Despite the slight hiccup earlier, the first day of care concluded rather smoothly.
As for what had happened earlier, Kitahara Sota certainly remembered it, but he didn’t linger too much on it.
After all, it was clearly just another accident caused by Agnes Tachyon’s experiments—only this time, instead of some unfortunate victim, she’d become her own guinea pig.
As for her earlier declaration of affection, that was obviously nothing more than the side-effect-induced fantasy of her potion. Kitahara wasn’t foolish enough to take something like that seriously.
In fact, he hadn’t even made a fuss about it. After Tachyon returned to normal, he simply scolded her lightly while completing the rest of her care, then left with Eclipse.
And since it was all entirely Tachyon’s own doing, even if she felt embarrassed or awkward afterward, she had no one but herself to blame.
Sure, Tachyon had become strangely shy afterward, blushing and acting unusually reserved.
But knowing Agnes Tachyon’s hyper-rational mind—and her thick-skinned mad-scientist persona—Kitahara figured she’d quickly get over such superficial embarrassment. She’d probably pretend the whole thing never happened by tomorrow.
After all, she usually behaved as if these sorts of things didn’t faze her at all. Once her head cleared up, she might even tease him about it or threaten him into another potion experiment.
At least, that’s what Kitahara believed.
But was that really the case?
Agnes Tachyon herself didn’t know.
Right now, she didn’t even have the mental capacity to think.
Once the potion’s effects fully faded, and her rationality returned, every single moment replayed endlessly in her mind:
Confessions, clinging to him, embracing him, and even that final kiss…
What on earth have I done?!
Her mind was now completely blank, unable to process a single coherent thought. She buried her face like an ostrich, desperately hoping everything was just an illusion.
Yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself it was just a hallucination, the lingering scent on her body, the warmth still pulsing faintly in her ankles, and the taste of his lips lingering on her own—all relentlessly reminded her of reality.
In this state, forget thinking clearly; she barely reacted even when Kitahara gently completed the remainder of her care.
Compared to the chaos in her heart, the sensations in her legs were practically negligible.
—Of course, Kitahara’s technique had deliberately reverted to the gentler style he’d used right after the rookie race, even reducing his strength slightly.
Given the earlier incident, he worried there might still be residual potion effects—or that Tachyon’s heart might not be able to handle more stimulation—so he kept things restrained.
Once the care was done, despite a persistent internal voice screaming, “Do something already!” “You worthless idiot, even a real guinea pig would be braver!”, Tachyon stayed absolutely still, curling into a ball beneath her pillow.
Thus, the night passed uneventfully.
Except in the darkness, there was the soft, repeated sound of her tongue sliding unconsciously over her lips.
So… this is what Guinea Pig-kun tastes like…
…
The next day, Agnes Tachyon reverted entirely to her post-rookie-race attitude: pointedly ignoring Kitahara.
Kitahara wasn’t surprised—only exasperated.
Seriously? She was the one who created the mess. I’m the victim here, yet she’s the one acting offended?
The rest of the team naturally noticed the odd atmosphere, casting curious glances their way.
Especially Tokai Teio, who’d previously speculated after the rookie race incident. She seized a gap in training to approach Kitahara, casually but very deliberately mentioning Tachyon’s strange behavior and probing him for information.
“Oh, that?” Kitahara answered nonchalantly. “She tried messing with me last night using some new potion she cooked up, but she forgot to check its side effects beforehand. It backfired spectacularly—just another lab accident.”
A lab accident.
Hearing that explanation, the others quickly accepted it.
After all, Agnes Tachyon’s experiments malfunctioning was hardly a rare occurrence. On a good month, she’d have three or four incidents; even on a quiet period, something would happen every two months. Everyone had grown used to it by now.
Normally, someone else—often a trainer—would be the unfortunate victim, but there were still rare times when Tachyon herself got caught in her own experiments. This was unusual but certainly not unheard of, so no one questioned it further.
As for the exact nature of the accident, judging by Tachyon’s current behavior, it clearly wasn’t something easily discussed. Everyone implicitly understood and refrained from prying deeper.
Thus, on the surface, the matter quickly passed.
But while the issue with Tachyon had seemingly blown over, Kitahara had another pressing matter just beginning.
Kudou Kazuya, huh…
Repeating the name silently, Kitahara’s expression darkened slightly.
He was now troubled by how exactly to start investigating this person.
Doing it himself? Impossible.
He wasn’t an expert, and besides, news of his assignment from the Chairwoman had already spread among trainers. His identity alone made direct investigation impractical.
Chairwoman Akikawa or the “Green Devil,” Hayakawa Tazuna? Also impractical.
Kudou Kazuya had been a fixture at Tracen Academy headquarters for nearly two decades. He held seniority over both women, even having assisted them when they first took office, earning their trust deeply.
Trying to convince them without concrete evidence would be challenging and might alert Kudou prematurely.
