Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: White Crow Unit ― Oscar (1)
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Twenty-six, back in my fresh-faced rookie days. I thought of the senior colleague who became my mentor.
He was a good man.
Cheerful, great at reading the room, hardworking, but with a clumsy streak that made him all the more human.
While teaching me, he often made mistakes that got him scolded instead. When the company tried to cover up the death of an employee dispatched overseas, he flew into a rage, fought back fiercely, and got fired.
At our last drinks together before he cleared out his desk, I bowed my head endlessly, apologizing over and over.
I can't even remember now what I was so sorry for.
He patted my gloomy back with a laugh. He said he wouldn't give up like this, and to keep in touch.
After that, we met up occasionally for meals or drinks.
But maybe it was the burden of seeing him grow more haggard each time. Or perhaps fear of the company's watchful eyes.
Either way, I gradually cut off contact.
Meanwhile, I rocketed through promotions to deputy manager and then section chief, becoming the star of the department, and forgot all about him.
I thought it would all fade quietly into oblivion.
Then I heard he'd died horribly in a traffic accident.
Rumors said it had happened months ago.
That day, I wandered around in a daze, then suddenly went to the restaurant where we'd last met and ate alone.
The hot broth warmed me from inside, something welled up, but no tears came.
This was exactly one month before I ended up in this damned dictatorship.
Oscar Fischer's melancholic eyes reminded me of that senior.
Young, full of spirit, good-natured, strong-willed, but above all kind and always ready to fight injustice.
In any world, places like this are no good for people like him to live long.
I muttered that to myself.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "What're you thinking about?"
Oscar asked out of the blue.
He was following me like a chick trailing its mother as I walked the alley with Collin's leash in hand.
After he'd boldly declared he'd stick close and monitor me, I'd just shrugged with a silent 'do whatever' and kept walking.
"That part of surveillance too?"
"Of course. Gotta uncover every little detail and report it to Daniel."
He nodded proudly.
'Asking out of boredom, huh.'
I chuckled and answered readily.
"Someone I knew before."
"Who? Amelie?"
"You heard about that too?"
Amelie was the owner of a small bar and Lucas's ex-girlfriend—the one Daniel had visited while digging into my background.
Info must be flying around fast in the White Crow Unit.
"Anyway, not her."
"Then who? What kind of person?"
"Someone who rushes toward their doom."
"Oh, that sounds just like you guys."
His innocent, beaming face left me speechless.
Oscar tailed me all day like that. Or at least tried to.
"Hello!"
"Oh? A friend of Lucas's?"
Once the walk ended, he barged right into the house, charming Mrs. Schmidt with his effortless friendliness to score some breakfast.
"Surveillance even on the way to work?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
He stuck close on the path to the office, chatting nonstop.
"Why you, though? Wouldn't Daniel, living in the same house, be better for watching me? Or Georg, out and about?"
"Daniel and Georg don't suspect you. This is purely my personal mission."
"Whatever, doesn't matter to me."
I stopped near the office.
"Don't you have work too?"
At my question, Oscar's eyes widened like he'd been smacked on the back of the head, mouth agape in a dumb expression.
No way he hadn't thought of that.
"Just skip it."
"Are you nuts? You'll get suspected and arrested on the spot. Cut the nonsense and go."
I said curtly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Tap, tap.
Sitting in the dim records room, drumming the desk, I peered at my palm-sized notebook.
This notebook, which fit perfectly in my pocket, was my treasure. I'd copied down useful info from every document I could grab in here.
Written not in continental script but a mix of English, Hangul, and Hanja—no one could read it even if lost.
'Still, gotta be careful.'
A militarily advanced nation like this would surely have cryptographers.
I flipped to the most recent page.
My office oversaw the entirety of the 13th district out of 16 in this administrative zone—Rüdelheim.
Resident registries were naturally included.
But after days of digging through dusty files, I'd only found two: Daniel Hartmann and Oscar Fischer.
As checked before, Erika Braithner and Richard Enke lived outside this area, and without Georg's surname, I couldn't find him.
Schupaven's administrative power, on par with 1960s Korea, was impressive yet unsettling.
Out of curiosity, I'd looked up this body—Lucas—and been shocked.
Birthdate, home address, job, family ties, even military enlistment record—all laid out.
"No wonder that Ossel captain knew I'm royal-born."
For a moment, I wondered if my bloodline had any use, then shook my head. Right now, it just bred suspicion with zero upsides.
