Chapter 49: A Precious “Everyday Life”

Chapter 49: A Precious “Everyday Life”

Saturday, the fifth day since Tendou and the others arrived in the Deep Blue Metropolis.

“Hey! Kong, Tendou! The beef in the fridge is almost gone. Which one of you is going to the supermarket to buy some more?”

From the kitchen, Chen Xing stepped out wearing an apron, slapping her metal spatula clank! against the doorframe for emphasis.

The sudden noise made Tendou—who had been lazily sprawled on the sofa, munching on snacks and laughing at a trashy melodrama—jolt upright in surprise.

Meanwhile, Chen Kong, who was sitting at the dining table working on two sets of class assignments, silently set his pen down.

Why two sets, you ask? Because the ever-scheming Tendou had shamelessly dumped his own homework on him.

Of course, he called it “a chance for you to reinforce your learning”—as if it were some grand act of kindness.

Naturally, Chen Kong wasn’t stupid. He knew full well that Tendou was just trying to trick him. But he didn’t really mind. After all, writing one set or two didn’t make much difference.

Unfortunately, from Chen Xing’s point of view, that little scene—Tendou lounging with snacks and Kong quietly writing—looked exactly the same.

They were both slacking off.

And seeing those two lazing around while she was sweating bullets preparing dinner made her blood boil.

They were supposed to be on a mission together, weren’t they? So why did it feel like she was the only one actually working?

What made it worse was what came next.

When Tendou heard her shout, instead of answering, he immediately dropped his chips, grabbed a random folder off the coffee table, and held it up in front of his face—pretending to be reading a report like some kind of overworked executive.

His acting was… atrocious. You could practically see the “I’m totally not slacking” written all over his face.

“Tendou.”

Chen Xing’s voice trembled with barely restrained fury.

The spatula in her hand bent—actually bent—from how tightly she was gripping it.

Just before she could explode, Chen Kong stood up and quickly intervened.

“Sis, I’ll go. I don’t have anything else to do anyway.”

The moment he said that, Tendou jumped on the opportunity like a drowning man finding a raft.

“Yeah, yeah, Xing, let Kong go! The store’s close—just a few blocks away, right?”

Chen Xing gave him a long, withering look, then let out a sharp “hmph” and went back into the kitchen, clearly done with his nonsense.

Tendou, on the other hand, showed not even a trace of guilt.

In fact, as soon as Chen Kong was about to step out the door, Tendou called out cheerfully:

“Oh, Kong! While you’re there, grab me some more snacks, yeah? Thanks, bro!”

“Got it!”

With that, Chen Kong closed the door and headed down the street.

But he hadn’t even made it halfway down the path before the sounds of crash! and smash! came echoing from inside the villa—followed by what could only be described as… chaotic shouting.

Things like: “Why don’t you go yourself for once!” and “Next time you pull this, I’ll make you eat outside!”

Chen Kong didn’t need to see it to know exactly what was happening.

No doubt, the moment he’d left, Chen Xing had burst out of the kitchen, spatula swinging, chasing Tendou around the house while he scrambled for cover.

The mental image made Chen Kong chuckle helplessly as he walked away.

Somehow, this loud, messy, utterly mundane scene… felt oddly precious.

He chuckled softly to himself for a while, then let out a quiet sigh.

“If only life could stay like this forever…”

He knew even as he said it, though, that it was just wishful thinking.

A fragile, impossible dream.

In a month, he and the rest of the team would be returning to the base.

And when that day came, he’d go back to being what he’d always been—that unnoticed, unremarkable shadow no one ever really cared about.

“…Forget it. I’ll worry about the future when it comes. For now, I’d better hurry and pick up the groceries Sis needs—plus the snacks Tendou likes. Otherwise everyone’s going to go hungry tonight.”

Chen Kong slapped his cheeks lightly, shaking off his gloomy thoughts.

Then he pushed open the villa gate and started toward the nearby shopping street.

The city’s neon signs shimmered faintly in the late afternoon light.

Just another peaceful weekend… or so it seemed.

But not far away, atop a rooftop overlooking the neighborhood, a lone figure suddenly stood up, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Finally. After waiting an entire day, the fish has left the pond.”

