SGT CH105: A Love-Brained Mind’s Consistent Performance

◎ Aix knew Mousse was used to lying and manipulating people’s hearts. ◎

[Scum Gong Value -5]
[Current Scum Gong Value: 86]

[Great news! The Scum Gong Value has dropped below the 90 mark.]
[Just the love-brained mind’s consistent performance.]

The convoy set off on the road to the base.
Mousse’s seat had also been moved from Aix’s lap to the passenger seat.
The scenery outside the window was monotonous and boring.
Mousse looked at the screen, scrolled through the bullet comments attacking Aix’s love-brained mind for a while, and couldn’t help but turn his head to stare at Aix.

He didn’t really understand either. As a zombie, why would Aix be willing to give up preying on humans and want only him?
It couldn’t be that his taste was better than everyone else’s combined, could it?
But he was just an ordinary person with no abilities.
Aix’s humanity was perhaps a little more than he had imagined.
This was a good thing.
It was as if Aix hadn’t completely died; he had survived in another form.
Aix was still “alive.”

Mousse remembered the image of Aix falling into the zombie horde and being swallowed by them.
He remembered in the mall, when he collapsed on the ground from the severe pain in his stomach, about to be torn apart by the pursuing zombies.
The world suddenly fell silent. The zombies all stopped, turning stiffly and leaving as if being controlled.
Aix appeared before him, looking down at him coldly with crimson eyes.
At that time, Aix was still wearing his original clothes.
The clothes were clearly stained with dirt and blood, and had several tears…
It must have hurt a lot…
Presumably, Aix had to expend a lot of effort to get out of the zombie horde.
Even so, he couldn’t avoid being infected.

Mousse’s heart ached terribly.
Before, Mousse thought the person in front of him was purely a high-level zombie.
Apart from that one repentant explanation, he didn’t bring up anything else, nor did he ask anything.

Mousse stared at the section of wrist exposed between Aix’s glove and sleeve, his eyes stinging.
Even though there were no scars on that wrist, he seemed to see through it to the blood-soaked flesh hidden by Aix’s clothes.

“Does it hurt?”
Mousse asked softly.

It was a random question, but when Aix met Mousse’s gaze, he suddenly understood what he meant.
That gaze made the skin on his wrist burn.
Aix instinctively wanted to pull down his cuff to cover his wrist.
His fingers touched the sleeve, then stopped.
Since he couldn’t get love from Mousse, then pity and guilt were better than nothing.
At least, that could get him more attention.
It could make Mousse stay by his side.

But when it came time to answer, Aix still said:
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Even if it was just guilt and self-blame, he couldn’t bear to let Mousse carry too much.
Zombies have no sense of pain, so of course it wouldn’t hurt.

Mousse looked away, his chest feeling sore and swollen, as if something was blocking it, pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.

“I didn’t stand firm myself… I fell.”
Aix stared stiffly ahead, slowly saying:
“You don’t have to blame yourself too much for it.”
Mousse shaking off his hand was indeed not enough to make him fall.
It was just that the resistance and hatred in Mousse’s eyes killed him.
Even if he had to do it all over again, Aix couldn’t guarantee he would survive under such a gaze.

He had actually thought about letting go.
When he crawled out of the sea of ​​corpses and blood as a walking dead, he thought about letting go.
But he smelled Mousse’s scent and felt his fear.
So, he instinctively activated his space ability and rushed over.

He saw Mousse in the dilapidated mall.
Mousse’s condition was much worse than he had imagined.
He was so good at deceiving people, easily making them give everything for him.
Yet he had fallen to the point of curling up alone on the cold ground, surrounded by zombies.
If he were gone, how would Mousse live?

He controlled the zombies to leave, hesitated whether to approach, and Mousse fainted in his arms.
Looking at Mousse’s pale face, Aix knew his stomach problem was acting up again.
He took out medicine from his pocket, wrapped it with his water ability, and fed it to him.
At the same time, he activated his healing ability to relieve his pain.
The stomach is an emotional organ.
Mousse’s stomach problem was related to his long-term irregular diet, but even more so to his own emotional fluctuations.
Even with his healing ability, Aix could only heal physical damage; he was helpless against Mousse’s mental emotions.
He could only take care of him carefully.

Even when he took Mousse from the mall, he was still hesitating between letting go and staying.
He took Mousse to the nearest large hotel and chose a clean suite.
Mousse’s body temperature made him greedy, and he couldn’t bear to let go for a long time.
He probably should have put Mousse on the bed.
But Mousse was always sharp. If he did that, Mousse would definitely react and know that he still had feelings for him.
Would Mousse use this feeling as before to get what he wanted from him?
Or would he be disgusted that this feeling came from a zombie?
Thinking of Mousse’s disgusted gaze, he actually felt a little scared.
Just as Mousse was about to wake up, he put him on the ground.
Everything went as he had arranged. Mousse woke up, and he didn’t discover anything.
He fumbled in the dark to turn on the light. Upon seeing him, he repented with fear and self-blame.
He said he didn’t push him down intentionally, that he didn’t expect him to die.
But he never mentioned the resistance, hatred, and disgust in the moment he shook off his hand.

Fortunately, Mousse only saw him as a high-level zombie and didn’t discover his hidden feelings, so he could still retain some dignity.
Although, this dignity was all gone when Mousse exposed his neck to him, and he was drawn to him, uncontrollably leaning in and kissing him, only to be met with Mousse’s resistant sobs.

