( You know, Halfsie, if I weren't a little fond of food, I might choose to belch away from this world.) Eve can't help but complain. She has achieved the highest boredom limit and had finally counted the white daisies' petals on the vase, which is, by the way, two thousand one hundred and seven to be exact.
Halfsie: …
[ A little fond, she says.]
The furball swallowed its criticism as it watched Eve finish three mini tubs of strawberries in one sitting. Sarien has sent someone to deliver them earlier in the morning and said he might visit later since a vital matter came up. Eve didn't mind such delay as long as her purpose of leeching food is met. She even had a once in a blue moon initiative of sending Sarien a message, thanking him for the snack and wished him well. Needless to say, the message ended with hints of looking forward to the next meal. The new member of pamper-the-princess club certainly thought she only appreciated the berries and was inspired to send her better food next time. Such a beautiful misunderstanding cemented his role as snack provider in chief.
( Any news from my Dad?) She inquired as she opened a new tub of strawberries.
( He mentioned earlier that he'd fly back late this afternoon.) Halfsie responded as it shifted its eyes on Sylvius Tang. The host's father is truly committed. He's been crucifying his subordinates for three-hours straight. Though no berating words were uttered, his terrifying aura says it all. It even sympathizes with the project committee quivering side-by-side, resembling leaves about to be blown by the autumn wind.
Sylvius certainly is pissed off watching his people mumble-jumble. It's already nearing a week since he last saw his daughter. Instead of taking care of Evangeline, he is stuck here dealing with the executives' matters that they should have solved.
Knowing that his princess has been alone for almost four days now breaks his heart. His baby daughter, all alone, is so pitiful. Most importantly, a brat has been lurking around her continuously. He narrowed his determined eyes and decided that by hook or by crook, he'll have to go back to her. The quivering party was lashed by another wave of biting air, making them shake furiously. The funny sight, of course, was reported back to Eve and successfully lightened her weary mood.
( What of my Grappa?) Eve asked again while munching on her nth strawberry.
Halfsie shifted its gaze on Lionel Tang.
( Well, he is..) It paused, not knowing how to explain to its host what it is observing at the moment.
( What?) She prompted the furball to continue.
( He is torturing ugly people.) It can only summarize the show with those words.
Halfsie is witnessing Grandpa Tang feed the uglies with his accessorized fist. Their faces were ruined beyond recognition that Halfsie thought they were weird beings until "it" spoke.
The word torture ignited Eve's desire to hear the entertainment but was doused by the word ugly. She is drawn to how her grandpa will whoop their asses and thought she might get information on what his role truly is but nevermind. She has no interest in hideous things.
Lionel, like his son, is currently annoyed as hell. At first, he decided to focus on finishing earlier and returning home, yet these pricks won't cooperate. He appreciates such dedication to their master that he thanked them by sending his jaw wrecking sincerity personally. However, this blowing off steam won't quell his rage. He once again punched the shit out of the rascals.
" Sir, any more and they'll die." A man in black stood by the corner of the room, reminded Lionel. These men are a truly tough nut to crack. They have been here for almost two weeks, being subjected to different types of torture, but they refuse to cave in. Everyone is already reaching their limit, so much so for Lionel Tang. Still, they are the only lead they have in finding the group that has since disappeared for a decade—such dangerous people lurking in the dark needs to be cleaned off once and for all.
" Good. Less bastards to waste oxygen." Lionel mounted the iron knuckles on the nearby table and wiped his hands clean. After drinking a glass of water, a new round of face pummeling started.
***
The subtle sound of biting fruits filled the room.
Eve lowered her eyes, trying to remember something.
( That reminds me, it seems you can choose our entry point in the timeline?)
Halfsie instantly recalled its tiny moves to make the host rob a man. It was quite nervous if the host knew its plan. However, remembering the good results Eve harvested from saving the hero, its confidence grew.
( Yes, host.) Nonetheless, Halfsie decided to sound the host first.
( You can choose any point in time?)
( Basically, yes. However, there are certain restrictions.)
( Enumerate.)
( First, I can't choose to send you beyond the timeline of the host body's existence.) The childish voice responded.
( And?) Eve cupped her chin while rolling a plump strawberry with her finger.
