Author: "Ugh, overtime... It's getting unbearable.
Even though payday was just the other day, the amount of overtime I worked in the past month was outrageous... (Well, the corresponding salary did come in, though (after deductions)."
-----
"Before entering, just make one promise to me."
"...It depends on the content."
In the building of Misilis headquarters, Moore, who had taken the trouble to change into a military uniform, was there. With a tall stature and excellent physique, the military uniform suited him well, complementing his intimidating appearance.
Seated in the luxurious car along with Mihara and Yuni, the escorts for Shuen, they arrived at the back of the Misilis headquarters.
Facing the front was occupied by demonstrators, making entry nearly impossible. Despite being the owner of the company, Shuen had to enter and exit discreetly to avoid public attention, which seemed to be a source of frustration for her. Throughout, she made no effort to hide her displeasure, crossing her legs and clicking her tongue, providing clear evidence of her mood.
Exiting the high-end car, Moore followed the petite Shuen into the building, where he removed his military cap and tucked it into his left side. He entered the elevator in that attire, and when Shuen, who had stopped in front of one of the doors on an upper floor, looked up at him, he urged her forward with a perplexed expression.
"...Once inside, please pretend not to know anything about what I will say to those kids. And laugh and nod as if what I say is true."
"That's a difficult order. I'm not good at intentionally laughing."
He was a person whose facial muscles didn't move smoothly. Intentional fake smiles—especially considering the flow of the conversation, it was likely meant for him not to be noticed by the girls. It was an exceedingly difficult task.
As if were to return that sentiment to Shuen, she let out a grand sigh, looked up at Moore again with her tall figure, and gave him a disapproving look.
"...That much?"
"That much. And please don't forget the conditions."
"Tch---...I know."
Reluctantly, Shuen nodded back.
----
.
.
.
.
.
.
"…If you add some conditions, I don't mind cooperating."
About an hour ago, in the commander's office. Sitting on the sofa, Moore muttered, crushing the cigarette that he had barely smoked into the ashtray on the table.
"...Conditions?"
The disrespectful tone, in addition to addressing her informally, should have been enough to anger Shuen, but at this moment, she seemed to have no room for that.
With a hint of skepticism towards the positive yet passive response, she tried to prompt him.
"Commander!?"
Anis called him with a voice containing a considerable amount of negative emotion, but Moore raised one hand to silence her and turned his intense brown eyes back to Shuen.
"Pulling Rapture towards the Ark is absurd. It's almost as if you've lost your mind."
"I said it was a request. Don't worry, there's no problem—"
"At the moment when the expected situation turns into an unexpected one, can you confidently say there are no problems or obstacles in the plan?"
Taking a new cigarette and lighting the oil lighter, Moore asked in a low voice. When Shuen, curious about the meaning, looked at him in silence, he shrugged.
"The success or failure of a strategy or war is said to be determined by 80% to 90% in advance preparations, but the remaining 10% or 20% is influenced by the situation. Whether it's considered the will of God or fate... ultimately, you won't know until it's over. It's like gambling."
That it would never happen was nothing more than wishful thinking. Reality, for better or worse, had a way of easily overturning such hopes and desires.
"If such a malfunction were to occur during a strategy or plan, it wouldn't be known which way success or failure would lean. No matter how much preparation is made beforehand, nobody knows the outcome until it's all over."
If one were to know, it would probably be only that so-called god he dislikes.
"I'm not good with gambling. Well, I don't hate it, but I barely have any memories of winning even a simple game like rock-paper-scissors."
The mass-produced Nikkes staff, the base personnel, and when they carried out such activities—mostly betting on vending machine juices—they only engaged in it when the number involved was such that even if they lost, it wouldn't hurt their wallets much. Moore explained that he considers the risk, and thinks of an escape route in advance.
"...During the operation, have you considered a backup in case some kind of trouble occurs?"
"Metis and those kids don't need something like that."
"...I wonder. Because the battery might run out and collapse. Interpreting 'not needed' as a favorable meaning of expectation and trust..."
Moore scoffed at Shuen's words, letting out purple smoke. Apparently, she had gained enough composure to show some irritation at his disrespectful attitude.
