Episode 269

Note: This serialized novel has been on hiatus and hasn’t been updated for over two weeks. There is a high probability that future chapters will not be posted. Please proceed with this in mind.

"Speaking of which, Teiro. It looks like her Royal Highness has officially arrived."

They were in the lounge of the Rising Sun Headquarters, located in the Roma Star System within the Alpha Region Space—the literal backside of the galaxy. Marl made the announcement while clutching a pack of Rice Tea, a beverage that had recently started trending among the common folk. She flicked through her mobile terminal and shoved an image that looked like a news headline toward Teiro.

"Ugh, I knew it. There was no way we were keeping this on the down-low."

Teiro threw himself onto the sofa. It was exactly what he’d expected, but that didn’t make it any less of a pain in the ass. On the screen Marl held, a woman was shown walking down the ramp of a military vessel with an air of undeniable grandiosity. It was, without a doubt, the very person they had been warned was coming.

"Tell me about it. But honestly, this is better than trying to hide it poorly. If we tried to be secretive, the media would just assume the worst and start scribbling whatever lies popped into their heads anyway."

Marl flicked the screen away with a sharp snap of her finger. Teiro nodded solemnly. Yeah, she’s got a point. He prided himself on being one of the galaxy’s foremost experts on how much of a nuisance the media could be. Lately, the discourse surrounding the Zayed Campaign was overflowing with information that was either flat-out wrong or "technically true but functionally a lie." As a result, Teiro was being hounded by inquiries from every organization under the sun. To put it mildly, his life was currently a localized hell.

"I guess. But why now? I know things are getting sketchy out here, but the Central Empire is still stable, right? If it weren't for Mr. Dean asking, I would’ve shot this request down in a heartbeat."

Please look after my woman for a while. That was the gist of the message he’d received via a Broadside from Dean about a month ago. The message said she’d arrive in ten days, but she’d actually shown up only six days after the Broadside reached him. It wasn't that she was early; it was just the downside of moving data on physical chips and electronic paper. In other words, a classic interstellar time lag.

"I swear, from the day we started this company until now, this is the most chaotic it’s ever been," Marl said, her face a mask of exhaustion. "Do you even have a clue how many subsidiaries we have at this point?"

"Nope," Teiro replied, shaking his head. He started to lift his terminal to check the data list sent over by Gigantech Corp, then thought better of it and put it down. The mountain of data was helpful, sure, but it was too much to skim, and besides—everything would probably change again in three days anyway. Why bother memorizing it?

"On paper, we’re becoming Rising Sun Holdings, right? Then Guns, Speed Carrier, and Makina are being revived as 'RS Brand' subsidiaries for security, transport, and development. We went through all that effort to merge them, and now we’re splitting them up again? I’ve officially lost the plot."

The "consulting team" sent by Gigantech Corp—ostensibly just "star system management support"—was working with terrifying efficiency. They were clearly preparing for a future where the RS Group became a massive corporate titan. The company was currently in the middle of a frantic, high-speed structural reform. To put it simply: it was a total madhouse.

"There appears to be significant movement within the Alliance as well, Mr. Teiro. Good day to you both. I trust you are well?"

The door slid open, and Koume entered in her Android Body. After receiving the customary "I'm alright" and "Not bad" from the pair, she nodded with robotic satisfaction.

"Miss Sakura has informed me that Takasaki Shipbuilding has decided to turn its Roma branch into an independent subsidiary. Since they are a blood-related enterprise, 'independence' is likely a mere formality. In other words, you understand the implications."

Koume sat down next to Marl. For a few seconds, she remained perfectly still, as an AI should, but then she suddenly reached for a tray of baked sweets on the table and began nibbling on one with a rhythmic crunch-crunch.

...There’s no way she’s actually digesting that. "Wait, so that means what I think it means? Takasaki is joining us?"

Koume nodded silently. She took a napkin from her pocket, daintily wiped her mouth, and spoke. "The main headquarters will be known as Takasaki Heavy Industries. The branch will operate under the name Takasaki Shipbuilding."

