Chapter 13

By the time I turned five, I'd already been through three fierce battles. Man, I'm exhausted now. I couldn't even remember what a normal school life was like anymore. I prayed that, for once, I'd get some peaceful everyday routine without any fights.

But thanks to all that, I was learning more and more. First off, it was about how V and I grew stronger through our interactions. Regular Bitmancers just got efficiency boosts from programs like the Ouroboros Protocol—their core strength still came from themselves. Handing Ouroboros to some random street punk wouldn't turn them into Svetlana-level powerhouses.

Me? I had no issues with that 'core skill' problem. Every time I adapted to cyberspace or picked up and used new hacking techniques, it was like those martial arts novels where 'your acupoints open up'—V would skyrocket me through multiple levels in an instant. It was more like some genius was tweaking and upgrading me, the program. As a result, I skipped the entire learning curve humans are supposed to have. One step, and boom—expert level. What ability could be more broken than that? All thanks to V.

Cloning avatars or data weapons, maintaining disguise codes—all that stuff used ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to give me splitting headaches at first. Now? I could do it with my toes.

'You've just got no brain at all.'

'And why's it yours?'

Plus, every time we crunched heavy computations, my neural network kept developing steadily. Like getting better at math problems the more you solve them. How far had I come now?

'd4.'

'c4.'

'Oh, Slav Defense.'

I could play chess with V just by imagining it. Up to ten games at once, even. Not that I'd ever won. How could I beat V in a game computers conquered before I was even born? Still, losing all the time made me a little mad.

'That'd be even more pathetic.'

I'd thought smart people in my past life saw the world differently. But now that I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one, I was just... human. Like buying a beastly PC for AAA games only to end up playing low-spec stuff anyway. Guess you can't escape the limits of running a human personality.

I'd gained plenty from the outside world too. Most importantly, I'd saved the maid and the pilot.

"Thanks to the young lady's support from inside, the rescue op was a breeze."

Svetlana kept saying stuff like that while handling cleanup. She didn't seem to be buttering me up or anything—just pure admiration.

"Here... our business cards."

The maid and pilot handed me theirs.

"Since you've been summoned by the Chairman, you'll probably be visiting HQ often... We're just a pilot and maid right now, but our VIP escort team works under the Chairman's secretariat. Call on us, and we can provide major backup."

Just like that, my network expanded. And as a bonus...

"And... thank you so much, 'young lady.'"

Her heartfelt gratitude melted me. Helping others really costs you nothing.

I vaguely recalled something I'd said in my past life. I'd promised my parents that once I got healthy, I'd save lives. Even if my body and era were different now, keeping that promise filled me with pride. Slipping a hand into my pocket, I felt two acrylic cards. Beyond personal satisfaction, folks from a megacorp's secretariat would come in handy someday. If not, I could invite them to a birthday party or something.

Anyway, sadly, I didn't get much rest time. I couldn't be late for Svetlana's precious 'meeting with the Chairman.' Though the VIP hover rig was comfier than my dorm room—better to nap here.

After the rescue, we were en route to Israel again. The escort formation had changed—multiple hover rigs flying in sync provided some casual entertainment. Svetlana rode with me, diligently mending the dress I'd slashed with scissors. I felt a bit guilty, but it couldn't be helped then.

Watching her work so hard, though, kept bringing back that final moment. Massacring the gang? Fine, given the era and situation. But toying with the dress like that... it didn't fit my image of her as the restrained secretary type. Who knew she had that side? Bluntly, was it really necessary?

"...Why'd you do that?"

"Do what, young lady?"

I spoke first.

"Killing the boss like that."

"Ah, can't say there were no personal feelings involved."

Svetlana gave an embarrassed chuckle and continued.

"Serving the Chairman has given me this belief, you see."

"What kind?"

"It's a bit embarrassing, but... I get furious seeing stupid people or scum doing trashy things."

"...Pardon?"

What kind of insane belief was that? She could be more embarrassed. Enora too—these modern folks all nuts? Ah, I missed Clea. Her innocent chocolate-giving kindness. She shouldn't grow up like this...

"I see them all as leeches on the Chairman's 'sacrifice.'"

