The Second Impersonator

T-balnom already has mutual friend status with some other Dopamine Addict…?

I carefully typed a reply and sent it.

This guy really was fun to mess with.

Of everything T-balnom had sent, that was the part that stuck with me the most.

How did that guy know the contents of the personal chats between T-balnom and me?

Had he hacked the system somehow?

Or had T-balnom just slipped up and said something?

I was the one who wanted answers more than anyone.

What kind of bastard was impersonating me this time? And why, of all people, me?

It's not like my reputation is exactly glowing.

What was there to gain from pretending to be me?

Between a perfectly decent player like me and a guy who ended every other sentence with a death threat, I was pretty sure which of us was the strange one.

So it is a Unicorn Area player after all.

I'd already suspected as much. My guess was only a hunch, though — and T-balnom had said he was certain, which meant he had concrete proof.

So he really is a Unicorn Area player…

As I'd mentioned before, the Unicorn Area was the domain of mad scientists who had lifted their entire zone into the sky just so they could live for themselves. Their scientific level crushed the other eight zones, and they already ran a fully self-sufficient system inside — advanced enough to produce luxury foods like tangerines.

Ever since the whole world had been buried under snow, plants and animals that thrived in warm climates had become almost impossible to find. But in the Unicorn Area, Earth's ecosystems would still be preserved. Handing over a tangerine was solid proof. Proof that the guy was in the Unicorn Area.

Either way, if he'd handed over a tangerine, the Unicorn connection was confirmed.

Which meant…

T-balnom clearly didn't get it, so I added an explanation.

What? Hearing it from this guy of all people was almost funny.

…What was with him?

I'd thought I was doing him a mental health favor, but he still seemed half gone.

Still, this does give me a clearer idea of why someone's impersonating me.

Same with Anjeon8yeok, same with this Unicorn Area player.

It was a kind of bluff.

Just like Anjeon8yeok had sold my name to recruit naive players like Taejeong as subordinates, this guy must have figured that no one would want to make an enemy of "Dopamine Addict" — a player who had started in the Unicorn Area itself. At the same time, it was a provocation aimed at the real Dopamine Addict: me.

If I went up against a Unicorn Area player right now… my odds of winning would be about sixty percent?

I had the all-zone clear bonus, so losing outright wasn't really on the table. But between the Unicorn Area and the Cola Area there was a technological gap no amount of personal skill could bridge. Closing that gap would take the Second Apocalypse — and the flood of flying monsters that came with it.

…He seemed oddly cooperative all of a sudden. I was probably imagining it.

I closed the chat with T-balnom and opened the one with Home Protector, who was still spamming messages.

Home Protector was saying the exact same thing as T-balnom.

He'd unilaterally decided I was taking him. I had never actually agreed to that.

That was the last message. Home Protector vanished — probably rushing off to confirm whether the barrier was truly gone.

I should finish preparing for the subjugation too.

While hunting monsters, I could check on the barrier situation as a side benefit. And if the barrier really was down…

The closest zone from here would be the Candy Zone.

Going to check on the newbie's face wouldn't be such a bad idea.

I returned to the operations room, sat Meursault down, and laid out my plan.

"The core of this operation is efficiency. Minimal personnel, targeting only the cores — cut combat time to the absolute minimum and reduce waste of the edible parts."

"Is that even possible, sir?"

When I explained how to identify a monster's core location, Meursault looked half convinced at best.

"I've never heard of a pattern in core placement. Is this another thing you learned during your time in the Slums?"

I'd milked the Slums excuse enough. Time for a new repertoire.

"No. My mother taught me this one."

"Ah — Lady Luna Moon… She was a hero of the subjugation campaigns, so it stands to reason she had her own techniques."

Well, Luna Moon had been a player, so it wasn't entirely wrong — even if the game she'd played had been an otome title.

…Still bothers me that an otome game player earned the title of subjugation hero.

"Hero of the Subjugation" was a Safe Zone title. Not the kind of thing you expected to stick to an otome player. Granted, with subjugations held every year, it wouldn't be strange for a soldier or two to pick up the title — but the fact that it had landed specifically on Luna Moon, a player, still nagged at me.

Was there something more to Luna Moon after all?

"Even if Lady Luna Moon taught it to you, we still need to verify it at least once. We can't put soldiers in danger without testing it first…"

"You're right. I was planning to go on a hunt before the subjugation anyway."

Last time the Commander had denied my hunting request, but after my fake regressor declaration and the demonstration of my skill, he'd almost certainly let me go without a fuss.

"Speaking of which — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how's the combat ration development coming along?"

I'd tasked the Zone Security Research Institute director with developing portable combat rations. After my talk with Daphne, Meursault had turned into a thoroughly obedient NPC and had been handling all communication with the director ever since.

"I was just about to report on that."

"Any progress?"

"Yes. They focused on making a ration even the younger soldiers could carry easily. It's not a finished product, but I happen to have a prototype — shall I show you?"

With that, Meursault produced the sample.

"…Star candy?"

Sitting cutely in Meursault's palm was something shaped exactly like star candy. Larger than the real thing, and at a glance it didn't look like sugar was the main ingredient.

"How did you know, sir?"

"How did I know what?"

"The name of this combat ration is Star Candy."

"It's not actual candy, is it?"

"The main ingredient is protein, with carbohydrates, fats, vitamins, and so on — a full spectrum of nutrients compressed into one. High-temperature dried foods are inevitably hard, though, so they chose this shape to make sure it would break cleanly when bitten."

"Hmm. Have you tried it?"

"It didn't taste like a combat boot, at least."

Didn't taste like a combat boot? So the flavor had improved somewhat, but it still wasn't winning any awards.

Still, this is better than I expected.

When players brought food to their lips, it dissolved into blue particles and absorbed into the body. Through repeated testing, though, we'd learned that the food had to be small enough to fit in one bite. Even if monster meat could heal us, pressing your mouth against a whole monster corpse wouldn't magically turn it into particles.

In that sense, these Star Candies — made bite-sized — were perfect for us players. They'd been made small for the child soldiers, and that was exactly right.

"You seem quite taken with them."

"Yeah. Can you get me more of these? Since I'm heading out to test the core-location method anyway, I might as well check the Star Candy's performance while I'm at it."

"I'll speak to the research director."

Meursault really was convenient — the man got things done.

Combat rations were sorted with Meursault, and the Commander would approve the hunt. That left one more person to call in.

Time to summon that guy too.

As if the world needed a counterbalance for a competent NPC, there had to be an incompetent player to even the scales. The one who seemed to believe that principle personally:

ShutInHoney.