"If Takasaki is joining, they’ll easily be the Number Two in the Alliance based on scale alone..." Marl paused, her eyes widening. "Wait. Is the Takasaki branch actually bigger than our entire company?"

"Negative, Miss Marl," Koume replied. "However," she added, "that is only true as of last month. Had you asked me then, your assessment would have been correct."

"I see. So they were waiting for us to surpass them before joining. They’re as loyal as ever—or just really sticklers for protocol. I can respect that."

Marl seemed satisfied with the explanation. Teiro agreed, but he quickly pivoted back to the more pressing issue.

"Forget the corporate drama. We’ve got a Princess. Minerva Seldan, right? The official line is that she’s here for an 'inspection of an exemplary enterprise,' but there’s no way. What kind of moron sends a princess to audit a company that ships adult videos and manufactures vibrators? That’s not an inspection; it’s a targeted sexual harassment suit waiting to happen. There’s obviously an ulterior motive."

"You have a point," Marl sighed. "I mean, we are an exemplary company in the sense that we’re out here in deep space and yet we still dutifully pay our taxes, but... Teiro, doesn't it make you sad just saying that out loud?"

"Extremely. So please, let’s not dwell on it."

"Right, noted... Still, I can’t think of what the catch could be. Regular reports from Wells and Clark haven't mentioned anything unusual beyond the recent communication chaos. Still no word from Dean?"

"Nothing. Even Lyza can't get through to him, so it's probably hopeless. She told me not to worry because he goes off the grid like this sometimes, but still, you know?"

"True. He’s not the type to do things without a reason. It’s more natural to assume there’s a scheme in motion."

"Exactly. Or rather, the scheme is already finished... I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Teiro-chan. Remember our meeting with Mr. Dean? He said something about how it would be better to keep us involved. What if this is 'it'?"

"Ah, right. That was when we were talking about the traitors... If that’s the case, this is going to be a massive headache. And since Dean is involved, it’s definitely military-related. Come to think of it, that princess is technically an officer, isn't she?"

"She is. That’s the kicker. My theory is that the flow of events goes like—"

"No, that wouldn't make sense. If we go by what he said—"

The two went back and forth, descending into a spiral of speculation. Koume watched them with a serene expression, not interrupting until the debate hit a total stalemate. Finally, she gracefully raised her hand.

"Koume has a proposal. If there are points of uncertainty, why not simply ask Princess Minerva herself? While she may be a figure from 'above the clouds,' there is no regulation stating that the head of the inspected company cannot speak to her. While I believe discussion is valuable, perhaps we should hear her side first?"

Two looks of realization dawned on the room.

"Oh dear, has the General really told you nothing?"

Minerva spoke in a gentle tone, though it carried a hint of feigned innocence. Her golden hair, reaching down to her waist, was tied back neatly. Despite her radiant beauty, she was dressed in a rather drab military uniform. Her rank insignia identified her as a Colonel, but naturally, no one in the room took that at face value.

"Yeah, unfortunately. I heard he was busy, but being this unreachable is a first. Honestly, it's creeping me out... Uh, sorry. Is it okay for me to talk like this?"

Teiro scratched his cheek, trying to mask his nerves. He glanced at Lyza and Sakura. Judging by their faces, his casual speech was probably "not great" but "not an international incident." Koume was expressionless as usual, but Marl looked so stiff she might actually shatter if someone poked her.

Currently, they were in the reception room of the Rising Sun Headquarters—now two sizes larger thanks to the overeager consultants. About sixty people were packed into the room, either standing at attention or seated on sofas. Rising Sun was represented by Teiro, Marl, and Koume, with Lyza acting as the Princess’s handler and Sakura as her support. The latter two, having actual experience with nobility, were the only ones who looked like they belonged here. The other few dozen people in the room were Minerva’s guards, all of whom possessed incredibly sharp, murderous glares.

