"─Blood Pressure Drop!"
Sterilized equipment in the operating room blares alarms. The patient lying on the operating table is deteriorating rapidly.
"─Pepper! Prepare for a transfusion!"
Mary, the narrow-eyed female doctor entrusted with the surgery and dressed in surgical attire, instructs her assistant, Pepper, whose vivid peach-colored long hair is tucked under the surgical cap.
These two are members of the Seraphim Unit, a medical unit in Ark. After a full-scale battle that started in the early morning, a patient was urgently transported, and his condition worsened. Emergency surgery was deemed necessary, and several other mass-produced Nikkes, including those specializing in medical care, were involved in the operation.
As a surgeon and, presumably, the future attending physician, the doctor could only say, "How could he's still alive," if describing the patient's condition.
There is a large injury on the left side of the abdomen, significant enough for the intestines to protrude. Additionally, there was massive bleeding, as indicated in the pre-arrival information, but the situation was worse than expected.
To hear that the patient fought until the brink of unconsciousness in this condition is both impressive and astounding.
The significant damage inflicted on the patient was sealed using artificial muscles for Nikkes and artificial human skin, taking several hours. However, the patient's condition suddenly deteriorates despite the stability maintained until now. Administration of fluids was sustaining them until the emergency transport, but it seems that massive bleeding due to combat trauma has now negatively affected them.
Regardless, a transfusion needs to be performed urgently.
Mary directs her sharp instructions to the affected area while not pausing in her sutures, and her assistant, Pepper, nods vigorously.
The numerous devices in the operating room are all sterilized, and the terminal tablet that Pepper receives instructions on is no exception. Pepper inputs the recognition number engraved on the patient's ID badge. However—
"─Huh?"
"Pepper! What are you doing!? Prepare for the transfusion quickly!!"
"Se-Senpai! I-I can't find Major Moore's blood type information!"
As the adorable junior reports, Mary, and the mass-produced Nikkes laboring in the operating room, let out a small tiring sigh, as if lured into it.
"─Again."
Following the sigh, Mary's words carry a quiet frustration, typical of someone working in the medical field.
"We explicitly asked them to be mindful of the commanders' information, and yet, this happens again!"
The commanders involved in the military operation to reclaim the surface are humans with flesh and blood. Even with the law of absolute commander protection, injuries are inevitable, especially in cases like this where emergency surgery is required. The lack of disclosed information about their blood type is a problem beyond reproach.
However, there is no time to just be frustrated.
The devices meticulously observing the patient's body echo a loud, urgent warning that the condition is becoming increasingly critical.
"─Pepper! Quickly prepare the blood testing kit! Hurry!"
"─Y-Yes!"
If the blood type is not registered in the database, there's no choice but to use an alternative method. The problem lies in the possibility that the blood type identified through the test may not match any of the stored transfusion blood products in the hospital. However, the probability of such a situation occurring is incredibly low.
Alternatively, there's the option of using substitutes for blood products used on the battlefield—fluid infusion. While this prolongs life, it does not offer a fundamental solution.
While Pepper prepared for the blood test, Mary concentrated on suturing for the closure of the abdomen when suddenly, the door to the operating room swung open.
"─Huh? Vi... Vice Commander?"
Pepper lifted her head and directed her gaze towards the figure entering the operating room. Anderson, dressed in surgical attire, thoroughly disinfected and sterilized, stood there.
"...I'll assist."
-----
.
.
.
----It felt like watching an overly crafted drama.
Lying in the hospital bed in a room where mechanical electronic sounds echoed rhythmically and faintly, the patient, Moore, woke up. His blurry vision gradually became clearer.
An oxygen mask covered his mouth, and oxygen was being supplied, which he found inconvenient. However, if the doctor deemed it necessary, he had no choice but to endure the discomfort.
He could only see the ceiling, but it was almost certain that this was a hospital room, given the familiar ceiling he remembered from previous hospital stays.
Nevertheless, it hurt.
"─Looks like you've regained consciousness."
A voice came from the adjacent bed.
