Chapter 69: Waves Rising from Ripples

A heavy, metallic clang shattered the quiet tension of the alleyway. Patriot slammed his massive shield into the cobblestones, effortlessly stunning yet another Armorless Union assassin who had dared to drop from the rooftops. The black-clad figure crumpled into a heap, twitching weakly.

“Doctor, you are in great danger,” the towering Wendigo emphasized, his deep, rumbling voice echoing from beneath his skull helm. “I am not good at protecting people. They are good at assassination.”

You didn’t even blink. Instead, you casually rummaged through your coat pockets and stuffed a chilled bottle of green onion and leek-flavored tumor milk directly into his massive, armored hand.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” you waved off his concern, maintaining a perfectly calm, mastermind facade. “You just need to be good at following orders. Besides, if I don’t come out and take a stroll, how else am I supposed to force them into a corner?”

Patriot stared at the bottle. He tentatively took a sip, and his stoic expression immediately twisted into a grimace beneath his mask. This child is usually quite picky about food, he thought, bewildered. So why is he so accepting of such bizarre, vile fare?

Since the last round of negotiations broke down in spectacular fashion, Rhodes Island had begun to maliciously “comply with the contract.” They relaxed their supply conditions and began ruthlessly dumping massive quantities of standardized Oripathy inhibitors onto the market. Now, across Kazimierz, over eighty percent of small-time merchants were suddenly able to offer a variety of goods that were both cheaper and of far higher quality than the official Commerce Union products.

The economic strangulation was absolute, and bizarre occurrences were beginning to sweep through the populace.

Small Kuranta merchants, blessed with a natural racial talent for sprinting and previously on the verge of bankruptcy due to defying the Commerce Union’s blockades, had literally run through the night. They sprinted across the entirety of Kazimierz to smuggle themselves over the Ursus border, securing low-priced product orders directly from the Rhodes Island Ursus branch. Overnight, they turned their failing fortunes around.

The Commerce Union was furious. They publicly accused Rhodes Island of violating the contract, screaming that the pharmaceutical company was deliberately mishandling cross-border orders to arm their competitors.

The Rhodes Island Ursus branch issued a beautifully dismissive public response: “We don’t know anything about that. We were thinking of expanding our market here anyway. You seem very anxious over nothing. Besides, all Kuranta look the same to us.”

Enraged, the Commerce Union appealed to the International Court. In response, the Ursus branch immediately changed their tune, officially claiming that the individuals who signed those specific contracts were merely temporary workers who had already been fired.

Unfortunately for the Commerce Union, the presiding judge at the International Court was currently a rotating subordinate of Wei Yenwu—the Chief Executive of Lungmen—who had also previously served as a private tutor for a young Talulah. Unsurprisingly, he slammed his gavel and issued a ruling entirely in favor of Rhodes Island.

When the Commerce Union desperately tried to file for an appellate review, they hit another wall. The International Court’s docket for the next three years was already completely jammed with an endless stream of trivial, weaponized lawsuits filed by Rhine Lab.

The case of the former Security Department Director absconding with the Director’s cat.

The case of the former Ecology Section employee’s resignation affecting corporate reputation.

The dispute over minor contract adjustments between Rhodes Island and Rhine Lab.

These absurd, tiresome trifles all had to be formally presented, read aloud for everyone to see, and dragged through the agonizing motions of legal bureaucracy. The Commerce Union’s lead legal counsel physically shook as he read the docket, so consumed by rage that he couldn’t speak for a solid ten minutes.

In the eyes of the Commerce Union, who were slowly being asphyxiated by this invisible economic hand, you—the mastermind who dared to openly stroll deep into the heartland of their territory—naturally became their biggest, most tempting target.

After all, no normal person would be cautious enough to stay holed up at the Nearls’ residence after rallying such a terrifyingly overpowered security detail.

You had Patriot guarding your flank. Wis’adel was lurking somewhere in the shadows. The Sanguinarch was trailing ominously in the distance. The Witch King was watching the Sanguinarch from even further away. And Muelsyse, the Director of the Rhine Lab Ecology Section, was currently hiding inside your water bottle.

To the naked eye, you looked like a single, vulnerable target. In reality, you were a heavily armed convoy of walking natural disasters nested together like Russian dolls.

Patriot casually poked the unconscious assassin with the blunt end of his massive halberd. “Another Platinum-rank, it seems. At this level, they are merely cannon fodder. We still need to be careful.”

You stared at the body, then at Patriot. “…Pffft. Hahahahaha!”

Thinking of the actual Platinum—who was likely still lurking in the bushes somewhere nearby, tracking your movements—you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

Meanwhile, the real Platinum, who was indeed hiding in the dense foliage just a few yards away, had just finished drafting her daily surveillance report while being mercilessly eaten alive by Kazimierz mosquitoes. She glared at your laughing form.

Is it funny?! she screamed internally, slapping a bug off her thigh. I’m asking you, is it funny?!

