Chapter 22

"Everyone, atten-teeeeeen-hut!!"

Following Alan’s thunderous bark, twenty men and women snapped into a rigid salute. Taro surveyed his staff, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. They look like a damn firing squad, he thought. Most were in their twenties, though a few salty veterans pushing fifty were peppered into the mix.

"Alright, at ease. Uh, so... well, look, let’s skip the boring corporate speech. Everyone, get in line!"

His voice echoed through the cavernous, empty floor. As the employees shuffled into a row, trading confused glances, Taro moved down the line. He offered a word of genuine thanks, a thick envelope, and a cup of booze to every person there.

"Okay, everyone’s locked and loaded. Our Vice President, Marl-tan, will explain what’s in the envelopes. Take it away, Professor!"

Taro skittered backward like a stage comedian making a hasty exit. Marl stepped forward, her teeth gritted as she hissed under her breath, "I told you to stop with the '-tan' in front of the help."

Clearing her throat, she addressed the room. "Right. Good work, everyone. Thanks to your efforts, Rising Sun Corp is growing faster than anyone anticipated. To celebrate our new office here on Delta—one of the Empire’s most vital Tier-1 stations—we’re issuing a special commemorative bonus. Those envelopes contain your pay stubs. Yes, I know paper media is a prehistoric relic, but the President has... 'aesthetic preferences.'"

At the word "bonus," the room transformed. Faces lit up instantly. Taro, despite being a total amateur at the whole CEO gig, felt a swell of warmth in his chest. Yeah, this isn't bad at all, he decided, his own grin widening.

"Now, don't get too excited—it’s not a life-changing sum," Marl cautioned. "But we hope to make this a regular occurrence as the company grows. Actually, why am I the one saying this? This is literally the President’s job. Taro!"

The staff erupted into laughter at Marl’s sharp retort. Alan and his four-man Handyman Group joined in, their wide, white-toothed grins flashing in the light.

"No way, my social anxiety can’t handle that kind of spotlight!" Taro shouted back. "Alright, let’s drink! Cheers!!"

A chorus of "Cheers!" thundered back. The Galactic Empire didn't really do the whole 'toast' thing, but Alan had coached the crew on the custom exactly as Taro had requested. It felt like a solid way to kick off a party, and Taro resolved to make it a company tradition.

Then, the sudden realization hit him. A commemorative party in a brand-new office... We’re actually doing it. We’re living the high life.

"Total normies," Taro muttered, his expression suddenly darkening. "Look at them. Disgusting. The 'Black Impulse' is rising... I want to ruin everything."

"Why are you projecting your weird insecurities onto a party you’re paying for?" Marl sighed. "And what the hell is a 'normie'?"

"A person who actually enjoys their reality! Someone whose life doesn't suck!" Taro shrieked. "Dammit! I’m talking about people like you guys!"

Taro turned and bolted toward the adjacent room, leaving his bewildered staff in silence.

"Is he serious?" Marl asked, glancing at Koume. "He’s the biggest normie here."

The AI tilted her head. "Who can say? Human psychology is often illogical."

"Yo, Boss. Drinking alone in the dark?"

Alan found Taro lying spread-eagle on the floor of a massive, empty square room. The carpet, made of soft synthetic fibers, was the only thing in the space. This was supposed to be the CEO’s private office, but since Taro spent most of his life on the bridge of a ship, he figured it would mostly just collect dust.

"I’m just not built for the 'rah-rah' stuff, Alan. The company’s doing great, but man... the future is coming at me fast."

Taro stared at the ceiling. Alan leaned against the wall. "That some kind of deep philosophy?"

"No, I mean it literally. We started this company a few months ago, right? I never planned on having a staff, and now I’ve got a small army. It’s only been a month since we were dodging plasma fire in the Peta Star System."

"Huh. Now that you mention it, yeah. It’s moving pretty quick. We moved the refugees, then it was just transport, transport, transport every day. Let’s see..." Alan checked his BISHOP interface. "Yep. Exactly forty-two days."

Taro nodded. "The local news coverage was the tipping point, I think. We’re getting top-tier talent and more work than we can handle. Honestly? It’s going too well. It’s creepy."

Taro thought back to the headlines that had made them famous: Pornography Peddler Saves Drifting Ship! The story of their battle in the Asteroid Belt had been a double-edged sword.

"The name recognition is great for business, sure. But Alan, I’m an old man at heart. I have to wonder about my life choices when every single contract we sign is for adult toys."

Alan let out a guttural laugh. "You said it!"

