The Girl Who Spits Up Jewels

I was wondering if you could return it because you are my property.

Turning things like that into words that were as understandable to them as possible, it seemed that they had finally realized Sputnik's existence.

"It's n, Temee."

A pair of bad patterned men that stare at me. Nevertheless, Sputnik looked around lightly.

Large quantities of paper bags packed narrowly in the warehouse are marked 'Starch'. I don't know what the raw material is, but it's probably around the corn. A trace amount of powder starch leaking from the hem of the paper bag is scattered all over the floor. The air also smells terribly dusty.

Clothes will get dirty too, I just want to go home and get dressed.

"Are you fucked, Cora?"

"Sweet or temeh, you came in from somewhere, huh?

Guys flying retarded complaining as they bubble their mouths. I wish the only bad thing at all was the contents of my head, but I wish I could at least make an effort to fix the word, but I wonder why I wouldn't. No way, like you're proud of yourself for being less intelligent? If so, it's very funny.

Thought, was it uncomfortable that Sputnik laughed small? I can see that their entangling atmosphere changes. Sputnik, though, had nothing to fear, and tried to interact with them, keeping one hand on his waist and dressed obliquely.

"It's rude to be with a dog of power. I'm just here to get our employees back."

"Employees? Ahh."

One of the three, a brown-haired man mutters. I gave her a surprise look for a moment, but when I forced her to pull a rolled crew on the floor to stand, "You mean this," I put a blade on her throat. Crewe hits, and he raises a short, painful voice.

- It was terrible, scared.

"Coo. It's me, you know"

I'll speak up for a try. But she leans down and eats away her teeth so she can indulge in something. My eyes don't try to look at this one. Rough chestnuts and blouses, skirts are dirty with starches everywhere.

Casali, and sound at your feet, dropping your gaze. I finally realized now that I was stepping on the edge of a paper bag. Picking it up and peeking inside, it contains cleaning agent and silver wire. From another bag rolling nearby, one cannula of eating peeks. No way. I wouldn't shop in a bakery swallowing after the kidnappers grabbed people, and these guys ate and scattered what Crewe bought and had on their own.

"Prepare the money if you want it back, Money! Bring the ransom. Ya!

Brown hair screaming like browning. Sputnik looked with cold eyes at the men laughing at it with no taste.

- From the beginning, to a habit I wasn't willing to give back.

At a time when thirty minutes had passed since the first report and no word had been received from the kidnappers, Sputnik had realized that their aim was not ransom. If there was a purpose other than ransom for the reason I kidnapped her, there was only one thing I could think of. It's her 'physique'.

But the city of Riafiat is somewhat too secure to 'keep' one girl. If so, just let him throw up the jewels, and then sell them off to some good guy or something, but I don't care about Sputnik what he was actually going to do.

I'm also tired of hearing the crude tone of demanding money. I mean, I got annoyed.

Whether it's because of Starch or because of the men's unproductive words, I scratch my itchy ears lightly with my pinky fingers.

"Don't say that, you kids."

No, no, no, no, no. Just kidding.

"... ahn?

Then the laughter stopped. I frown and stare at this one to the Three Kingdoms. But Sputnik's life experience was not so shallow as to frighten him with such a thing.

Open your feet about shoulder-width apart and put your arms together.

And speak of the easiest 'solution' he can think of.

"I think we should just smash him and take him home."

"Ba... fuck you!

But the solution didn't seem to bother them.

The two furiously elevated - not the two holding Crewe - took a small swing of blade out of their pockets and rushed over here.

Dark-haired man and long brown hair with glasses. There's nothing else hiding weapons to observe the outfit. The taste of the clothes wasn't very good either, and all the wrapped up stuff even had holes in the old jacket and shirt, especially the brunette pants...... I observed it that far, but I stopped.

Not that I thought the observation was useless.

It's just what the hell the enemy was dressed like and what weapons he was planting.

"It's no different if you're not there."

It was the brown hair who had faster legs. Reaching under Sputnik a few steps faster than a brunette, he said, "Eat it. Yea!" and other used and seemingly dirty words of intimidation, along with a blade-shaking hand straight into his belly. But Sputnik shrugs away. He grabbed his protruding arm and pulled it and let it go to the rear with momentum. I stick it out of my head into a pile of bags.

It was at the same time that Sputnik pulled what he was looking for out of his lumbar bag with his free left hand, and his dark hair got to him. Watch brown hair drown and swallow in a wave of starches overflowing from a bag torn by shock, and now take a short knife unraveled down from the top with a small gold floor (anvil).

"How to use a blade. Heck, yeah?

"... Shh..."

I don't hear complaints until the end, move my wrist gently and play the knife.

As soon as the brunette fell out of shape, I opened the lid of the bottle I had just recovered from the paper bag and shook it wide. I punch the contents all over my brunette face.

"Guh!"

"Do you want to chill?

After he leans back like funny, he asks the man who covers his face with his left hand and breaks his hips, naturally as Sputnik. The brunette managed to raise her eyelid as she wrinkled between her eyebrows and looked at him.

