Chương 138: B3. 3.1 - Daughter Duty Calls

Tuesday morning was uneventfully uneventful. A much-needed time of peace and consistency before my set life would be disrupted by Mom coming to visit. I went through the motions of law school, a welcome change to the life-and-death situations I had experienced so far. It wasn't fun for the movie to be all action. The afternoon was different. No, there wasn't any action; not the fighting sort, anyway. It was actually time to prepare for Mom's arrival.

I'd been putting it off for the absolutely last minute for the very simple reason that… I was too lazy to do it. Right after law school, Deen and I went grocery shopping to stock my condo's pantry—Mom reminded me that she wanted to cook meals in the kitchen because it had been ages since she had done so.

She always had food delivered because she had lots of work for Greaves Tech: meeting this, presentation that, testing various weapons and machines, and, most importantly, selling Greaves stuff to various governments. As the slightly perfect daughter, I had to show Mom some gratitude. Even leeches thanked their hosts. Or maybe they didn't; I hadn't tried to interview those slug-like creatures.

"I'm going to help you clean your room," Deen said while I was choosing a bottle of floor cleaner.

"Why do you sound so excited?" I picked a bottle with pink liquid inside because it looked cute. And that was about the extent of my product assessment. If it mentioned 'floor cleaner' on the label, then it was good enough for me and my condo's floor.

"Because I'll be helping a friend," Deen said matter-of-factly.

"It'll make us closer, and it's my good deed for the day."

"I didn't know you kept a daily tab on good deeds." I pushed the shopping cart, hunting for those circle thingies that freshen up the bathroom. Hopefully, there was a caramel scent. I raised my brow when Deen held onto the cart's front and pulled it. Made me look like an untrustworthy little sister.

"Do you clean your rented house at Poblacion Verde Hills?"

"Not me. The owner sends over cleaning services each week. There's also a deep clean once a month. It's all part of the contract and paid for."

"Have you ever done housecleaning in your life?" Deen looked over her shoulder and frowned at me.

"Erind, don't take me for a medieval princess with dozens of ladies-in-waiting. I'm not helpless on my own. I clean at times. It was one of my de-stressing activities when I used to live with my parents." I curtsied, pulling the sides of my shirt to pretend it was a skirt.

"Apologies, your highness. Your humble servant has mistakenly assumed you don't know what a broom is for." Deen pushed the cart, hitting my chest with the handle.

"Ow!" I exclaimed in fake pain.

"Don't make me any flatter!" It turned out that Deen did know how to clean. Granted, mopping the floor or dusting shelves wasn't exactly a complicated task. But I half-expected her to be all germaphobe and the like. Or that she'd awkwardly use the mop, like someone pretending they knew how to use chopsticks even though it was their first time doing so.

"All done!" Deen said after arranging the last pillow on the couch.

"And I didn't even ruin my nails."

"I almost forgot to ask," I said while making sure that all my fairy tale figurines on the shelves face outward.

"How do you trim your nails? I have broken a couple of nail cutters already." Deen extended her fingers toward me.

"I soak the tip of my finger in water mixed with coconut oil and other moisturizing products for half an hour. Then I use a heavy-duty toenail clipper."

"There's something like that?" I searched online shops on my phone.

"Huh. It looks like pliers."

"It requires a certain finesse in usage on my hands, but I make do. I can't hire a manicurist because they'll realize that I don't have regular human nails. How do you cut your nails?" I grinned.

"Oh… I just bite my nails. Then smooth them with a steel file. You know those files used for woodworking? I got one from a hardware store. I really don't know what to do."

"How awful!" Deen took my fingers and felt the edges of my nails.

"A real rough work. You should come over next time, and I can do your nails."

"I can do it on my own," I quickly said, pulling my hand away. Getting treated like a kid again. To be fair, it was pretty childish to bite my nails, so I changed the topic.

"It's fascinating that our hair and nails don't grow if we cut them, but they do if they're damaged any other way. The nail of your index finger returned to what it looked like before when it regenerated."