Reluctantly acknowledging the familiar voice, Moore couldn't ignore it. He turned his head to the left to confirm and saw Anderson lying on the adjacent bed, having taken off his military jacket, which should have been separated by a curtain.
"...Lord Andersen...?"
It couldn't be a mistake, nor a case of mistaken identity. As proof, the Vice Commander, while lying down, looked up at the ceiling in response to Moore's address and nodded.
"...How much... I mean, why are you here?"
"─Rest assured. It hasn't been half a day since the operation ended... Well, for this. I provided support until the very last moment."
With a sluggish movement, Anderson rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a faintly bloody gauze. Moore, understanding the situation from the words Andersen let slip, narrowed his eyes and voiced his doubts.
"...Transfusion?"
"...Hm. Because you and I share the same blood type."
"...I appreciate it, but... I still don't understand. My blood type is—"
"B type Rh-."
"Yes. But Your Excellency, there's no need for you to go through the trouble of—"
"...That's a lie. Forget it, once and for all."
As Anderson straightened his shirt sleeve, he delivered his message succinctly. However, Moore couldn't grasp the meaning behind those words.
His own blood type was firmly engraved in his memory. So, what did he mean by "lie"?
Anderson, lying in the adjacent bed, emitted a small sigh, either feeling reassured by the strength of his subordinate who had been on the brink of death just hours ago or expressing his exasperation.
"It's an extremely rare blood type. I heard there have been only a few people in the history of mankind with this type."
"...Well... If I may say so frankly, that's an incredibly remarkable coincidence. It could be considered impossible."
"...Do you think it's just a coincidence?"
Suddenly, Anderson moved his head, and in the dim light, his deep brown eyes and blue eyes met each other.
"...Your Excellency and I... don't resemble each other much... so, theoretically speaking, there's no blood relation. If I resembled Your Excellency, I would have been more handsome."
"...Heh... You can still even make a joke? I'm relieved to see you're not anemic. You don't seem to have any worries."
The intense gaze from his deep brown eyes seemed to search for the truth. Moore must have wanted to avoid that scrutiny. Anderson turned his face back to the ceiling, as if he wanted to escape that gaze.
"The blood we both possess is precious. That's why it's not registered in any database, to avoid being targeted by those who seek it."
"...Precious? What are you talking about?"
—Ah, he slipped up.
Fortunately, Moore didn't catch his momentary tenseness. Relieved at this fact, Anderson quickly changed the topic to avoid further questioning.
"You must be curious about what happened after the operation."
"Your Excellency, please don't change the subject."
"As for the Nikkes deployed in this operation, aside from the mass-produced ones, there were no significant casualties. Everyone returned safely... the operation was a success—"
"—Vice Commander Anderson!"
A voice, surprisingly strong given his near-death state just a few hours ago, came from the bed beside him.
Considering his personality, Anderson likely switched topics because he would be concerned about the well-being of the deployed Nikkes, including the mass-produced ones. However, it seemed the effect was thinner than expected.
Nevertheless, he had to somehow avoid further questioning.
"...This is a hospital. It's better not to raise your voice too much. Besides... the wounds might reopen."
His voice naturally carried well. It was a commanding voice, one that could give orders to allies even in the chaotic noise of explosions and gunfire on the battlefield. He possessed the tone and volume fit for a commander, an officer.
Above all, Moore had been on the border between this world and the next just hours ago. The fact that he hadn't crossed over was more like a miracle.
"...And... about Marian... I have something to tell you. More precisely, Ingrid does. She contacted me earlier. She should be arriving in about ten minutes."
"...About Marian...?"
It seemed this topic was the perfect trigger to pique his curiosity. The fact that he let go of his own questions and latched onto this one was good evidence.
"...Yes. It's about Marian, the one you rescued at great lengths. ...I understand you might be anxious, but... please wait a little longer."
"...Understood. ──Your Excellency."
"...What is it?"
"...Do you happen to have cigarettes?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have the brand you prefer."
"...I see. That's too bad."
The electronic clock in the hospital room showed 8:00 PM. He hadn't smoked for almost half a day. It felt like he might die without a cigarette.
----
.
.
.
The room fell into silence for a while.