Aix knew Mousse was used to lying and manipulating people’s hearts.
He kept Mousse by his side, giving him no chance to find anyone else.
But he left the RV while he was hunting and ran away.
But his luck wasn’t very good; he ran into his former team.
Mousse revealed his identity to them, urging them to leave.
Did he want them to leave, or did he want to use their hands to kill him?
Aix didn’t care; Mousse was in his arms anyway.
He used this opportunity to enjoy the satisfaction of holding Mousse in his arms.

It was just that he didn’t expect Mousse would let him bite him just to prove he was a zombie.
Did he know that he was just an ordinary person, and if he was bitten by a high-level zombie, he would be infected immediately, with no chance of survival?
Mousse’s arm was pressed against his lips, constantly stimulating him with words, urging him on.
He stared at Mousse’s opening and closing lips, and perhaps overwhelmed by anger, he actually kissed him.
The feelings he had tried so hard to hide were all exposed, and from then on, he was defeated.

Mousse’s ability to accept was stronger than he thought.
After discovering his feelings, Mousse offered himself up.
Just like when he first awakened his ability.
Back then, Mousse’s deception and offering of himself led to him falling into a zombie horde and mutating into a zombie a year later.
This time, Mousse endured humiliation and offered himself to him, a zombie.
What price would he have to pay later?
To have his crystal core dug out and turn into a pile of rotten meat?

But Aix could never refuse Mousse.
Mousse wanted him, wanted to use him again.
So he offered himself up.
It was just that, treating a human ability user versus treating a zombie… Mousse’s attitude was ultimately different.
His patience was much worse.
His eyes were full of an urgency to complete a task, without a trace of love.
He wouldn’t look at him, let alone move on his own.
All of Aix’s efforts to please him were met only with impatient urging.
It wasn’t like this before.
At least, Mousse would pretend a little more before.
During intimacy, he would look at him with a burning gaze, his strength almost piercing through him, and when he looked down at him, it was as if he was full of deep affection.
In daily life, Mousse would also pretend to love and depend on him.
No one would be willing to patiently deceive a zombie.

In the past, his body could still satisfy Mousse, get a little more attention, and they were compatible in bed.
Now, he couldn’t even do that.
Actually, Mousse didn’t have to force himself to do these things he didn’t want to do.
He would protect him anyway.
He would give Mousse everything he wanted.

But this relationship was maintained.
Mousse would sit on his lap, cup his face and kiss him, and make some requests that he understood and didn’t understand.
In short, he would agree to everything.
This was a familiar way of getting along for Aix. Even when Mousse kissed him, the affection in his eyes, whether real or fake, was so familiar.
He quickly adapted and fell into it with a clear mind.
Mousse also talked to him more, showing him concern and guilt.
Aix was greedy for the emotions in Mousse’s eyes when he looked at him, even if it couldn’t be called love.

[So strange, why is the Scum Gong Value still so high?]
[They’ve kissed, they’ve done it, and Brother X’s love-brained mind even took all the blame for falling into the zombie horde. But the Scum Gong Value only dropped by 5 points during the kiss, and has been as stable as a mountain at other times.]
[Your BE route is quite stable, huh? This doesn’t even shake it?]

Mousse saw the bullet comments.
He wasn’t surprised by the Scum Gong Value, or rather, the BE value, still being over eighty.
Aix had become a zombie because of him.
He had died once because of him.
How could something like that be erased by one or two things, one or two sentences?
Perhaps, he would need to pay an equivalent price, to be eaten by Aix one day in the future, for the judgment to truly end.

There was still some distance to the base, but it was lunchtime.
Mousse’s stomach was too fragile and needed to be fed on time.
Although there were dry rations and instant food, Aix insisted on cooking fresh food for Mousse for every meal.
Aix stopped the car and started cooking.
The ability users saw the captain’s car stop and followed suit.
They thought something important was happening and came over to ask.
After finding out it was just for cooking, they quietly left.
The aroma of stir-fried dishes was too tempting. Before long, some ability users went to the mountains by the road to hunt a wild chicken and dig up some sweet potatoes.
The ability users gathered in the open space, gathering firewood and starting a fire, busy and lively.

Mousse sat in the car watching them and suddenly asked Aix:
“Who is the healer?”

Aix’s plating action paused, keenly aware that this was a deadly question.
Who the healer was wasn’t important.
But Aix had given him the psychic crystal core he had promised to bring back for Mousse.
Aix wanted to be vague, since Mousse was face-blind anyway.
But the healer’s characteristics were too obvious in a group of people, making it difficult to be vague.
“The one in white clothes…”
Among all the ability users, only one person wore white clothes.
Slender and tall, with a gentle smile, dressed in white, as if untouched by dust.
Extremely outstanding in a group of people whose clothes were mainly dark.
In the apocalypse, most people’s clothes were mainly dark.
Even if they were light-colored, they would become dark after being worn for a long time.
Except for people like Aix who had both space ability to store clothes and water ability to wash clothes, it wasn’t easy for others to keep their clothes clean.

Mousse looked down at himself.
Coincidentally, his jacket was also white.
All his clothes were prepared by Aix.
And most of the clothes Aix prepared for him were white.
Suddenly, he felt this jacket was a bit glaring.
Mousse took it off and threw it aside.
He missed, and the jacket slipped from the back of the chair and fell to the floor.
Aix bent down to pick it up, carefully patted off the dust, and prepared to wash it later.

Mousse didn’t like the way he cherished a piece of clothing so much, and a white one at that.
With a strange and inexplicable stuffiness, he said in a strange tone:
“So this is your favorite style?”

Aix looked up, puzzled.
He thought Mousse was talking about the jacket and was about to say yes.
But Mousse’s expression made him feel danger, and he silently swallowed the answer on the tip of his tongue.
“I thought… you liked it.”
Aix held the jacket, a little at a loss.

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