Chapter 95: Round of 16

Chapter 95: The Contest for the Operator Who Makes the Doctor Look Most Prestigious – Round of 16

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me this specialized Seaborn bloodstain solvent can only be synthesized if you kneel and spin in circles three times… specifically on a rainy Wednesday night?”

You held the test tube that Thorns was guarding like a holy relic, utterly dumbfounded.

Thorns pushed up his glasses, his golden eyes dead serious as he offered his calm analysis. “Correct. While it sounds entirely absurd, the ritual does indeed effectively appease the machine spirit.”

You rested your chin on one hand, gently shaking the glass tube. You dripped exactly two drops of the reagent into the mass spectrometer, watching the readout for barely two seconds before looking back up.

“…Next time, just pipe some humid water vapor directly into the test tube. The only reason your ‘spinning three times’ worked is because you were rushing the extraction process before. The solution hadn’t settled. You were just wasting time doing pirouettes.”

Thorns froze, processing the logic, before immediately rushing to the laboratory bench in a flurry of excitement. Five minutes later, a voice trembling with suppressed thrill echoed from the back of the lab.

“Your calculations are completely flawless. Thank you for your guidance, Doctor.”

You tilted your head, leaning back in your chair. “I used to be your commanding officer, so calling me Doctor is fine. But now that I’ve helped you lock down such a stable experimental reproduction method, what should you call me?”

Thorns was a pragmatic man. He didn’t hesitate. “Thank you, my absolute savior!”

“Hey, you’re welcome!”

Thorns truly knew how to read the room.

“Then, what about this Patriot-brand Originium concentrate? It only stabilizes if you whisper, ‘Dedicate your heart to Iberia’ to the beaker.”

“…Can you first explain why you feel the need to talk to your chemical reagents?”

“I was watching The People’s Iberia while refining it.”

“Try spitting a little saliva into it.”

A brief pause, followed by the clinking of glass. “It worked! Doctor, why is that?”

“Because when you shout other phrases, you aren’t emotionally immersed enough, which means you don’t generate enough spit.”

“Fascinating. Then what about this…”

For three grueling hours, you played tech support for Aegirian alchemy. By the time Thorns finally snapped his notebook shut with a satisfied nod, your throat was parched. Without thinking, you reached over, grabbed the water cup Thorns had left on the edge of the table, and gulped it down.

The moment the liquid slid down your throat, Thorns realized a catastrophe had just occurred.

“Wait, Doctor—”

You had barely lowered the rim when he lunged forward, frantically snatching the cup from your grip. He stared down into the plastic cylinder. Half the water was gone.

Horror washed over his dark features. He grabbed your arm, his grip iron-tight.

“Doctor, how do you feel right now? Do you feel a strange, burning, uncomfortable sensation pooling in your lower body?”

Wait. Hold on. Thorns, what exactly do you keep in your drinking cups? It’s not actually what I think it is, right?!

Despite your towering intellect and genre-savvy paranoia, you never expected to get taken out by friendly fire in a chemistry lab.

“Ah?” You backed away in sheer terror. “Wait, what the hell did you put in that cup?!”

‘Where is my ‘No Romance’ tag?! Save me, PRTS! The plot isn’t about to pivot into some trashy BL route, is it?!’

Thorns slapped his forehead in absolute despair. “I apologize, Doctor. This was originally prepared for Elysium…”

Wait, what did you prepare for Elysium?! Does a ‘No Romance’ tag just mean no heterosexuality, but the bros get a free pass?!

“—It’s the ‘Strange Reagent That Makes Your Legs Hot After Drinking’ that I specifically researched and developed.”

So this is where Rhodes Island’s research funding goes.

Good news: It wasn’t what you thought.

Bad news: Thorns was actively vaporizing the LMD you bled to earn.

“Uh, it’s like this,” Thorns scratched the back of his head, suddenly finding the floor tiles incredibly interesting. “You remember that ‘Who is the Doctor’s Favorite Operator’ contest we held a while back?”

You nodded slowly.

“Well, we didn’t quite get it out of our systems. The main issue was that the adult operators were at a severe disadvantage in that specific format. So, for the past few days, we’ve been running an underground, private tournament: the ‘Who is the Operator Who Makes the Doctor Look Most Prestigious’ contest.”

Thorns coughed into his fist. “Elysium has already made it to the Round of 16. Logos specifically paid me a hefty sum to slip this medicine to Elysium. The goal was to make his legs burn and itch so badly during the competition that he wouldn’t be able to stop shaking them, completely ruining his elegant demeanor and tanking his score.”

