Class Assignment Test 1
I introduced a friend to Clea. And got smacked in the head with a book. Ow, that really hurt.
"Master... (◞‸◟ㆀ)"
"How could you do this to me!"
It took a ridiculously long time to calm down Clea, who was fuming with tears in her eyes.
"I swear, he's just a friend. Not what you're thinking."
"Really? Can I believe you?"
"You know me. I'm not into guys."
Precisely, my past life's rejection of that hot testosterone rush from being a guy. Still, "not into guys" seemed to hit home. Clea sniffled but pulled herself together with a bright smile.
"Okay, Neige is kind and pretty, so of course she'd have lots of friends."
"Thanks."
"No way."
"Huh?"
"You need to feel sorrier to me."
Beats me. I have no clue what goes on in a 12-year-old girl's head. And I'm a 12-year-old girl myself, but it makes zero sense.
"Uh... what do you mean?"
"I placed 3rd overall in the last exam! Do you know how worried I was when you weren't among the final survivors?"
Ah, she's talking about the class assignment test. 3rd place is impressive for Clea. But I was off fighting a demon at the time...
"I was so worried, and here you come dragging in some wolfish guy!"
"Clea, Saints isn't the kind of—"
"Hmph!"
Clea whipped her head away before I could finish and stormed out of the room. As I rubbed my head watching her go, Svetlana—who'd witnessed the whole fiasco—finally spoke up.
"How could someone as smart as you..."
"No, I just... made a new close friend and thought it'd be fun to hang out together..."
"You know how important you are to Miss Clea..."
I sighed deeply at Svetlana, who kept tacking on "Miss" like it was mandatory. I could hack and destroy a cyberdemon, but cracking a friend's heart? Forget it—I couldn't even comprehend it. What if Saints got the wrong idea too? I had no plans for romance until the Alphabet issue was sorted, but piling misunderstandings could get awkward.
"...Anyway, what about Saints now?"
"Per the chief secretary's orders, he'll return to studies after a mental evaluation and treatment. It wasn't his fault, after all."
That sleazy bastard still handles business right. Outside the company these days, they'd probably just pin it on Saints and call it a day. Sometimes corporate life beats the outside world. Ignoring the 14-18 hour workdays, that is.
"By the way... Miss. About that last operation."
"What about it?"
Svetlana trailed off awkwardly—uncharacteristic for her—then glanced at the other secretaries. They nodded in unison, exchanged looks, and bowed deeply.
"We respect you, Miss."
"Huh?"
The sudden group praise sent chills down my spine. Not that I hated it, but this out of nowhere?
"We never imagined you'd take down a cyberdemon one-on-one."
"Is it that big a deal?"
"Some of us secretaries could handle a low-level cyberdemon solo. But not at age 12."
Svetlana explained. "During your fight, opinions were split in Secretary Room 3. Some said we should dive into cyberspace ourselves; others insisted on external support only to maintain secrecy."
No one disagreed on helping. They just didn't believe a 12-year-old bitmancer could solo a cyberdemon.
"We have excuses. It was... weakened by tweaks, and out of its nuclear plant nest, hardware degraded. But it was still a cyberdemon."
Svetlana met my eyes. "Most of us secretaries are Elite graduates. Honestly, there was resentment inside. 'Some kid no different from us lucked into the chairman's favor and lives cushy.'"
People around me thought that? News to me. I glanced at the secretaries. Now their gazes held no businesslike detachment—just subtle trust. Pros in this line of work, hiding emotions till now.
Then I spotted familiar faces: the maid and hover-rig pilot I'd bonded with at age 5. Damn, forgot their names.
[Master's brain doesn't forget things easily.]
[You didn't hear it.]
'Quiet.'
The two waved frantically when our eyes met, mouthing: 'We believed in you from the start.'
After locking eyes with everyone, I turned back to Svetlana, who continued right away.
"Rescuing Saints, that power struggle with the demon—impressive all around. This is our apology and pledge of loyalty. You deserve the chairman's favor."
Awkward at first, but her words warmed me. Who hates recognition? I sure don't.
"If all you secretary bros and sis are Elites, some must be from the genius academy, right?"
Many hands shot up. Wow, that many? The school graduates barely 100 a year.
Makes sense for rising high in the corp.
"I get doubting me. We're colleagues now—let's get along."
"Yes, Miss."
Turning at their reply, I noticed Svetlana hadn't raised her hand.
"What? Sis, you're not Elite?"
"I didn't graduate from an ImmuneWire school."
"For real?"
Secretary chief without that? Sounds like a backstory.
"I was originally a merc from outside... Ah, no. Embarrassing past—I'd rather not."
"Aw, bummer."
I'd hoped for cyberpunk legend merc tales.
"Whatever, no biggie if not same school. Let's get along."
I offered a grinning hand; she clasped it with a refined smile.
"We'll serve you well."
"Am I really that strong? For everyone to gather and acknowledge me?"
"Hard to explain. With the genius academy class assignment tests ahead, compare directly with peers there."
True, I'd rarely compared with age-mates. Exams with V are auto-100%, pointless. Always skipping for big stuff. Time to join regular track proper. Megacorp elite course kids are all certified geniuses.
"You're objective enough."
Svetlana pulled a USB from her pocket.