Soon, before Ingrid arrived—her coming here in person just for an explanation from the CEO of Elysion was astounding—Anderson had a question he needed to ask.
"...Major Moore."
"What is it?"
"...Did you... take that?"
The Vice Commander asked, but for a moment, Moore didn't understand what he was referring to. He nodded in acknowledgment after grasping the general meaning. However, considering they were both looking at the ceiling in the hospital room, the nod might have been meaningless.
"Yes."
"...I see."
—However, Anderson's resigned and somber voice resonated oddly in the hospital room.
Immediately after, the door to the room opened.
"Excuse me."
"Excuse me, Major Moore. Commander—"
"Long time no see, Mana. This isn't the best condition, though."
Two figures entered the room. One was Ingrid, the well-known CEO of Elysion. The other was Mana, whom Moore had met recently at the Missilys Military Research Center, commonly known as M.M.R.
It appeared that Andersen and Mana were acquaintances. Whether this was a casual acquaintance or something more was a question for another time.
As Ingrid approached his bedside, she took a seat on the chair placed nearby.
"Major Moore, great job on the operation. How are you feeling?"
"...Thank you for your concern. ...Well... not too bad, I suppose."
He shrugged, causing a slight grimace on his face. Apparently, the pain persisted; it was natural since his left side had been cut into, penetrating the skin, muscles, and subcutaneous tissues.
"Hmm. Don't push yourself too hard. I'd like to commend your achievements and efforts in guiding the operation to success, but... there are more urgent matters."
The formidable woman began her explanation in a matter-of-fact tone.
Firstly, Marian was currently being held at M.M.R., where ongoing examinations and observations were being conducted.
"After scanning, there is no NIMPH in Marian's brain. We don't understand the reason, but it seems Unchained had an effect."
"In terms of memory, she retained it relatively well. Her own name, her unit, and even the details of her mission when the intrusion occurred, she remembered all of them. Of course, Major Moore's face and name too. However..."
"...However?"
As Ingrid explained, Mana operated her tablet and added some supplementary information. The word "however" caught Moore's attention. When he inquired, Mana turned the screen towards him.
There, a video recording of an interrogation with Marian was displayed.
.
.
.
.
.
{Commander... I...?}
{Do you remember?"
{That's... a lie...! ...No, it can't be...!!}
.
.
.
.
.
Marian's anguished cry echoed through the hospital room. Despite seeing only a portion of the video, Moore furrowed his brow deeply and fixed a sharp gaze on Mana.
"...What did you do?"
"...It was a simple question. We asked if she had memories from when she was a Heretic. Her memories appear to be vague. Major Moore's engagement in the northern region was blurry in her memory. She didn't even recall that Major Moore lost his left arm due to her attack."
In the still frame of the video, Marian appeared distressed, clutching her head with both hands. Moore let out a sigh, eventually calming the piercing gaze he had directed at Mana.
"...Before Unchained took effect, she had memories of our battle..."
"There might be some reasons for that... but the analysis will take time."
"But there's no NIMPH. Which means, at least she's not in an eroded state."
Mana's words suggested that explaining Marian's current situation was challenging, even for an expert like her.
However, for Moore, whether she retained memories from her time as a heretic or not held little significance.
"...It might be an opportunity to obtain enemy information for humanity, but I'm not particularly interested in that content."
"...Let's just forget I asked."
He understood that his statement was unbecoming of a military officer. Fortunately, his immediate superior, the Vice Commander, seemed to treat it as if he hadn't heard it.
"...So, getting back to the topic... What's the urgent matter?"
Moore asked Ingrid again. The formidable woman received another tablet from Mana, and then handed it over to him along with a stylus.
"...Transfer order form...?"
The displayed document on the screen was the certificate issued when transferring units within the Nikkee military forces.
Officially, Marian had been "disposed of." However, the text displayed on the form indicated that her data, which should have been erased once, had been re-registered. Marian, previously removed from the records, was now being transferred from Elysion to Squad 04-F Counters.
"Understood. Please sign here yourself."
"...That's quite a sudden request."
"...It can't be helped. Marian is a rare case, having gone from Nikke to Heretic and back to Nikke. There are many out there desperate to put her on the experimental table."