"What the fuck, Temehe...!

"It's a cleaning agent, a medicine to get rid of gemstone stains. You know how retarded it would be if you got that thing punched in the eye, don't you?

Totally haphazard, of course.

It's a weakly acidic gem cleaner (jewelry cleaner). If I was blind enough to bathe somewhat, I wouldn't have enough eyes of my own. It would be the mountain of Sekiyama to be prescribed eye drops to a doctor who was frightened at the hospital.

The brunette, who didn't know such a thing though, screamed pitifully and began to wiggle her knife wide with her eyes tightly closed. They don't even know what happens to a ruined door (Gorotsuki) that is just a hairy degree to an amateur when he takes his eyes off his enemies in the midst of a fight.

It's easy to get into a nostalgia full of gaps. When Sputnik threw away the empty bottle and filled the distance at once, he stabbed a carving (dusted) in the right shoulder of his dark hair with momentum.

"No, gahhhhhh!?

The brunette, who removed the knife, fell on her back, screaming annoyingly. I try to grab a stab in the shoulder with my left hand, but

"I won't let you."

It was quicker for Sputnik's heel to step on and hold him down.

If I weigh in and push him in, the screams are even louder and I have ear problems. Too busy to pull him out a little bit, the brunette took a breath, "Hih, Hih, Hih, Hih," to cramp. Nothing is more offensive than hearing a man gasp. Though his mouth was opening and closing with tears, words seemed to come out because of fear.

Keep your heels on top of your thighs, fold your torso, and pick up the knife you dropped.

"I mean, you, don't make a gaggling noise to the point where the cunt stabbed you a little. What do you mean, you're not prepared to turn back on people in the first place?"

- At that moment.

I remember the signs behind me, cut the words and jump out loud.

Shortly afterwards, the blade tore apart where Sputnik was standing.

If you look, there was one starchy man holding the knife, staring at this one with his shoulder breathing. I threw him in. He's finally back from the sea of starches. The glasses seemed to have dropped in the starch as well, and I didn't hang them. Are you wrinkling at the root of your eyebrows and narrowing your eyes because of excessive short-sightedness, or because of anger?

Then he also glanced at the brunette, who remained rolled on the floor, and that one was blowing bubbles and losing his mind. He said he had raised his voice so vibrantly until earlier, I wonder why - and I recall. Speaking of which, when escaping an unintentional blow from the rear, it seems to have inadvertently stepped into the right foot that was placed on the top of the jaw.

"Well, okay. Unable to be alone."

Ultimately, it doesn't change to crushing them all.

Well, what will you do next? When the approaching blade was avoided or the hand was appropriately recirculated with a picked up knife, it was the ring size gauge that touched it. Measure the size of the user's finger when creating the ring. When they stroked each other with their fingers, the rings touched each other, and the rough, metallic noise rang.

"Damn, damn it! Don't run, Temehe!

Brown hair wielding a knife while poisoning. He seems to be better at handling blades than brunettes, but the oddly sweet aim is still that his shortsightedness is a narrow path.

While silently twisting it, Sputnik disconnected the wire binding the ring and pulled out a few of the rings. Easy work on it, one of which releases unconstructively toward the brown hair. No momentum It is easily played by the hands of brown hair, but it doesn't matter because it wasn't meant to hurt or frighten you.

Avoid attacking appropriately while being cursed, distance yourself, and see how 'it' gripped as you ran your opponent that way.

- Is it time?

Play the swung knife loud and disorient, at the same time, run for a little distance and release the black-haired knife you just picked up, aiming around a little below the brown hair knee. If the brown hair had any doubt about such a place, the tragedy after that could have been prevented, unfortunately, they wouldn't care that much with their missing heads.

Probably just saw it as an overly sweet throw for the aim. I jump loudly to avoid it - anticipating the moment, pulling heavily the ring that Sputnik held in his left hand.

and.

"Ugh, wow - yah!?

As Sputnik aimed, the brown hair collapsed significantly the moment he jumped. Keep falling, hitting your ass hard, screaming. At the same time, he gave a slight look at his right leg. The silver wire was tangled up in his leg.

What Sputnik had worked on earlier in the ring, and made his brown hair roll, was nothing else, the silver wire that Krew asked me to buy. And beyond that, it leads to the ring on the left hand held by Sputnik.

Things went too far as planned, and Sputnik laughed unexpectedly.

"It's hard to say you have bad eyes, huh?

"Ugh...... Ah, huh?

Poisoned, but interrupted.

He noticed. - That it's not just one leg of its own that the stretched silver wire is restraining.

"Hih."

Shimmering white glowing yarn (wire).

He screams briefly and hurries to remove it and puts his finger on the silver wire, but of course, the silver is not soft enough to cut with his bare hands.

"Goodbye."

After enjoying the look of brown hair colored by fear until he went to heart, Sputnik pulled the ring on his right hand this time. The tip of the silver wire tangled in the ring ruthlessly leads to his neck.

The silver twitched his throat as it glowed beautifully, and the screams narrowed accordingly.

That's how the voices that couldn't even beg for their lives eventually broke off.