"...At least, those kids are not expendable, right? They carry the strongest Misilis banner. We should consider the risk of potential damage to them, and above all, ensure that Misilis does not incur losses beyond expectations."
"...Risk?"
"...Assuming, of course. If, by any chance, a few Tyrant-class show up with the Rapture they attract, or if someone from Metis becomes incapacitated during combat... what do you think will happen?"
Shuen's head cooled somewhat, likely due to Moore's disrespectful words and attitude. Thinking about the possibility he calmly stated with a low voice, she gradually showed a shadow on her expression.
"...It would probably be easily overrun. And Ark is right within reach. In that case, all the forces Ark has would have to mobilize. ...And then, the investigation into why Rapture suddenly swarmed in would begin for sure."
Misilis's—or rather, Shuen's—plan and execution would be revealed immediately. In that case, what would happen...
"...It would probably turn into a situation reminiscent of witch hunts in the Middle Ages. What will happen... goes without saying, which is more than enough."
Prioritize the risks in case of failure over success. Consider the worst possible scenario and hell as much as you can imagine—that's what he felt was being said. Shuen twisted her expression as if she had just bitten a bitter insect.
Although there was a vast difference in scale and personnel, Moore was in a position similar to Shuen's.
He served as both the commander of the outpost base and the squad leader. In the aspect of gathering subordinates and managing the outpost base and squad, they could be expressed as counterparts without any problem.
"Of course, there are situations where you need to ignore foreseeable risks and make adventurous, speculative decisions... but the purpose of this operation seems to be interpreted as easing the critical public opinion towards Metis girls. Does this interpretation align with the truth?"
Suddenly asked, Shuen nodded. If that's the case, it's not easy to say, but there's no need to execute an operation that calls one's sanity into question.
"...The purpose is to announce the clear fact that they will continue to be allies of humanity even without NIMPH, or follow the commander's orders. There could be various means..."
"...We were adjusting towards capturing it on video."
"I see. That would indeed add a sense of presence. No need to attract Rapture to Ark for that."
"...I want to revive Metis as a hero."
"Freezing the hearts and guts of Ark citizens, is it? Stop it. I'll say it again; the aftermath of failure is the real problem."
While there are risks to be borne, if they can be avoided, all the better. Moore, as he flicked the ash of his cigarette halfway through onto the edge of the ashtray on the table, declared:
"...That's exactly the condition for cooperation. From a location far away from Ark... yeah, that's it. Label it as Metis' comeback match and film the battle. In that, since it seems I, the one who suggested this in the first place, will end up taking command, filming their compliance with human commands should alleviate negative images like threats and fears towards Metis. At least, the enthusiastic chants in front of the building, as it is now, should disappear."
Metis had undergone invasion, and the NIMPH nanomachines embedded in their brains, used as a treatment for that invasion—whether the expression was appropriate or not, it was a fact that they had disappeared. It was an undeniable fact.
"As for other things... yeah. Don't capture me on camera. I don't want to be a hero, and I don't want to attract attention. It's a hassle. Also, one more thing. If you're going to do it, let the squad counters accompany us."
"...What?"
"It's a backup just in case. It's fine if they provide support from the rear."
With a genuinely bothered tone as if he can't show disapproval to this more than now, he added more conditions. Moore implied that if she agreed to these, he would consider cooperating.
As for other suitable candidates, unfortunately, they didn't come to Shuen's mind.
----
.
.
.
.
"...Fine. The conditions will be honored."
"Good. If they're not honored... well, I probably don't need to say it."
Moore, with additional scars from cuts on his right eye, narrowed his eyes while shrugging his shoulders. He then continued to rummage through the chest pocket of his military uniform, taking out a soft pack.
"...No smoking here."
"...No smoking everywhere. It's annoying how strict it is... Yet, you're tolerant of alcohol, I don't get it."
It seems that smokers have been a persecuted race since the end of old age. Even though cigarettes and smoking should be a splendid part of human culture, he let out a sigh of disappointment as he returned the soft pack to his chest pocket.
"Now, let's go in."
Where did the disrespectful tone and language from about an hour ago go? Shuen, lightly shrugging her shoulders, stood in front of the door before him. As the sensor responded, sliding open to the side, she entered the room ahead of him.