You stared at him, genuinely amazed by the sheer pettiness of Rhodes Island’s elite casters.

Thorns quickly added, “Of course, after he fails, I plan to take thirty percent of the commission and split it with him as compensation. That way, he won’t hold a grudge.”

Let me do the math. Thorns takes the hit job, pockets eighty-five percent of the total profit, and Elysium still has to thank him for the hush money?

You Aegirians really know how to play dirty!

You clapped your hands together, a slow, predatory smile spreading across your face beneath your hood. You extended an open palm. “Sharing is caring.”

Thorns tilted his head, his sea-urchin hair shifting. “Doctor?”

“I want forty percent. Otherwise, I’m marching straight to Elysium and blowing the whistle.”

Your salary was still being ruthlessly withheld by Kal’tsit! You were breaking your back carrying the tactical operations of this entire landship, yet your personal account was still bound to Amiya’s family-sharing payment plan. Buying her a single slice of cake meant using her own allowance. The indignity of it all!

Thorns blinked, staring at you in utter disbelief.

“Hurry up, or Elysium’s seagull flying kick is going to land right on your jaw, and I won’t stop him.”

Grumbling under his breath, Thorns reluctantly pulled out his terminal. With a look of deep annoyance, he tapped the screen, transferring a string of digits to your account.

Your terminal chimed. You counted the digits. Four zeros! Logos truly lived up to his title as the Lord of Banshees. Was he seriously throwing around that kind of LMD just to win a beauty pageant?

Seeing your shock, Thorns sighed with a strange sense of empathy. “Don’t overthink it, Doctor. This amount of money isn’t even enough to buy the lowest-grade Banshee’s Kiss on the black market.”

Your eyes snapped up, practically glowing red beneath your visor. “—A Banshee’s Kiss? Are they really that valuable?”

Thorns didn’t quite understand why your aura had suddenly shifted from ‘tired tactician’to’greedy loot goblin,’ but he answered honestly. “The value of a Banshee’s Kiss isn’t just derived from the potent witchcraft sealed within it, but from its extreme rarity. The Sarkaz Banshees are a powerful race with notoriously cold hearts. They can only condense a Kiss when they fall deeply in love and harbor genuine, sincere affection for someone. Therefore, it is utterly priceless… Doctor? Doctor?”

…Who said a man couldn’t empathize with his past self?

You immediately pulled up your terminal, diving into the encrypted, archived communication channels left behind by the pre-amnesia Doctor. Your heart raced with anticipation. Nothing was going to stop you from rekindling an old flame today and making an absolute fortune!

[PRTS: (^.^)]

Banshee, Banshee, Banshee…

You scrolled furiously through the ancient chat logs, tracing the history all the way to the bottom until you finally hit a contact labeled: Family-Oriented Banshee.

You tapped the profile. The attached notes read:

Andosally: Tsundere but gentle. Prefers the South. Best temper.

Since she had the best temper, it should be perfectly safe to shoot her a quick ‘U up?’ text now. But before your thumb could hit the send button, you subconsciously scrolled down to the related contacts.

Andosally’s Sister: Cold and cute. Deeply insecure. Likes to kiss poetry books.

Andosally’s Grandmother: Hot-tempered and straightforward. Physically imposing. Has a hidden slight masochistic streak. If you act dominant and tough enough, you can scam multiple Banshee’s Kisses out of her at once.

Andosally’s Girlfriend: Generous, enthusiastic, and very open-minded. Once tried to doxx my IP address to meet up IRL. Using the Banshee’s Kiss gifted by Andosally effectively stimulates her to blush and get highly excited.

You stared at the glowing screen.

Hahaha. Suddenly, I’m not that desperate for money anymore.

‘No, past-me, were you seriously that desperate for cash?!’

Even if you were going to shear a sheep, you shouldn’t shear the entire family tree down to the roots! What kind of absolute menace was the Babel-era Doctor?!

“PRTS, please wipe my history immediately.”

[System Prompt: Detected that you have performed the same action many times. Do you wish to continue? Yes / No]

…Who said this dead ghost of an AI had no presence? She was mocking you with better comedic timing than anyone else on this ship!

You viciously closed the terminal, completely abandoning your get-rich-quick scheme. You weren’t poor enough to risk getting hunted down by an entire bloodline of angry Sarkaz women. Let those contacts remain buried in the dark forever.

