This was obviously no ordinary clump of grass, but an old sheep wearing round glasses and leaning on a cane, whose body had been entirely buried beneath vigorously flourishing clovers sprouting wildly from the top of his head.
He was precisely the "Village Chief" Nursery Rhyme spoke of.
Because whenever the Village Chief pondered difficult questions, these clovers would begin growing uncontrollably. Therefore, this particular grass was also called "Wisdom Grass" or "Thinking Grass." Seeing such dense foliage meant the Village Chief was deeply troubled by an extremely thorny problem.
The faint murmuring from earlier confirmed as much. Even after Nursery Rhyme carefully cleared away all the leaves, the Village Chief's knitted brow still refused to relax, as if he remained trapped in an unsolvable labyrinth of thought.
"So even Village Chief can't create the perfect erosion inhibitor?" Nursery Rhyme asked, genuinely puzzled.
Since birth, the Cursed Children carried the Gastrea Virus within their bodies, and once their internal erosion rate surpassed 50%, they would irreversibly transform into Gastrea.
Nursery Rhyme had previously asked the Village Chief to develop a drug capable of perfectly inhibiting virus erosion... not eliminating all viruses entirely, but permanently suppressing their activity, freezing the erosion level at its current state, never to advance further.
As for drugs capable of completely eliminating the virus from the body, the Village Chief and his companions had long since accomplished that—it wasn't particularly challenging.
For humanity in this world, the Gastrea Virus remained an incurable disease—once infected, death was certain. To date, the greatest achievement humans had developed was merely an erosion inhibitor aimed at Cursed Children. Yet, its effects were extremely limited; it only slowed erosion, unable to prevent patients from ultimately turning into Gastrea.
But in the eyes of the Village Chief and his friends, this wasn't even a real challenge—they'd solved it without breaking a sweat. They'd intentionally raised the difficulty, trying to find a method that would retain the powers granted by the Gastrea Virus while completely eliminating the risk of becoming monsters. In other words, they wished to keep only the virus's benefits while totally removing its harm.
Nursery Rhyme had absolute trust in the Village Chief's research skills, so the moment she returned to paradise, she rushed straight into the laboratory—only to see him deeply pondering, buried beneath heaps of Wisdom Grass.
Could it be that even the Village Chief can't manage it? If so, who else could she possibly call upon?
"Oh, the inhibitor you mentioned—it was actually completed long ago."
"Eh?"
Nursery Rhyme froze, small eyes widening in great confusion.
"Then just what exactly are you agonizing over, Village Chief?"
Weren't you just wasting my emotions, then?
"The perfect erosion inhibitor was indeed finished, but… the one who created it wasn't me."
"Not you?"
The Village Chief sighed, scratching his beard in frustration, continuing with utter bewilderment: "Earlier, when I was concentrating in the lab on developing the inhibitor, suddenly a cat chased a mouse into my lab, knocking over various potions on my table. I tried to scold them, but they dashed right out of the lab again."
"Their speed was ridiculously fast—they vanished in an instant. Eventually, I gave up chasing them and returned to clean up the spilled potions. Who knew—those accidentally mixed potions turned out to perfectly inhibit the Gastrea Virus! Exactly meeting every single one of your requirements!"
The more the Village Chief spoke, the more agitated he became, thumping the alloy floor heavily with his wooden cane.
"Isn't this a good thing?" Nursery Rhyme tilted her head, confused.
"The problem is—I carefully studied every component of the potion, but I simply can't understand the principles behind it, or how exactly it works. This thing completely defies science!"
"De..."
Not scientific at all—but very magical, and very fairytale-like.
There was another matter that also baffled the Village Chief.
Only authorized individuals could enter the laboratory, precisely to avoid any disruptions during experiments. Yet the Village Chief was certain that cat-and-mouse pair had no permissions whatsoever—so how exactly did they enter?
At this moment, a cheerful white sheep wearing a bell around his neck lightly walked into the lab, interrupting the Village Chief's contemplation.
