It didn't start as anything major.
It was just the usual stuff—requests to procure supplies or shelter comrades.
I knew that if I didn't charge them for supplies, they’d eventually start taking me for granted. That wouldn't do the anti-establishment faction any favors in the long run, so I made sure to take their money, even if I kept the prices low. I funneled them things like dented cans or frozen foods nearing their expiration dates—items that a specialist dealer in B-grade goods could still reasonably handle.
I’ll say it again: I made them pay. I also made them work their tails off on negotiations, deliveries, and unloading. I didn't need a bunch of idealists who were nothing more than corporate playthings. I wanted them to gain actual practical experience, even if they stumbled along the way.
I didn't let the comrades we sheltered live as mere guests, either. I put them to work. They did everything from cleaning toilets at the Sushi Bar to waiting tables. I had them restocking vending machines and cooking in the kitchen. I even let them handle the account books.
I wanted them to realize they couldn't survive on "revolution play" alone. I paid them a fair wage for their labor, and that was that. I taught them the logistics of physical labor, the flow of money, and how to negotiate with corporations. I even made them study the ledgers of a corporate branch office—and threw in some paperwork training for good measure.
It was borderline "black company" labor, but it was exactly what they needed for their future. I only knew this because I’d skipped that part—the accounting and the business side of things—and suffered like hell for it later.
On top of that, I had to provide military training for the revolutionary faction. That part was easy. I had them raid Mike & Hammer military facilities. To be precise, I placed outdated weapons in abandoned facilities formerly owned by Mike & Hammer Co. I told the revolutionaries it was a warehouse and let them plan the raid.
Meanwhile, I told the Ninja Team that I was conducting military training for the revolutionaries and had them set up traps and personnel. I told the ninjas they were allowed to go as far as breaking a bone, so they played the role of guards armed with batons—though, looking at them, I realized they were actually using quarterstaffs.
It served as training for the Ninja Team, too.
Mind you, back when I trained with the Galactic Empire—specifically with Old Man Piggett—he would truly break your bones. Getting hit through your protectors and ending up with cracked ribs or an elbow to the collarbone was normal. He’d swing those batons with enough force to snap the wood. Having a full-face helmet caved in by the shape of a fist was just a Tuesday for us.
But that brutal shigoki was born of nothing but love. If we hadn't become elites through that kind of hardship, we would’ve died. Now, I finally understood how Piggett felt. He had been single-minded in his desire to ensure Wifey never had to taste the sorrow of losing the friends she’d finally made.
Actually, that’s a lie. My training specifically was "kill-grade" intensity. Once, when I pretended to be knocked out just to get a rest, he came at me with a serious stomping! But it was because we’d repeated that extreme training that we managed to win the Zork War without losing a single person.
Compared to that, the Ninja Team was practically gentle. They’d stop once someone had a bloody nose. They beat the revolutionaries up just enough not to break their spirits, let them steal the weapons, and then allowed them to escape. It let the rebels accumulate the success of a "partial victory"—the feeling that while it wasn't a perfect storybook win, they’d managed to meet their objectives. It forged a strong bond between them.
But as I kept this up...
"District Chief!"
I somehow ended up being treated as an executive by Shino and her group. I didn't get it. When we were stealing the weapons, I was just playing the rearguard. After making sure everyone had escaped, I’d just hand out refreshments to the Ninja Team, saying, "Good work, Paisen! I bought beer!"
I was playing both sides like a total turncoat. So why was I being worshipped by the revolutionaries while being groomed as the next leader by the Ninja Team? My reputation with both sides was abnormally high.
Sure, I provided supplies and weapons, but I’d handed those connections over to the organization itself. I only stepped in to negotiate if a problem cropped up. It was the same with the Ninja Team. Since their workload had increased, I used the confusion to push through better treatment for them.
Wages in Lepsitol were generally too low, holidays too few, and hours too long. That kind of treatment was practically an invitation for employees to betray the company. So, I kept bringing them refreshments. I listened to the concerns of the low-ranking ninjas. If they had legal trouble, I’d take them to a law firm through Karen’s introduction. If someone hit on a bar girl only to find out she was a Yakuza’s mistress and started getting extorted, I used the Pirate Guild to settle it. When a daughter turned into a delinquent and the stress made her father’s hair fall out... wait, that was the Captain.
I’d solved that one out of necessity. I guided the girl, telling her, "It’s fine to be a rebel, but make sure you talk to your old man, even if you’re just picking a fight." While I was at it, I beat down the local Yankee organization along with the Yakuza syndicate backing them.
I’d spent my time handling all these small, detailed consultations. As a result, my popularity exploded. I hadn't really done anything that grand, honestly. I was just making full use of my network to listen to people's grievances.
Watching me, Rikochi just looked exasperated. "See? You’re acting like a king again."
"Eeeh..." I didn't know how to answer that.
After about a month, it was finally time to head back. I used a business trip to Chronos as my cover. I told the anti-government organization I was leaving to negotiate with the Pirate Guild.
"Wifey, I'm home!"
Or so I thought, until I was intercepted at the Ozen Border. When I tried to bolt, they hit me with an electric casting net. I won't forget that grudge.
Apparently, I had to be hospitalized to check for the effects of Wild Ghouls. Every single day, they poked and prodded me with CTs, MRIs, ultrasounds, and photon scans. Blood tests, physical exams... the works. Rikochi was forced into the hospital too. It was miserable.
I contacted the anti-government faction to check in. "Yeah, I got caught in quarantine. They’ve got me stuck in the hospital."
"I knew it..." Shino said, her voice full of conviction. "Our food supplies were indeed contaminated by the Ghouls..."
She had become a total devotee.
"They said they'd give me the data, so I'll send it over once I have it," I told her.
I’d send it to Shino later. By now, the entire National University had basically joined the anti-government cause. I was sure the Faculty of Medicine would have a field day analyzing my data.
"District Chief... please come back to us soon."
I didn't know what to say. Her respect felt... heavy.
Once I finished my meeting with the revolutionaries, I called the Captain.
"Yeah, they’ve got me in forced hospitalization," I said.
"Gahahahaha! Take it easy and get some rest, Kawagon!"
"I'll make sure to get my work for the head office done while I'm here."
"Right, I’m counting on you for that!"
At least I was trusted by my colleagues as a salaryman.
Currently, I was in the middle of a wireless gaming match with Rikochi. We were bored out of our minds.
"Gyaaaaaaaaaaa! The Poor God!" she screamed.
"Migyaaaaaaaa! It dragged me to Planet Poor God too!"
As usual, she was absolutely terrible at that board game.
We had no idea. We didn't know that our physical data was being treated like "free material" in the surrounding nations. We didn't know that it had become a scandal reported day after day in Lepsitol.
And we certainly didn't know that a massive anti-government demonstration was currently underway, led by the very organization I had trained... or that even Parcion was being dragged into the mess.