Chapter 213

“Um…”

Despite the polite request, I chewed on the word that carried a dire, unsettling resonance.

To choose ‘body retrieval’ of all things! No matter how you looked at it, it reeked of a sinister conspiracy, and the sharp scent of antiseptic from research facilities reminiscent of the two intense survival struggles I had fought through surged my reluctance.

It’s not like I was playing a flag-planting game, nor was I continuously clearing Neo Haven challenges; why would I accept such a spine-chilling request?! Huh!?

…Moreover, if this was somehow related to your personal circumstances, wouldn’t it most likely be an Exatech issue?

Although I didn’t know the details of his internal situation as Léonard seemed to think, I had read enough about his character background to be sure of this part.

But, no matter how much I had hit the self-destruct button in desperation due to a lack of suitable alternatives, I had never walked into a hell already ablaze, then foolishly remarked, “Why is it so hot here?”

Rustle…

Slowly, I sank my body into the softness of the sofa.

Changing my formerly neat posture, I crossed my arms on my chest, wrapping my legs together to subtly express my dissatisfaction.

Although the softness of the furniture and the outer material didn’t produce the squeaking noises I intended, my reluctance was likely effectively conveyed.

“That’s harsh. I can’t reveal all the ins and outs before you accept, but how about you hear the basic details of the request first before making your judgment?”

“…I’ll at least listen. I will.”

I had to discard the expectation that I would carelessly dash in like some hackers blinded by ambition and greed. I had gained enough psychological space to choose and accept work, evaluating the cost-effectiveness and circumstances coldly and meticulously!

But what is this?

Despite my critical attitude, he seemed quite satisfied simply by me calmly holding my ground. He cleared his throat lightly and began to share the juicy details that turned speculation into reality.

“How much do you know about that giant monster called Exatech?”

“…”

To be honest, I knew quite a bit. Perhaps to a level that could pose a problem.

I had sunk… ahem, invested an immense amount of time in Neo Haven.

Originally a precision engineering company specializing in the production of prosthetic limbs and artificial limbs, it had acquired construction machinery and industrial equipment manufacturers, benefiting from the wartime boom, and had achieved illegal growth.

Geniuses fascinated by the technological singularity reached by aggressively recruiting renowned neuroscientists and brain specialists, some even riled up with Enema.

Lastly, I’d deduce that the belief that the human brain, the strongest weapon humans possess and the ultimate computing device, fell short because other parts of the body were drastically inferior was the beginning of machine worship.

If he wanted, I could divulge as much as I knew about the current CEO of Exatech and his ultra-secret project, but… that wasn’t really the kind of question Léonard was asking.

“…I probably know enough that others know, right?”

“Hmm, is that so…?”

While I casually retorted with my mouth, I also had opened an unofficial website somewhere filled with dubious information, like ‘101 facts about Exatech,’ through the internet search engine with my cyberware.

The citizens directly involved with the company might view things differently, and it wasn’t like I had memorized Exatech’s company policy; I figured I’d have to take an open-book test or something.

Tap… tap.

Exactly how much should I disclose, how should I express this to make it easy to recruit me, I thought as the Droid’s fingers tapped on the table.

Maybe it was burdensome to boldly invade this semi-public facility from the perspective of a fugitive; he had arrived by operating similarly designed robots.

Yet, as was the case with Aaron, who used Androids for recreational purposes, it wasn’t difficult to guess that Léonard’s consciousness had also integrated similarly into the actions he was taking.

“…First, there’s the common notion that the higher the rank of Exatech employees, the higher the rate of body modifications. To be precise, the more one actively engages in experimental alternative procedures and acquires new components, the more points are awarded during performance evaluations. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, roughly.”

It’s a fairly coherent system. While the side effect of the workplace merging with life is strong, the advantages of maintaining competition and ambition are distinctly greater.

I myself practiced discharging electricity daily to speed up my progress and was busy working to gradually raise my output thresholds, so the R&D were not entirely someone else’s business.

“That’s why, unless one is inherently a bundle of complexes, even veteran employees with long tenures tend to feel attachment to their original bodies made of flesh and blood… protein and organic tissue, unless they have a special incident.”

“Hmm… that seems likely.”

Yeah, even disregarding the massive cost issues.

No matter how much Exatech is a mecca for mechanical engineering, how long has it been? It’s unreasonable that all the new employees coming in would be so passionate that they’d think, ‘I love machines so much; screw it, I’ll just become a machine!’

“Also, it’s not like they’ve forgotten the basic purpose of beings, which is to leave descendants, of course… Moreover, if all high-ranking officials or researchers forget their instincts and biological functions, there would be a growing disconnect with the current era, hindering business expansion and deep academic endeavors. Thus, an exception was made.”