"Village Chief! It's time to teach the children. We have quite a lot of new kids today."
After saying this, Weslie noticed Nursery Rhyme was there as well, and enthusiastically waved hello.
"Hm? Is it that time already?"
The Village Chief glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and replied immediately: "I'll head out right away. Weslie, go on ahead to the classroom and help maintain order. I'll follow right behind you."
Having said this, the Village Chief began slowly walking forward.
Then, under the increasingly strange gazes of Weslie and Nursery Rhyme, the Village Chief was overtaken calmly and unhurriedly by a snail crawling past at a constant speed.
Please do not ask why a snail would appear in such an important place as the lab.
"Sorry, Village Chief—pardon my rudeness!"
"Hm? What rudeness—Wait! Weslie, what are you doing?! Put me down right now! I can walk by myself!"
"If we let you walk there by yourself, class will be over before you arrive. Hold on tight!"
Held above Weslie's head, the Village Chief really wanted to ask where he was supposed to hold onto—but Weslie didn't give him any opportunity to speak further, instantly turning into a gust of wind. Leaving only clouds of dust in his wake, he disappeared from the laboratory in an instant.
Nursery Rhyme was left alone in the lab, having witnessed the entire scene from start to finish, feeling as though she had watched yet another animated episode.
But indeed, education was a matter worth serious consideration. As the old saying went, good education must begin in childhood. Since the Cursed Children here no longer needed to fear eventually becoming Gastrea, they deserved the right to plan new lives and freely choose their own futures.
Whether they wanted to become chefs, doctors, lawyers, or even teachers educating the next generation, Nursery Rhyme wanted them to know they could cast off the identity of "Cursed Children" and become ordinary people, who had the right to choose freely, just like ordinary children, deciding what kind of future they wished for.
However, there were so many children, yet only a handful of teachers such as the Village Chief and Matsuzaki-chōrō. There was a serious shortage of teaching staff! To nurture new talents in every field, the presence of experienced, older-generation experts from various industries was essential. Moreover, their education needed to develop morality, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics, and labor skills—all comprehensively!
Although Nursery Rhyme, with her vast knowledge and ability to create copies, was more than capable of teaching these children herself... but... she was still a child right now! It was only natural for children to dislike studying and hate boring classrooms, wasn't it? Even standing at the lectern and giving lessons was tedious.
Children should play outside—playing dodgeball, building sandcastles, playing house, hopping through hopscotch squares, joyfully releasing their playful natures. Staying cooped up in a classroom all day—how was that being a proper child at all?
After leaving the laboratory, Nursery Rhyme found the cat and mouse that had abruptly burst into the Village Chief's lab and knocked over his potions.
The blue cat was named Tom, and the brown mouse was named Jerry.
Though the Village Chief still struggled to accept this bizarre reality, even if accidental, the successful development of the inhibitor did indeed owe these two a measure of credit. Nursery Rhyme had specifically come to thank them.
Nursery Rhyme handed a block of rich, fragrant cheese to Jerry, then produced a large, mouth-watering piece of ham and handed it to Tom.
Things were peaceful enough while giving out the cheese, but the instant the delicious ham appeared—not only did Tom's eyes light up with sparkling stars, even Jerry's head whipped around, eyes glued tightly onto the ham, seemingly plotting to snatch it from Tom's paws.
Nursery Rhyme had barely turned around, not even two steps away, when an invisible bolt of electricity sparked fiercely behind her—Tom clung protectively to the ham while Jerry ground his teeth greedily. Cat and mouse exchanged wary, hostile gazes, colliding intensely, crackling sparks practically audible in mid-air.
Nursery Rhyme turned her head back again—and Tom and Jerry instantly reverted to harmless innocence mode. They both neatly faced her, identical, dazzling smiles blooming simultaneously on their faces, deliberately grinning wide enough to show two rows of perfectly aligned, envy-inducing, sparkling white teeth—as if the earlier tense atmosphere had never existed at all.
