Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: White Crow Unit — Oscar (2)
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Ring ring ring!
The frivolous and noisy bell rang out, bringing the machines to a halt. Oscar's hands, which had been moving like clockwork, stopped as well.
“Work's done for today!”
The supervisors who'd been yelling their heads off while darting between the conveyor belts shouted. Of course, everyone had already started stretching the moment they heard the bell.
Sighs mingled with groans, snippets of chatter, and bursts of laughter echoed from all around.
“Hey, Oscar! Up for it today?”
One of the supervisors who'd been scowling and screaming bloody murder just moments ago called out to him with a bright smile, mimicking a card shuffle.
He and Oscar were regulars at the gambling den near the factory.
“Sorry, got prior plans.”
Oscar flashed a grin and hurried to the changing room. He shed his dusty navy work clothes and changed into something clean and neat.
Then he cheerfully greeted his coworkers and lined up single file at the shift leader's command, heading out for the commute home.
No worker at the 2nd Airship Assembly Factory—not even the supervisors—could wander the grounds alone.
It was only natural for a nationally managed munitions plant.
Everything had to be done under the shift leader's direction, all together. So even after five years on the job, Oscar had never set foot anywhere beyond the commute route, the workshop, and the cafeteria.
Do I have to give up?
No matter how he scanned for an opening, slipping away from the homebound procession seemed impossible.
He'd even tried sneaking out of the cafeteria at lunch earlier that day and failed.
Oscar glanced toward the distant building, still ablaze with lights.
It housed the labs, offices, and the reception hall for entertaining guests—like today.
Unlike the dingy factory structures, it gleamed clean and upscale even from afar.
He wanted to grab any dragon pilot enjoying the hospitality there and ask.
How's Sonya doing?
The thought that his older brother could tell him right away flitted through his mind over and over, but he shoved it aside each time.
He'd never be the one to bend first.
I'd rather die!
He'd have to target the next test flight, it seemed.
The airship hadn't exploded today, but he'd overheard talk of shortcomings requiring another run.
Next time for sure.
As he nursed that hopeless vow, the towering cement walls—thick, high, topped with barbed wire and enchanted barriers—swung open on either side.
The workers surged through the gates in a mass, and Oscar got swept along, out of the factory in a flash.
Once the last straggler was gone, the gates slammed shut like a guillotine.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “Come a little earlier next time.”
“Huh?”
Oscar halted dead in his tracks, stunned.
Lucas Redan sat on a bench by the tram station ahead, waving him over.
One hand clutched an unlit cigarette; he tilted his head lazily with a look of utter nonchalance. He seemed so relaxed.
“What are you doing here?”
“You were gonna come crawling back to me anyway, right? Beat you to it and came myself.”
He flashed a victor's grin.
“I'm the watcher here, you're the watchee! And how'd you know about this spot?”
It was the tram station just a short walk from the factory—the one Oscar always used on his way home.
“Told you, I'm a civil servant. Looked you up. Same 13th District address. Workplace was a stretch, but still.”
Oscar bristled at the sucker-punch feeling, but Lucas's follow-up robbed him of the chance to snap back.
“Wanted to see a dragon myself, but security's ironclad. Couldn't get close. That concrete wall might as well be a castle.”
“You even know that?”
“Told you. I'm—”
“A civil servant. Got it!”
Lucas smirked. Such a leisurely smile.
Oscar suddenly felt a surge of annoyance. Why did this guy always find new ways to needle his pride?
“Fine, civil servant perks let you know all that. How about this? I saw the dragons today. Airship test flight.”
“Oh ho, and?”
“Dragon pilots are getting the VIP treatment from the factory head. Want to meet one—any one—but security's too tight to waltz back in. Think you can fix that, Your Excellency 9th Grade Clerk?”
Oscar pulled a impish face. He wanted to see Lucas squirm. Other guy started it.
But deep down, absurd as it was, a faint spark of hope flickered.
Maybe this was his real angle. Drowning-man-straw-clutch desperation. Sure, what could a lowly 9th Grade Clerk do?
But Lucas nodded without a second thought.
“I'll help.”
“...What?”
“Said I'll help. I know a way.”
“How? I've worked here five years—no such path.”
“Quit yapping and follow.”
Lucas tossed the words curtly and strode off.
Off on his own again, that jerk.
Oscar scowled faintly. They'd only known each other a short while, but it was always like this.
Yet somehow, he ended up trailing after anyway.
“Hurry up, get in.”
“Ugh, here?”
They'd evaded prying eyes and reached a dim spot; Lucas pointed at a sewer manhole cover.
“Yep. This way's solid.”
He checked a small notebook or something and prodded Oscar along. Lifting the lid unleashed a waft of filth from the dark pit below.
“Gonna be filthy.”
“Too wordy.”