Sacrifice for a megacorp chairman in this cyberpunk dystopia? Do those words even go together?

'V, you buying this?'

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"I see you don't buy it. That's fine. Meet the Chairman yourself, and you'll understand. You're smart, so even if empathy's hard, you'll get it."

"Can't you tell me ahead?"

"Careful, young lady. Talking about the Chairman outside is extremely dangerous."

Some loyalty. I pouted dramatically, telegraphing my discomfort. Post-kidnapping, I'd learned how to work this cute girl's body. As expected, Svetlana bowed apologetically.

"No choice. Adult circumstances. I don't even know your info access level yet."

But her answer wasn't what I wanted. Damn, my ultimate charm offensive failed.

Anyway, piecing together what I'd heard about the Chairman: Fanatically loyal secretary like Svetlana. Elusive leader who meets only one team a day. Megacorp head tagged with 'sacrifice.' No clue who this guy was.

"Oh, right—the disguise code I used... should I return it or something?"

"Think you'll forget it just by handing it back?"

"But isn't this... ImmuneWire's classified code?"

Too good to deny. The gang's Bitmancer died without knowing what hit him. Tech normies couldn't even dream of touching it.

"For outsiders stealing ImmuneWire tech, we usually do memory wipes. But you're not an outsider, and a talent like you would've cracked it anyway. Don't sweat it."

'V, hear that?'

Megacorp tech, so I'd been cautious—but if it's fine, score! Snagged one of this era's top stealth codes for free. I'll put it to good use.

While we chatted, the hover rigs reached Israel without missile trouble. Israel allying with Islamic states? If you'd asked 2077 me, I'd say you're nuts. But the Middle East had totally flipped. Guess something transcendent like Alphabet makes anything possible. Nations kept their prideful names—Israel, Saudi, Iraq—but functioned as one federation sharing resources. Middle East Federation, lumped together. Europe: Federation. Asia-Pacific: Alliance. Middle East: Federation. Post-Alphabet War trend? Folks back then knew the details.

ImmuneWire HQ dwarfed the Paris branch. Easily over 300 stories, each floor massive—like stacking a whole city Tetris-style. The rooftop landing pad buzzed nonstop with vehicles; security was layers thicker. Wall-mounted lights replaced the starless, dust-choked night sky.

But that was standard megacorp fare. This building had one weird trait.

"Why... build it here?"

Its location was off. Megacorp HQs usually dominated city centers, flexing on prime real estate. But ImmuneWire sat alone in the desert, away from Israel's urban core.

"Unique, right? Everyone says that."

Svetlana responded casually, like she'd heard it a million times, and stood first as we landed. A suited group awaited on the roof; she greeted one—probably the boss.

"Chief of Staff. VIP delivered."

"This the one?"

The 'Chief of Staff' looked like a 20-something guy despite the rank. Anti-aging, sure—but more: Easily 200cm tall, broad shoulders, perfect proportions.

Upper crust all supermodels?

Figured. All cyberware. Cheaters. Let's fight pure genes.

"Third Secretariat Chief. Svetlana. Your VIP's access updated."

The man handed her a tiny USB. She jacked it into her neck port; he continued.

"Escort the VIP properly till the Chairman meeting. Pay extra attention. The Chairman's eagerly awaiting this—highly unusual. You know that."

"Yes, Chief. Understood."

"Carry on."

That was it. He led his team to greet a new arrival.

As I watched fascinated, Svetlana turned to me.

"Congratulations, young lady. C-3 clearance."

"...What's that?"

"Below us secretariat staff, but opens a lot. Hmm... something you'll like... Ah! Let me show you. Follow."

Details must be on the USB. Leading me off the pad, she said:

"We'll pamper you till the appointment. Relax as our guest."

Fine by me.

'V, they say enjoy. Pause those linear algebra problems in my brain. I don't get it even watching.'

Ugh, never mind.

Svetlana led me to the building's basement. For such a tall structure, the drop was shockingly fast. Not descent—freefall? Elevator's insane. Weirdly, no gravity tug. This was 2160's future, courtesy of the corp HQ.

The doors parted, revealing a vast, alien world. No fashion here but lab coats and suits. People clustered around high-tech gear, debating; blinding lights pierced the underground gloom. But that was periphery. Center stage: a colossal facility.

