Ch.250Record of Task #035 – A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (5)

Killing the copyright officer is not about copyright issues. Nor is it about protecting Polaris. The task of protecting Polaris was already completed when I opened up the gang boss’s head.

Objectively speaking, he was already a man who had lost the ability to turn the situation around. It would be impossible for him alone to penetrate Belvedere’s surveillance network and get past two other copyright officers and their security to assassinate Polaris.

Killing him is merely an enjoyable challenge. It’s about pushing the limits of my abilities and advancing my boundaries one step further. It’s about showing and proving that fact to others. A challenge not worth refusing.

So I decided to pay only as much respect as the Changcheon Robotics’ drone hunters show when hunting wartime drones. I’m heading home. I needed to prepare thoroughly for the hunt.

I notice unfamiliar cars near my home. Inside the tinted windows sit employees of T Entertainment. It seems Polaris intends to stay here until the performance begins.

Perhaps it’s necessary. Assassins targeting Polaris wouldn’t be gentlemanly enough to spare me, who works for Polaris, and Polaris wasn’t indifferent enough not to care about that.

She’s settling in here, using Theo to protect even those close to me before she leaves. With only that one copyright officer as a current threat, Polaris can embrace and protect the two of us.

In the midst of all this, she seems to have found joy in teasing Arthur-2… but since they seem to get along well, I’ll leave them be. I’m genuinely grateful that there’s one more of me in this world.

I take the elevator up and enter my home. The lingering scent of Polaris’s citrus perfume wafts subtly through the air. A familiar scent. Probably only to me.

I enter the home where Polaris’s scent and her clothes hangers have now become part of everyday life. And the moment I enter, a sandwich is thrust toward me. Not pseudo-food.

It was already a blessing that the sandwich had bread made from soy starch, fake meat made from soy protein, and no pseudo-vegetables, but it was perfect that the hand offering the sandwich belonged to my Eve.

“You didn’t come home just for lunch, and honestly, I’m not sure if that body of yours even needs to eat lunch before working… but you know I don’t care about that stuff, right, Arthur?”

“How could I not know? You’re the one who tells a Type 4 posthuman to wear a helmet when driving.”

As I take the sandwich she offers and take a big bite, her hand, having brushed off bread crumbs, moves up to my head. She ruffles my hair slightly while stroking it. I don’t reject her touch.

“These days, I’m glad you always wear a bulletproof helmet whenever you go out on business. And since we don’t go around together every day while you guard Polaris, my eyes won’t have to look fierce.”

Once I’ve dealt with all the assassins, the preemptive measures will be complete, and after that, I’ll need to stay close to Polaris. Usually I’ll be watching from a distance, but occasionally I’ll need to be right beside her.

The reason Panacea Meditech hired me was to assign a mercenary of Polaris’s caliber to her, so I’ll definitely have to be in frame sometimes. I suppress a sigh.

“To be honest, considering they specifically mentioned hiring someone of matching caliber… I’ll probably appear in frame with her a few times. Maybe quite often.”

“It doesn’t matter. If there’s any scandal, Polaris is the one who’ll be in trouble, so won’t you manage things tightly to prevent that? Besides, we’ve made a peace treaty.”

My Eve turns around and leans her back against me. As I naturally wrap my arm around her waist, I see Polaris holding Arthur-2 in a similar pose on the opposite side.

“I shouldn’t say that Arthur-2 seems to have been sold out, should I?”

“There’s no reason to say that when Arthur-2 doesn’t dislike it either, Arthur. And I enjoy watching a girl who used to just accumulate modification parts every day finally realize that her face is beautiful.”

I decided to keep quiet about the fact that her beautiful face was born from Jerome’s perverted tastes and relentless expertise. And despite how well-crafted that face was, it still couldn’t compare to Polaris’s perfect form.

After quickly finishing the sandwich, I bury my face in my Eve’s nape and nuzzle her a bit. Since I need to leave soon, I enjoy my allotted time with my Eve before heading to my room.

I change back into my black outfit. I gather coin-sized electric shockers like the ones Din used, along with a fake coin that can be disguised as one. It was among them.

Coins or bottle caps themselves aren’t dangerous. But swapping them out for dangerous items and starting combat when you want is certainly not a bad deception.