"Please, do not trouble yourself with formalities. I am currently acting in a military capacity, and I am a guest under your care. Who would dare complain?"

Minerva glanced at the guards surrounding her. Clad in Imperial Military Type 3 Service Uniforms, they remained motionless, their expressions suggesting her word was law, yet the air was thick with their palpable tension.

"Besides, I have heard much of your character. I was told you were a most amusing individual. In my opinion, the ability to entertain others is a magnificent talent."

Minerva gave a mischievous little smile, covering her mouth with her hand. Whether her grace was natural or drilled into her, every movement looked like a piece of high art. Teiro almost found himself entranced by her beauty for a second, but the feeling evaporated instantly. I don’t give a damn about the status gap between royalty and a pleb like me, but the fact that she’s Dean’s mistress is a lethal piece of information. I like being alive, thanks.

"He isn't nearly that impressive, your Highness," Lyza said with a perfectly composed face. She was wearing a brilliant blue dress instead of her usual pilot suit. "He’s reliable once in a blue moon, but usually, he’s a disaster. If he oversteps, please, feel free to do with him as you wish."

Teiro breathed a sigh of relief. Based on Lyza’s tone, she and the Princess were getting along well. According to the database, Her Highness was in her twenties, so perhaps they were kindred spirits.

"Hehe, I see. Still, there are many in this galaxy who aren't reliable even 'once in a blue moon.' I believe he is more than worthy of expectation... However, if you truly haven't been told anything, that is quite the predicament."

Minerva lowered her eyes, appearing lost in thought. She went perfectly still, and for a moment, the entire room—guards included—looked like an elaborate collection of statues.

Eventually, just as the ache in Teiro’s forcedly-straightened spine reached its limit, Minerva looked up.

"If that man has said nothing, then silence must be the best course of action. At least, that is what I believe. Or perhaps... no, let us not indulge in pointless speculation. Mr. Teiro, I apologize, but I cannot speak of the situation directly."

Her voice wasn't so much an apology as it was a request for agreement. Teiro felt a bit let down, but he nodded. It made sense.

"Well, I figured as much. No worries. Though I’m gonna hold onto a sliver of hope since you used the word 'directly.'"

Teiro gave her a cheeky, searching look. Minerva looked surprised for a heartbeat, then smiled again. "By the way," she said, glancing toward her guards. "I do have one request of my own. These men are my private troops. I would like you to hire them as temporary employees of your company."

Teiro blinked. "Private troops? Yours?"

"Yes. They are entirely separate from the regular military chain of command. They are individuals who move solely at my personal discretion."

"Hmm, I see. So... they’d be like dispatch workers? I mean, I don't mind, but... this is one of those 'requests' I’m not allowed to say no to, right?"

"I am sorry, but yes. However, I assure you they will be useful. Their status as 'quasi-military' is a mere technicality. They are all exceptionally well-trained."

"Oh, seriously? To be honest, I love the idea of hiring soldiers. They’re ready to work, they’ve got guaranteed backgrounds, and we can never find enough of them through regular job postings. With this many, I could get a lot done... Still, I wonder what the catch is."

Since she couldn't answer, the question was pointless, but Teiro brooded over it anyway. He eventually decided it was probably just a minor bribe, like that one time with the Railgun order.

He was wrong.

A short while after the meeting ended, Teiro realized his assumption had been far sweeter than a sugar cookie with a broken recipe. He clutched his head, picturing the incoming tidal wave of trouble, and unleashed every curse in his vocabulary at the Galactic God (whose existence was debatable at best).

This happened right around the moment he realized the number of "temporary employees" the Princess had dumped on him exceeded 20,000.

Author's Note: I'll be posting irregularly, so the chapters will be quite long. After not writing for a while, I barely know what’s going on anymore! If the atmosphere or content feels a bit different, I’m sorry. My deepest apologies. Also, a huge thank you to everyone writing reviews and reporting typos. You have my gratitude!