"It’s not funny! I checked the neural net boards, Alan! They’re calling me the 'Guardian of Virgins'! Why would I guard that? It’s not a treasure! You’re supposed to get rid of it! I’m telling the youth of the galaxy: Give it up! Be free!"

Alan doubled over, clutching his stomach as he sank to the floor. Taro ignored him and kept ranting.

"People are even trying to order directly from us now! We don't manufacture this stuff! We just move it! Do you realize my destroyer is currently carrying 7,440,320 self-gratification devices? That is not a standard loadout for a warship, Alan! I’m worried that much mass is going to generate its own gravity. What am I even fighting for?"

"Maybe you’re just fighting the Gs?" Alan wheezed, punning on the gravity.

"Oh, shut up. You’re not funny."

Taro sat up and drained his cup. Alan mirrored him, his expression finally turning serious. "Look, Boss, it’s fine for now. We’re just building the foundation. Eventually, you’ll get a real lead on Earth, and that’s when the real money—and the real trouble—starts. Information leaks. Once the galaxy smells credits, every bottom-feeding thug from here to the Core will come sniffing around. We need an organization to protect what’s ours."

Taro listened intently.

"If Earth is near the Core, it’s a political battle over rights," Alan continued. "If it’s in Outer Space, it’s a brawl. You think you can go toe-to-toe with a Gigantech Corp Super-Dreadnought?"

"Not a chance," Taro admitted. "They’d vaporize us before we even popped up on their scanners."

"Exactly. You don’t need to own everything, but you need enough muscle to have a seat at the table. If you don't have power, you lose everything. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times."

Taro leaned back, lost in thought.

Earth. He knew it was out there. The Metric System, the 365-day calendar—those weren't coincidences. They were fingerprints. Even if he hadn't been 'isekai-ed' here, the planet had to exist. He needed to find historians, etymologists, anyone who could point him toward the origin of those units.

And then there was the aftermath. He didn't care about mining rights. He just didn't want his home to become another hollowed-out husk of a planet. If those blue oceans still existed, he wanted them to stay blue. No one wants to see their childhood home turned into a strip mine.

"The worst-case scenario is a Resource Development Corp finding it first," Taro whispered.

"You’re not wrong," Alan agreed. "Based on what you told me, Earth’s value is biological and cultural. A spiritual icon. It’s not about minerals."

"Right. Seventy percent of the surface is water. It’d be a nightmare to mine anyway."

"Yeah, but the shitty Mining Corps don't care. Bio-resources take too long to turn a profit. If they think someone’s going to declare the planet a historical preserve and halt development, they’ll just start digging immediately to get what they can before the lawyers show up."

Taro knew he couldn't carry the fate of an entire planet alone, but he was the only one who cared. He didn't even know if Japan or America still existed. For all he knew, it was a post-nuclear wasteland. But he knew his involvement would change everything.

"I’ve been wondering..." Taro said, his voice trailing off. "Would Earth be happier if I just left it alone? If it never got sucked into the Empire?"

"You serious?" Alan asked.

"No... I guess not. If some heartless bastard is going to find it anyway, it might as well be me. My obsession with that place is probably the highest in the galaxy."

Alan delivered a stinging slap to Taro’s back. "That’s the spirit, Boss! You’re the only one who knows it’s real. The rest of us? We believe you, sure, but we don't love the place. We’re just here for the money, the dreams, and the scraps falling off your table. But that’s why we follow you. This is a job for 'The Boss and the Boys.'"

Taro coughed from the impact of the slap, then raised his glass. Alan clinked his against it.

"...Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Alan. I’ve got my head on straight now. You really are a wise old man. A regular Wizard of Rising Sun!"

"Hah! It’s my job to keep the CEO from losing his mind. But what’s with the 'Wizard' talk?"

"Oh... uh, nothing," Taro said, panicking. "Just that you handle everything so smoothly, it’s like magic."

He couldn't exactly tell Alan that in his world, a "Wizard" was the legendary title for a man who reached thirty without losing his virginity. Alan, however, seemed to like the sound of it.

"Wizard, huh? Not a bad nickname. 'Wizard Alan'... yeah, that’s got a ring to it. I’m changing my handle in the system."

"Wait, no—!"

Before Taro could stop him, Alan tapped his BISHOP and officially updated the company roster.

Taro sighed. Well, I’ll apologize to him later. Maybe.

"Alright! Let’s make this company a titan and find Earth! We’ve got work to do!"

The fire was back. Taro felt the old spark of motivation returning. He decided that as a special treat, he would explain the true meaning of "Wizard" to the rest of the staff first thing in the morning.

Even a hero has his brooding moments. Don't worry, Teiro-kun is back.

The slow burn ends here. Things are about to get loud.