Corporate Intrigue 3

Secretary-General Klaus Richter's story was simple. From the Secretariat's perspective, the culprit behind this hacking incident was one of my fellow trainees. That meant I, as a fellow trainee, could be a huge help in catching him.

"Why would someone as high up as the Secretary-General need my help? I'm just a 12-year-old girl."

"A 12-year-old? No one would buy that. Not you, Neige."

Klaus shook his head the moment he heard "12-year-old girl." Whatever that meant, he continued.

"I believe this matter will greatly benefit relations among us A-1s."

"Relations?"

"What do you think is ImmuneWire's greatest strength... and weakness?"

Klaus drew the number two in the air with a massive hand befitting his build.

"Chairman Krabets's masterpiece, the Erebus Line, externally ensures no nation or corporation dares challenge ImmuneWire. But internally, it means the Chairman devotes all his time to Erebus and can't participate in management."

He clapped his hands together.

"I handle exactly those internal issues. I purge those who dare harbor disloyal thoughts in the gaps where the Chairman can't pay attention, uniting the company as one. That's the meaning of my A-1 code."

"So you came to check on me? Because you suspect me?"

"I never said I suspected you. I'm here to request your cooperation."

Klaus placed a USB drive on the table. It probably contained clues about this attack.

"Neige, headquarters was attacked. Who do you think did it? Unloyal elements within the company."

"...Unloyal elements?"

"They're trying to push the Chairman aside as a figurehead and seize power themselves. Madmen. This is dangerous for humanity too. In such a situation, would the Chairman still sacrifice for humanity?"

Klaus gestured for me to plug in the USB. I did so carefully.

"This is information on the Erebus exploration teams connected to this incident, and on the cyberdemons."

The USB contents were concise. Among ImmuneWire's internal research teams was one exploring beyond the Erebus Line. One such team had succeeded in capturing a cyberdemon. Normally, they should have dismantled and studied it, but they didn't. These unloyal elements within the company had used the demon's code at the entrance ceremony to exploit the weaknesses of key executives—but Neige had exposed them, and it failed.

"Cyberdemons aren't ordinary."

The cyberdemon used in the attack had originally survived in a radioactive fallout zone. In cyberspace, it's called the Dead Sector—a hellish name because all data entering is destroyed by radiation. Even Alphabet avoids such places, making them nests for cyberdemons. A cyberdemon adapted to survive there couldn't be ordinary.

But conversely... it might hold the ancient war remnants Alphabet had desperately sought.

Plus, what caught my eye was that one of my fellow trainees was involved.

"Did this kid... do it on their own?"

Genius academy entrants were aged 12 to 18—too young to participate in corporate intrigue.

"The cyberdemon was captured years ago. They'd probably been working on it for a long time since then. To be precise, they were 'infected' by the cyberdemon."

"Ah..."

"The kid probably has a cyberdemon core in their brain. That way, they're safe for their handlers."

So the "culprit" was actually just a tool. 'Having a core in the brain is just like you, V.'

'No, I just meant something in the brain... Don't ramp up the processing.'

'Cancel, cancel.'

Good my ass. For an AI, you're surprisingly prideful.

"Neige, I know you want to do only good things, just like the Chairman. You probably hate getting involved in corporate politics or purges. But... won't you lend a hand just once to save that child?"

"One more question. There are plenty of capable people who could handle this besides me, right?"

"If my agents move, the opposition will notice. But you're a genius academy student, Neige. You even have your own loyal guards to assist."

Using unknown people for a covert op?

"The key to this is surprise and firepower. You'll move from inside the academy, I'll handle the outside. All you need to do is one thing: capture the cyberdemon. I'll take care of the rest."

"Hmm..."

Fighting a cyberdemon from the Dead Sector? That sounds seriously tough. Entrusting it to a 12-year-old girl just because I'm an A-1 code holder?

'Okay, okay.'

'I got it.'

Saving the infected kid is noble, but more enticing is the ancient war data the cyberdemon might hold. This isn't just removing an obstacle blocking me—absorbing that data could accelerate Alphabet defect research.

Shall I...?

As I pondered positively, V spoke.

'What?'

"...Mind if I take a moment to read the data?"

"Please do."

I opened ImmuneWire's database and began comparing it to Klaus's data.

'V, analyze.'

The data had been censored? 'Where?'

I turned back to Klaus. What the hell is this?

Once suspicion sprouts, it crushes trust all too easily. Shattered trust breeds new doubts instantly.

I pondered quietly. Why censor the data? Why change all the names of those involved? To purge people he's fallen out with this time...?

I don't know his true goal, but... ImmuneWire's number two, Klaus Richter. This bastard is trying to use me for something.

"...Secretary-General Klaus."

"Yes, speak."

"This operation... it's solely for purging 'unloyal elements,' right?"

"...Oh."

Klaus smiled faintly, as if impressed.

"...Don't worry. It's not a bad deal for you either, Neige. I hear the Chairman's favorite genius girl is doing lots of research, including some to ease the Chairman's burdens."

"..."

