When I came back to the world of the living, I was for the first time in my life not happy about it.

It may have had something to do with the demolition company using my head as a training objective, as I concluded from the pulsing pain running through said head.

It could be that when I opened my eyes a tiny sliver, the light immediately send lances of burning agony through my brain, or that my own groan upon this agony made me wish to destroy my eardrums.

Or maybe the fact that despite every single movement increasing my pain a hundredfold, I was sick enough that I knew I would need some form of waste receptacle pretty soon.

Maybe it was the taste in my mouth that… honestly, I literally can’t describe what it was like. I only knew that it had put me off my appetite for the next century or so.

All in all, I was not quite sure that I wanted to be alive if being alive felt like that.

A second, much more subdued groan forced itself out of my mouth, and I had the presence of mind to crank the filters on my eyes and ears up to eleven. That at least allowed me to open my eyes a sliver without inwardly shrieking in agony. Not that it was in any way pleasant, mind you.

I realized that I was in my bed in the fortress. A bit surprising as I would have expected to wake up in Doc Schaeffer‘s hospital, considering that it was not usual for me to get violently sick before passing out. For a moment I felt a rising panic, but fortunately, I quickly realized that there was no way that Doc Schaeffer would not at least have had me in a scanner.

That could only mean that whatever was wrong with me was either something where he could no longer do anything or, much more likely, nothing serious.

With the irrational bout of fear under control, I realized that I should check my status from my implants. The results were at once reassuring as well as confusing.

According to my implants, I had a severe allergic reaction to C₂H₆O. It was reassuring because an allergic reaction would leave no lasting damage. It was confusing because Pures did not have allergies.

One of the few somewhat intelligent components of the Nephilim virus was that it optimized the immune system, making it at once much more powerful, and way less prone to false alerts.

That was even more so the case for me, as the K4 mutation increased that optimization a bit.

Only after some hard, and in this situation painful, thinking, I realized that there were a couple of substances all Pures were allergic to.

Substances like Nicotine, Cocaine, THC, Heroin, and Alcohol. Also known as Ethanol, also known as C₂H₆O.  But as I knew about that fact, as every Pure, I never consumed any of these substances. So how had I gotten an allergic reaction to alcohol without drinking alcohol?

It took me shamefully long to comprehend that alcohol was the strange taste in the ‘soda’ I had gotten last. That still did not explain why somebody had given me an alcoholic drink when I explicitly had asked for a soda.

That had to wait though, as for now, I had to deal with the consequences of the alcohol. The assholes designing the Nephilim virus, and deciding that nobody of us should ever take any drugs were not satisfied with us not being able to get drunk. No, they had to punish us for daring to imbibe.

Our immune system converted the alcohol in our blood almost immediately into sugar, eliminating the intoxicating effect. But it did that not without some deliberate toxic byproduct. Not really dangerous, but it was a slow-to-remove substance that caused stomach pain, nausea, and a headache from hell.

And it was designed specifically in a way that made the cleanup take three to five days.

And according to several tests done over the decades, even diving into cyberspace would not let me escape the pain. Like the curse, this type of headache followed one into the digital world.

And for a headache of that magnitude, nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs like aspirin or ibuprofen were just a drop in the ocean.

Fortunately for me, as if as proof that general intelligence does not prevent stupidity, there were around 1000 – 2000 Pure idiots that tried some alcohol, usually on a dare, and at some point, some nano-engineering student so impacted designed a standard nano-bot package that broke down the toxin within a couple of hours.

Otherwise, I would have had the choice between suffering for a few days or risking addiction to Epzitecan. As it was, I quickly send a message to Warden to bring me a dose of the package, closed my eyes, concentrated on breathing slowly and quietly, and waited for a bot to bring the injection.

I thanked all the non-existent gods that the package worked fast but decided to upgrade the package to 12^th gen nano-bots quickly, just in case somebody gave me alcohol in the future.

Then I got the idea that I could create a different package that would stop the synthesis of the toxin in the first place. If I put that package into my standard nanite loadout any stray alcohol would do no more damage.