He gave Oscar's back—peeking in—a shove.
“Gyaah!”
Oscar yelped and plummeted into the dark.
Splash!
Luckily shallow; he landed fine. But the splatter at his feet twisted his face in disgust.
Lucas descended the wall ladder safely, then sealed the lid.
Complete darkness swallowed the sewer—no seeing an inch ahead.
“You lunatic! Thought my heart'd stop!”
“Quiet. Echoes topside.”
Lucas muttered flatly and ignited a small magic lantern from his pocket.
“What? Why so cocky?”
“Cough! Cough! Ngh, throat. Keep it up, I'm out as guide.”
Oscar clamped his mouth shut, face crumpled. Lucas rummaged again, handed over a white cloth for mouth and nose, and donned one himself.
The cloth dulled the stench's assault nicely.
They picked their way carefully along the channel, dodging the filthy flow.
“This leads to the factory?”
“Yeah. Seven, eight years back, they dug a drain under the access path. Ground issues halted it. Forgotten or no funds—still untouched.”
“How do you cherry-pick gems like that? Timing's spot-on too. Suspicious.”
Lucas—notebook in hand—whipped around.
“Think I flipped a few files? Hundreds at least. Dust probably wrecked my lungs worse.”
“Grandstanding now?”
Oscar shot back incredulously; Lucas squinted.
“Obvious, right? Relieved as hell finding this sewer map. Figured if shit hits the fan, I could pull you out.”
“What?”
“For the White Crow Unit, dummy.”
He grumbled and veered at the fork.
“Then the cloth and lantern?”
“Needed 'em to scout right. Matches in sewers? Toxic gas boom. Cloth for the stink, obviously.”
“So not here to babysit—you swung by for intel?”
“Bought that? Just synced with your shift end.”
Lucas sounded bored to tears.
How's he so casually snarky?
Oscar itched to call out his crap talk, but the extra cloth prep? Mixed signals.
He felt all jumbled up.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “...We're here.”
After twisting through the labyrinthine maze, Lucas halted.
“You sure?”
Oscar eyed him dubiously. Sewers were pitch-black and convoluted—directions were a crapshoot.
“My call, anyway. Wrong? Tough luck.”
Again with that.
Oscar felt a vein pulse at his temple, fists clenched to hold back.
Lucas—lanky as a rail, hacking now and then—looked one light tap from snapping. Had to restrain.
He sighed, climbed the wall ladder. Lucas's snicker trailed from behind.
Purposely messing with me!
He quelled the kick urge barely.
Prying the heavy lid revealed the wall's interior—the day's test field clearing smack in the middle. Lit research building afar.
“We made it right.”
Just like that, his grudge against Lucas dissolved.
They crept slow. Cloudy night—lucky break.
“So why meet a pilot?”
Lucas murmured low, sudden.
“Why'd you jump to help? No clue what I'm after.”
“Said it—sewers were on my list anyway. Gotta prove worth quick to chill, yeah?”
Oscar's words jammed.
Didn't peg him for that kinda worry. Too erratic.
“N-no need to stress that hard. Ossel break-in alone proves you're gold, right?”
“Pfft!”
Lucas huffed low.
“Load of crap. You said not to trust me before? Buncha softies.”
“What?”
Unbelievable. Even compliments bombed.
Lucas ignored him. Entranced sudden, he extended a hand, advancing slow.
“Lucas?”
“That... a dragon, huh.”
Lucas's voice brimmed with rare awe—Oscar jolted.
Clouds parted, moonbeams spilled.
There—in the massive iron cage.
A colossal being, primal power incarnate beyond all else, breathed alive, fixing them with its gaze.
Green scales gleamed iridescent in moonlight.
Lucas neared to touch a scale, then startled—snatched hand back.
“Oh.”
“Cool, huh? Dragons.”
Oscar whispered. Lucas nodded mute.
Their first shared positive vibe.
Then.
“Who're you two?”
Voice from behind—they whipped around, spooked.
“What business with our Elisabeth?”
A short, stocky man scanned them, wary as hell.
“Tha—”
“Long live the Great Leader! We're factory workers here. Air Force officer assisting today's test flight, sir?”
Oscar barely twitched—Lucas cut in swift.
“Long live the Leader. And?”
“Friend here's got a question for you, officer.”
“Me?”
He glanced at Oscar. Oscar fumbled open.
“Long live the Great Leader! Uh, do you... know how Sonya's doing?”
“Huh? Sonya? Oh, that Sonya! Buddy of yours? She's yonder—fetch her?”
Wary thawed; he cocked his head, beamed wide, turned for the research building.
“W-wait!”
Oscar snagged his sleeve.
“My Sonya's... a dragon. The one with Officer Maximilian Fischer...”
“Eh?”
“What'd you say?”
Officer and Lucas gawked at him, dumbfounded.