Don't Feed the Professor! - Chapter 60

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Something felt wrong, and I tried to wrench my arm free from the grip, but Bibi didn’t budge an inch.
Her left hand curved around to my back, steadying me against her.
“That’s why I told you to be quiet.”
“Wh—?”
“This one’s resisting awfully hard. My head’s ringing.”
Bibi—or rather, the thing wearing her body—tapped her temple with the heel of her palm, twice, the way one might knock on an unresponsive machine.
I understood then. The Manager had infiltrated Bibi’s mind the same way it had seized the Broker’s body.
The moment my left hand closed around the Clutch, it snatched my wrist. And in one motion, it hurled the Clutch out the window.
“…What do you want?”
“‘What do you want?'”
It laughed, mimicking my inflection. A mechanical whirring—the sound of a slot machine, pre-recorded, spilled from its throat through Bibi’s voice.
“You know, it’s my first time seeing a human up this close. And I have to say, the more I look, the more I like it.”
“…”
“I think I understand now why everyone wants one.”
Bibi was a head taller than me. Broader. Stronger. With a little effort, it could snap my wrist with one hand.
And right now, I was completely defenseless.
‘Then…’
I placed my hand on its chest. I gripped the lapel of the Jacket and pulled myself closer.
It watched me with an intrigued expression. My hand found the inside pocket.
‘It’s here.’
Good girl Bibi would never infiltrate a place like this without a weapon.
“Sorry, Bibi.”
Crack—blue sparks erupted from Bibi’s Stun Gun.
I couldn’t tell if the damage was substantial, but it was definitely caught off-guard.
I seized the moment its grip weakened and dropped my whole body, slipping free. I shoved it away and bolted in the opposite direction.
But the door was locked. Hopelessly locked.
No other way out. I threw open the Balcony door beside me and clawed my way over the railing.
“Hah… gasp…”
Below me, the Casino glittered and blazed with light. I’d climbed up boldly enough, but now that I stood at the edge, my feet wouldn’t obey.
‘It’s okay. I won’t die.’
But what if my neck snaps? Even if I land right, what comes after?
‘Why does my life always come to this?’
Why do I keep getting driven toward the cliff’s edge? Why won’t anyone help me?
“Amelie!”
That cascading laughter echoed above me, and I shut my eyes tight. Then I threw myself over the railing.
* * *
The fireplace roared, alive with flame. The scent of dry wood filled the house.
Quiet and peaceful, a winter night. I was nine years old, sitting in the kitchen of a modest Wooden House, scribbling away at my homework.
If I lifted my head, I could see someone reading a book in the armchair in front of the fireplace. Someone who felt the cold deeply.
The soft rustle of turning pages, and my heart was at peace.
I asked a question.
“Where did Doctor go?”
She answered without lifting her eyes.
“Don’t know.”
I swung my legs and puffed out my cheeks.
“I wish Doctor would come back soon. All this studying makes me bored.”
“You’re just trying to weasel out of your homework.”
“Am not!”
Even as I protested, my mind was already scheming. How could I escape this tedious assignment, even for a moment?
Ah.
“Hey, ■■. How come Doctor puts on pretty clothes and leaves every weekend? Is she going on a Date?”
■■ answered without interest, her voice flat.
“What’s a Date?”
This was my chance. I set down my pencil and announced triumphantly:
“You don’t even know what a Date is? ■■, you’re so dumb!”
■■ let out a scoff.
“Says the one who can’t even count.”
I opened my mouth to protest but found myself speechless.
I was nine years old, and at this age I should have already mastered multiplication and division. Instead, I was only just learning addition.
For a moment I felt ashamed, but it was all right. Because ■■ had told me that real knowledge isn’t found in books.
“It’s fine. I learn fast and I work hard.”
Only then did ■■ offer a thin smile. It meant she was willing to engage.
I seized the opportunity and launched into an explanation.
“A Date is, well, it’s really fun. It’s like going out, but it’s different from normal going out.”
“How is it different?”
“Um, well first you have to wear pretty clothes. Like, uh… yes! A flowing skirt like that! It doesn’t have to be a skirt exactly, but clothes that look like you put thought into them.”
“…So you dress carefully.”
“Yes, shiny or soft clothes would be nice. And don’t just tie your hair up—brush it nicely. And wear pretty shoes too.”
“A Rainbow Bracelet also?”
“Of course! Oh! And the important part—you have to go alone, just the two of you. You can’t let anyone else find out.”
By this point, my knowledge was running dry.
■■’s eyes narrowed.
“You dress nicely, wear a Rainbow Bracelet, and then?”
“Huh?”
“Where do you go?”
That was where my understanding ended entirely.
“Well… I mean, the place isn’t really the important part. You could go to a playground or something, actually, no—a Park would be better. A Park with lots of flowers.”
“Hmm.”
“But you can’t just run around there. You can’t play in the dirt. That doesn’t feel very much like a Date…”
“Then what does a Date feel like?”
I squeezed my head between my hands, thinking hard.
“Um… I know! You eat something delicious together! Like a milkshake or something.”
“What’s a milkshake?”
“Well… actually I don’t know much about it either. But the older girls say it’s super sweet and delicious. You get it at hamburger places, and it’s kind of like ice cream but way better, they said.”
Of course, I’d rarely eaten ice cream myself.
Seeing me lost in thought, ■■ closed her book.
“…Stop chattering.”
She came to the table and sat down, then snatched my notebook away.
“Hey, I’m not finished yet!”
Ignoring my protest, ■■ scanned through what I’d written.
“This is good work.”
Before I could feel proud of such sparse praise, she tapped the notebook down on the table.
“You forgot to write your name.”
Tap, tap—she pointed to the empty name box with her fingertip. I immediately knew I’d made a mistake, but I didn’t want to admit it.
“Well… it doesn’t really matter if I don’t write it. There’s no other student here anyway.”
But ■■ showed no sign of letting me off.
“I told you. Remembering your name here is more important than anything.”
“Yeah…”
“If you understand, write your name.”
It was easy enough. When I first came here, I couldn’t read Korean well. But I could read and write my own name at least.
I’d studied hard since then, so I could write it much more neatly than before.
When I wrote my three-letter name in pencil, ■■ nodded.
“Now write it in the alphabet.”
I gnawed on the end of my pencil.
But I could do it. I’d worked hard on the alphabet too, and ■■ said I learned quickly.
I pressed the letters down carefully. Y, U, R, and I…
Yuri.
“There. Done?”
I looked up proudly.
But instead of praise, ■■ tapped her fingertip on the empty space again.
“Now write my name.”
“…? I’m not stupid!”
“In the alphabet, not Korean.”
“What? But… you never taught me!”
“Simply copying what you’re taught doesn’t mean you’ve truly learned. The alphabet is a phonetic script, just like Korean. If you know the sounds, you can write it.”
How unfair. But when ■■ was teaching, she was always strict. I frowned in concentration and pressed the letters carefully onto the paper. M, and then…
“Huh?”
At my surprised sound, ■■ furrowed her brow.
“What?”
Struck by this magnificent discovery, I looked up with a spark in my eyes and cried out:
“It’s four letters! Just like mine!”
■■’s lips parted slightly. She seemed about to say something, then stopped and smiled instead.
And she murmured:
“Foolish Yuri.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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