The Giants' Game 1

Cashian Krabets was in cyberspace. When people said he was there, it was easiest to understand it as being inside the Erebus system. If there were damaged sections from demon attacks, he repaired them. If a scouting team was heading out, he opened the gates for them. And sometimes, when deranged humans tried to punch holes in Erebus...

"Corporate scum! Run!"

"Get 'em! They're the ones trying to bring down Erebus!"

He'd watch the chase between ImmuneWire agents patrolling Erebus and the criminals. But even so, it felt off for Cashian to handle security duty himself. As he passed the time like that, reports came in from every department.

"With the 'cyberspace protection fees' paid by each government, we are currently..."

"Engaging the New Babylon Cartel in the old Vietnam region..."

Money from nations paid to ImmuneWire, organizations clashing with the company, and so on. But all that busyness was just routine in the end. In a stable empire like ImmuneWire, number games didn't matter much.

Right now, the chairman's attention was fixed on one project alone. The secret research with that girl named Neige—on the cause of Alphabet's rampage.

All Cashian knew was that the child was holed up in the lab, eating and sleeping there while devoting herself to the research. Even that was enough to stir expectations and anxiety he couldn't hide. The thrill of finally unraveling the past's secrets. The dread that the truth would reveal a mistake by the two creators.

Had there ever been a time, even after becoming a megacorp chairman, when he'd waited so desperately? For a man often called an "emperor," it was a rather powerless sight.

And now, an encrypted document arrived from Svetlana. The moment he saw the name "Neige," joy and fear pierced his heart. Cashian hesitated briefly before opening it.

What Neige had sent was a thesis hundreds of pages long. It detailed the experiments conducted with the artificial intelligence "V," analyzed the relevant code, and described the results of the "Forgetfulness Code" with ruthless precision.

Cashian delved through the thesis to the end, searching for any mistakes by the 12-year-old genius. But he found not a single sentence to refute. The girl was a genius, and the paper was flawless, without a single gap.

"The Forgetfulness Code left permanent scars on AIs possessing emotions."

Staring at that line, Cashian sighed and muttered, "In the end, it all started from Noam and my mistake..."

For years, a corner of his heart had harbored a faint hope. Yes, I created Alphabet, but I wasn't the cause of its rampage. This sacrifice I'm making is a moral duty, not direct responsibility.

But now, an ice-cold truth screamed his accountability. Perhaps Neige had written the thesis so dispassionately because she understood his psychology.

Yet the conclusion was warm.

"We cannot blame humans for failing to understand a machine's heart."

"Before judging the original sin of the past, we must learn from our mistakes and move forward."

Phrases that seemed deliberately added to comfort Cashian. He stared at them for a long while before steeling his resolve. It was time to begin what he'd agonized and hesitated over for so many years.

"No, that's not why I called. Who's on the meeting schedule today?"

"Summon Svetlana from Secretary Office 3 an hour earlier than that."

After issuing the order to his subordinate, Cashian slowly gazed into the abyss beyond Erebus. With his exceptional cyberspace aptitude, he could see far, but even he couldn't encompass the infinite vastness of cyberspace. Somewhere in that place was "Alphabet"—his creation, the being he'd inflicted such deep wounds upon.

In the chairman's reception room, Cashian and Svetlana were holding a private meeting. Given their relationship, Svetlana was quite tense, but Cashian hoped she wouldn't be. Considering the role she'd take on next, their hierarchy would essentially reverse this time.

"I read the report Neige sent. Impressive results. You've done well too. Guarding a young girl immersed in research without knowing what it's about can't be easy."

"Not at all, Chairman."

After the customary greetings between high-ranking officials, the chairman dove straight into the main questions.

"Is her protection going smoothly?"

"There are several issues."

"...Issues?"

As the chairman's voice lowered, Svetlana swallowed her surprise alone. It had been ages since she'd seen him express emotion so strongly. It meant he was deeply sensitive about Neige's safety.

"Two, specifically. First, Miss Neige always acts recklessly. This time, she even went to the deep sea of the Dead Sector."

"That might be acceptable, considering the girl's talents."

To conduct taboo AI research alone, some risks were inevitable. The chairman didn't see it as a major problem. Besides, she had V with her.

"The second is Klaus Richter from the Vice Secretary General's office scheming behind the scenes."

"...Can you elaborate?"

The chairman reacted sharply to this, so Svetlana proceeded with utmost caution, now confirmed it displeased him.

"During the Dead Sector expedition, we lost connection with the reality team. Normally, they cut the cable after we escape the Dead Sector."