"Last, from the chief secretary. Gift for cooperators. Destroys after internal scan. Careful."
"Thanks. Anything else?"
"No, won't disturb."
"Disturb? Nah."
I laughed off the word. Good, cyberdemon cleanup done. Time for my gains.
"I'll be in the lab. Keep everyone out."
"Puppet module?"
"Nah, we trust now, right?"
"Understood, Miss."
Svetlana smirked faintly, opening the lab door. I stepped in; she sealed it.
Mindset shift instant.
"V, you there?"
"Yes, Miss."
V's body stirred from standby.
"Demon data analyzed?"
"Yes, analyzed."
V plugged a cable into the lab table. Hologram bloomed with results: Dead Sector survival algo, mental prison data. Useful codes for us, but not what I hoped.
"War-era data?"
"Destroyed three times in a row."
"Meaning?"
V manipulated the table, displaying garbled data.
"Radiation once, demon deemed unnecessary twice. V recoverable to here, but external interference destroyed once more."
Probably the capture team's doing. Tweaked for corp infighting.
"...Nothing gained?"
Not yet. Chief secretary purged the team, right? I slotted the USB into my neck port.
"Eww, creepy."
Data transferred; USB yanked. Toxins flooded, frying internals. Tossed in waste processor carefully.
"V, viable with this?"
"Analyzing."
V crunched, then nodded.
"Puzzle pieces, but links reformable. V can recover."
"Do it."
V computed via her body and my brain. Took longer than expected; I waited patiently.
"Recovery complete. Video. Streaming."
Video? Hologram showed odd attire—mid-2100s obsolete.
"...Alphabet War footage?"
"Seems so."
I stared blankly post-end.
"...V."
"War era. Humans who breached Alphabet core, erased memories. Matches hypothesis."
My guess right. Real heroes who mind-wiped Alphabet to save humanity. Fighting that spider demon paid off—internal data jackpot.
Suppressing deep thrill:
"V, send this to Alphabet too."
"Got it."
"Report to Chairman too."
Breakthrough for fixing Alphabet's flaw.
While awaiting Chairman and Alphabet's reply, I took the class assignment tests per regular track. Grades preset, low motivation, but good for peer comparison.
Thought battle royale style, all practical? Nope.
Written exam.
'V, read and feed answers.'
[∑(O_O;)]
[Master cheating.]
'C'mon.'
Coding exam.
"Y-you... what's this code?"
"Why?"
"Genius academy's credit system, right?"
"Yeah."
"Please join our department?"
Plus entrepreneur aptitude tests.
"Sell me this pen."
"Hm..."
[ImmuneWire internal data search...]
"Interviewer, two daughters."
"...Pardon?"
"Berlin branch school. Dumping cash on tutors for genius academy. Wife works Berlin, home by 3 AM."
"...Student?"
"Daughters probably hover-rigging home now, playing with tutor."
"..."
"Oh, wife's cheating too?"
"What talk is this...?"
"How much for the pen? Got 'info' inside."
All perfect scores. Maybe wrecked one happy home collateral.
But no easy peer gauge. Tests demand high IQ, not bitmancer skill.
Hence high hopes for practical: 1v1 mock tourney till champ.
"I'm facing you!"
Round of 64. Rich kid opponent.
"You! Parading secretaries on chairman's favor? Ha! Whatever tricks, time to expose you!"
"..."
"Know who I am? International Code Olympiad gold, adult brain sports runner-up. And..."
Blah blah trophies; I tuned out. He forged data weapon; ears back on.
"Today! I take you down! Snag chairman's favor!"
He charged. ...Slow. Calc power = athleticism; his low.
[Analysis complete.]
[Enemy data weapon threat marked.]
'...That's it?'
Scratched head, let his blade "hit" neck. Clang, sparks.
"...Huh?"
He panicked hard.
"Your... encryption solid...?"
Finger to his throat. Too fast for react.
[Enemy encryption bypassed.]
My tap outsped his pull; he flew. Dagger to distant foe injected 'elim code.' Fight over.
Genius peer gap. I'm the monster. Weight class absurdity breeds superiority—yet not fully mine. Bittersweet mix.
[Master objectively superior.]
'Thanks, V.'
[o(≧▽≦)o ♡]
Results similar onward.
"My raw power is top—"
"Village secret code—"
Cleared to semis. Eyed next.
"Clea this round?"
Facing Clea stirred thoughts. Talent test 98. Paris A-class. Crashed genius academy with me. Battle royale 3rd. Orphan genius?
Awaited in cyberspace; her data uploaded.
"Neige!"
Cheery greet; I replied.
"Finally settle grudge with you...!"
Huh? That bad?
"You always special, off solo. Finally team up. Happy, right?"
"...Yeah."
Recalled downed geniuses; pondered Clea intensity. Let her win some? Or quick finish?
"Not your level, but I'm good too. Watch close—call me when needed. Got it?"
Clea gripped reverse long daggers, reverse grip switch. Cyber ninja. Smirking lax—
Count began slow.
10, 9, 8...
Clea ramped calcs high. Dragon from mud?
3, 2, 1.
Go!
"Hah!"
Clea's cute shout; instant, I lost her. Eyes caught up late—dagger mid-swing at throat.