Author: "Ugh, overtime... It's getting unbearable.
Even though payday was just the other day, the amount of overtime I worked in the past month was outrageous... (Well, the corresponding salary did come in, though (after deductions)."
-----
"Before entering, just make one promise to me."
"...It depends on the content."
In the building of Misilis headquarters, Moore, who had taken the trouble to change into a military uniform, was there. With a tall stature and excellent physique, the military uniform suited him well, complementing his intimidating appearance.
Seated in the luxurious car along with Mihara and Yuni, the escorts for Shuen, they arrived at the back of the Misilis headquarters.
Facing the front was occupied by demonstrators, making entry nearly impossible. Despite being the owner of the company, Shuen had to enter and exit discreetly to avoid public attention, which seemed to be a source of frustration for her. Throughout, she made no effort to hide her displeasure, crossing her legs and clicking her tongue, providing clear evidence of her mood.
Exiting the high-end car, Moore followed the petite Shuen into the building, where he removed his military cap and tucked it into his left side. He entered the elevator in that attire, and when Shuen, who had stopped in front of one of the doors on an upper floor, looked up at him, he urged her forward with a perplexed expression.
"...Once inside, please pretend not to know anything about what I will say to those kids. And laugh and nod as if what I say is true."
"That's a difficult order. I'm not good at intentionally laughing."
He was a person whose facial muscles didn't move smoothly. Intentional fake smiles—especially considering the flow of the conversation, it was likely meant for him not to be noticed by the girls. It was an exceedingly difficult task.
As if were to return that sentiment to Shuen, she let out a grand sigh, looked up at Moore again with her tall figure, and gave him a disapproving look.
"...That much?"
"That much. And please don't forget the conditions."
"Tch---...I know."
Reluctantly, Shuen nodded back.
----
.
.
.
.
.
.
"…If you add some conditions, I don't mind cooperating."
About an hour ago, in the commander's office. Sitting on the sofa, Moore muttered, crushing the cigarette that he had barely smoked into the ashtray on the table.
"...Conditions?"
The disrespectful tone, in addition to addressing her informally, should have been enough to anger Shuen, but at this moment, she seemed to have no room for that.
With a hint of skepticism towards the positive yet passive response, she tried to prompt him.
"Commander!?"
Anis called him with a voice containing a considerable amount of negative emotion, but Moore raised one hand to silence her and turned his intense brown eyes back to Shuen.
"Pulling Rapture towards the Ark is absurd. It's almost as if you've lost your mind."
"I said it was a request. Don't worry, there's no problem—"
"At the moment when the expected situation turns into an unexpected one, can you confidently say there are no problems or obstacles in the plan?"
Taking a new cigarette and lighting the oil lighter, Moore asked in a low voice. When Shuen, curious about the meaning, looked at him in silence, he shrugged.
"The success or failure of a strategy or war is said to be determined by 80% to 90% in advance preparations, but the remaining 10% or 20% is influenced by the situation. Whether it's considered the will of God or fate... ultimately, you won't know until it's over. It's like gambling."
That it would never happen was nothing more than wishful thinking. Reality, for better or worse, had a way of easily overturning such hopes and desires.
"If such a malfunction were to occur during a strategy or plan, it wouldn't be known which way success or failure would lean. No matter how much preparation is made beforehand, nobody knows the outcome until it's all over."
If one were to know, it would probably be only that so-called god he dislikes.
"I'm not good with gambling. Well, I don't hate it, but I barely have any memories of winning even a simple game like rock-paper-scissors."
The mass-produced Nikkes staff, the base personnel, and when they carried out such activities—mostly betting on vending machine juices—they only engaged in it when the number involved was such that even if they lost, it wouldn't hurt their wallets much. Moore explained that he considers the risk, and thinks of an escape route in advance.
"...During the operation, have you considered a backup in case some kind of trouble occurs?"
"Metis and those kids don't need something like that."
"...I wonder. Because the battery might run out and collapse. Interpreting 'not needed' as a favorable meaning of expectation and trust..."
Moore scoffed at Shuen's words, letting out purple smoke. Apparently, she had gained enough composure to show some irritation at his disrespectful attitude.
