The truth was, having Roselia’s backup when things went south made a world of difference.
After all, I had the weight of public authority—specifically the Tactical Control Division—behind me. They would overlook a thing or two for her. Or rather, I’d make sure they did.
…What? Not allowed?
Don’t give me that. Power exists to be used. Tools aren’t meant to sit on a shelf for decoration.
Roselia lightly tapped the bottom of her glass before draining the final drop.
“Alright, that’s enough about my side of things,” she said with a smirk, her expression looking noticeably refreshed. “Now then… let’s talk about that.”
Her gaze drifted toward the black box resting on the sofa by my feet.
I raised an eyebrow and gave a small shrug. Right, this thing. I’d gone back and forth on whether to show her, but I figured Roselia was someone I could trust.
I lifted the box and placed it gently on the table. The metal casing settled with a dull, heavy thud.
When I released the lock, the internal pressure hissed—a small psshhh like a mechanical sigh. A faint chill wafted out from the interior.
Roselia rested a hand on her knee, her expression tightening as she watched. I nodded and carefully reached into the box.
The metal felt cold against my fingers. The boundary where the machinery met artificial skin created an eerie contrast, like a frozen blade pressed against living flesh.
I lifted it out slowly.
Clack.
The exposed metal fittings of the neck joint clicked softly against the edge of the table. Strands of azure hair spilled out, fanning across the tabletop. The eyelids remained shut; no speech bubbles appeared.
Just absolute silence.
“…I saw it on the sensors, but still,” Roselia muttered with a low groan.
She stood up slowly, her metal prosthetic leg clattering against the floorboards as she moved toward the table.
“An android head… Is this a repair job?”
“Not exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Roselia’s brow furrowed at my vague answer.
“Complicated? Hmm. Even so…” She leaned in close, her sharp, metallic pupils narrowing. “I’ve seen this face somewhere. Is this one of those illegal models? A violation of portrait rights? Gray-area mods are one thing, but an android that perfectly reproduces an actual person’s facial data is—”
My ears perked up instantly.
I’ve seen this face somewhere.
“…Wait. What did you just say?”
Roselia blinked. “What? I said I’ve seen it before—”
Silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Then, her expression shifted into one of sudden realization.
“I remember now! She’s the girl from Vira Corp who used to hang around the Police Organization!”
“…From Vira Corp?”
“Yeah. Technical Division, I think. She’s the director’s daughter. But why on earth would there be an android with her face?”
I set my glass down and leaned forward. “Are you sure about this?”
“No mistake. It’s all coming back to me,” Roselia said, her voice dropping an octave. “I saw her several times while I was running surveillance on Vira Corp—specifically their ties to the Ninth Division. That was a few years ago, though. I haven't seen her lately.”
She immediately pulled out her mobile terminal and began swiping. Holographic screens flickered into existence, several files sliding open in the air. Her military-grade fingertips moved with surgical precision, leaving trails of pale blue light in the air.
“…Found it. This is her.”
Roselia turned the terminal toward me. It was a surveillance still: a young girl standing in front of a white laboratory.
And standing right next to her was…
“…Olaf Karvel,” I whispered.
The image was clearly several years old; he looked much younger than he did in the file Gordon had given me.
“You know him?”
“Yeah. He’s the Director of the Second Technical Bureau at Vira Corp.”
Roselia nodded. “That’s the one. It’s him and his daughter. I don’t have her name on hand, but I can pull her records easily enough.”
My head started to spin.
Cecily. An android with her exact face. And now, the daughter of Olaf Karvel.
Two people with the same face? Or was it three? Nothing was adding up.
Suddenly, a shrill electronic chime shattered the silence of the living room.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
The sound was loud enough to be heard from any corner of the house. The source was a communication panel on the wall, its red warning light strobing with frantic urgency.
Roselia’s head snapped up, her face turning grim.
“Sorry,” she said curtly.
She crossed the room in a few long strides, the rhythmic thud of her prosthetic leg echoing against the floor. When she reached for the terminal, her entire aura shifted. The casual warmth was gone, replaced by the razor-edged presence of a Captain of the Tactical Control Division.
“Report. What is it?”
Her tone was flat, but the tension in her voice made the air in the room go taut.
“—Confirmation in the Upper District… multiple casualties… requesting backup—”
I couldn't make out everything the voice on the other end was saying, but the fragments were enough. Roselia’s face went pale.
“What? In the Upper District? Are you certain?” She held her breath for a heartbeat. “…Understood. I’m on my way.”
Click.
The sound of the line cutting was cold and final. Roselia stepped away from the terminal and let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging for a brief moment.
“Sorry. I know we were in the middle of something, but it’s an emergency.”
She walked to the kitchen and placed her empty glass in the sink. Her metal arm caught the light as she moved, emitting a faint, mechanical whir.
“I heard you mention the Upper District. What happened?”
“You’ve got good ears,” she replied without turning around. “It’ll be all over the news in an hour anyway. The Rainburg estate was just hit.”
“…What?”
My body moved before I could think. The sofa springs groaned as I bolted upright.
“The Rainburgs?”
Roselia turned, her eyebrows arched in suspicion. “You know them? I suppose at your level, having a connection or two to a mega-corp wouldn't be out of the question.”
Her casual remark felt like it was coming from a mile away. My mind was racing, picturing the family I’d met only yesterday.
This is getting ugly. Fast.
Roselia was already moving into combat mode. She grabbed her pistol from the rack by the sofa, secured it in her holster, and threw on her tactical coat. Every movement was a blur of practiced, military efficiency.
“Roselia, I’m coming with you.”
She stopped dead, her eyes widening. “Hah?! What are you talking about? No way in hell—”
“You said it yourself. The Ninth is in bed with Vira Corp.”
Her brow twitched. “…You think this attack is related?”
“It’s a strong possibility. And given the situation, the link between Rainburg and Vira is my business now. I’ll give you the details in the car.”
Roselia fell silent, her hand going to her chin as she weighed the risks. Finally, she let out a long, weary breath.
“Fine. You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” A faint, wry smile touched her lips. “But don’t go overdoing it.”
“Hey now. When have I ever overdone it?”
“The explosion at the factory ruins yesterday, the shootout at the docks last week, and then there’s—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. My heart hurts just hearing the list.”
I flashed her a grin to mask my nerves. Roselia just rubbed her temples and sighed.
“Good grief. You’re hopeless.”
I’ll take that as a compliment.
By the time I was on my feet, Roselia was already at the door. Her prosthetic leg struck the floor with a series of hard, rhythmic notes.
It was the silence before the storm.
The only question was: which one of us was going to be the one to break it?