Rachel warns me, previously, and I should have taken it more seriously. Mother can really be strict compared to both Ostwald and Albert combined. I never expect this, but I never think sewing and cooking would be this hard.
“Good job, Rachel, but it can be better. Helen, watch your sister, she’s a good example.” My mother holds the two pieces of fabric that I try to connect with a string and a needle. The task is simple, but in practice, it’s more complicated than crafting an M4, at least, for me.
My only sewing knowledge is from when I was in the air force, and that’s for only two things, makeshift repair for MOLLE and, very rarely, sewing wounds. For precise and aesthetically pleasing threading, I am beaten by 13-year-old Rachel.
“Alright,” I say.
“Who do you think will fix your father’s torn clothing? It’s me, not the maids,” My mother comments as she gives me the example of actually sewing the two fabrics together in an aesthetically pleasing manner.
One thing is for sure, it’s different from actually suturing two wounds together. With wounds, the threads and the holes don’t need to be aesthetic. Even then, the pararescue uses medical staples more often. According to the pararescue in my team, It’s simply faster to use that rather than connecting wounds together with string and needles.
Let’s just say, losing my legs and hanging around near an airplane hangar resulted in a drastic change of career to the civilian sector. So, I continued my formal education, got a degree in mechanical engineering, and so on. Sewing clothes weren’t taught back in class.
“Mother, can you make clothing on your own?” I ask.
“My dear, sewing and stitching are a trait a noble lady should have, besides manners, cooking, and others,” My mother answers with a straight face. I really don’t have the trait of nobility, don’t I? Rachel has some, but to be honest, with how our father raised us, it will be a miracle if we have the manners of a noble lady.
I look at the sewn fabric mess that I created earlier, it can be better, but it’s not that bad. I just can’t hide the seam from plain sight well enough. However, with MOLLE, aesthetics is not even something that I will think about. It’s all functionality. Learning to stitch will help me to create some clothing in the future, though.
“What if a noble lady can’t stitch nor cook?” I ask my mother since I’m bad at both. I have no problem cooking instant noodles, but if you ask me to make a steak main course, I have no guarantee the meat won’t burn.
“Helen, if a noble can’t do both, then it’ll be hard for her to marry,” my mother says.
“I understand.” I cut the seam with a shear to retry. Rachel then helps me by doing the exact same thing of cutting the seam with a shear. Rachel then puts her hand on the table and asks me to observe closely.
I put my head closer to the fabric and Rachel begins by putting the needle slowly into the fabric in a straight manner. She then pokes a hole behind the first hole with the needle coming out in front of the first hole. “This is called backstitching, super simple for a maximum amount of aesthetic.”
“What’s wrong with my stitch, then?” It’s equally straight, and perhaps, equally strong.
“You’re using a running stitch. It’s crude, but it’s not something that you’ll do on nobility clothing. It doesn’t look good, and that’s all,” Rachel comments as she continues stitching.
“Rachel’s right,” my mother says.
“If it works, it works,” I argue. It looks fine to me.
“It doesn’t work for nobles, though, does it not?” Rachel argues further.
“Alright, fine, you get me, Rachel,” I sigh, knowing that I am probably in the wrong because of two things, Helen’s age, and my experience in this world. I have more than enough basic knowledge about science and common sense, but not for this world.
As much as I dislike learning it, I need to learn how to sew. Unless I want to stick with a leather bag all of my eternity to store my M4 magazines. However, for now, I can’t even make clothing because my father allows no one from his family to exit the mansion for security reasons. I don’t have any fabric unless I tear down my own clothing, which is a bad idea.
We continue the sewing lesson until I finally can do the sewing right, which is around three hours in the entire library, shearing the seem and making it all over and over. I wonder if this is how a woman in nobility is fated, only for marriage and political bargaining tools, just like in the past.
“Alright, that should do it, how do you feel?” My mother asks me as I finally can make a decent seam on the fabric. With this, I should be able to put two pieces of fabric together. It’s underrated, but tailoring your own clothing might help me more this time since the tactical rig isn’t a concept yet in this world.
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“It feels great, mom,” I answer with a straight smile alongside looking at the two pieces of white cloth.
“Great to hear. Anyway, Helen, I hear your father wants to meet with you.”
“Now?” I ask my mother.
“Yes. He wants to meet you as soon as possible, but I told him that we need some girls’ time together,” my mother says.
“Alright, see you later, Rachel, mom.” I wave my hand after I stand up from the desk and walk out of the library, leaving both my mother and my sister to continue with their business and sewing. What my father will give to me, though?
