The Guardian of Pure Love

"We're going to need something to drink."

"Oh... then I'll have coffee."

"Coffee for me too."

"Huh? Kid, you know how to drink coffee?"

"I'm an adult, you know."

"Ha! Kids always say that. But there is no coffee. Caffeine isn't good for the body."

"...I-I see?"

Angela blinked blankly.

It was deeply confusing to hear Kou—a man who looked like he had caffeine, alcohol, and street drugs flowing through his veins instead of blood—talking about health.

She was utterly bewildered.

"Right. So I'll just bring whatever we have."

Grinning with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shady look on his face, Kou glanced around as if he were about to commit a crime, then headed toward the storage room.

Through the slightly open door, a purple light glowed from inside the storage room. Angela wondered for a moment if he was growing weed in there, but that suspicion vanished the moment Kou emerged with his prize.

"Homemade strawberry milk. It's good for you, and it tastes great."

"You make this yourself?" Swoo asked.

"Yeah. Drinking it warm helps soothe the nerves. It's a hobby of mine."

"Oh."

Angela blinked blankly once more. No matter how much she looked at him, she couldn't get used to Kou's vibe.

She even had the rude thought that he might have spiked it with something.

Is it really safe to drink?

After a brief hesitation, Angela took a small sip of the milk.

A quick scan immediately confirmed there were no drugs in it. It was organic strawberry milk, completely free of growth hormones, pesticides, or any harmful chemicals.

And it was incredibly delicious...

"It's... actually really good."

"Of course it is. Look who made it."

Kou downed his strawberry milk in one gulp and licked his lips, his tongue piercing glinting in the light.

No matter how one looked at it, that was not the face of someone who had just enjoyed a warm cup of strawberry milk.

"Now that we've had our drinks, let's get to the point. What are you two going to do now? If you go back like this, you'll fail the gig and take a hit to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your reputation."

"You don't need to worry about that," Swoo said.

"Are you ladies loaded or something?"

"I'm Swoo, not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a lady. And yeah, we make good money."

Kou twitched an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"That's good to hear, but this still feels sketchy. I might look like an easy mark, but I'm no pushover. Sis, Swoo. What do you want from me?"

Angela genuinely couldn't understand which part of him looked like an easy mark.

She was utterly baffled.

"Just tell us a bit about you two," Swoo said.

"Huh?"

"Why did you start doing this? And what was that drug from earlier?"

Swoo stared at Kou with sparkling eyes, took another sip of her strawberry milk, and continued.

"What's your connection to Talos?"

Angela flinched. A sharp wariness crept into Kou's eyes. Yet Swoo remained completely unfazed, her eyes shining as if she only cared about satisfying her own curiosity.

"I can answer the first question. But the second and third? No way. Even if you two kill me, I won't talk."

His voice trailed off. Kou glanced at Radolf, who was still knocked out in the back, and let out a dry chuckle.

"But I'll at least tell you that guy was a researcher. Consider it a bonus for being good listeners, sis, Swoo."

"A researcher?"

"Can't you tell by looking at him? The bastard doesn't know how to fight. He's just got a good brain."

To anyone looking, Radolf seemed like the muscle of the duo.

He stood well over two meters tall and looked about two and a half times Swoo's size, yet he couldn't fight.

They were a mercenary duo that shattered clichés in every possible way.

"Impressive," Swoo remarked.

"Yeah, he's impressive in a lot of ways."

After that, the conversation lapsed into an awkward silence.

Swoo seemed to have created the silence intentionally, but Angela needed time to organize her thoughts.

No matter how much they talked, it was hard to get used to Kou's attitude. Moreover, she was shocked to hear the name of Talos come out of Swoo's mouth.

How on earth did Swoo know about something that only a select few within the megacorps knew, information classified so high that even within the ECPD, only the top brass had access to it?

But now was not the time to ask.

Even if she did, there was no guarantee she would get a straight answer. Prying too deeply wasn't easy either, as Angela had her own secrets to keep.

"What are you going to do with her now?" Swoo asked, gesturing toward the target.

"Once she wakes up, I'll patch her up and send her on her way."

"The guy crying out front is her boyfriend. Can't you just call him in?"

"Huh? No way, absolutely not. It'd break his heart to see his girlfriend all beat up like that. It'd just make him feel useless. So I'm planning to send her back looking as fine as possible."

Kou cackled.

Yet, there was a strange trace of self-deprecation in his laughter. Swoo quietly observed his emotions before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Do you always do that?"

"Of course."

"That's incredibly considerate."

"It's a mutual understanding between men who love a woman. Call it an effort to protect pure love."

It was an incredibly cringeworthy thing to say.

But far from being embarrassed, Kou spoke with absolute pride.

"We'll do anything to protect pure love. Even if it doesn't pay, seeing them happy is enough."

"Ooh."

"So, what do you really want? You didn't hang around here just to listen to our life story."

He was straightforward and hot-blooded in many ways.

The moment he realized Swoo and Angela wouldn't kill him, he hadn't hesitated to show goodwill. Now that the tension had eased, he immediately probed for their true intentions—a textbook display of a seasoned mercenary.

Even the quality of his visible cybernetics was quite decent.

While they weren't top-tier Neonic implants, they were highly reliable models, installed properly to maximize practical combat utility.

Unlike the posers who only cared about flashy aesthetics, he was a genuine professional.

Of course, his bleached blond hair, tanned skin, and punkish face completely ruined any professional vibe he had going for him.

He looked so sketchy that even fixers would probably hesitate to work with him.

But that probably didn't matter to them.

They seemed to source their own gigs directly anyway.

