Chapter 5

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m on my way to work. Today’s the day Commander Dezeb receives his report—if I’m late, won’t that upset him?”

Erabelle didn’t have time to deal with this lunatic any longer. She was already only fifteen minutes away from being late.

“...You’re so cruel. Seriously. I told you to stop talking about Dezeb! He’s really dead down there!”

Virgo Hag glanced down between his legs, his expression deeply wounded.

“If you give me the uniform, I’ll have it mended by this afternoon.”

“Should I just take it off right here?”

“Yes, please. I’ve got thirteen minutes left.”

“Thirteen minutes is enough for at least one round.”

Pfft. Just thirteen minutes?

“What’s with that look? I don’t like it.”

“This is the face of someone deeply concerned about the commander waiting for her.”

“...You’re awful. Always bringing up Dezeb. Erabelle, come on—just once. I swear I’ll ruin you in the best possible way.”

What the hell—quit with the murder threats, you psycho. You’re making me remember what I wrote in my will.

“Captain, I really have to go. If the commander asks why the report is late, I’ll have no choice but to honestly tell him that you were the reason...”

“Ugh, fine! Just shut up already!”

***

“Thank you, Erabelle.”

Commander Dezeb Avganis accepted the report and coffee with a gentle smile.

Erabelle had to clasp her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.

The dogs were better than this...

Plenty of people would have lined up to hand over their life savings for a smile like that. But if they knew the true price was their life, they would probably think twice.

A Signum user of immeasurable power, physical level 13.

The final boss of this world was, as always, devastatingly handsome.

Pitch-black hair, cream-colored skin, a perfectly sculpted nose, and eyes that curved lazily beneath a crimson glow. Even his lips were tinged red.

Every time Erabelle looked at him, she couldn’t help remembering his level—thirteen.

Which also reminded her that it was the most highly classified secret in the 41st Division... and that revealing it carried the death penalty.

A few transport-class Great Spirits wouldn’t do a damn thing for her. If word got out, she would be killed. Guaranteed.

There was no guarantee the Vermilion family would be spared, either. They would likely be wiped out as well, all for the sake of preserving the secret.

Thinking about all of that, Erabelle smiled politely.

“I brought a croissant from Zallo. Would you like one?”

Dezeb Avganis didn’t like that bakery. He said its pastries were too bland. As expected, his expression remained indifferent.

“Actually, could you check Gate Channel 2 for me?”

“I’ll review it and send you a report.”

Back at her desk, Erabelle opened her laptop and wiped her palms against her pants. They were slick with cold sweat.

All that from a few words... ha. Sure. Makes sense.

Two years wasn’t nearly enough time to get used to that man.

Maybe twenty thousand years would do it. Hopefully, she would be dead long before then, without so much as a speck of bone dust left behind.

She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to work the stiffness out of her knuckles.

It would have been better if that man weren’t in the adjutant’s office today. Unfortunately, today was the 28th—monthly leadership briefing day.

The entire upper brass was gathered here. Why they had to hold it here, she had no idea.

Maybe it was for the premium coffee beans and fancy pastries.

Or maybe it was because of her.

“Hey, coffee.”

“Me too.”

Erabelle quickly took their orders and returned to her desk.

“Ah, I want tea.”

“Where are my cigarettes?”

“Lieutenant, the file that was here...”

After running a few more petty errands, Erabelle finally managed to start her actual work.

Not that it was all bad—her pockets were already feeling considerably heavier.

So, today’s to-do list...

She refocused with deadly precision. Errands were errands, but her real job had her life hanging in the balance. There was no room for slacking off.

Today, she needed to verify the Empire’s Warp Channel 2, process requisition forms, inspect newly arrived stockpiles, and—if luck was on her side—make some progress organizing the warehouse.

If she failed to keep pace, overtime would come around and slap her in the face.

Twenty-three requisition forms? What the hell is going on today...

The division unofficially operated several special forces units. Its stated mission was terraforming, but in reality, they were neck-deep in illegal arms trafficking, contract killings, mercenary work, unauthorized planetary development, and more.

Most of the soldiers had been recruited from exactly those kinds of backgrounds. That was simply how things worked here.

Loyalty to the Empire?

Don’t be ridiculous.

