78. Golden Sun [What the Hell Is This?]
“Good morning.”
[...Soo? No, why are you picking up? What the— who the hell am I even calling?]
“Angela.”
[Then why the fuck are you the one answering, you little shit— no, answering it?]
“I forwarded Angela's number to the office line.”
A strangled sound came through the receiver, like boiling rage being ground down tooth and nail. The grinding of teeth was proof enough.
[...What the hell is Angela doing?]
“She's sleeping.”
[I'll call back later...]
“What do you think of the gift I sent?”
[You motherfucking—]
A torrent of curses erupted, followed by the crash of something being chewed, smashed, and pulverized. Then—click—the line went dead.
It didn't last. Less than three seconds later, the phone rang again. This time, straight to my ID chip.
“Hey, good morning.”
[Yeah, a fucking fantastic morning.]
“What's up?”
[...What the hell did you send me?]
“A gift.”
[A gift? A gift? What the actual fuck? You call this a gift? Seriously?]
I fiddled with the ring-shaped MG-02, grinning wide.
“Yeah, it's crazy expensive.”
[Ha, says who? Angela wouldn't say that.]
“My friend did.”
[...And that friend's Ryu Jikwang, right? Zailek's chief researcher, the mad bastard who cooked up the Infinity Drive and MG-02. Is that psycho even still alive?]
“Yeah. I treasure my friends.”
[Not like you broke him and stole it?]
“Serena, you prefer colleagues or friends?”
[Friendly with Ryu Jikwang, huh. Fucking hell.]
Another round of thumping echoed through—pounding on a desk. But the line stayed open.
[What the hell were you thinking sending this...?]
“Figured you'd put it to good use. Boost your performance metrics.”
[...What do I even write in the report? Screw the report—I'll need to file an incident statement now.]
“Don't write anything.”
[What the—]
Reasonable judgment was impossible. Serena had no choice. Waking up to an unimaginable delivery on her doorstep—how could anyone think straight?
Morning news, papers, the Lü Chen internal forums—all ablaze over last night's incident. And right there at her front door, the very cause of the blaze. She couldn't relax the whole trek from home to office, paranoid about ambushes from any angle, tails on her trail. She mobilized every guard in her roster.
Only once she reached the office did it hit her: only one person would pull this stunt. So she called. And got a breezy “good morning” in return...
Time to get those brain arteries checked soon. Or high blood pressure would kill her.
[Don't write anything? What kind of bullshit is that? Just telling me to drop dead? Am I used up already?]
“You don't have to do shit. They'll misunderstand on their own.”
[That's what I'm say—]
Serena's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence.
[...The Noise terror after Wolha's acquisition. Zailek's tech stolen by Noise. And Wolha... seemingly adapting that tech.]
Soon enough, they'd learn Wolha's rep was a disgraced Neonic branch family offshoot. Then what? How would Lü Chen move?
“Exactly.”
Through my teasing laugh, Serena swallowed a shaky breath.
Lü Chen and Zailek wouldn't sit idle. Convinced Neonic had jumped into the fray, they'd drag Neonic in too. But if Serena filed a report—if she framed it as Wolha gunning to topple Neonic—Zailek would bite hard. Lü Chen knew the truth behind the incident; they'd feint hostility without committing. That sets up a three-way deadlock. Lü Chen allies tacitly with Neonic to hit Zailek—or vice versa. Either way, they'd think they held the cards.
Didn't matter. Lü Chen crumbles first.
Serena couldn't game that out to a win on her own. But me...?
[You have a plan?]
“Who knows.”
[God... just how far ahead are you plotting all this...?]
I chuckled softly and slipped the MG-02 onto my finger. A faint whir, and the apple on the table split clean in half.
“If there's a fruit of good and evil right in front of you, would you eat it?”
[Me?]
“I'd eat it.”
I chomped a huge bite from the split apple, nodding. Eco-friendly, they said. No clue if that's true, but damn, it was sweet.
“I'm curious.”
[I wouldn't eat it.]
“Got it.”
[...What now?]
“Keep doing what you're doing.”
[The hardest part... Sigh, fine. I'll swing by this afternoon. Big opening day, right?]
“Yeah, see you then.”
I hung up, took another bite of apple, and eyed the guest who'd dropped by the office.
“Glad you're doing well.”
“Yeah.”
“Made some friends in the meantime?”
“Yeah, got tons now.”
“I seriously doubt they're real ones.”
The blue-haired woman across from me—Irina—let out a dry chuckle.
“How's Irina doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“If there's a fruit of good and evil right in front of you, would you eat it?”
“Why hesitate? I'd eat it.”
“Got it.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. She seemed a lot like Serena at first glance, but nope—totally different. Funny thing: Serena's red-haired; Irina's blue. Looks nothing alike, really.
“Why skip LastRall?”
“Too far, and my gut screamed no. Stayed home with a beer instead.”
“It's not that far.”
“From Southpeak, even skyline hopping takes all day. That close?”
“Irina, your real place isn't in Northrica?”
Irina, casually scanning the office, flashed a sly grin. Questions about the pricey sofa, how she knew connector Lena Moretti, if business was booming—all shoved to the back of her mind as she met my gaze.
“What? My home in Northrica? Do I look that loaded?”
“Nah?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm...”
My lazy gaze lingered on her. No visible tells. No flinch, no surprise. Any flicker was too brief anyway. And I catch even the tiniest shifts.
We hadn't met much, but I'd studied her closely enough.
“Why guess that?”
“Painting's an expensive hobby.”
My third bite of apple was still sweet.
“Eats cash and time without earning a dime, yeah. That's the hobby. But you suspected over that?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“...Tch. What answer did I expect from you.”
Irina quenched her thirst with the lukewarm bottled water I'd offered, eyeing the pristine office and its grimy bathroom door. She continued.
“Guess an interior redo for the john as a grand opening gift.”
“Nah, good. Crew's coming for lunch fix-up.”
“Then... anything else you need?”
“Yeah... a job?”
“Was gonna hand one over anyway, gift or not.”
“Oh?”
My eyes lit up. Jobs over gifts, huh. Irina smiled wryly and nodded.
“Hear it now?”
“Yeah.”
“Enoch and that... Angela you mentioned?”
“I'll pass it on. Shards anyway. Enoch's out for a bit.”
“...Pardon?”
“Off making bank, far away.”
“Who runs the office?”
“Me and Angela.”
Enoch couldn't rein me in either, but those two clicked. So what about Angela?
“...You two can handle... everything?”
“Yeah, Angela's great at it all.”
“Huh.”
Coming from me? Irina's mental image of Angela upgraded to superhuman.
“Alright then. Take this first.”
Irina pulled a shard from her pocket and handed it over.
“Not me taking the job direct—passing it from someone else.”
“Why not you, Irina?”
“What the hell can a frail bitch like me do?”
The job details projected onto my retina. Simple stuff. Clear out the merc office squatting in front of her shop. Kill or subdue at will. Just make 'em vacate and never come back—PS attached.
“Ooh.”
But the mercs weren't your average joes. The leader: blond roots dyed blackish, tanned skin deep as leather. Ears and half his body pierced and tatted to hell.
“Impressive.”
Straight out of the genre novels Enoch despises—a Golden Sun specimen if there ever was one.