"Have you thought about leaving for somewhere else?" Swoo asked.

"Can't. No, won't."

"Is there another cyberpsycho?"

"They're everywhere."

"Even if we leave, other mercenaries will come for you next."

"The fact that you and Swoo didn't kill me today means we saved another pure love. That's enough for us."

Swoo's questions had sounded entirely perfunctory. There was no soul in her voice.

And indeed, there wasn't.

Those weren't the questions Swoo actually wanted to ask.

She was simply going through the motions of a mercenary on a job. It was her own version of professionalism.

Yet Kou answered every question with earnest sincerity. He was a remarkably passionate man.

"Aren't you afraid of dying?"

"Losing what I care about is far scarier than dying."

"So you have nothing left to fear."

Kou's expression stiffened.

Conversely, a smile played on Swoo's lips.

"Did your lover become a cyberpsycho?"

"...You really know how to poke a sore spot."

"It doesn't seem like she's dead. So, is she with Talos now?"

"Kid—no, Swoo. Who the hell are you? How do you know about Talos's secrets?"

There were rumors that Talos, the ECPD's elite unit and Eden's executioners, was actually comprised of cyberpsychos.

Of course, they were treated as mere rumors.

Cyberpsychos were humans who had completely lost their sanity.

They were closer to beasts, incapable of belonging to an organization and following orders.

The idea of such monsters serving as members of Talos was a ghost story not even a child would believe.

But those in the know knew the truth.

Talos did indeed employ former cyberpsychos.

How such a thing was possible remained a mystery.

Whether they could reverse cyberpsychosis, transplant brains, or if there was some unique condition among certain cyberpsychos, no one knew.

Even Swoo, who had devoured every scrap of lore about the game, didn't know the exact mechanism.

But she knew for a fact that cyberpsychos were in Talos.

"Are you looking for a way to turn a cyberpsycho back into a human?"

"Ignoring my questions and just rambling on... where did you learn to hold a conversation?"

"I've always been like this."

"Is that something to be proud of—"

"Want me to help?"

Kou choked on his words.

His already sharp eyes narrowed further.

"You don't have to pay me."

"...I trusted you and your partner up until now. You didn't kill me, and your threats were almost cute. But now I'm suspicious. Why would you help me? How do you even know about Talos's secrets—"

"I'm helping because it sounds fun."

"Fun?"

"Yep."

Kou's face flushed bright red.

Swoo was amazed to see that even deeply tanned skin could turn that shade of red.

Her gaze drifted to Radolf, the Black man who was still knocked out. Would his skin turn red if he got mad too? Swoo was genuinely curious.

But she couldn't ask that out loud.

Kou's face was currently contorted into a terrifying mask of rage.

"I... I... I would face death, sell my very soul to bring her back! And you say... fun? Do you think this is a joke—"

Of course, Swoo merely offered a relaxed smile.

"I like pure romance stories too."

"Huh?"

"Pure love is definitely better than a harem."

"You..."

Swoo, isn't saying that going to make Mr. Ibaraki even angrier?

Angela shot Swoo a look that conveyed exactly that sentiment.

Naturally, Swoo didn't care in the slightest.

Instead, her smile grew even brighter.

"Now I want to see how Kou's pure love story ends."

"...Is there no bathtub?"

"You didn't request one, ma'am."

"Hmm... then let's add one. I'll pay for the delivery fee too, so please install it right away."

"Ah, understood. But you should at least hear the options and choose—"

"Just give me the most expensive and convenient one. Oh, and make sure it has a spa function and self-cleaning. While we're at it, let's change the showerhead too. One with a fine mist function... Ah, right. Add two foot spas as well. Do you carry hair dryers?"

"W-We do, but..."

"Great. Add two automatic-drying ones."

"Understood! A spa tub, showerhead, foot spas, and dryers... I'll get right on it!"

A bathtub was a must for a house where two women would be staying for a while.

Since the two of them mostly handled major gigs, they would have plenty of downtime to enjoy a nice soak.

The foot spas would also come in handy. The automatic hair dryers were a given, and once they tried the fine-mist showerhead, they would never be able to go back to a regular one.

"I've sent the payment. Keep the change for a team dinner, and please make sure it's done well today."

"Oh my... T-Thank you so much! We'll do our absolute best to make it perfect!"

When hiring contractors, it was always best to pay generously. That was the only way to ensure there would be no defects down the line.

Serena let out a sigh and sank into the sofa.

If nothing else, this sofa was magnificent.

It was only natural, considering it was a personal gift from Salvador Ortega.

But her moment of comfort was short-lived.

A call was coming in from the one person who made her teeth grind just by looking at the name. Serena clicked her tongue and answered.

"What is it?"

"What do you mean you're not coming home?"

Serena's eyes narrowed.

What gig did she say she was going to handle again?

Didn't she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say she was going to deal with a tanned blond punk?

Serena knew what the term meant. But she was staying out all night for a gig involving a tanned blond punk?

It wasn't a matter of lacking firepower or time. Serena knew exactly what Swoo and Angela were capable of.

Which meant there had to be another reason.

"What happened? Wasn't this a simple kill gig?"

"...Why not?"

"No, wait—"

"Hold on."

"Hanging out? Hey, you little brat, where the hell are you right now?!"

The call disconnected. Immediately after, a mysterious video file was sent to Serena's ID.

The video showed Angela covering her eyes with one hand as she awkwardly introduced herself. In the background, the cackling laughter of a punk echoed near the microphone, showing the messy interior of a room.

As Serena stared at the screen, the final thread of her sanity snapped.