It would do nothing to give a Pure the ability to get buzzed on alcohol, as we simply lacked the receptors for that, but… that would open up quite a few culinary options. A good wine with some good food, or some alcohol as an ingredient would be a possibility.

I still could not say that I enjoyed the next couple of hours in any way, but I survived it. A side effect of the detoxing nano-bots was a very unpleasant body odor, as the toxin was removed through the pores.

From all accounts, I would have to recycle the clothes I wore when I woke up, but better than suffering for the greater part of a week. And a shower removed the stink from myself quite nicely.

That left only to find out why somebody gave me alcohol in the first place. To say I was angry would have been an understatement, and I knew that, given the opportunity, I would make the little asshole see the error of his ways.

Just for that purpose, I had one of the NADAs begin to synthesize a sizable dosage of the toxin we Pures had to content after imbibing some alcoholic beverage.

Long story short, after I felt more or less human again, I made my way down to the mess hall to get some breakfast. Or brunch, considering that we already had 10:30 am. And, taking into account how many calories I had lost the day before thanks to my vomiting, it would have to be a big, energy-dense brunch.

In the mess, I found Darren, Ryan, Natalie, and surprisingly Ben sitting around the table drinking coffee and talking softly. Their conversation stopped when I entered the room, and they all looked at me with at least some expression of surprise.

It was Darren who managed to speak first:

“Uh, morning V. I… well, not to say I am not glad to see you, but how are you up and walking around?”

That was answered by a couple of ‘yeah’s and such, while Ben just stood up and walked around the table to me.

I tilted my head and shrugged.

“Nothing wrong with my legs.”

They all stopped for a moment before they chuckled softly, and it was Ryan who continued:

“I can see that, but I think what he meant is that according to Doc Schaeffer you should be essentially dead to the world for a few days with the effects of the alcohol.”

Ben had meanwhile reached me, and any answer had to wait until my mouth was free again. Which took some time. Apparently, he had not taken my breakdown yesterday very well. Not that I was in any way averse to him kissing me, mind you.

After I had managed to breathe again, I turned back to the table.

“We’ve known the results of alcohol on us for nearly two centuries now. And we have developed some ways to mitigate the damage. I’ve gotten some nano-bots that cleaned out the residue.”

I quickly began to prepare some pancakes, waffles, and a had and cheese omelet. Of course, the freshly pressed orange juice was in my opinion obligatory after such an ordeal, and I prepared the pancakes and waffles with some homemade almond-coconut-butter.

Just the butter alone covered around 16% of my daily calorie intake. While I made my brunch, and yes, I asked if anybody wanted something as well, I asked into the group:

“Now, does anybody know what happened yesterday? I know that somebody gave me an alcoholic drink. But I don’t know why.”

Ben growled for a moment.

“Some young asshole decided it would be funny to make the, and I am quoting here, ‘stuck-up cold bitch’ a bit drunk, as revenge for her brushing him off, and gave you a soda-mix drink. That was after somebody else goaded him and informed him that you would react a bit sensitive to alcohol.”

I mixed the batter for the pancakes and waffles, while I mulled that over for a bit, quite a bit confused.

“Sorry, but I assume you are talking about the boy who gave me the drink? I honestly can’t remember brushing him off. I think he said a few words to me, but I was dragged away before I could answer.”

“Yeah, we got most of that out of him. He… has an overinflated opinion of himself and is known to interpret events in a way that bolsters his ego.

And the girls that dragged you around, Jennifer Nelson and Isabelle Williams confirmed it. They told us that they dragged you away as soon as they noticed him trying to talk to you.”

I sighed.

“That is quite possible. To be honest, I was pretty overwhelmed yesterday. Way too many people, too many faces, and too much interaction.”

Ben chuckled at that.

“I can understand. Sorry about that, but I honestly did not think it would be that bad. I had expected you to drift towards the older group.”

I had begun to whip the eggs for the omelet.

“I tried that, but the older group was, I don’t know, simply hostile.”

I heard the confusion in Ben's voice.

“Hostile? How that?”

I shrugged, not that he could see that, but it was mostly automatic.