===
My father sat down on his chair in his working office again. This time, all of the curtains are closed and he sits down very far from the window itself, probably to prevent an easy shot at him. If I were the assassin, it will be a gamble whether to pull the trigger or not.
“Helen, sorry if I have been too negligent to you, my dear daughter,” My father says, suddenly, out of nowhere.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
“Helen, have you learned how to manipulate your halo?” My father asks me.
Ah, my halo. The white circular object that happens to always float right above my head. Then, I notice that my father doesn’t have his halo right above his head at the moment. It’s just empty right above his head. I also notice that the halo doesn’t obstruct me.
“Helen, have you ever thought of grabbing your own halo?” My father asks me again. He put his hands in his pocket, making a gesture as if he is grabbing something, then he puts his hand right on top of his head. His halo then appears.
“No, I have never thought of that.” I put my hand around my halo. It feels solid when I hold it. The closest sensation that I can think of is when I hold on to a circular fluorescent light. As I lower my hand, the halo then disappears from my hand. “Where does my halo go?” I asked.
Suddenly, I feel sleepier than usual. I feel like just lying down on my bed all day long. It is not mana exhaustion, but I’m not sure what it is. The closest sensation is just like after pulling an all-nighter. I’m still functional, but I’m very tired.
“Halo is the magical conduit for an angel. It gives us more magical energy than ordinary humans or any race in general. However, it’s too obvious. For people like us, who have enemies, it’s better to just hide our halo sometimes. Open your status window.”
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Helen
Race: Angelic Wolf-kin
Level: 3
HP: 100%
MP: 10%
Class: [Materialmancer]
Skill: [Material Manipulation I]
General Health Status: [Halo-less Angel]
[Quest {1}]
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“Halo-less angel?” I ask my father.
“Ah, you see your general health status, that’s the status effect that you’ll get when you take off your halo. As an angel, we have quintuple more magical energy stored than regular people. However, without our halo, we are weaker than average people,” My father explains.
Five times more magical energy than average people? No wonder I could make more bullets once I level up or how Albert praised me. I simply have five times more magical energy than him when he was little. It’s too convenient, isn’t it?
However, thinking again, if I were a target, finding a halo among thousands of people that don’t have any halo whatsoever will be easy, won’t it? More magical energy that is allowed to be used is an advantage in combat, though, even though I can’t make any offensive magical spells at all.
“How to make the halo appear again, then, father?” I ask.
My father doesn’t answer my question. “Wait, I haven’t finished. Do you know what’s the function of our halo, Helen?” My father asks.
Well, the halo seems to be just a mere optical illusion since it doesn’t bump into any object. If I hit the wall, the halo will simply enter the wall. My opinion, before my father taught me about the halo function, I think of it only as a cosmetic. However, it might be a magical energy storage unit.
“For storing our magical energy?” I ask.
“Almost right,” He replies. “The more precise answer is your halo is used for storing magical energy or for gathering magical energy. So, your halo works like a conduit,” he says.
“So, the only advantage is concealment?” I ask.
“Correct. You’re smart.”
“How do I put it back on, then?” I ask my father again. Only having a tenth of my magical energy storage is a really bad experience, especially since it turns me heavily lethargic and barely functioning.
“Make a grabbing motion to your pocket or any grabbing motion below your button belly,” My father gives me an example. He makes a grabbing motion from out of his pocket then slowly puts it on top of his head. The halo then appears on top of his head again. “Wanna try, Helen?”
I try the exact same thing. I put my hand below my belly and slowly raise it to the top of my head. The halo then reappears and the consciousness kicks like a mule. The kick is like after you drink three shots of expresso at once.
“Hahaha,” my father smiles. “You look so sleepy without your halo.”
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“Yup, that’s normal. As you grow up, you’ll get used to both the kick and the lethargy,” he says.
It gets me thinking about the other races. I haven’t seen any normal humans but Albert and the villagers, and there are only a small number of them. Most of the time, I only see humans with animal ears, or anything similar to it. Do people with races different from me have extraordinary abilities as well?
“Anyway, that’s all for today, you can go back, I heard from Albert you found a blueprint of Stoner’s design in my library, is that true?” My father asks as I head towards the door of his office.
Before I open the door, I nod at him, “It’s true, father.” He replies with a nod and I leave the room. I have no intention of hiding my technology. I’m only making the inevitable faster. These people will eventually progress to an automatic rifle, and I want to be the first person that utilizes it.