"...Especially... M.M.R.?"
"If necessary, yes."
With a hint of irony in his tone, Moore spoke, prompting Mana to respond earnestly, adjusting her glasses.
"If you become Major Moore's subordinate, it's only natural for you to be the supervisor. They won't be able to touch her so easily."
"Oh, you managed to get the approval. Impressive."
The outcome of the total war and the achievements were known to the upper echelons of the Ark, or more precisely, to the higher-ups of the Central Government.
Among them were those fervently seeking to reclaim the surface, so it was evident that they would try to force the transfer of Marian. Therefore, just before the operation commenced, Ingrid had managed to bypass that and remove the means for them to do so. This form, similar to the personnel transfer forms issued by the Central Government, should have the desired effect.
"...You just need to let go of a few ventures. She's one of my pupils, after all."
Moore contemplated compensating for the loss but ultimately gave up on that line of thought. He sensed that if he went down that route, he would lose his standing in front of the formidable woman before him.
He used the stylus on the provided tablet, spelling out his name clearly and firmly in the signature section of the commander and supervisor.
.
.
.
.
......................................Shaw Moore
.
.
.
.
After confirming the unmistakable signature, Moore returned the tablet and stylus to Ingrid.
"Confirmed. Marian will be sent to the outpost base by tomorrow."
"...I appreciate your help."
"No trouble at all."
"...There's something I find hard to mention, though..."
Having hesitated when he asked about finding a tattoo parlor the other day, Moore displayed a rare hesitation. It seemed unusual. Ingrid, thinking it was probably a trivial request, nodded, willing to listen, considering it as a way to express her gratitude for his role in the success of the operation. But then...
.
.
.
.
.
.
"...Could you discharge me? Right now."
Ingrid couldn't help but wonder if he had finally lost his mind.
(Tl Notes: Same.)
-----
Author's Note: ...Nevertheless...
Even if he anticipated developments, the main storyline had not changed significantly. It was puzzling why there hadn't been much variation. What could be the reason for this situation?
"─Blood Pressure Drop!"
Sterilized equipment in the operating room blares alarms. The patient lying on the operating table is deteriorating rapidly.
"─Pepper! Prepare for a transfusion!"
Mary, the narrow-eyed female doctor entrusted with the surgery and dressed in surgical attire, instructs her assistant, Pepper, whose vivid peach-colored long hair is tucked under the surgical cap.
These two are members of the Seraphim Unit, a medical unit in Ark. After a full-scale battle that started in the early morning, a patient was urgently transported, and his condition worsened. Emergency surgery was deemed necessary, and several other mass-produced Nikkes, including those specializing in medical care, were involved in the operation.
As a surgeon and, presumably, the future attending physician, the doctor could only say, "How could he's still alive," if describing the patient's condition.
There is a large injury on the left side of the abdomen, significant enough for the intestines to protrude. Additionally, there was massive bleeding, as indicated in the pre-arrival information, but the situation was worse than expected.
To hear that the patient fought until the brink of unconsciousness in this condition is both impressive and astounding.
The significant damage inflicted on the patient was sealed using artificial muscles for Nikkes and artificial human skin, taking several hours. However, the patient's condition suddenly deteriorates despite the stability maintained until now. Administration of fluids was sustaining them until the emergency transport, but it seems that massive bleeding due to combat trauma has now negatively affected them.
Regardless, a transfusion needs to be performed urgently.
Mary directs her sharp instructions to the affected area while not pausing in her sutures, and her assistant, Pepper, nods vigorously.
The numerous devices in the operating room are all sterilized, and the terminal tablet that Pepper receives instructions on is no exception. Pepper inputs the recognition number engraved on the patient's ID badge. However—
"─Huh?"
"Pepper! What are you doing!? Prepare for the transfusion quickly!!"
"Se-Senpai! I-I can't find Major Moore's blood type information!"
As the adorable junior reports, Mary, and the mass-produced Nikkes laboring in the operating room, let out a small tiring sigh, as if lured into it.
"─Again."
Following the sigh, Mary's words carry a quiet frustration, typical of someone working in the medical field.