Anyway.
"This world's a fantasy, alright."
I murmured quietly, eyeing Oscar's personal info page.
Oscar Fischer.
Born July 5, 1875.
Family: Father, mother, two siblings.
Workplace: No. 2 Airship Assembly Plant.
Under the bold-circled 'Airship', my scribbled note: 'Dragon???'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Hundreds gathered in the vast open field.
Most wore drab military blue work clothes, but here and there were white-coated researchers and sharp-suited executives.
Researchers and plant managers directing the masses of workers, plus neatly aligned employees.
All eyes fixed skyward. Oscar, amid the crowd, anxiously gazed at the blue heavens.
Soon, specks appeared over distant mountains, approaching.
What looked like a flock of crows grew larger, revealing their form.
Dragons.
A dozen or so, scales gleaming red, blue, white, yellow, flying together.
Bodies bigger than grown orcas, eyes like glass beads. Saddles on their backs, small relative to their size, carried humans.
"Everyone, prepare!"
"Waaaaah!"
At the plant manager's order, workers erupted in cheers.
Whoosh!
Dragons glided with massive wingbeats, sharp winds howling.
Unlike earplugged researchers, unprotected workers grimaced in pain—but only newbies did.
In a noisy factory, constant din half-deafened you; dragon wings became nothing.
Veteran assembler Oscar ignored the ear-splitting gusts, clapping mechanically while scrutinizing the dragons intently.
Then he bowed his head with a soft sigh.
'Sonya didn't come again.'
"Woooow!"
Dragons cast huge shadows overhead before landing one by one.
Air force controllers guided safe descents; despite size, the trained beasts moved crisply.
Wings folded, revealing pilots leaning in saddles.
Helmets, crisp uniforms, goggles—heroic figures inspiring awe.
"Long live the Great Leader! Haha! Welcome! Thank you endlessly for aiding our test flight amid your busy schedules!"
As pilots dismounted in unison, the beaming plant manager rushed over. The highest-ranking saluted leisurely.
"Long live the Great Leader. No need for thanks. As always when HQ orders, we volunteered eagerly. Isn't this building the strong army foundation the Leader spoke of?"
"Haha, of course! Come this way, everyone. You've traveled far and must be hungry; we've a modest feast ready. Leave the dragons to our researchers."
"Very well."
Pilots naturally followed to the banquet. Third test; they knew each other well.
Even a well-connected plant manager couldn't treat cavalierly these mostly old-noble pilots, wealthy enough to own dragons.
He strove for good relations—lavish bribes and flattery, naturally.
A world apart from the supporting workers.
"Back to your stations!"
"Finish your quotas!"
As pilots vanished, armbanded supervisors barked.
Workers, hands red and stinging from endless clapping, shuffled back rubbing them.
Meanwhile, a few on the field bustled with test prep.
"Whoa, whoa! This way!"
"Careful!"
Tamers from the manager herded dragons into massive iron cages; licensed techs hoisted them via towering crane.
Researchers buzzed about their tasks.
"Gas injection starting. Concentration optimal."
"Pressure normal!"
"Mana stones checked, no rune issues. Equilibrium and weight-distribution spells functioning."
At field center, a galleon-like object puffed with white special fabric swelling.
Like a giant steamed bun, it ballooned into an elongated ovoid.
Schupaven Air Force Logistics Command's ambitious dragon transport airship revealed its majesty.
Vast cargo hold for a dozen dragons dwarfed mansions; envelope several times larger promised overwhelming presence.
Special mage-crafted materials resisted magic or shells.
Yet third test spoke of troubles.
First exploded from bad gas ratio; second crashed from imbalance.
Thorough prep spared dragons harm, but close calls.
Of course, only third with live dragons aboard; prior failures aplenty.
As gas filled, dragon loading finished.
"Loading complete!"
"Commencing flight."
Radio from cockpit; airship rose slowly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Oscar Fischer!"
Oscar snapped alert at the supervisor's sharp yell, though outwardly focused elsewhere.
His hands, of course, steadily assembled incoming parts amid distractions.
Five years to skilled worker meant this was basic.
"Pay attention."
Another worker might've gotten slapped; Oscar's supervisor friendships—and potential next promotion—earned a mere warning.
He grinned sheepishly, returning to airship parts. Ears still perked outward.
No windows in the factory, but last test's explosion haunted him.
He couldn't stop thoughts drifting to Sonya.
How was she faring? The one his eldest brother stole away.