“At first I thought it was because I am a Pure. Let’s be honest, Pures don’t have the best reputation outside of Nowhere. And, considering that the vast majority of the Pures people here see are either low caste criminals or entitled high caste prima donnas, there is a good reason for that.

But the hostility was way beyond that, I fear. When I gathered my resolve and asked a few of them, I got something about a gold digger or a grave robber. I have no clue what they meant with that though.”

It took a few moments before Ben answered me.

“I think I have to talk to the people here about you. And it is stupid to accuse you. For reference here, a gold digger is somebody who begins a relationship solely for monetary reasons, while a grave robber is somebody relatively young who pursues somebody much older than themselves.”

I stocked for a moment just before I poured another pancake.

“That… that makes absolutely no sense. Why should I begin a relationship with you for money? I have way more money than I know what to do with. Heck, from what I understand, the majority of your money comes from the 10% tax I pay you. And you approached me. Yes, I am an enthusiastic participant, but it was your idea.”

“I know. I know both points, and I agree. That is why I have to have my men talk to the people here. Set things right. If I had known about it I would already have done it.”

I had a sudden thought.

“What is about your men, what do they think about me?”

I heard several chuckles as an answer, and Ryan was the one to reply:

“Honestly, we all love you. Well, almost all of us. Not only did you save the boss, but most of us would also be dying from CRS by now if not for you. Not to mention the new cyberware we got from you. That you make the boss happy is just the cherry on top for us.”

I heard Ben’s surprised “Almost all of you?”

“Well, Mr. Cox is still a bit… reserved towards her, and his most inner circle of friends is a bit cold towards her. But the rest of us really love her.”

That was… honestly, I can’t describe what his words did to me, but it felt really good.

Meanwhile, I had finished my brunch and had a bot bring all of it to the table.

“Just a warning, one of those pancakes has around 150 to 200 calories. And the almond-coconut-butter has around 100 per spoon. I did your omelets without so much butter and less cheese, so they only should have around 150 calories.”

Natalie groaned.

“Damn, another couple of hours in the gym, damn you, oh temptress.”

Then she snorted.

“Why did you make these so… rich?”

I shrugged.

“Because I made them primarily for me, and just did a couple more for you. And I need that many calories. With four pancakes and four waffles with almond butter, I barely come up to a third of my daily needs."

Natalie snorted again.

“I would curse you for being able to eat like that, but I’ve seen how much time you spent eating. I will remain on my mongrel levels of energy needs, thank you.”

While I began to sate my gnawing hunger, I tried to keep up the discussion.

“So, what happened to the… jerk who gave me alcohol? I assume from the way you are talking that you know who exactly he is and that you are somewhat unhappy with his actions?”

Ryan’s snort was almost answer enough, but Ben get a downright evil expression when he began talking.

“Oh yes, I was unhappy, you can take that to the bank. And I made my unhappiness known. Clearly. If Richard had not told me pretty fast that there was nothing seriously wrong with you, and you would just spend the next few days in agony, I would have had that asshole shot then and there.”

Ryan carried on laughingly:

“Shit, he had the poor little idiot already standing against the tree, and we were openly discussing who would get the honor of killing him. He pissed himself in fear. Stammering about it just being a prank, and that he didn’t mean it and such. And his parents were begging the boss for mercy.”

That was… a harsher reaction than I had thought. Confused I asked Ben:

“Killing him? For that? Was that not a bit much?”

Ben shrugged.

“You have to keep in mind, I saw you suddenly run to the toilet, heard you throw up, then saw you staggering out of the portapotty and then collapse. I thought the little asshole had poisoned you.

You can’t imagine how relieved I was when Richard intervened. As it is, I have put him to work. 12 hours a day for the next six months cleaning up the gym of my men. I assume he will think twice the next time when he gets the idea to prank somebody.”

While that resolved my earlier confusion, it brought just new questions running through my head.

“12 hours a day? When will he go to school? I assume that here not being Nowhere he hasn’t finished yet. And then, while it will take a good chunk of his time, why will it teach him to not prank somebody?”

Ben chuckled, but there was a tone of sadness swinging in it.