"Our regeneration is more akin to repairing our prior state instead of healing," Deen said.

"You shouldn't say 'our' because my regeneration comes from my Adumbrae power," I said.

"That's what I think is going on anyway. Your regeneration is because of your Core."

"But they work in the same way. Isn't that… odd?" I touched my chest.

"Maybe this artificial Core isn't actually one. Could be something like a fake Core made from Adumbrae bits instead of the Mother Fragment? Dario is falsely advertising this'd turn us into discount store Corebrings to make us feel good about the whole thing. No one would agree to melding with this if his tagline was, 'become part Adumbrae.' It's way more plausible that the Professor's organization experimented on Adumbrae instead of getting their hands on a part of the Mother Core."

"What you say is true," Deen said.

"But I've noticed that Corebrings regenerate in a similar fashion. Isolde does, at least."

"The most beautiful Corebring," I said.

"Scouting out the competition? They should redo the rankings with you in the running, assuming that the artificial Core is actually made from Mother Core bits. You'll definitely dethrone her." Deen pursed her lips as she blushed.

"I'm being serious here, Erind. I've done quite a bit of research on this. The internet is awash with compilations of videos and pictures of Isolde, so it was easiest to study her. There were times that her hair was burned or cut while fighting Adumbrae, but it regenerated to the same length… and color. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"For a few months last year, she had white highlights on her black hair. It could be her sense of style when she attended fashion shows and film festivals. There was a massive issue about her integrating too much into human society. Don't you remember?"

"Deen… I don't follow regular human celebrities, much less superhuman ones. And I rarely watch the news because I prefer living in my bubble of ignorant bliss. Well, I watch a lot of news now because I might be on them. But that's a whole different thing." Deen stared at me with a creased forehead, probably considering lecturing me about awareness of social issues. Not that a Corebring's fashion style was of importance. She decided to focus on her point.

"I'm highlighting the regeneration of Isolde. During the time she colored her hair, she fought an Adumbrae, which slashed it short. Seconds later, her hair was back, highlights included. I watched the video several times. It isn't rapid healing if the hair dye is reformed… reconstituted. The dye isn't part of her body." My teasing mood lessened as I mulled over the implications of Deen's findings.

"Isn't there a Corebring with a tattoo of his favorite NBA team on his arm? Was it, like, a huge bee on his biceps? No way that tattoo is a manifestation of his power."

"It's the hornet of the Edmonton Stingers. Their logo is tattooed on the Bulwark's, yes. I researched him, too. I'm not sure how they were able to pierce his skin, but I've seen videos of that tattoo reforming along with his arm." I didn't care to think about this before, but this point might prove important someday. The time would come when I'd meet Corebrings because of my shenanigans.

"I see where you're going with this."

"It's the mental image of our being that's reconstructed," Deen said.

"Corebring and Adumbrae alike."

"The theory about Corebrings and Adumbrae being two sides of the same coin." I went over to the kitchen to check the contents of the fridge. It had been ages since it was well-stocked.

"There might be some merit to it," Deen said.

"Otherworldly powers. Superhuman body. The major difference is that the Mother Core gives out these Cores to people, in contrast to Adumbrae taking over people's minds and bodies. But one could argue that the mode differs, but the results are the same. I've been thinking… perhaps we can ask the Adumbrae dwelling inside you?"

"The Adumbrae is dormant," I said, not wanting to discuss Spooky Erind with Deen. I could already imagine the fuss that Deen would stir up.

"And it's better that it stays that way. I think it's time that we get going to the airport. The traffic's going to be brutal." Not that many people could brag about turning a scion of the Leska family into a maid and a chauffeur. I accomplished that in one day. In the past, I didn't want anyone inside my condo. But after Kelsey's short stay, I was sort of more open to it. Deen was pestering me that I allowed Kelsey there, as if I had elsewhere to hide her, so I might as well invite Deen over to help me clean.