"We explicitly asked them to be mindful of the commanders' information, and yet, this happens again!"
The commanders involved in the military operation to reclaim the surface are humans with flesh and blood. Even with the law of absolute commander protection, injuries are inevitable, especially in cases like this where emergency surgery is required. The lack of disclosed information about their blood type is a problem beyond reproach.
However, there is no time to just be frustrated.
The devices meticulously observing the patient's body echo a loud, urgent warning that the condition is becoming increasingly critical.
"─Pepper! Quickly prepare the blood testing kit! Hurry!"
"─Y-Yes!"
If the blood type is not registered in the database, there's no choice but to use an alternative method. The problem lies in the possibility that the blood type identified through the test may not match any of the stored transfusion blood products in the hospital. However, the probability of such a situation occurring is incredibly low.
Alternatively, there's the option of using substitutes for blood products used on the battlefield—fluid infusion. While this prolongs life, it does not offer a fundamental solution.
While Pepper prepared for the blood test, Mary concentrated on suturing for the closure of the abdomen when suddenly, the door to the operating room swung open.
"─Huh? Vi... Vice Commander?"
Pepper lifted her head and directed her gaze towards the figure entering the operating room. Anderson, dressed in surgical attire, thoroughly disinfected and sterilized, stood there.
"...I'll assist."
-----
.
.
.
----It felt like watching an overly crafted drama.
Lying in the hospital bed in a room where mechanical electronic sounds echoed rhythmically and faintly, the patient, Moore, woke up. His blurry vision gradually became clearer.
An oxygen mask covered his mouth, and oxygen was being supplied, which he found inconvenient. However, if the doctor deemed it necessary, he had no choice but to endure the discomfort.
He could only see the ceiling, but it was almost certain that this was a hospital room, given the familiar ceiling he remembered from previous hospital stays.
Nevertheless, it hurt.
"─Looks like you've regained consciousness."
A voice came from the adjacent bed.
Reluctantly acknowledging the familiar voice, Moore couldn't ignore it. He turned his head to the left to confirm and saw Anderson lying on the adjacent bed, having taken off his military jacket, which should have been separated by a curtain.
"...Lord Andersen...?"
It couldn't be a mistake, nor a case of mistaken identity. As proof, the Vice Commander, while lying down, looked up at the ceiling in response to Moore's address and nodded.
"...How much... I mean, why are you here?"
"─Rest assured. It hasn't been half a day since the operation ended... Well, for this. I provided support until the very last moment."
With a sluggish movement, Anderson rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a faintly bloody gauze. Moore, understanding the situation from the words Andersen let slip, narrowed his eyes and voiced his doubts.
"...Transfusion?"
"...Hm. Because you and I share the same blood type."
"...I appreciate it, but... I still don't understand. My blood type is—"
"B type Rh-."
"Yes. But Your Excellency, there's no need for you to go through the trouble of—"
"...That's a lie. Forget it, once and for all."
As Anderson straightened his shirt sleeve, he delivered his message succinctly. However, Moore couldn't grasp the meaning behind those words.
His own blood type was firmly engraved in his memory. So, what did he mean by "lie"?
Anderson, lying in the adjacent bed, emitted a small sigh, either feeling reassured by the strength of his subordinate who had been on the brink of death just hours ago or expressing his exasperation.
"It's an extremely rare blood type. I heard there have been only a few people in the history of mankind with this type."
"...Well... If I may say so frankly, that's an incredibly remarkable coincidence. It could be considered impossible."
"...Do you think it's just a coincidence?"
Suddenly, Anderson moved his head, and in the dim light, his deep brown eyes and blue eyes met each other.
"...Your Excellency and I... don't resemble each other much... so, theoretically speaking, there's no blood relation. If I resembled Your Excellency, I would have been more handsome."
"...Heh... You can still even make a joke? I'm relieved to see you're not anemic. You don't seem to have any worries."
The intense gaze from his deep brown eyes seemed to search for the truth. Moore must have wanted to avoid that scrutiny. Anderson turned his face back to the ceiling, as if he wanted to escape that gaze.
