The Strongest Curse Master

"What were you doing accessing the unused maintenance depot?" Ace asked Dee3, trying to figure out why she'd go to an unused site when she had such a massive and luxurious dungeon. It wasn't like the depot had any supplies, Dee3 might have come to borrow from Base Wulfric.

"It was totally coincidental," Dee3 replied. Then, turning to her pet cyborgs, she added, "They're well-behaved now because we have a guest, but normally they're noisy and a handful. There's only so much a girl can take, no matter how much she loves them. Sometimes, I just want a bit of peace and quiet, you know? Enjoy my own company…"

"Especially when you're dealing with a nasty hangover," Ace cut in, having figured out the real reason Dee3 had been at the depot.

She'd been so drunk that when she got up, she had no sense of time. It was clearly early evening, but she kept saying it was morning on multiple occasions in their conversation, and neither Ace nor her pet cyborgs had bothered to correct her.

Ace clearly remembered her saying, "This wasn't here yesterday," after stumbling into one of the trucks at the depot. That meant she didn't just visit the depot occasionally—she was a regular.

Dee3 even had an entire section of her dungeon dedicated to a wine cellar and liquor bar. It was right in front of the entrance as if on display. Her pet cyborgs, though free to roam the entire dungeon, avoided that section like the plague.

Clearly, Dee3 loved her liquor to the point where it could be considered a problem. Her pet cyborgs seemed to think so, too, but her getting drunk and losing all sense of time and place appeared to have become the norm for them. Considering how they did not bother to correct her or stop her from drinking more than the healthy limit.

Despite her well-known love for alcohol, Dee3 seemed determined to avoid talking about it with Ace. This made him wonder if she was actually ashamed of it. Then he remembered—despite her youthful appearance, she was nearly a hundred years old. And while she was open-minded in many ways for a boomer, she might still hold some conservative reservations.

As a boomer, Dee3 could easily fall into the category of "cool grandmas" if not for her youthful body, which added her to the "GILF" category.

Without the face mask, out of her pajamas, and in an old-fashioned dress, Dee3 looked like a perfect female human specimen—her skin was so smooth and fair it could easily steal the mind and heart of a weaker man. Still, Ace would rank Dee3 below Delores on his GILF list. Dee3 lacked the edge, the commanding presence.

Delores, on the other hand, her cold stare alone could give a stone a heartbeat and give rubber a hard-on. But Dee3 had an innocent and pure charm going for her—qualities people don't usually associate with a GILF. Instead, if she acted a bit more saintly and judgmental, she'd have a better shot at topping the GILF list.

Honestly, the no-aging side effect of her birth process had basically made Dee3 nearly immortal as a curse slave. Most curse slaves who didn't die on the battlefield eventually succumbed to aging. But in Dee3's case, unless someone or something actively killed her, she could live out the full lifespan that a mortal-tier was capable of.

"What gave you that idea?" Dee3 hurriedly tried to deny it, but Ace interrupted her by pointing toward the wine cellar and the liquor bar. She quickly defended herself, saying, "It's mostly for guests."

"Really? I thought I was the first guest in the past decade. So, who do those cocktail glasses on the bar belong to?" Ace asked, pointing at the neatly arranged glasses on the liquor bar's counter.

"Don't judge me. The wine cellar and liquor bar are really for entertaining guests. But ever since I retired and went into hiding, I haven't had much to do around here besides tending to them," Dee3 admitted, feeling like a failure of an adult, gesturing toward her cyborg animals. "So I started indulging in wine and liquor out of boredom. Before I knew it, it turned into a problem I didn't want to admit or solve."

"I wouldn't dare judge you. It's only a problem concerning me if you're drinking is hurting me or those I know. Besides, what you do in your own home, on your own time, is your business. What others think doesn't matter. But if you think it's a problem, then that's what matters. You're smart—I don't need to tell you what to do," Ace replied, making it clear he didn't see her as a failure of an adult just because she drank too much. He also gently reminded her not to care so much about others' opinions unless her actions were affecting them directly.

Given that Dee3 was from an older generation, it wasn't surprising that she still cared about appearances. And considering she'd been isolated from society for over a decade, it was actually impressive how open-minded she was for someone from that era. It only proved that Dee3 had always had a big heart, despite her tragic origin. Fortunately, not even the government had been able to corrupt that.

"Are kids today all as smart and considerate as you?" Dee3 asked Ace, feeling reassured that she had made the right choice in not turning him over to the authorities.

Talking to him reminded her of her mortal colleague and friend—someone who, despite her own super intelligence, had often proven wiser than her. The memory stirred a deep sense of longing; she missed her old colleagues and friends, even though it was she who had abandoned them.

"You tell me when we get out of here," Ace replied, not directly answering her question but using it to remind Dee3 that there was still so much life left to experience—she didn't have to waste it all down here.

"Alright, where to?" Dee3 asked, ready to move her dungeon under Ace's home. But he shook his head and said, "That will have to wait. My work here isn't done. If I don't take care of this, my family will never be able to return to their old lives."