She took care of the living room and kitchen while I did the bathroom. As a bonus, I now had a driver to the airport. Deen didn't need any prodding. She was more excited to meet my mom than I was.

"Okay, I have a new bit of knowledge," I said as our car moved at a snail's pace. The evening traffic was atrocious, especially on the way to the airport.

"What is it?" Deen asked in a bored drawl.

"Is it about limelights again?"

"This is a different thing. And you have to admit that the origin of the limelight is cool. This might be even cooler—the origin of graham crackers. So, I was right that they're named after a guy. Sylvester Graham. It turns out that the crackers were eaten by this sort of religious-slash-vegetarian movement. Their whole thing was eating natural. They'd have a fit if they saw the recipes with graham crackers now. Interesting, isn't it?"

"I find it more interesting that you can think about random topics," Deen said.

"If I were in your position, I'd be a proper wreck, distressed about being an Adumbrae." She gasped and covered her mouth.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be insensitive. You're probably diverting your thoughts—""I don't dwell on problems, Deen," I said truthfully. Not sure how it was with normal people, but I could rarely stick to one thought. I'd seen in movies about stressed people taking sleeping pills because they couldn't sleep, thinking about their problems in the darkness. I wasn't immune to stress. And I also think about my problems.

But there was an invisible meter in my brain that once hit, I automatically just didn't give a fuck anymore, and my mind would wander to more interesting things. Like… graham crackers.

"You're a stronger person than I give you credit for," Deen said.

"Is that a compliment or what?"

"It is! It is…" Deen turned to look me in the eye.

"You're also braver than me. If I were in your shoes, I'd be scared of trying to steal a Core from Dario. But you're willing to do it to save Kelsey." It's for the drama, I thought. The opportunity to beat up Dario for the second time was a bonus. Completely curing Kelsey wasn't my intention—my importance would be diminished. And my uniqueness! I sincerely hoped that Kelsey wouldn't be able to meld with an artificial Core. Keke would probably make excuses if she thought it'd be detrimental to her existence.

I might better use the artificial Core. Would it give me more powers? Would it push away Spooky Erind?

"Helping Kelsey is a noble goal," Deen continued.

"But you should also be careful."

"Because she's an Adumbrae? I'm an Adumbrae, too."

"Because of Myra. Don't forget that she killed several innocent people. Yes, the PCM kept Kelsey. But that didn't justify what Myra did."

"I… yeah." In a world where I cared about what was morally right, I'd agree with Deen. What I cared about was how I could use Myra and Kelsey for my benefit. In some way, I could use Myra's crimes to blackmail her in the future.

"I'm pretending to act nicely toward Myra," Deen said.

"But I also keep it in the back of my mind that she might go on a rampage again. Myra's priority is her sister. Not us. She will not have any qualms using me… or you… to save her sister."

"You make it sound all foreboding," I said, weakly chuckling to pretend that I was nervous. Awesome that Deen wanted to preserve our 2Bs within the 4Bs. We were the prettier Bs anyway—if Deen and I were averaged out. We arrived at the airport after a grueling two-hour drive through bullshit.

"Is that her?" Deen energetically pointed at a black-haired, middle-aged woman pulling a large pink suitcase.

"Is she your mom?"

"Nope, wrong guess." Embarrassing to be beside Deen because she acted like an overexcited kid at the zoo, pointing at animals, drawing unnecessary attention to us. Then again, Deen could do anything she wanted, and it wouldn't count as embarrassing. She'd also always become the center of attention, even if she stood still. Covering her head with a paper bag would draw less attention.

"She's not? Oh… I thought I had it right this time." Her hand limply fell. The woman she was pointing to was thin and short like me; I could see why she'd assume we were related.

"Can you give me a clue what I should be looking for?"

"Don't want to," I said, shaking my head.

"Just one clue!"

"It's going to make it too easy to guess." Deen narrowed her eyes.

"That means your mom is easily recognizable if one clue could give it away. I was right that she looks like you."