"The blood we both possess is precious. That's why it's not registered in any database, to avoid being targeted by those who seek it."
"...Precious? What are you talking about?"
—Ah, he slipped up.
Fortunately, Moore didn't catch his momentary tenseness. Relieved at this fact, Anderson quickly changed the topic to avoid further questioning.
"You must be curious about what happened after the operation."
"Your Excellency, please don't change the subject."
"As for the Nikkes deployed in this operation, aside from the mass-produced ones, there were no significant casualties. Everyone returned safely... the operation was a success—"
"—Vice Commander Anderson!"
A voice, surprisingly strong given his near-death state just a few hours ago, came from the bed beside him.
Considering his personality, Anderson likely switched topics because he would be concerned about the well-being of the deployed Nikkes, including the mass-produced ones. However, it seemed the effect was thinner than expected.
Nevertheless, he had to somehow avoid further questioning.
"...This is a hospital. It's better not to raise your voice too much. Besides... the wounds might reopen."
His voice naturally carried well. It was a commanding voice, one that could give orders to allies even in the chaotic noise of explosions and gunfire on the battlefield. He possessed the tone and volume fit for a commander, an officer.
Above all, Moore had been on the border between this world and the next just hours ago. The fact that he hadn't crossed over was more like a miracle.
"...And... about Marian... I have something to tell you. More precisely, Ingrid does. She contacted me earlier. She should be arriving in about ten minutes."
"...About Marian...?"
It seemed this topic was the perfect trigger to pique his curiosity. The fact that he let go of his own questions and latched onto this one was good evidence.
"...Yes. It's about Marian, the one you rescued at great lengths. ...I understand you might be anxious, but... please wait a little longer."
"...Understood. ──Your Excellency."
"...What is it?"
"...Do you happen to have cigarettes?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have the brand you prefer."
"...I see. That's too bad."
The electronic clock in the hospital room showed 8:00 PM. He hadn't smoked for almost half a day. It felt like he might die without a cigarette.
----
.
.
.
The room fell into silence for a while.
Soon, before Ingrid arrived—her coming here in person just for an explanation from the CEO of Elysion was astounding—Anderson had a question he needed to ask.
"...Major Moore."
"What is it?"
"...Did you... take that?"
The Vice Commander asked, but for a moment, Moore didn't understand what he was referring to. He nodded in acknowledgment after grasping the general meaning. However, considering they were both looking at the ceiling in the hospital room, the nod might have been meaningless.
"Yes."
"...I see."
—However, Anderson's resigned and somber voice resonated oddly in the hospital room.
Immediately after, the door to the room opened.
"Excuse me."
"Excuse me, Major Moore. Commander—"
"Long time no see, Mana. This isn't the best condition, though."
Two figures entered the room. One was Ingrid, the well-known CEO of Elysion. The other was Mana, whom Moore had met recently at the Missilys Military Research Center, commonly known as M.M.R.
It appeared that Andersen and Mana were acquaintances. Whether this was a casual acquaintance or something more was a question for another time.
As Ingrid approached his bedside, she took a seat on the chair placed nearby.
"Major Moore, great job on the operation. How are you feeling?"
"...Thank you for your concern. ...Well... not too bad, I suppose."
He shrugged, causing a slight grimace on his face. Apparently, the pain persisted; it was natural since his left side had been cut into, penetrating the skin, muscles, and subcutaneous tissues.
"Hmm. Don't push yourself too hard. I'd like to commend your achievements and efforts in guiding the operation to success, but... there are more urgent matters."
The formidable woman began her explanation in a matter-of-fact tone.
Firstly, Marian was currently being held at M.M.R., where ongoing examinations and observations were being conducted.
"After scanning, there is no NIMPH in Marian's brain. We don't understand the reason, but it seems Unchained had an effect."
"In terms of memory, she retained it relatively well. Her own name, her unit, and even the details of her mission when the intrusion occurred, she remembered all of them. Of course, Major Moore's face and name too. However..."
"...However?"
As Ingrid explained, Mana operated her tablet and added some supplementary information. The word "however" caught Moore's attention. When he inquired, Mana turned the screen towards him.