"Whoa... what is that..."

A massive alloy behemoth demanding awe. First glance rivaled cyberspace's 'Alphabet.' Dozens of basement levels claimed, surrounded by subsystems, tangled pipes and wires—like a human brain exposed.

As I gawked, Svetlana approached smiling.

"Impressive, right? That's 'Erebus.'"

"Erebus...?"

"Yes. You've seen it—the masterpiece guarding the world. ImmuneWire's 'Erebus Line' runs on this core."

The wall we'd nearly died breaching blindly. Born from this.

Svetlana gestured to connected facilities.

"Welcome to ImmuneWire's heart, young lady."

Awe filled my chest, lingering. But one question nagged: Why let me see this?

"Let's see the time... Oh, lucky you."

Svetlana fetched a chair, hoisted me onto her lap.

"Get excited. Something amazing soon."

What—? Curiosity peaked as yellow lights bathed the facility, tension spiking. Then, a broadcast echoed.

Staff hustled. Debaters yanked chairs to monitors; Erebus vented massive steam, sucked away by fans.

A group in black suits—secretariat—appeared on the bridge to the core, towing a mobile bed. They raced to the entrance, fiddled, and clunk—doors parted. What emerged shocked me.

"...A person?"

The 'CPU rest cycle' CPU was human?

"Yes, a very special one."

He stumbled out, caught by aides. They fitted a breather, laid him gently, and retreated.

Yellow lights dimmed; calm returned. I stared at the pitiful figure from the core. Distant, but prolonged gaze revealed: a frail middle-aged man.

"See well?"

"Yeah... didn't expect a person inside."

"Know who?"

"Who?"

"ImmuneWire's Chairman. The only human with brainpower to interface Erebus. 'Cashian Krabets.'"

...What? This guy, barely mobile without aides, in this behemoth facility... megacorp boss?

Suddenly, Svetlana's 'sacrifice' clicked. If he's the sole human for Erebus, he's humanity's guardian. Bitmancers as bit wizards? In fantasy terms, he's the archmage erecting the barrier between demon lands and humanity.

"Whoa..."

Corp head committing 'evil' as norm, yet humanity's protector. By tour's end, my mind reeled.

The Chairman meeting came quick. Missile delay tightened schedule, but my fixation on Cashian warped time. Relativity proven—subjectively.

'I know.'

Suite luxuries, gourmet meals—nothing distracted. Time came; I sat in the guest chair of the imperial reception room. Even its design screamed Cashian: soft floors, pillars, walls; his chair half-bed; medical gear and aide stations everywhere.

'V, one joke to loosen up.'

'Sorry, never asking again.'

Door clunked open mid-relax. I stood politely, seeing him up close for the first time. Frail middle-aged man, weaker than Svetlana—pitiful without her support. With her help, he barely reclined in his chair.

"Sorry about this. Compared to a vibrant young thing like you, I'm so frail."

His voice lacked power too.

"No, it's fine. Uncle."

Calling him 'uncle' horrified Svetlana.

"Ch-Chairman! Young lady! Rude!"

Cashian chuckled kindly, waving it off.

"Haha, fine. At my age, 'uncle' means I'm still young. Sit."

I sat. He eyed Svetlana.

"Svetlana, one request. No one eavesdrops on our talk. But this room needs an assistant. Get it?"

"Yes. Installing puppet module."

Svetlana fetched a USB from the aide area, jacked her neck. Her eyes went blank instantly.

"...Huh?"

"No fear. Just a mindless doll temporarily. Obeys any order but remembers nothing here."

Casually explaining horror tech to a kid. I stifled absurd laughter, turning back.

"Svetlana, tea please."

"Yes, Chairman."

Her voice was inhuman. She moved.

"Now, let's talk."

Cashian breathed deep, exhaled—and dropped a bomb.

"Tell me your deal with Alphabet."

"...Pardon?"

"No use playing dumb."

His tone casual, like asking dinner plans. Not to me.

"Analyzed your fights multiple times. Kid, I've spent my life guarding the Erebus Line. Think I can't spot Alphabet's code style?"

AI-taboo world executes at any trace. Today, one more knew my secret.