“An exception… oh, you mean a Pure who hasn’t undergone any implants or mechanical procedures at all?”

“Correct. You’re quite quick to understand. There exists a system to select excellent talents among researchers or office workers with relatively lower field work frequencies and record aging and growth without external alterations.”

With that, Sir Léonard, who had been talking in a somewhat stiff but polite tone, paused for a moment.

“…Huh?”

“…………”

Was this a brief rest, like someone who had been running hard taking a moment to catch their breath? …Well, I thought not.

If it were such a simple issue, someone who had preferred rational and efficient methods until now wouldn’t suddenly put this blatant silence between us.

I figured he probably couldn’t even perform the familiar act of his brain activating the resonator and audio devices, as he was mentally distracted elsewhere—perhaps pouring most of his processing power into controlling the rising hatred from the hellish depths of his consciousness.

…My thoughts weren’t entirely baseless.

“I was, that exception.”

“Wha…!?”

Startled, I instinctively recoiled.

Why? Because if he still had teeth, surely some would have been broken. If veins remained, they’d undoubtedly have burst.

Because emotions that boiled like molten lava and were as black as mud flowed freely without any biological or physical restrictions.

I had no way of knowing what Léonard, who couldn’t rely on ordinary chemical substances like cigarettes or alcohol to suppress that rage within a short time, had used to calm himself down—was it the realistic reason that venting his anger on me would bring no benefit… or could it be that he felt he could release that inner beast shortly.

“My Fiancé… in other words, the woman I believed was my girlfriend forged my consent for my brain extraction and body reinsertion and submitted it to the higher-ups. One day, I fell asleep in my lodging, only to regain consciousness a month later.”

“No… are you crazy? Is that even possible? Why??”

“That bitch was the one responsible for the surgery. She approved it herself and executed it immediately.”

What can I even say about this? A 23rd-century piracy marriage?

While I didn’t have zero acquaintance with him, considering we were practically strangers, I thought there was little chance I would develop any newfound interest in hearing his story.

Who would have thought that I’d face the revelation of a body entirely flipped 180 degrees without being able to empathize?

“I was trying to return the frozen body through legitimate means, but that Chienne kept obstructing me. It was blocked, and attempts to kill me failed due to the vast difference in authority. Feeling the need to attack, I eventually feigned surrender for a while to escape… Honestly, I thought I’d never come out alive, but they only issued a wanted notice, and no pursuers came.”

“Wow… I feel somewhat sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Rather, I’m sorry for dragging a story that should have been straightforward too long. It’s been a while since I devised this operation, but this is the first time I’ve shared it with someone, so a lot of unnecessary information came out.”

As Léonard rubbed his finger, which had shed some paint due to a failed control of strength earlier, he muttered.

What’s there to regret, though? It’s not like he made a mistake in his romantic life; perhaps it was just an unfortunate misfortune akin to being struck by lightning while walking down the street.

Sympathy? He didn’t particularly seem to desire any. Judging by his now calmer demeanor, this storytelling felt less like an attempt to gain empathy or persuade me and more like a way to organize the cause and effect.

….

….

Wait a minute.

Why does this quirky boss character feel so familiar to me?

It’s because there are relatable stories, enough emotional resonance, and perhaps due to having spent time with Zero, I didn’t find his mechanical appearance off-putting, so I could logically justify it.

But surely, facing a villain in Neo Haven, where killing was the only viable option, elicited considerably less aversion than expected.

What could be the reason for this? I felt that if I didn’t resolve this, even if I engaged more deeply, it would only feel awkward, so I scrutinized the robot before me and the figure of Sir Léonard beyond it with all my analytical skills and instincts.

“…Ah.”

The answer was surprisingly simple, and it had been evident since the first moment we encountered each other.

What made players unhesitatingly classify him as an ‘enemy’ wasn’t just the scenarios leading to combat or loot.

His pathological obsession with environmental cleanliness, the dripping scent of blood from his words, and the destructive urges or manic obsession with slaughtering that overflowed into the air were now almost non-existent.

The only time those fragments reappeared was in the moment when that pent-up resentment exploded.

If that hadn’t been there, and if the result was not yet determined, perhaps ‘Mad Léonard’ was merely a somewhat picky top-tier technician with a strong practicality rather than an enemy?

“…Thus, the final target is Exatech’s independent research facility, with the goal of retrieving the frozen capsule containing my body. …As an additional note, it involves killing a woman. I would like to ask you, with your skills, to play the role of a sub-operator while neutralizing the facility.”

As I was lost in thought, it was only natural for him to demand an answer after sorting out his mental landscape.

Now, it was time to make a real choice.

Would I involve myself more deeply… or take a step back and observe from here?