Patriot considered your amusement for a moment, then spoke up with earnest, military stiffness. “Doctor, do you remember that gacha game with the divine idol girls band you recommended to me earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“You explained the mechanics. Three-star yields a white light. Four-star yields a purple light. Five-star yields a gold light.” Patriot paused, his glowing red eyes entirely serious. “We performed a ten-pull. Not a single purple light came out.”

“———Pffft hahahahaha!!!”

You completely lost it, practically rolling on the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter, your heavy coat hood barely managing to cover your face. Old people really have a way with words!

“Hahahahaha! The Armorless Union has no pity system!” you wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye.

Patriot didn’t quite grasp the layers of your humor, but he stood by honestly, extending a massive hand to help you up.

“Hahahahaha… alright, let’s go. Let’s continue to the arena.” You grabbed his armored forearm and pulled yourself up from the dirt. “After this preliminary match, the most anticipated Knight Competition in Kazimierz will be starting, right?”

You dusted off your coat, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “Let’s go! Give them a taste of the Reunion Movement shock!”

“Doctor,” Patriot corrected flatly. “I currently belong to Rhodes Island.”

“Platinum, you are the operative most likely to complete this assassination. When you return, you will be promoted. You can become the next Lazurite!”

Her superior was currently painting a vivid, glorious picture of her future over the encrypted communication channel, but Platinum only felt a freezing pit of dread in her stomach.

Are you kidding me?! she thought frantically. So many elite assassins have already died trying to touch this guy! The only reason I’m the only one left alive under your command is because I never actually made a move!

But she couldn’t say that out loud. Admitting it would confirm that she had been actively tricking her colleagues into rushing to their deaths while she hung back. Refusing a direct order now would undoubtedly lead her desperate superior to purge her from the organization before the night was over.

It’s death either way. I just have to risk it!

Platinum seized her one precious window of opportunity. While the terrifyingly powerful Sarkaz behemoth was distracted by a sudden duel breaking out in the upper tiers of the arena, she began inching her way toward the front row, eyes locked on the slender, hooded figure of the Doctor.

Closer. Even closer. She was actually about to succeed!

Suddenly, a cheerful, entirely unbothered laugh sounded from directly behind her.

Then, a voice speaking in perfectly standardized Terra Mandarin—carrying the exact, sterile cadence of an academic language listening test—spoke into her ear.

“Don’t move.”

Platinum’s entire body went rigid. Slowly, agonizingly, she raised her hands into the air.

“Name?” The strange, formal Mandarin from behind made her skin crawl with discomfort.

“Platinum.”

“Gender?”

“Female. Isn’t that obvious?” she snapped back, sweating bullets.

“Occupation?”

“Armorless Union assassin.”

“What are your career plans for the future?”

“Just waiting to die…” Platinum blinked, her brain short-circuiting. “Wait, no! Why are you asking me this?!”

“Continue,” the voice pressed smoothly. “What do you think is the primary reason you are suitable for employment at Rhodes Island?”

“No! Why would I ever want to work for Rhodes Island?!”

The cold, hard pressure of a “muzzle” pressed tighter against her spine. Platinum swallowed hard, deciding to bite the bullet and play along with the lunatic holding her hostage.

“Because… I am good at assassination? I am also very good at writing administrative reports, and I know how to hide in bushes and things like that.”

“What is your expected salary?”

“Twelve thousand LMD,” Platinum answered automatically, stating her current rate.

The very next second, the muzzle jammed painfully hard into her back.

“Two thousand five hundred!” she shrieked, changing her answer at the speed of light.

The muzzle seemed satisfied, relaxing its pressure slightly.

Seeing a desperate opening, Platinum was overjoyed and hurriedly began rattling off concessions. “I don’t need social insurance! I don’t need housing provident funds! I accept flexible working hours! The Armorless Union doesn’t need overtime pay or hazard subsidies! I don’t need a nap break or a company shuttle bus, I can just run to work myself! I can accept doing multiple high-risk projects for a single base salary—”

The muzzle moved a fraction of an inch further away.

Now!

Platinum violently twisted her body, leaping back and instinctively snatching the weapon from the person behind her. “You unscrupulous corporate boss! Daring to tease your big sister Platinum like a fool, let’s see if I don’t—”

She successfully ripped the object away from her interrogator.

She looked down. It wasn’t a gun. It was the chilled, leaking bottle of green onion and leek-flavored tumor milk.

Before she could process the absurdity of it, she felt a cold shadow fall over her. She slowly looked forward.

The “Doctor” she had been originally sneaking up on—the one sitting in the front row—had turned around. A very real, very loaded gun was currently aimed directly at Platinum’s forehead.

The figure reached up with their free hand and pulled back the heavy coat hood, revealing a cascade of soft pink hair spilling out under the arena lights.

Platinum stared at the gun, then at the pink-haired decoy, her soul quietly leaving her body.

“———Let’s see if I don’t wish you good health and all the best in your future endeavors,” she finished weakly.

With a heart full of absolute despair, she raised her hands back into the air. The stolen bottle of tumor milk was leaking, dripping vile, onion-scented liquid all over her gloves.

Whoever wants to live this miserable life can have it!

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]