Там ещë в Киллер Киллере того боксëра из Фонда завезли.

AIwass, вот я тоже жду, что личность мастермайнда раскроется именно в Зецубоу.

Ты так говоришь, как будто мы не знаем кто мастермайнд.

Ну а вообще, Монака по идее должна быть, если Кодака не смоет её сюжетную линию в унитаз конечно.

Будет забавно, если так.

AE вообще стоит того, чтобы его на Ютубе проходить?

В третий раз? Meh.

Если найдёшь прохождение без комментариев с японской озвучкой, скинь сюда чтоль, я тоже посмотрю тогда.

Уже нашëл

AIwass, есть удобные, но там только до второй главы переведено.

After a quick deep breath, I checked my hair and my smile in a hand mirror. Yep, cute as always! Flashing that same wonderful smile and shouting “G’day!” in my brightest voice, I opened the lab’s door… and that’s when it happened.

Something flew just past my ear, making a wind-cutting wooshing sound.

“…eek!”

I turned my head in panic, and saw a small blade embedded in the wall behind me, still vibrating from the impact. I jumped back. “W…Why is there a scalpel flying through the air?!”, I screeched.

“Don’t shout”, A chiding voice answered back from inside the lab.

The moment I heard that voice, my heart started beating faster. Thump, thump, went my heart as I turned to look inside the lab. A boy was lying on top of a bed installed in the center of the room.

“…You’re late. That’s unseemly for someone as ugly as you.”

A dirty white shirt was sloppily thrown over his body. He was lying face up, his face concentrated on a thick manga magazine he held in his hand. He didn’t look at me once.

“You’re also too loud for someone as ugly as you. Speaking of, someone as ugly as you being scared of flying scalpels is weird too.”

“W…Wait a second!”, I stopped him, my voice showing signs of panic. “I could report you for discrimination if you keep calling me ugly, you know!”

“…Who are you going to report me to? The National Japanese Ugly People Association? That kind of organization would be guilty of discrimination just by existing.”

The manga-reading boy who kept calling me ugly was the person in charge of this neurology lab. The doctor in charge of my treatment. My childhood friend. The boy I like most in the world.

He’s “Super High-school Level Neurologist”, Yasuke Matsuda. I think.

“Oh, I see. You’re a member of that association, aren’t you. Is that why you’re so angry?”

“I…I’m not! I’m not even ugly!”

“…On second thought, you’re right. You aren’t ugly.”

My chest swelled in pride and I flashed a complacent smile. “Yep, that’s right! I even checked in my mirror just now and –”

“You’re super-ugly.”

“Super-ugly?!!”

My shock was considerable, but it didn’t take me long to recover enough to come up with a sharp response.

“L…Liar! I’m not super-ugly! If anything, I’m world-class cute!”

Matsuda-kun continued to ignore the fuss I was making, his eyes never leaving the magazine.

“I don’t care what the world thinks. Ugliness is subjective and I am free to make my own judgment”, he said, as if the matter at hand didn’t concern him at all.

“So, so, tell me where you think I’m ugly! I’ll go fix it up in surgery!”, I said in desperation. “Is it my eyes? My nose? Maybe my mouth? How about my eyebrows?”

“You forgot to mention your heart.”

“But I can’t fix my heart in surgery!”

“Is that so? Poor you. Honestly, you’re beyond help - both your face and your brain aren’t any good. I think you can have some success if you make yourself an object of sympathy, though. Go stand in front of a train station and beg for change, or something. I’m sure you’ll make lots of money.”

I dropped my shoulders, crestfallen. Then I let my hands drop towards the floor and my body droop limply. I was beaten up.