They were already violating a dozen military laws—some serious enough to warrant the complete dissolution of the unit as traitors—but unfortunately, no one here gave a damn.

“You tried that one yet?”

“What, the D9? Yeah, not bad. Uses less energy for the shells. Works well on anything below Level 4. It does overheat a little, though.”

The bastards lounged around the adjutant’s office, talking openly without the slightest attempt at discretion.

Every time she heard conversations like that, she was reminded of just how thoroughly ruined her life was.

“Well, it’s just a prototype anyway.”

“Weren’t we sending it somewhere?”

“Yeah, to the Nover Federation. The lab guys’ll handle it.”

“Still, you should double-check. Why don’t you go?”

Erabelle popped a camouflage pill into her mouth and kept working.

“Why me? I have to head to the Marquis of Gale’s territory later.”

“Since when?”

“It’s artifact season.”

“Is it yours?”

“If I bring it back, it is. What, suddenly pretending to be a law-abiding citizen?”

Erabelle never forgot to stay ready to flee at a moment’s notice. These people could start arguing over something idiotic and end up smashing each other’s skulls in before anyone had time to react.

“C’mon, just stop by! I went last time! They seized everything in Colicchio for violating some stupid regulation—confiscated the whole container! They said they won’t give it back unless we go through official channels. Bullshit. They’re obviously planning to pocket it!”

“Not my problem. You touched it, you deal with it.”

“Ugh. So annoying!”

“Sucks to suck.”

Commander Dezeb enjoyed watching them fight.

Which meant no one ever bothered stopping them.

Erabelle kept her paperwork close and poured sickeningly sweet coffee down her throat as she activated the code for her contracted spirit and linked it to her laptop.

The spirit—codename Miro, ST-20—transmitted data through the interface at high speed.

She plugged the code into the port behind her ear and massaged her stiff neck.

A faint ringing filled her ears.

The aftereffects of the recognition tag were still lingering.

...Not looking good.

As her condition worsened, the interference was growing stronger. Erabelle opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle of pills, and swallowed a stabilizer to accompany the antacid she had taken earlier.

Then she took another long drink of coffee and began scanning the data appearing across her screen.

Truthfully, she was feeling a little pressed for time—because today was the premiere of Romantic 4.

If she wanted to catch the movie, she had to get off work before midnight somehow.

“Don’t whine. Just deal with it. Hey, Erabelle, grab some cigarettes during lunch, yeah?”

“Yes. That’ll be 24 credits.”

She answered like an automated response system, her eyes still fixed on the laptop.

“What? What’s that number? Is that the price?”

“I’m not feeling well today.”

“Isn’t this robbery? You keep raising the price without warning!”

“That’s how monopolies work.”

At her flat reply, someone gave a scoffing laugh and spat something out—hopefully into their own pants.

Wishful thinking.

“Unbelievable.”

I’m working, thank you very much.

“Shit. Hey, while you’re at it, swing by storage and bring back a box—20-liter, empty.”

“I’m not authorized to enter storage. It’s restricted.”

“Since when?”

“Regulations.”

“So that’s a no?”

Their voice dropped.

Typical.

That passive-aggressive tone whenever something didn’t go their way. They were like mass-produced murderers, churned out from the same factory line.

Without missing a beat, Erabelle typed a few more search terms into her laptop and replied calmly.

“I can. But it’ll cost you hazard pay—200 credits.”

“Highway robbery. Don’t you have any friends? D.C. rates?”

“Sorry. No friends.”

No acquaintances either. Hell, I hate that I exist in the same era as you people.

Let’s see... If I play this right, maybe I won’t have to work overtime. Oh. The list got longer? Great. Drugs now? Who the hell picks up a drug habit for fun? Then again, pretty standard hobby around here.

Honestly, recreational drug use was a far healthier pastime than picking fights with subordinates who were actually trying to work.

In this entire unit, the only person fragile enough for recreational substances to cause any meaningful physical harm was Erabelle herself.

Which was exactly why this fragile person was determined to leave work before midnight today.

“You’re seriously the worst vendor. Fine. 200 credits. Deal.”

“You’ll have your order promptly by 1300 tomorrow.”

With that, Erabelle plugged the third and fourth cords into the ports behind her ear, one after the other.