"...At least, those kids are not expendable, right? They carry the strongest Misilis banner. We should consider the risk of potential damage to them, and above all, ensure that Misilis does not incur losses beyond expectations."
"...Risk?"
"...Assuming, of course. If, by any chance, a few Tyrant-class show up with the Rapture they attract, or if someone from Metis becomes incapacitated during combat... what do you think will happen?"
Shuen's head cooled somewhat, likely due to Moore's disrespectful words and attitude. Thinking about the possibility he calmly stated with a low voice, she gradually showed a shadow on her expression.
"...It would probably be easily overrun. And Ark is right within reach. In that case, all the forces Ark has would have to mobilize. ...And then, the investigation into why Rapture suddenly swarmed in would begin for sure."
Misilis's—or rather, Shuen's—plan and execution would be revealed immediately. In that case, what would happen...
"...It would probably turn into a situation reminiscent of witch hunts in the Middle Ages. What will happen... goes without saying, which is more than enough."
Prioritize the risks in case of failure over success. Consider the worst possible scenario and hell as much as you can imagine—that's what he felt was being said. Shuen twisted her expression as if she had just bitten a bitter insect.
Although there was a vast difference in scale and personnel, Moore was in a position similar to Shuen's.
He served as both the commander of the outpost base and the squad leader. In the aspect of gathering subordinates and managing the outpost base and squad, they could be expressed as counterparts without any problem.
"Of course, there are situations where you need to ignore foreseeable risks and make adventurous, speculative decisions... but the purpose of this operation seems to be interpreted as easing the critical public opinion towards Metis girls. Does this interpretation align with the truth?"
Suddenly asked, Shuen nodded. If that's the case, it's not easy to say, but there's no need to execute an operation that calls one's sanity into question.
"...The purpose is to announce the clear fact that they will continue to be allies of humanity even without NIMPH, or follow the commander's orders. There could be various means..."
"...We were adjusting towards capturing it on video."
"I see. That would indeed add a sense of presence. No need to attract Rapture to Ark for that."
"...I want to revive Metis as a hero."
"Freezing the hearts and guts of Ark citizens, is it? Stop it. I'll say it again; the aftermath of failure is the real problem."
While there are risks to be borne, if they can be avoided, all the better. Moore, as he flicked the ash of his cigarette halfway through onto the edge of the ashtray on the table, declared:
"...That's exactly the condition for cooperation. From a location far away from Ark... yeah, that's it. Label it as Metis' comeback match and film the battle. In that, since it seems I, the one who suggested this in the first place, will end up taking command, filming their compliance with human commands should alleviate negative images like threats and fears towards Metis. At least, the enthusiastic chants in front of the building, as it is now, should disappear."
Metis had undergone invasion, and the NIMPH nanomachines embedded in their brains, used as a treatment for that invasion—whether the expression was appropriate or not, it was a fact that they had disappeared. It was an undeniable fact.
"As for other things... yeah. Don't capture me on camera. I don't want to be a hero, and I don't want to attract attention. It's a hassle. Also, one more thing. If you're going to do it, let the squad counters accompany us."
"...What?"
"It's a backup just in case. It's fine if they provide support from the rear."
With a genuinely bothered tone as if he can't show disapproval to this more than now, he added more conditions. Moore implied that if she agreed to these, he would consider cooperating.
As for other suitable candidates, unfortunately, they didn't come to Shuen's mind.
----
.
.
.
.
"...Fine. The conditions will be honored."
"Good. If they're not honored... well, I probably don't need to say it."
Moore, with additional scars from cuts on his right eye, narrowed his eyes while shrugging his shoulders. He then continued to rummage through the chest pocket of his military uniform, taking out a soft pack.
"...No smoking here."
"...No smoking everywhere. It's annoying how strict it is... Yet, you're tolerant of alcohol, I don't get it."
It seems that smokers have been a persecuted race since the end of old age. Even though cigarettes and smoking should be a splendid part of human culture, he let out a sigh of disappointment as he returned the soft pack to his chest pocket.
"Now, let's go in."
Where did the disrespectful tone and language from about an hour ago go? Shuen, lightly shrugging her shoulders, stood in front of the door before him. As the sensor responded, sliding open to the side, she entered the room ahead of him.