However… this “Who is the Operator Who Makes the Doctor Look Most Prestigious” contest actually sounded incredibly entertaining.

You crooked your finger. Thorns leaned in cautiously. After you whispered a few specific instructions into his ear, a slow, highly thoughtful smile spread across the Aegirian’s face.

That night, inside the Rhodes Island central party hall.

The standard utilitarian furniture had been entirely swapped out for high-end Kazimierz decor. The rest area had been carefully arranged to replicate the opulent living room of the Nearl Family estate.

The sixteen operators who had survived the preliminaries were gathered backstage, the tension thick enough to cut with a guard’s sword.

Out front, the judges’ panel was seated behind a long mahogany desk. The lineup consisted of Amiya, Młynar, and… a giant, fluffy white rabbit mascot doll with a disturbingly wise look in its plastic eyes.

Thorns, acting as the master of ceremonies, cleared his throat into the microphone. “I have urgently verified the identity of our third mysterious guest judge. The panel has unanimously determined his absolute authority on the subject of ‘How to Please the Doctor.’ After the tournament concludes, we will reveal his true identity.”

Backstage, the sixteen contestants whispered furiously among themselves.

Finally, Elysium—who was currently shifting his weight from foot to foot, his face flushed as his legs grew hotter and hotter—snapped. “Forget the mystery guest! Let’s just start the damn competition!”

He couldn’t control his twitching calves anymore! The potion was kicking in hard.

Up at the judges’ table, the retarded-looking white rabbit holding a massive plush carrot also started aggressively shaking its legs, as if its own knees were just as itchy as the sniper’s.

Thorns flashed a mysterious, highly professional smile. “Then, the Round of 16 for the ‘Who is the Operator Who Makes the Doctor Look Most Prestigious’ contest… officially begins!”

The lights dimmed. A single spotlight hit the stage entrance.

“First, walking toward us is the very synonym for mystery and elegance. The absolute embodiment of loyalty and professionalism, who stands as silent as a shadow behind the Doctor… Please welcome, Ms. Ascalon!”

The wise rabbit head tilted slightly, leaning toward Amiya. A muffled, heavily modulated voice whispered, “Who wrote this broadcast text?”

Amiya looked back in surprise, meeting the lifeless, unblinking plastic eyes of the rabbit suit. She couldn’t hold it in. A soft “pfft” escaped her lips, breaking into a quiet giggle.

“It was drafted by Ascalon herself. Is it that surprising?”

The giant rabbit head nodded slowly. “Indeed. I couldn’t tell. She’s usually so… lively.”

Amiya covered her mouth, her eyes curving into happy little crescent moons as she teased back in a hushed tone, “Does the Doctor think she coldly wants to assassinate the cafeteria auntie every time she gets stuck behind someone moving too slowly in the lunch line?”

Rabbit head: “…”

Wasn’t she?

Ascalon stepped out from the shadows, her pace slow, measured, and utterly lethal. She wore a sleek, pure black overcoat left open to reveal a crisp white shirt, wrapped tightly in five or six silver ribbons of unknown tactical purpose. Tailored suit trousers perfectly outlined her amazingly long, slender, and straight legs. Her expression was absolute ice.

Up at the desk, the two judges continued to whisper and spread baseless rumors about the proud, deadly Manticore on stage, all while casually raising their scorecards.

Amiya: 7 points.

Młynar: 9 points.

Rabbit Head: 8 points.

Młynar leaned back in his chair, looking at the rare, genuinely serious professional on stage. The deep appreciation in his tired eyes simply couldn’t be hidden. This was what the Doctor needed. A calm, rational, terrifyingly competent personal guard!

Heaven only knew how much despair Młynar felt every single morning when he saw the Doctor actively choosing assistants who were either Elysium, functionally illiterate, or just completely stupid!

Here, in the ‘Decent Track’ of the Round of 16, he finally didn’t have to force himself to appreciate those abstract, chaotic assistants. Just last week, he was certain the Doctor would rather appoint a literal VTuber as his secretary than choose him!

But before Młynar could fully bask in this moment of professional relief, his eyes drifted toward the backstage curtain.

Elysium stumbled out into the light, furiously scratching his thighs with an awkward, pained grimace, his waist bent at a terrible angle as he hobbled forward like a crab.

Elysium: ‘Hiss… so itchy. My legs are burning up! Who the hell set me up?!’

[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!]