Reincarnated as a Mushroom?-Chapter 73 - 72: A Seam in the Seamless — When Protocol Meets Paranoia

Chapter 73: Chapter 72: A Seam in the Seamless — When Protocol Meets Paranoia

Chapter 72: A Seam in the Seamless — When Protocol Meets Paranoia

I awoke to titflesh.

Soft, suffocating, and unnervingly warm, a pair of pitch-black breasts had claimed my entire field of view like a loving, sentient eclipse. Onyx, it appeared, had taken the concept of "sleep cuddles" and redefined it into something more akin to erotic asphyxiation. She was sprawled across me in a possessive sprawl, like a sleepy predator draped over its favorite chew toy.

I gently shoved her aside with the precision of a man disarming a bomb. She gave a half-sigh, half-purr of disappointment and rolled away into a cluster of pillows that now smelled unmistakably like sex and carbon fiber.

Blinking the crust from my eyes, I swung my legs over the side of the bed — and nearly tripped over a surprise tentacle.

No, not tentacle. Arm. Humanoid. Lilac in tone. Slender. Feminine. Protruding from the underside of a very peacefully snoozing Sapphire, who was curled into herself like a massive cobalt cinnamon roll on the floor.

"Good morning, Kimchi," I muttered with thinly veiled amusement.

The arm twitched violently at the sound of my voice, slapping Sapphire’s undercarriage like a protester caught in a beanbag riot. Kimchi, it seemed, was once again attempting a clandestine cuddle-hijack via symbiotic stowaway limb. It was both adorable and extremely unsettling.

I left them to their tangled chimeric nonsense and made my way to the cockpit. Ronnie, in his usual degenerate fashion, was in full foreplay mode with the control console — fingers dancing across buttons like a pianist serenading his spaceship mistress. I gave him a casual "Morning," pretending not to notice the way he jerked slightly like I’d caught him mid-wank.

Coffee. I needed coffee. Stat.

In the kitchen, I fired up the caffeine dispenser and poured myself a piping hot mug of motivation. My tastebuds wept in gratitude. I had been binging this crap every morning for the last two and a half weeks like a reformed junkie rediscovering heroin. The buzz was exquisite.

And then the ship shuddered.

Hard.

My freshly made drink launched out of the cup like a boiling geyser and redecorated my face and chest in volcanic brown agony.

"FUCK—" I hissed, instinctively flaring a psionic shield to evaporate the scalding fluid before it could sear my nipples clean off. Still steaming, I marched toward the cockpit with all the fury of a man whose morning had been desecrated. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Ronnie was pale. More than usual. "I-I’m sorry, Irvine! It was the dampeners — they caught most of it but not all. We stopped too fast."

I breathed through my nose. Deep. Controlled. Murder-less. "It’s fine," I lied. "But you’re going to explain why we slammed to a halt like someone hit the brakes on God’s asshole."

He opened his mouth, but the ship’s comms cut in with the sterile venom of bureaucratic oppression:

> "Attention: VIP-class vessel. Your ship has been forcefully extracted from the warp lane. Under Spartari law, every thirty-seventh non-military craft is subject to mandatory inspection at Core Checkpoint Theta. Coordinates have been uploaded. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination of your vessel."

I turned slowly to look at Ronnie. Expecting panic. Hoping for panic. But the man just shrugged like this was Tuesday.

"Standard anti-smuggling procedure," he said nonchalantly. "They scan for alien contraband, synthetic drugs, warp-incompatible flora. Quick sweep. Then we’re free to go."

"Ronnie," I said, voice flat. "This ship contains one genetically fucked human, two bug-women masquerading as girlfriends, and me — the walking embodiment of psychic parasitism. Also, I sleep in a backpack powered by void science. What part of that screams clean to you?"

He scratched his chin. "Wait. Who has a parasite in their brain?"

I gave him a look.

"Oh. Right. You."

He paused, thinking. "Okay, well, look — they don’t do bio scans at these checkpoints. They just walk through, check for obvious black market tech, narcotics, that kind of stuff. Onyx and Kimchi pass as human. Your suit? We’ll just stash it. It’ll be fine."

I wasn’t convinced. "Do we have to talk to anyone, or can we just hide in the ship while they poke around?"

"They’ll only deal with the crew. VIPs are... above that." He grinned nervously. "I’ll talk. You hide."

I barked out a command: "ONYX! Stalker mode! Find a closet, vanish my armor. Oh — and stash Kimchi’s sword collection while you’re at it!"

A whoosh of air somewhere in the ship told me she was already gone.

"Kimchi," I yelled down the corridor, "get into the goddamn spacesuit I made you try on because it makes your ass look adorable. Yes, I know you hate how it feels. That’s the point. Just put it on and look pissed."

Ronnie switched the plating to transparent view mode, revealing our destination: a checkpoint fortress carved into a floating asteroid, orbiting nothing of note. The facility bristled with guns, towers, and enough guard presence to make an invasion feel like a paperwork error.

We descended through a shimmering dome that held atmosphere in like a giant soap bubble. Ronnie guided the ship down to the landing pad with the grace of a man who clearly enjoyed this part. A small phalanx of guards assembled outside — not with aggression, but ceremonial stiffness.

"Don’t worry," Ronnie said, sensing my wariness. "Those guys are for show. They don’t even speak unless prompted. I’ll deal with the real brass."

I gave him a nod of genuine appreciation and sprinted off to dress myself.

Inside my quarters, Sapphire had wisely vanished back into the Mindspace. One look at Kimchi in her dark green pressure suit (helmet off, of course) told me she was seconds away from starting a mutiny.

"Apollo-love," she said with narrowed eyes, "how long do I have to wear this insult to fashion and for what purpose?"

"Not long, love bug. Some humans want to poke around. Your job is to glare at everyone like they personally pissed in your cereal. Which, since you hate everyone but me, shouldn’t be a stretch."

She exhaled sharply. I kissed her hard enough to short-circuit her sulk.

"Anything for you, my mate," she muttered, eyes half-lidded, already storming out like a woman betrayed by fabric.

I suited up and joined them just as Ronnie opened the lower hatch. A faint whoosh passed by my ear — Onyx slipping out unseen. Good. No gunfire. No alarms. Her stealth stat remained terminally unfair.

Ronnie climbed down the ladder with practiced ease.

I didn’t bother. I leapt straight out — three-meter drop, nothing serious. A few guards flinched. One gasped. I ignored it.

As Kimchi descended, I extended my hands and caught her by the waist, easing her down. Her annoyed mask cracked for a second, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. But then she noticed the guards. The leering. The soft murmur from the male troops who thought we couldn’t hear them.

To my surprise, she didn’t react. Not violently. Not at all. Her gaze stayed on my hands. Still on her waist.

But all moments must die.

A second phalanx approached — better equipped, clad in ceremonial cobalt cloaks, flanking a woman in full military regalia. This was no customs flunky. This was a high-ranking cunt of consequence.

Ronnie jogged over to intercept, trying to defuse the situation, but I already knew.

I could feel it.

Whatever plan we had? It was already unraveling like a silk condom.

He returned, face cringing like he’d bitten a lemon made of regret. "I’m sorry, Irvine," he said, almost whispering. "That woman isn’t the deputy. She’s the Centurion. She... wants to speak with you personally."

I took a long, slow breath through my nose. Not a sigh. Just the spiritual exhalation of a man preparing for fuckery.

"Of course she does," I muttered.

And then I walked toward her — toward the inevitable narrative detour, toward bureaucracy draped in pretty uniforms, toward the next bad decision.

---

End of Chapter

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