The Absolute Godspeed of Infinite Worlds

Chapter 725 - 725

Although he no longer needed to worry about money, what belonged to him was his—why should he let others take advantage?"Don't fight, there are still many positions for dogs."

He casually posted this tweet.

As a lurker, this was his first tweet. He imagined how shocked his fans would be!

Hehehe!

In the shopping mall.

With Sara's ability enhancing them, the three of them reached the seventh-floor women's clothing store without attracting anyone's attention.

"Sara, try this one!"

Touka picked up a casual outfit with a white base and enthusiastically pushed Sara into the fitting room.

Unable to resist her, Sara sighed and decided to change into the clothes.

Two minutes later.

"Why hasn't she come out yet?"

Puzzled, Touka walked into the fitting room.

"I-It's so heavy..."

Sara was slumped on the floor in a disheveled state, struggling to lean against the wall.

The clothes hung loosely on her shoulders, exposing large areas of her fair, delicate skin. Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead.

"Heavy? What's heavy?"

Touka looked utterly confused.

"The clothes... Help me take them off quickly..."

Sara gasped for breath, looking as if she were about to suffocate.

Like a drowning person, she reached out to Touka for help.

Touka was dumbfounded.

It was just a T-shirt and a jacket—the two combined didn't weigh more than a few pounds. How could she nearly suffocate from that?

"I don't want this outfit!"

Sara stood up from the floor and put her apron back on.

Her face was filled with rejection.

"I'll just wear this."

She casually picked up a nearby item.

"Isn't that still an apron?"

"What's wrong with an apron?"

"Change into something else!"

Touka glared at her fiercely.

The overwhelming pressure, as if her mother had appeared, instantly deflated Sara's resolve.

"How about this, then?"

"Isn't that just a belt?!"

"As long as it covers the chest, it's a very convenient piece of clothing."

"That just makes you a pervert who's into special play!"

"Mmm..."

Sara whimpered.

Under Touka's intense scrutiny, she reluctantly put the belt back.

Eiji watched from the side with an amused smile.

To be honest, he was quite looking forward to seeing Sara wearing nothing but a belt.

Should he take a loss for this?

"But my constitution is too weak—I can't wear anything."

"Hmm... Wait here. I'll go to other stores to see if there's anything suitable for you."

"I can't lift anything heavier than a paintbrush."

"...I understand."

For some reason, even though it was just the beginning, Touka already felt exhausted.

"Junior, keep an eye on her. Don't let her wander off!"

"Don't worry."

Eiji gave a thumbs-up.

The way she said it made it sound like Sara was a child who would run off at any moment.

Senior's maternal instincts were fully activated.

"Haah..."

After being tormented for so long, Sara finally seemed to have gotten some rest time. She plopped down on a chair in a very unladylike manner.

The apron did little to cover anything. As she tugged at the collar, her sides, top, and cleavage were exposed.

Despite her disheveled appearance, her figure couldn't simply be described as "sexy."

The moment Touka left, the surroundings of the two grew considerably quieter.

"You really do love painting, don't you?"

Eiji leaned against the corridor wall, his gaze fixed on Sara.

Whenever she had free time, she would take out her paintbrush again.

Judging by the way she occasionally glanced up at him, she was likely sketching Eiji's portrait.

Eiji didn't stop her, merely speaking with a hint of curiosity.

The concentration she exhibited while painting, the swiftness with which she wielded her brush—these were not traits an ordinary painter could possess. They undoubtedly required countless hours of rigorous practice and extraordinary talent.

"Love it?"

Sara paused her movements.

"I hate painting... at least, I used to."

For some reason, a shadow seemed to fall over her face, and her tone even carried a trace of hatred.

"Oh?"

Eiji raised an eyebrow.

This sounded like the beginning of a story.

"Now that you mention it, I still don't know."

Eiji adopted an expression that showed he was willing to listen.

"Why are you so fixated on me? There are so many people in the world—is it really that hard to find a model who meets your requirements?"

He also voiced his own doubts.

Of course, there's definitely no one else in the world as handsome as me.

Eiji was very aware of this.

It was only natural for Sara to take an interest in him, but even after being rejected so many times, she still refused to give up, which was rather puzzling.

"Others won't do."

Sara shook her head, her paint-stained messy hair swaying with the motion, making her gloomy expression seem even more elusive.

"There's a painting I must complete. That painting is missing a crucial element, and only you can provide it!"

"A painting you must complete?"

"Yes."

Sara nodded.

From her subdued tone, she gradually began to recount her own story.

Sara Bloodlily.

The girl who now went by that name spent her childhood confined to a bed.

She was born with a condition that made her bones extremely fragile; even the slightest movement could cause a fracture. She couldn't walk upright, nor could she even get out of bed.

At that time, she lived in a studio in the suburbs of Italy.

Everything she could see from that studio was her entire world back then.

In her small world, aside from the canvases that filled the entire room, there was only one figure, always with his back turned to her.

That was her father, an obscure painter.

He always stood before a massive canvas, splashing paint with a frenzied, almost demonic fervor.

It was a religious painting, depicting the theme of the Battle of Armageddon, with the Messiah burning countless demons with holy light.

He painted that same painting year after year.

Her father never once looked back at her, never held her, and even when she called out to him, he never responded.

In young Sara's memories, there was only her father's back.

Her daily needs were taken care of by servants her father hired.

Not even a single glimpse of his face.

She had no memory of what her father looked like; she had never once seen his face with her own eyes.

He was like a man possessed, completely immersed in the world of painting.

"I hated that painting, and I hated painting."

Sara lowered her head, her expression filled with resentment.

"It was the paintings that stole my father away."

How she wished her father would turn to look at her, would reach out with those large hands to hold her.

But not once did that happen—that proper father-daughter bond simply didn't exist between them.

Eiji remained silent, though his gaze grew intensely focused.