I tuck the small evil at my waist. Since I needed to go indoors this time, I also grabbed a carbine. The flechette submachine gun would be almost meaningless in a fight against a copyright officer.

Should I take a grenade rifle too? No. While using explosives for a quick resolution would definitely be strategically correct, what matters now isn’t strategy but proof.

I leave the room without taking the grenade rifle. Am I risking my life? Yes, but no. The grenade rifle I received from Chance was unsuitable for indoor use anyway.

Even though Mila’s bunker had relatively wide corridors and rooms, using it there would almost certainly have caught me in the explosion as well.

I also check the remaining amount in the drug injector embedded in my nape. Both the denaturing agent that transforms blood into preservative fluid, and the adrenal stimulant and at least high-grade painkillers are all properly filled.

The endorphin secretion agent is something only a Shepherd-level operative could use. It’s much more effective than ordinary painkillers and doesn’t cause the haziness typical of painkillers—a top-tier product.

Coming out of the room, I briefly kiss my Eve. Polaris puffed her cheeks for a moment, either looking envious or thinking I was using her as an object for showing off, but not for long.

Arthur-2’s plea not to irritate Polaris sounded almost like a death rattle. I briefly think that she might become a bit more docile starting tomorrow. Polaris, who was smiling at Arthur-2, said:

“This will be the last assassin to deal with, right? But, just my personal guess… that copyright officer might also be familiar with such deception. I’m not sure if you need to be careful, but that’s how it is.”

She meant he might discover through script changes that what he was given was simply consolation money for a casino loser. Would he then flee LA and escape?

I couldn’t tell. It might not be considered a weak move, but… he was a copyright officer. T Entertainment’s special operations officer. Someone who gives up so easily couldn’t rise to that position.

“I believe you hired me to handle any situation, Polaris. Can I report back after I return?”

“Yes, of course. I should look for a dining place in anticipation of your success. Shall we call it a double date?”

Polaris’s gaze was fixed on Arthur-2, who looked almost ready to cry. Interesting things seem to happen only when I’m away from home.

After sharing a comfortable laugh at this everyday scene, I hug my Eve once more and leave home. I get on my bike and head toward the copyright officer’s hideout. I see familiar faces.

Unmanned cameras are positioned all around. Like baby birds showing their bright red mouths, they’re screaming at me to give them footage. Satisfying their hunger is also my job.

I head toward my destination, making sure the T Entertainment chairman can see me. The destination was one of T Entertainment’s safe houses in a wealthy neighborhood. Being in a wealthy area itself makes a safe house safer.

Most people passing by have employee-citizenship of mega-corporations, everyone’s identity is verified, and any problem can be detected immediately—these are tremendous advantages.

I deliberately park my bike some distance from my destination and start walking, when a communication request comes in. It’s from Talent & Tradition’s copyright officer. It’s obvious which copyright officer it is.

Since Aegis is already connected, I accept the communication without concern. The connection is established. The other person’s voice is trembling with anger. Is it directed at me? No. It’s anger about his own situation.

“Ah, look who it is. The bogeyman they say appears out of nowhere. Yes, the bogeyman who ruined my plans… and is now coming to catch me. Isn’t that right? Where are you? Probably got off early.”

He knows exactly how an assassin operates. He was one of the top assassins in the industry. But he probably doesn’t know my exact location.

I crouch down and approach the safe house. Aegis hasn’t detected anything unusual yet, and the copyright officer started spewing his anger-filled voice.

“I, honestly, don’t dislike you. No, it would be better to say I respect you. You’re strong. Strong enough to fillet a current Talent & Tradition assassin like a fish.”

His devotion to survival of the fittest is as extreme as the chairman’s. He doesn’t know that the chairman’s devotion to survival of the fittest stems from resentment and jealousy when his idol declared he would become human.

“But I can’t stand Talent & Tradition treating me as weak. Did they think I’d believe that sending ten assassins meant I was still considered a significant force? Did they think I wouldn’t realize this was just consolation money?”

Since I knew his worth, it wasn’t difficult to get under his skin. I use only the voice module to provoke him leisurely. Honestly, it doesn’t even sound like provocation.