There, a video recording of an interrogation with Marian was displayed.
.
.
.
.
.
{Commander... I...?}
{Do you remember?"
{That's... a lie...! ...No, it can't be...!!}
.
.
.
.
.
Marian's anguished cry echoed through the hospital room. Despite seeing only a portion of the video, Moore furrowed his brow deeply and fixed a sharp gaze on Mana.
"...What did you do?"
"...It was a simple question. We asked if she had memories from when she was a Heretic. Her memories appear to be vague. Major Moore's engagement in the northern region was blurry in her memory. She didn't even recall that Major Moore lost his left arm due to her attack."
In the still frame of the video, Marian appeared distressed, clutching her head with both hands. Moore let out a sigh, eventually calming the piercing gaze he had directed at Mana.
"...Before Unchained took effect, she had memories of our battle..."
"There might be some reasons for that... but the analysis will take time."
"But there's no NIMPH. Which means, at least she's not in an eroded state."
Mana's words suggested that explaining Marian's current situation was challenging, even for an expert like her.
However, for Moore, whether she retained memories from her time as a heretic or not held little significance.
"...It might be an opportunity to obtain enemy information for humanity, but I'm not particularly interested in that content."
"...Let's just forget I asked."
He understood that his statement was unbecoming of a military officer. Fortunately, his immediate superior, the Vice Commander, seemed to treat it as if he hadn't heard it.
"...So, getting back to the topic... What's the urgent matter?"
Moore asked Ingrid again. The formidable woman received another tablet from Mana, and then handed it over to him along with a stylus.
"...Transfer order form...?"
The displayed document on the screen was the certificate issued when transferring units within the Nikkee military forces.
Officially, Marian had been "disposed of." However, the text displayed on the form indicated that her data, which should have been erased once, had been re-registered. Marian, previously removed from the records, was now being transferred from Elysion to Squad 04-F Counters.
"Understood. Please sign here yourself."
"...That's quite a sudden request."
"...It can't be helped. Marian is a rare case, having gone from Nikke to Heretic and back to Nikke. There are many out there desperate to put her on the experimental table."
"...Especially... M.M.R.?"
"If necessary, yes."
With a hint of irony in his tone, Moore spoke, prompting Mana to respond earnestly, adjusting her glasses.
"If you become Major Moore's subordinate, it's only natural for you to be the supervisor. They won't be able to touch her so easily."
"Oh, you managed to get the approval. Impressive."
The outcome of the total war and the achievements were known to the upper echelons of the Ark, or more precisely, to the higher-ups of the Central Government.
Among them were those fervently seeking to reclaim the surface, so it was evident that they would try to force the transfer of Marian. Therefore, just before the operation commenced, Ingrid had managed to bypass that and remove the means for them to do so. This form, similar to the personnel transfer forms issued by the Central Government, should have the desired effect.
"...You just need to let go of a few ventures. She's one of my pupils, after all."
Moore contemplated compensating for the loss but ultimately gave up on that line of thought. He sensed that if he went down that route, he would lose his standing in front of the formidable woman before him.
He used the stylus on the provided tablet, spelling out his name clearly and firmly in the signature section of the commander and supervisor.
.
.
.
.
......................................Shaw Moore
.
.
.
.
After confirming the unmistakable signature, Moore returned the tablet and stylus to Ingrid.
"Confirmed. Marian will be sent to the outpost base by tomorrow."
"...I appreciate your help."
"No trouble at all."
"...There's something I find hard to mention, though..."
Having hesitated when he asked about finding a tattoo parlor the other day, Moore displayed a rare hesitation. It seemed unusual. Ingrid, thinking it was probably a trivial request, nodded, willing to listen, considering it as a way to express her gratitude for his role in the success of the operation. But then...
.
.
.
.
.
.
"...Could you discharge me? Right now."
Ingrid couldn't help but wonder if he had finally lost his mind.
(Tl Notes: Same.)
-----
Author's Note: ...Nevertheless...
Even if he anticipated developments, the main storyline had not changed significantly. It was puzzling why there hadn't been much variation. What could be the reason for this situation?