"No fighting, and no causing trouble for others." Nursery Rhyme raised her index finger, deliberately adopting a stern little face, seriously instructing the cat and mouse before her. "I like making friends, and I want everyone in paradise to become close and loving friends. Friends must never argue or forcibly take things away. Good friends must learn to share. Understand?"
Tom and Jerry exchanged glances, immediately nodding vigorously in perfect sync, wearing obedient smiles. Under Nursery Rhyme's attentive gaze, they even enthusiastically shook hands, appearing to instantly reconcile, thoroughly embedding Nursery Rhyme's teaching deep into their hearts.
Wherever Nursery Rhyme's eyes could reach, Tom and Jerry maintained perfect harmony and friendship, appearing naturally inseparable partners. However, what chaotic antics these cheerful rivals might get up to behind her back, unseen by Nursery Rhyme—no one could truly know.
Nursery Rhyme's mind currently wasn't on Tom and Jerry, but rather troubled by another matter.
At present, most of those she brought into the paradise were "wild" Cursed Children—those homeless wanderers who couldn't even secure basic survival, such as the abandoned children from the Outer Areas of various cities.
Although their numbers were already considerable, another group of Cursed Children existed in this world: those viewed by humanity as weapons against Gastrea, bound by chains of battle in the role of "Initiators."
Affected by the Gastrea Virus within their bodies, Cursed Children could awaken terrifying combat power with just a bit of training. They had extremely high growth potential, and their cultivation costs were vastly lower than any conventional military solution. Compared to the expensive and inefficient plans devised by various nations to combat Gastrea, weaponizing these children was considered by cold-hearted decision-makers a "perfect solution" of extraordinary cost-effectiveness.
Thus, the International Initiator Supervising Organization (ISO) came into existence. The organization systematically sought and collected talented Cursed Children from across the globe, training them as combat Initiators under centralized control. Meanwhile, the ISO assigned each Initiator a human Civil Security officer as their "Promoter," whose core responsibility was to form a pair with the Initiator, supervising and managing her around-the-clock.
Even the life-sustaining erosion inhibitors were fully controlled by the ISO, regularly dispensed only to officially registered Initiators as a key means of control.
Should an Initiator's Promoter die or lose their qualifications, the ISO immediately forcibly reclaimed the Initiator for reassignment or confinement, allowing absolutely no possibility of escape.
Currently, officially registered Civil Security pairs had reached as many as 240,000, meaning—even without considering those not yet paired—at least 240,000 Cursed Children were under the ISO's strict surveillance.
In the long-term struggles, there were some Promoters, such as protagonist Satomi Rentaro, whose consciences remained intact, treating their Initiators as precious family and trusted comrades worth entrusting their lives to. For an Initiator, meeting such a partner was undoubtedly rare fortune.
Yet, far more Civil Security officers viewed their Initiators merely as disposable tools and weapons to be thrown away after use. Some particularly cruel Promoters had already replaced seven or eight Initiators; some of these children's deaths hadn't even occurred on battlefields, but were directly killed by their Promoters' own hands.
How absurd—clearly, Cursed Children represented humanity's main combat power against Gastrea. The Initiators ranked first and second had even slain two Stage V Gastrea, creatures humans had found utterly unbeatable. Yet instead of being praised as heroes, they were reviled as monsters. To many people, the battles between Cursed Children and Gastrea were just monsters slaughtering each other—whichever side fell, they could smugly applaud with cold smiles.
Those Cursed Children enduring unjust treatment under ISO were also Nursery Rhyme's targets.
Since you don't know how to cherish them, I'll cherish them in your stead. Since you only show disgust and hatred toward them, I'll bring them hope and happiness instead.
And then, there were those terrifying "Stage V"... Nursery Rhyme vaguely remembered, these colossal monsters had once also been humans—innocent, young girls, even.
If that was true, then Nursery Rhyme, who had vowed to protect every child as a hero, believed she must rescue even them—she must never abandon any child lost in the darkness, needing salvation.
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T/N: hehehe from pleasant goat also!