“You are right, he hasn’t finished school. To be fair only one in twenty of the people here finish high school. Only one percent go to college, and of those, only a third get a degree. Young Mr. Parkside dropped out of school a couple of years ago.

And believe me when I tell you that cleaning the gym is a punishment duty. Especially in this case. As Ryan told you, my men love you. And they will make his life pretty uncomfortable for the six months.”

“But don’t you have bots that clean your gym?”

“Of course. But in case I have to punish somebody without doing real damage I sent them to do the work of one or two of the bots. And it will be the dirtiest, smelliest, most disgusting work in the gym.”

I shrugged. I was considering if I even needed to use the injection I was preparing.

“That’s fine with me. I would just have given him a taste of the agonies a Pure goes through after alcohol. If he gets uppity we can still do that. Now, you said something about somebody goading him on. Something I should now?”

At first, a deep sigh was my answer, before Ben spoke: “Yes, sadly I think you do need to know. While the little asshole thought of it as a prank, somebody who knows you are a Pure and can’t drink alcohol gave him the idea and riled him up.”

That had me thinking.

“Ok, that I am a Pure is not that secret. I guess quite a few people here know about it. But from what I have experienced here, barely anybody here knows about our reaction to alcohol. So, who was it?”

It was Natalie who answered me, with a hostility in her voice that was frightening.

“It was that cunt Mia. She still has not given up on hurting you.”

“Mia? Why did Mia…? What did she want to achieve?”

Darren spoke up now:

“She wanted what she nearly got. An overreaction on Ben’s part, making you and him look bad in the eyes of the people here. Think about it, he nearly had some stupid teenager shot ‘just because of a prank’. They don’t know that the way you broke down was unusual, that it was not some overindulgence from you.

They only saw you not knowing your limit, falling down drunk into a stupor, and Ben then overreacting to a disturbing degree. They did not know that you don’t voluntarily drink alcohol or that you are, despite your diminutive stature quite robust.

In other words, they saw you having a very bad influence on Ben. Only when Doc Schaeffer loudly explained that you were only mildly poisoned they realized that for us it looked like the jerk had tried to kill you.”

Somehow I lost my appetite and shoved the last of my pancakes away.

“So, us being in a relationship is giving you trouble?”

I was not really sure what I felt at that moment. Fear that he would reject me? Anger at his people? Sorrow that I made problems for him? All of the above? I think all of the above and quite a few more were the right answer.

But I think the worst was the fear he would leave me.

Ben took a deep breath while shaking his head.

“No, the idiocy of the uneducated morons is giving me trouble. Mostly because I did not see the situation clearly. Nothing you have to worry about though. I’ll have to inform the people here. Give them the truth.

Have my men explain the situation to them. But the people who actually count are fully on board with us being together. The rest we can convince by making their lives better.”

I looked at him, holding my breath for a moment, feeling a tension leaving that I had not realized had crept into me. He would not leave me. That was the only thing that interested me right at this moment. He would not leave me.

It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts again before I continued the discussion.

“So… what happened to Mia then? If this Mr. Parkside has six months of punishment duty, I can’t imagine what you did to her. Unlike the idiot, she knew what she was doing.

Even if I can’t understand what she tried to get out of it. Even if her plan had happened to work, there is no way she would get off scot-free. She is too intelligent to believe that. And too… self-absorbed to accept some punishment. Any punishment really.”

Ben growled now:

“No, from what information I’ve gotten, she has planned this for a few weeks now. Almost as soon as I announced the 4^th of July picnic. She has vanished. I don’t know where, and considering that she had to know how I would react I have to assume it is somewhere where I have no way to get to her.

It is telling that she left her family here to face the music though. While you and I know that I would not let my anger out on the innocent, my carefully cultivated reputation says otherwise.

So, we know that she left her family to be tortured to death as far as she knows.”

I nodded slowly.

“So, she is gone. Probably just to surface again later to make additional problems.”

I could not say that I was in any way happy about that. Seriously, if I ever got Mia in my fingers, I would have her experience a few rounds of the alcohol toxin. But for now, there was not much I could do.

Looking directly at Ben, I continued:

“So, now what then?”