Demi-human Girls Completion Manual-Chapter 991 - 56: Royal Capital
Mikhail’s wife was neither from New Moscow nor New Saint Petersburg. She came from the other side of the Ural Mountains, once plowed by nuclear bombs, from Old Moscow... perhaps Chechnya or perhaps Belarus. He didn’t know where his wife came from, as he rarely inquired about her past.
They met in New Moscow, on the West Siberian Plain, when Mikhail was still working for the New Siberian Wind, manufacturing various particle beam weapons for them to sell to other parts of the world.
He still remembers his robust wife; honestly, in the era Mikhail lived in, most people’s aesthetics weren’t so picky. Choosing the right opposite-sex partner was a privilege exclusive to high-class talents, and he was just an engineer. Like most people, he had to rely on virtual cyber girlfriends in virtual reality to satisfy his physical needs most of the time... Moreover, he was lucky; his body was not affected by nuclear pollution, and thus he was selected to enter the company’s genetic engineering program, working for the future of humanity.
Well, in plain terms, it was just sperm donation, for which he could get some decent compensation.
His love story was quite cliché. When a group of New Russia militants attacked a company convoy carrying particle weapons, Mikhail’s then-girlfriend, the attack squad’s leader, captured this valuable engineer, keeping him to try to crack the company’s particle weapons.
The names of these armed factions were quite varied; they were generally members of some gang, bloodthirsty desperados, or desperate people pushed to the edge by the corporation. They had another name, "Cyberpunks."
Mikhail, on the other hand, simply considered them terrorists. Ironically, he ended up falling in love with one of these terrorists until he slowly descended and became one of them.
What’s the difference between employees oppressed by the company and people struggling to survive outside?
Just like the analogy of country mice and city mice in fairy tales: country mice are free and safe, but the barren countryside decides they can’t get good food. The city has everything; even rummaging through garbage cans can yield discarded butter. However, the mice there are hunted and could die at any moment.
Obviously, Mikhail chose the latter. He implanted many dangerous prosthetics; his innate mechanical design talent helped him, his wife, and their companions craft invincible weapons, allowing them to succeed repeatedly in gang wars, hijacking company shipments, and such. But this wasn’t a business without risks and costs.
Until one day, he developed severe mental illness due to invasive prosthetics; until one day, his team, those despicable yet lovable cyberpunks, died one by one; until one day, even his wife died in the feud between gangs;
Until one day, he hit a dead end, arriving at the underground clinic of a female prosthetic doctor he often visited, seeking release through death...
He traveled across dimensions.
He ended up on the bed of a powerful, genderless, strangely tempered creature, until later he realized he had been mistaking Mikhail for his deceased wife for half a month, afflicted and confused for a long time.
Perhaps he wanted to embrace the other person, or maybe he said a bunch of secrets that only his wife would know, or perhaps he did other embarrassing things?
Though Mikhail was strange-tempered, he unexpectedly tolerated him, but not without a price—this angel, proficient in crafting, also had peculiar hobbies. He was passionate about various games, perhaps to dispel loneliness?
In any case, Mikhail, after the experience, was greatly shaken.
...
...
"Michael!!"
In the shaking carriage, Mikhail didn’t know what he dreamed of as he suddenly woke up and sat upright. He panted and looked around, only to find everyone staring blankly at him. Then, little by little, their expressions became strange, especially Helair, whose mouth involuntarily turned up, and his cheeks slightly puffed up, seemingly stifling a laugh.
Feeling Mikhail’s extremely awkward expression, Helair waved his hand mischievously and said,
"We were just talking about something happy, and I suddenly thought of it, so I laughed."
Mikhail covered his head speechlessly, not wanting to explain further. He was almost forty years old, yet he seemed more reliable and steady than this angel of unknown age.
But he suddenly felt Helair looked familiar, reminiscent of the first time they met.
He wondered if she was present when Michael was treating him during one of his episodes...
Mikhail shook his head and looked outside, only to see a dense jungle, so he asked,
"Where are we? I recall... we were at... Phoenix Station?"
"We’re not at Phoenix Station anymore; we’re moving toward the Royal Capital of the Elves. You’ve been asleep for two days without waking up; if not for your stable physical condition, we’d have thought you were dead. So, how about a drink of water?"
Hooked kiss handed Mikhail a water bottle, explaining what had happened since his unconsciousness. He thanked after taking the bottle, glancing at the Phoenix Nekolia sitting at the front of the carriage and the Royal Capital Envoy, a Black Snake Species leading the way.