“Claude,” the man muttered without looking back, “how long can your Coffin of Silence last?”

The one he addressed, Claude, paused from polishing the massive iron coffin beside him.

His tone was calm, almost indifferent.

“An hour. Any longer, and the interference you cause will be picked up by nearby Star Energy detectors. The Starbearer Association will come running.”

“Only an hour, huh? That’s plenty.”

The first man—Yong Amsan—grinned, his rough, stubbled face twisting into something cruel and feverish.

“After all, it’s just a first-order Starbearer. I don’t need that long to crush someone like that. Even if he’s a ‘genius,’ it won’t make a difference.”

His gaze locked onto the crowd below—onto Chen Kong, who had just merged into the flow of pedestrians and was heading toward the nearest department store.

“He’s not the one I really wanted to play with,” Yong Amsan murmured, a grin stretching wider across his face, “but as an appetizer… this little ‘genius’ will do nicely.”

He placed a hand on the coffin beside Claude. With a slow creak, the iron lid opened.

Inside wasn’t anything tangible—no weapon, no person.

Only a swirling black vortex, twisting like a living shadow.

As Yong Amsan slowly plunged his arm into that abyss, his voice turned low and trembling with anticipation.

“It’s been so long… I almost forgot how beautiful it is. Watching those arrogant, untouchable geniuses fall to their knees—begging, whining, breaking beneath me.”

And with that, Yong Amsan stepped fully into the black vortex.

Bang!

The lid of the coffin slammed shut with a heavy metallic thud.

Moments later, ripples spread out across the rooftop floor beneath it—like water disturbed by a single drop.

The coffin sank into those ripples and vanished entirely, leaving not even a trace behind.

Claude watched silently until the last shimmer faded.

Then, wordlessly, he sat cross-legged at the rooftop’s center.

A cold wind swept past, fluttering the hem of his black cloak—revealing beneath it, a body of cold, metallic sheen.

He stood there on the rooftop, crimson mechanical eyes glowing faintly as they focused on the iron coffin that had just emerged in front of a department store entrance down below.

The twin red lenses flickered—analyzing, calculating, locking on.

. . .

Evening sunlight slanted low, painting the street in gold as Chen Kong pushed open the supermarket’s glass door.

The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the floor tiles.

Inside, a few housewives wandered between aisles, carts rattling softly.

At the counter, the cashier yawned, half-listening to a muted weather forecast playing on the small television above.

Every so often, she’d sneak a glance at her watch, silently counting the minutes until closing time.

A perfectly ordinary scene—quiet, domestic, full of the warmth of human life.

Chen Kong watched it all for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

‘Peace like this… it’s really nice,’ he thought.

‘Too bad… it’s not mine to have.’

He sighed inwardly, then turned toward the fresh produce section—only to freeze mid-step.

A chill crawled up his spine.

Something… was coming.

Clang!

The automatic doors shuddered violently, glass panels rattling as if struck by an invisible hammer.

Overhead lights flickered erratically—bright, dim, bright again—casting the store in a strobe of unease.

Panic rippled through the customers.

A woman screamed. Someone dropped a basket of vegetables.

The air itself felt heavy, pressing, alive.

Chen Kong spun around, eyes narrowing toward the entrance.

There—on the floor just beyond the glass—a swirling black vortex had appeared, twisting and pulsing like a living wound in reality.

From within that vortex, a massive iron coffin lined with glowing circuitry slowly rose into view.

BOOM!

The lid burst open.

Out stepped a short, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and eyes gleaming with vicious amusement.

He smiled—a grin far too sharp, far too hungry.

“Well, well…” he said, voice low and rumbling.

“Nice to finally meet you, Chen Kong.”

. . .

[Name: Claude Jernkuplen]

[Type: Machina / Controller Type]

[Rank: First-Order Starbearer]

[Star Origin: Mechanical Shrine]

[Criminal Record: Singlehandedly massacred over a hundred civilians in pursuit of “perfecting his human data.”]

[Federation Wanted Level: ★]

[Bounty: 350,000 Star Origin Coins]

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