“They gave you that consolation money because they thought you were weak enough to give up on killing Polaris and flee to the wasteland without it. Because you’re a weakling who’s never succeeded at anything.”

I turn the corner and look at the safe house. But the door was open. From the entrance, a double layer of blood and oil was flowing down. The copyright officer’s voice echoes in my head.

“No. And I proved it with my own hands. You’re watching, aren’t you? I would have killed Polaris even without that damn consolation money. I would have done anything to cut out the cancer infecting this industry. See it with your own eyes.”

I kick the door open, and inside are the dismembered bodies of assassins. He had killed all the assassins he received as “consolation money” with his own hands and was waiting. The madman I had expected.

Can I feel the sensation of cannibalism? Expecting and enjoying it, I deliberately provoked him once more with words I didn’t mean. I hoped he would speak like Serena Vanderbilt.

“If you knew how that survival of the fittest doctrine began, you might not want to follow it so faithfully, Blue on Blue.”

“Blue on Blue” was slang for friendly fire. It seemed like a fitting nickname for someone who had killed everyone who gathered around him in trust.

And as expected, he spoke like Serena Vanderbilt. The same level of conviction. And proof that being faithful to a belief doesn’t justify that belief.

People who can make animal-like cries don’t know the right path. They only have the strength to walk the path. What’s important to us isn’t strength. It’s direction. Only direction.

“I don’t care. No matter how it started, no matter how full of deception it is… what matters to me is that it makes me, this company I love, and the people who call this company home stronger.”

It’s thrilling. Enjoyable. This kind of cannibalism was much more enjoyable than hunting an incompetent person who wasn’t even willing to die for their beliefs.

I could understand why Din wore such a refreshed expression before a fight. I had a broad smile on my face right now. I spoke with a slightly amused voice.

“You really are insane to the core, Blue on Blue. I like it. Sincerely. You seem like someone who won’t suffer from unfulfilled desires.”

As I spoke as if this was a very enjoyable matter, I heard something scratching from inside a second-floor window of the building. His prosthetic hand was scratching the pseudo-wood covered wall. I identify his position.

From his position, he doesn’t have a firing angle. With the silent movement unique to Type IV, I jump up and step on the top of the door frame. I jump again and grab the second-floor window frame. As I bring the carbine muzzle up… our eyes meet.

The copyright officer was looking at me. Whether he deliberately gave me an opening thinking I could hear this well, or believed I could do this much, he was also aiming a flechette carbine at me.

Forcibly preventing my body from twisting along its jumping trajectory, we both pull the triggers simultaneously. He thought I would be a bit more clumsy with inertia control, and his prediction was wrong.

Flechettes shaped like small arrows cut through the air next to my head. The carbine bullet embeds deeply in the bulletproof vest covering his torso. He’s wounded, but not seriously.

If dying from a few bullets to the chest was enough to kill him, he shouldn’t be bearing the illustrious title of copyright officer. I throw myself through the broken window. I watch as his aim follows me.

A pleasantly eerie feeling. The same feeling as when I fought hand-to-hand with the special operations officer. I grab the muzzle aiming at my torso, trying to embed toxic flechettes in me. The muzzle is pulled toward his body.

He was trying to make me lose balance, or to draw my attention to the pulling side. The sharp end of his prosthetic hand on the opposite side was vibrating. He thrusts it at me, leaving no time to react.

Instead of resisting with force, I lean my body in the direction he’s pulling to avoid it. His arm begins to bend toward me in a way that human joints couldn’t function. Living with such a prosthetic isn’t good for mental health.

I heard it takes months just to adapt to the feeling of having one arm that seems like a mollusk. Months. For him, that would have been very short. I managed to deflect it with my carbine-holding hand, but my forearm was slightly cut.

It had been a long time since I’d received a wound greater than the numbness of having a bullet embedded in a bulletproof vest. This time, I grabbed his carbine barrel and pulled. After making his body lean deeply toward me, I kicked him.

Hit squarely in the chest, he lost his grip on the gun and tumbled down the stairs of the safe house. I immediately threw away my gun and picked up his flechette carbine, aiming it. I pulled the trigger on full auto.

In that brief moment, with inhuman reaction speed, he kicked off the wall and moved out of sight. I felt almost ecstatic watching him. Time that can be enjoyed seems to pass too quickly.