Besides, after all these years, neither Akikawa nor Hayakawa had expressed any suspicion toward Kudou. This implied they either had no evidence or that Kudou had always been careful around them.
If even the Chairwoman and Hayakawa wouldn’t work, then involving other trainers was utterly out of the question.
Thus, Kitahara found himself stuck, even considering reaching out to someone trustworthy outside the academy.
While he was pondering this, a familiar but somewhat distant voice broke his thoughts.
“Something troubling you, Trainer Kitahara?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, though not exactly close. It held no malice, so Kitahara responded instinctively.
“Ah, yes, I was thinking about something—”
But halfway through, he froze.
Wait a minute, that voice…
Turning quickly, he nearly suffered a heart attack at the sight of the face next to him.
Student Council President—Symboli Rudolf.
She stood beside him, calmly observing Tokai Teio training in the distance, a gentle smile on her lips.
When she saw Kitahara’s startled gaze, Rudolf turned to face him directly.
“If you don’t mind, why not share what’s troubling you? Perhaps I can help.”
“Besides, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you as well. If you have time, shall we go somewhere to talk privately?”
…
Moments later, in the Student Council office.
Kitahara and Symboli Rudolf sat facing each other.
Honestly, given a choice, Kitahara would’ve preferred zero involvement with Symboli Rudolf. His immediate instinct had been to refuse.
Yet in that same instant, he realized Rudolf was actually the ideal person to investigate Kudou Kazuya.
Though Kudou’s connections ran deep among trainers and academy management, his influence among the Uma Musume themselves was minimal. Most importantly, Rudolf had no direct relationship with Kudou at all.
Thus, reluctantly, Kitahara accepted her invitation.
Unlike their last encounter, Rudolf showed none of the prior aggressiveness. Her demeanor was calm, even welcoming. Also, they weren’t alone this time—two other Uma Musume were present.
Narita Brian—her nose-bandaged acquaintance—sat buried under piles of paperwork, a lifeless look on her face.
Nearby sat another Uma Musume with short black hair, blue eyes, and an authoritative presence, efficiently handling documents at an astonishing speed.
This was Air Groove, Rudolf’s other vice president alongside Narita Brian. While Brian typically handled disciplinary matters and emergencies, Air Groove assisted Rudolf directly with paperwork and campus administration.
Kitahara wasn’t familiar with Air Groove, merely greeting her politely.
Narita Brian, however, perked up immediately upon seeing him, eyes lighting up.
“Is there trouble again?”
As a fighter-type, Brian preferred dealing with actual trouble over drowning in paperwork.
“No trouble,” Rudolf replied calmly. “And even if there were, Hayakawa-san’s still on duty. Your turn won’t come up.”
Brian’s hopes instantly collapsed. Rudolf turned to Kitahara.
“So, Trainer Kitahara, tell me your issue.”
Kitahara hesitated, glancing toward Brian and Air Groove.
Rudolf understood immediately.
“Is it related to ‘that’?”
Kitahara nodded silently.
Rudolf narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then turned toward Brian.
“Brian, please wait outside. We’re about to discuss something not suitable for student ears.”
Though visibly curious, Brian exited obediently, taking up guard outside.
Meanwhile, Air Groove paused her writing, looking up curiously.
“Air Groove is my assistant,” Rudolf explained. “If I’m unavailable, you can trust her with most matters. Brian handles combat or sudden emergencies. Both are trustworthy, no need to worry.”
With Rudolf’s assurance, Kitahara lowered his voice:
“I need to investigate someone. Going through the Chairwoman isn’t an option.”
“Who?”
“Kudou Kazuya.”
The room went silent.
Though Rudolf and Air Groove had no direct contact with Kudou, his two decades at Tracen ensured they knew him by reputation.
“Reason?” Air Groove frowned.
Rudolf raised a hand, interrupting gently but firmly.
“Tell me exactly what information you need.”
Surprised at Rudolf’s immediate cooperation, Kitahara wasted no time:
“First: his movements, especially trips outside the academy over recent years.”
“Second: his personal connections, both within and outside Tracen.”
“Third: financial movements. It’s difficult, but any leads help.”
Rudolf nodded thoughtfully.
“Understood. I can’t guarantee everything, but I’ll do my best.”
After their discussion, Rudolf brought up her own reason for approaching Kitahara—unsurprisingly, Tokai Teio.
Unlike last time, Rudolf wasn’t confrontational. Instead, she apologized for her earlier hostility.
“Back then, I’d just fought with Teio, so my emotions got the better of me. I apologize.”
“I get it,” Kitahara replied lightly. “No offense taken.”
Rudolf hesitated briefly, then asked earnestly:
“Trainer Kitahara, please answer honestly. You’re only nominally responsible for Teio, aren’t you? You’ve never actually trained her, right?”
Silence.
Then Kitahara sighed softly.
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
—
This is a fan translation of 人在特雷森，专职摆烂 by 多功能复读机 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.