolve the sensation, but because of the obsessive behavior drilled into her by the military academy, she continued to clean the towel bit by bit. 

A moment later. 

Lui tossed the freshly wrung towel at Angel’s face, her expression serene, “Remember to clean up next time.”

“…” Angel took the towel without so much as a word of thanks, “Then you’ll need my help to clean up what I left on you…”

“His name is Hyde De Witt. Answer my question!”

Before Angel could finish speaking, Lui interrupted Angel’s suppositions, utterly livid. 

Angel was capable of bringing the conversation to the edge of ambiguity at any point. 

A venomous serpent.

Temptation. 

Desire. 

Ah, don’t know ‘em.”

Angel carefully lifted the bandaging of the largest freshly ruptured wound—rather than ‘lifted’, perhaps ‘tore open’ would be more apt. 

The bandage had been wrapped as one piece, but this place did not even have a pair of scissors, let alone something that could cut through the bulk of it. 

Fortunately this place did not use any ‘antiques’, so it was convenient to remove with just her hands. 

“However, before I made the transfer, I did actually see a man wearing a military uniform on a private star vessel.”

Angel successfully sorted out her movements while Lui was on the verge of murdering her. 

There was no medicine, so she could not worry about infections at the moment. All Angel could do now was ensure that no blood dripped onto bed sheets. 

“…Well, in any case, I saw on the map that he was following me just as the transfer was initiated.”

Angel spoke neither quickly nor slowly. Each time she tore her own skin, her expression was exaggerated, and even her cries of pain sounded disingenuous. 

“Afterward I ran into Kunpeng as it passed through…That was my first time seeing a living one out in the wild! IT WAS HUGE!”

Angel stretched out her arms excitedly, trying to show Lui how sizable the creature had been, “It’s too bad we don’t have Star Link here, a projection would be much better for scale!”

“…It came from what’s-his-name’s direction….oh, from the direction of that Hyde’s starship. He’s most likely dead, but for better or worse, he was making so much noise that I had time to escape.”

Angel tugged on her own collar, revealing the bandaging beneath it, and made a funny face, “It’s good to survive the chaos, but it’s too bad.”

Lui, not looking at her, picked up a disordered roll of bandages by the foot of the bed—this was the only thing in the room that did not look prearranged. Angel must have brought it in when she arrived. 

She wound the bandaging back up and threw it at Angel’s face, “Pick up your stuff from now on.”

As for her ‘most likely dead’ subordinate, she did not express anything. 

“You’re so kind!” Angel lifted her head, revealing a sincere smile, “You haven’t told me your name yet, have you? Do you know where we are? I was locked up as soon as I landed here. I don’t know what they’ll do with me…”

“Lui.”

Lui spoke her name simply. 

In any case, she had come here to accept a new post. She had no interest in concealing her name. 

This address only existed to conform with popular naming conventions. The one that the military academy actually cared about was the identification number of each student. 

E49749. 

This was the ‘name’ with any real meaning. 

Lui went out of her way to avoid Angel’s second question. 

She thought of the starship’s hidden star map, unreleased to the public—

‘Planet No. 13’, just from the name itself, sounded quite unsophisticated. 

“You know where we are.”

Angel smiled like a satisfied cat. She perceptively pointed out the part Lui left out. 

Lui said nothing. 

“Nevermind—”

Angel’s voice suddenly relaxed. Or, rather, the tone of her voice was never very pressing. 

She lifted up the bandaging and shouted willfully, like a newborn kitten, “I can’t bandage my back. Help me.”

It was not a request, but an order. 

Lui ignored her. 

She paused for a moment, then headed to the bathroom of her own accord and started washing the second towel. 

—There were two towels in total, and the one in Angel’s hand was bound to meet a harrowing end. 

She always had to make sure she had one for when she bathed later. 

Angel sat on the bed for a while holding the bandages. 

She stared in the direction of the washroom—the washroom had no door, so from her point of view, she could see half of the space. Lui stood in the hidden half to avoid her. 

Angel’s smile gradually became profound and meaningful. 

But it did not reach her eyes. 

“Hey! Do you have pajamas!” She tilted her head and shouted at Lui, “You aren’t hoping to sleep with me tonight with your damn military uniform on, are you?”

The sound of the plastic wash basin clattering to the ground suddenly came from the bathroom. 


The author has something to say:

Sure enough, I really can’t do the sterile writing style for too long…I already foresee me going back to my comedic style later🤦

Footnotes

Footnotes
1 古风控, lit. ancient aesthetic-con, the -con referring to someone’s preference, likes, or tastes. Retrophile was the best I could do.

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