( Hmmmm.) The furball went into meditation.
( Well, I think that's all there is to it, host.) Halfsie started to contemplate how it will nudge the host's conscience and squeeze a reward.
( That's all?) Eve is surprised yet again by how carefree the system is. She started to appreciate how lax it is to let them do whatever they want as long as the job is done.
( Host, as long as it won't hinder the heavenly being coming into existence, any entry point is permissible.) Halfsie stated matter-of-factly. Noticing Eve doesn't want to continue with the topic anymore, it began to solicit rewards.
( Host, actually I I…) Halfsie gulped down the words it was about to say when it saw Eve squeezing the berries into a pulp. That fruit is only a tad smaller than its original size, and the poking actions the boss always does to itself eclipse that image.
The weary Eve found it fun to squish the strawberry with only a little effort. Still, the mess left on her finger was not to her liking. She licked her finger clean and is inspired to make a drink out of it in the future.
( What?) She questioned the furball, who stopped midway.
( Nothing, host. I just remembered the task you gave me.) Halfsie segues to another topic instead.
( What task?) Eve asked indifferently as she sent another chocolate-coated strawberry into her mouth.
( The assignment you gave me.) The furball excitedly answered. The comprehensive data it gathered will surely please the host.
Eve: ?
Before Eve could ask what assignment Halfsie was babbling about, a massive amount of information about pps blasted her mind. The berry she was nibbling fell on the sheets, her mouth gaped open, and her hand frosted midair. Her consciousness was stormed with different images of tinkle winkles that her soul almost separated from her body. She was simply dumbfounded.
Halfsie, of course, didn't notice its thunderstruck host. The good furball continued to present all the intel it collected with passion. It is even considerate enough to explain the different characteristics every willie wonka has, from shape, length, contour, and color. It aimed to demonstrate what a hard worker of a system guide it is and secretly hoped that the host may appreciate its efforts.
When Eve's eternal nun soul finally returned to Earth, Halfsie is still in the middle of its thought-provoking presentation. She had wanted to interrupt, yet her curiosity got the better of her. In the end, she decided to listen attentively to the almost-all-knowing creature's lecture. Eve finds it interesting. She had never seen one in all her previous lives as the farthest she's gone with the opposite gender is being in the same room, approximately an arm's length away.
When the immoral homily finally came to an end, she inquired the furball where it acquired its information upgrade.
( Host, I got it from this world's internet.) It responded with enthusiasm.
When they arrived, it didn't bother to check on the knowledge offered on this plane. Naturally, it has its pride claiming to have superior data and swaggered alongside the host. Nevertheless, its boss broke its confidence when she disdained its incompetence of not knowing the full plot. Such contempt ignited the furball's spirit to enrich itself and make itself better. Thus, when it encountered the realm's internet, Halfsie decided to dive headfirst. The result? The worldwide web illuminated its incomplete database like an incandescent bulb with 1k watt. That revelation opened the furball's eyes to how lacking it truly was. Since then, Halfsie immersed itself in accumulating new intelligence and hence improved its sea of knowledge. It gathered inputs from all available manuscripts ranging from dog plot dramas, novels, erotic books, and nonsense movies. As long as there's a villainess in the story, off it goes in its archive. All in all, the system guide Halfsie can be considered the master of all twisted crapola tales.
( You see, host, when I searched the word pp on it, it showed many things. A lot of impressive variety of things.) Its childish voice is no more and resembled more of an uncle trying to hoodwink kids with a forbidden candy.
( Oh, what things?) Eve's desire to know prevails. Once her curiosity is ignited, nothing can stop her from getting to the bottom of things.
Getting Eve's consent, Halfsie then ushered its boss to a place she has never discovered. It was like a shepherd guiding an innocent sheep to the greenest pasture of roué and degeneration. The two deplorable beasts have then stepped forth, broadening their crooked horizon.
When Sarien arrived, he saw an adorable girl lying with no image on her reclined bed. A half-eaten strawberry is left on her mattress, and her mouth is still stained with a mixture of strawberry fragments and molten chocolate. The view is funny and cute at the same time. He gently wiped her pouted lips and cleaned up the mess. After his thoughtful actions, he left silently as not to disturb the young lady's slumber.