Aurora Over a Dead World

Chapter 9: Delilah, Delilah, Delilah

"...Are you okay?" Delilah asks me, and I look at her while sucking on a lollipop and staring out the window. Delilah is a teacher here at the academy, and while the other teachers have already gone to their classrooms, Delilah stayed behind to sort out some paperwork.

She’s a short woman, 162 centimeters tall, with long purple hair and deep, dark purple eyes, small breasts, a slim build, pale skin, and dark circles under her eyes so terribly large she looks exhausted, which clashes hard with her attitude.

’Purple hair... weird...’ I don’t know much about this girl, and I can’t judge her appearance too much considering I have blue hair, another weird color, but still... something about her is off.

Unusual hair colors aren’t strange — they mostly emerged from how the world’s vectors changed after being so heavily altered — but purple... purple is rare even among the more uncommon colors that started appearing as simple "mutations."

"Yes, I’m fine..." I tell her as a cold, dry response, to make it clear I don’t want to talk.

"Want some coffee? Did you sleep well?" she asks with a smile that doesn’t fit. Her appearance is that of someone deeply tired, but her smile and gaze are very friendly, and her tone is exaggeratedly cheerful, just like her overly positive attitude.

"...I don’t want anything." I didn’t sleep a single bit, thanks to that damn surprise heat blast Tanya fired off. I had to defend myself on impulse, which I managed because I’m experienced.

But I didn’t come out unscathed. The heat from the beam, which I only deflected when it was already almost touching me out on the apartment balcony, melted some components of my arm, forcing me to spend hours replacing the parts.

And they were parts that forced me to disassemble the entire arm using only one arm and spend hours refitting and readjusting the new pieces to the movement pattern I’m used to.

"I see. You must be nervous, right? I heard you’re new here, but everything’s going to go well. I bet you’ll get some great students," she says something that sounds foolish when my students are a bunch of miserable troublemakers.

"Heh... I wish I had that kind of luck," I end up replying. Her tone is too inviting, and she won’t go away even though I’m implying I don’t want to talk to her.

"Anyway, aren’t you late?" I ask in a way that suggests she should leave, even if she has time.

"Oh no! Today I’m only taking the afternoon class, so I’m just sorting out some paperwork. My students can go a few hours without seeing me," she says with a charming smile on her face.

’Urgh...’ I hate optimistic people. Though it’s hard to find someone I don’t hate, optimistic people are near the top of the list. They always end up being the first to die in war, so you end up learning you can’t really count on them as useful allies.

Obviously, you can’t generalize, but we don’t come across positive people in war who survived for long. Usually, those people end up getting pretty dark and pessimistic when they do survive.

"Well, too bad. I have to go or I’ll be late," I tell her as I bite down on the lollipop, hearing its sweet crack as it shatters inside my mouth, and I stash the stick in my clothes. If she won’t leave, then I will.

"Oh, you’re going already? I get it. Can I walk with you to keep you company? By the way, that skirt of yours looks amazing!" she suddenly compliments my outfit.

"..." I look down at the black skirt I’m forced to wear because my prosthetics tear through regular pants, which can’t handle the free movement of the metal prosthetics.

"...Haaa... yeah, it’s nice... no need to come with me," I say in a harsh tone to make it clear I don’t want someone tagging along.

"Ah, but I insist! What kind of senior doesn’t help her juniors socialize, right?" she says as if I’m hierarchically beneath her, when before being a teacher I was a military commander!! How absurd.

’Guess most teachers must think I’m just another ordinary teacher... whatever.’ I know a lot of my data and Nadir’s are classified. Besides, I also know Nephilim Axis hides many of my files.

Not because I’m some secret superweapon, but because Nadir is too valuable for them to risk someone killing me. After all, if I die, all motivation for Nadir to stay in the army vanishes, and he’d undoubtedly leave, and his ability is too important for them to let him go.

I bet that’s how he managed to force them into making me a teacher instead of leaving me on the battlefield.

"Look, shouldn’t you go find a bed and get some sleep? You look like a zombie, and wow, if I saw you on the street I might shoot you, mistaking you for a monster," I give her a big smile, speaking with sarcasm so she’ll catch the hint.

"Oh hahaha, that’s a good joke! Yeah, I really need to sleep a little! But hey, I’m doing great! Nothing a good old cup of coffee or an energy drink can’t fix," she replies with pure optimism. I take a deep breath, not liking that she either simply didn’t notice or noticed and ignored my obvious sarcasm.

"Sure... yeah..." I grab my black hoodie with dark brown details that I bought to hide my arm prosthetics and pull it over my body. I’m not wearing it because I’m ashamed of my body.

But because I noticed people stare too much at my legs and arms. Besides, I’m also wearing very long socks that reach almost to my knees. Since they don’t go over the knee, they don’t end up tearing, so the socks and the hoodie partially hide my arms and legs, which wards off the simpler, more common stares.

And I like not having anyone staring at me, because I’m very sensitive to being watched, and if no one’s observing me, then I’ll know if someone’s watching me from afar with possible malice or trying to uncover things they shouldn’t, as well as attempts to kill me.

"Great! Let’s go then," Delilah says, setting the papers aside on the table next to a cup of coffee and starting to follow me.

’Well... let’s get something useful out of this...’ I can ask questions I don’t currently have answers to — things Nexus wouldn’t know, like the students’ general attitudes toward other teachers, and the activities other teachers choose for their students.

Obviously, almost everything is standardized, but there must be classes where the teachers decide what to do. I also have, in the file Astrid gave me, mandatory activities I have to do with my students, and the rest I’ll decide what’s best.

"Delilah, I have some questions..."