"Subdue the cyberdemon, and its data is all yours. How's that sound?"

No grounds to refuse. He'd prepared for even this level of suspicion. Clearly, I'd profit too. But I couldn't shake the feeling he stood to gain far more.

Suddenly, my past life flashed—back when I had no choice but spine cyberware or death. That choice still stirred subtle revulsion.

"...I'll do it. Secretary-General Klaus."

For now, cooperate. Not for him, but for the toolized kid and my research. Who knows if we can ever be friendly.

"I'm honored to have a genius's help."

Klaus stood with a smiling face and opened the lab door.

"Secretariat Division 3, attention!"

"Attention!"

Crisp voices echoed from outside—Svetlana and the secretaries.

"You will continue guarding Neige while doubling as assistants and workers for the genius academy."

"Yes!"

"Additionally, I'll assign your duties for tomorrow's 'class assignment exam.'"

Klaus and the secretaries preparing a 'purge operation.' Clea watching in frightened confusion.

Watching his authoritative display, a thought struck: In an empire where the emperor's health fails and the throne sits empty, the real danger isn't internal rebels...

It's the regent. Klaus, the Secretary-General.

"Clea."

"...Yeah?"

I stepped out carefully, took her trembling hand, and said,

"That guy's got some serious pipes, huh?"

A day passed. Clea had clung to me like a stuffed toy all night, leaving my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body stiff. I'd dive into cyberspace anyway, but the grumpiness lingered.

Despite the chaos from the botched entrance ceremony, my cohort and I moved straight to the room with dozens of deep dive chairs—like the one at the Paris branch.

Today's schedule: class assignment exam. These kids were already proven talents, so the test wasn't about ability— it was about what kind.

Research prowess? Frontline combat? Stealth ops, the essence of a bitmancer? Teamwork? Leadership qualities, or staff officer potential?

Tailored education based on unearthed talents. That was the class assignment exam.

The first test: simple battle royale. Only fake codes laced with 'elimination signals' allowed; otherwise, free use of personal skills. Politics included, naturally.

Our elite rich kids were already scheming to eliminate the underclass first. The outcasts banded against the elites.

Even Clea and I joined a group today—for numbers.

"So we'll do this..."

Despite being strangers, sociable kids kicked off complex plans, but I tuned out. This 'class assignment exam' wouldn't go as the kids expected.

"Clea."

"Hm?"

"Once the exam starts, this is meaningless."

"...Huh? What do you mean?"

"You'll get isolated. Prepare yourself."

I leaked a hint to Clea alone. My focus: one of us was a cyberdemon host.

"Okay, everyone~ Don't be nervous. You don't have to win. Just relax! Got it?"

The proctor entered; kids moved to assigned seats.

"Rules are simple: Use creativity and skill to survive to the end. Got it?"

"Yes~."

Kids chorused, lying in chairs, plugging neck cables.

"Begin!"

My op starts the moment I dive into cyberspace.

Phase 1: Normally, you pick spawn points. Politics is skill. Kids cluster per prior talks, fight and scatter.

But not this cohort.

"Whoa...? Neige was right?"

Clear alibis like Clea spawn at the exam field's edge, far out.

Phase 2: All kids even slightly suspected of cyberdemon infection spawn with me at the center simultaneously.

Secretariat Division 3, led by Svetlana, controls from the periphery.

"...What the?!"

Kids logging in spot each other, form data weapons, aim—but hesitate to move.

That's my cue. One here is the host.

'Got it.'

"Huh? Never heard of this."

As kids panic, a blue data wave sweeps the field.

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

"Ah...! My head...!"

One kid cries in pain, collapsing.

A wave inducing real-world sensory anomalies. Without my defense, the host would scream. Cyberdemons react to such "noise" inevitably.

Gripping my long sword data weapon, I scanned. Among kids clutching heads, vomiting, or fallen—who'd spill cyberdemon code?

I look up at V's warning. What I see: a colossal spider looming over me, radiating menace.

"...Found you. Cyberdemon."

'Analyze data flow. Find the host.'

While V tracks the host, the spider lunges with fangs. I dodge, swing my data weapon. The longsword bounces off harmlessly.

Yeah, I get it—no pushover. 'How's the trace?'

A data stream detaches from the spider, heads to a kid. Isolated from groups, clutching his head, muttering—a boy.

I charge him, dodging the spider's block, grab his collar.

"Svetlana-unnie!"

The boy and I teleport away fast. Catching breath at the new spot, I glare at my foe.

We were collar-to-collar moments ago, but now distance separates us. The spider's beside the boy, front legs lifting his data onto its back.

It glares, fangs clacking, then speaks.

"Survival !##@# proto, to, to%call... go...@@ same...."

"Whoa, it talks now?"

Meaning a tough opponent. I aim my longsword, ramping processing.

First real fight in seven years, but I haven't been slacking.

"Here we go, V."

Ignore Klaus purging somewhere. Focus on one: the boy on the spider's back.

Dragged into corporate intrigue, brain-stuffed with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that thing—from my V experience, his suffering is obvious.

Let's save one poor soul.