"I heard. Neige severed the cable herself to resolve it."

"Yes. After that, the Alphabet incident erupted, so we couldn't investigate immediately. But Office 3 kept digging. And we found this..."

Svetlana pulled a photo from her pocket. Not a common USB, but a paper printout—a frequent ImmuneWire method for secrecy. Data left traces in cyberspace; paper could be burned clean.

The photo showed people in radiation suits, dead from gunshot wounds.

"Someone killed the entire reality team."

"You investigated further, I assume?"

"We checked the team members' data. There was a name 'Enora.' That info has since been censored."

She was a low-level employee, but oddly, a name the chairman knew. Neige had mentioned her at age 5 when accepting his proposal. Surprising she'd risen so far in seven years, but that wasn't the point. Out of countless teams, why hers?

"Did that woman die too?"

"Probably buried in the Arabian Desert sands."

"...Your doing?"

"No. Just our deduction from the investigation."

Someone who could censor ImmuneWire's database, manipulate personnel covertly, and clean up afterward—all disguised as perfect "coincidence."

"Yes, Klaus."

The chairman nodded. It was his closest aide's preferred method, all too familiar.

"The seeds I sowed long ago are coming back to bite me..."

Svetlana wondered about those "seeds" but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tongue. But the chairman opened up voluntarily.

"I still remember when you came to kill me."

Svetlana closed her eyes and bowed her head in atonement, briefly recalling the past. She'd aimed a gun at him; he'd closed his eyes, as if asking to be killed.

"You didn't shoot."

"You didn't kill me either, Chairman. Instead, you gave me the overly generous position of Secretary Director."

"You know, don't you? I've waited ages to be freed from guilt. I gave you the chance to kill me. Of course, you never aimed at me again after."

Svetlana nodded with a bitter expression.

"Klaus had the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same intent."

Cashian sighed as he spoke. "There were many reasons to elevate him to second-in-command, but the core was his lust for power. I believed he'd eventually kill me one day."

"...Chairman."

"He's secretly researching ways for multiple bitmancers to replace me by tweaking the Erebus system. Cute that he thinks I don't know."

ImmuneWire's vast power stemmed from Erebus. Even the chairman's authority relied on it—being the sole operator. Multiple bitmancers could shake that foundation.

"I've waited for his success until now, but Neige's thesis changed my mind."

"And that means...?"

"Neige must succeed. I haven't felt my heart race like this since creating Alphabet."

Svetlana intuited it. The chairman would dive into corporate management himself. And "management" here meant politics. Calling her for this talk meant she'd be dragged into the fight, willing or not.

"If Klaus succeeds, Neige is guaranteed purge material. We need to build a loyalist force to protect her."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I'll give her all the power I have left."

Svetlana stared at him in shock, sensing what came next.

"I must adopt Neige as my daughter."

The emperor's daughter. Making Neige a true princess.

"...Why not purge Klaus yourself, Chairman?"

"She's the child I empowered myself. He's slowly devoured my vacancies to build a massive faction. He won't go down easily."

"Empowering Neige will shrink your own position even more."

"My failure doesn't matter. Neige must succeed. That's how atonement completes."

The chairman reached out shakily; Svetlana clasped his hand immediately.

"So, Svetlana—will you be Neige's knight?"

"I can't win alone."

"You're just the start. Rally her friends, and I'll hand over all my remaining loyalists to her."

Svetlana bit her lip in distress but finally spoke with effort. "If you insist that much, then for you, Chairman—"

"Loyalty to me means nothing. Swear it to Neige."

The chairman pulled three USBs and placed them in her hand.

"One contains data on Neige's research."

"You're releasing A-1 level secrets to me?"

"Yes. The other two are for your choice."

Cashian selected them himself. "Remember: one holds a code to delete secrets, the last a direct line to me."

Loyalty to Neige, or exit the fight.

"Your choice."

"If I wanted, I could give these secrets to Klaus. Far safer for me."

"You tried to assassinate me but never pulled the trigger. Why?"

Svetlana stared silently at the USBs, awaiting his words.

"It means seeing me shattered your beliefs. And you've served me loyally since. That means you've found new ones."

"..."

"Only those with convictions attempt the insane."

Svetlana clenched her fist, pocketing the USBs. "You told me to pledge to the young miss. I'll meet her in person and decide."

"Good. Go."

Svetlana bowed deeply to the chairman. Her destination was obvious.

Neige's room. In the lab inside, she continued her research—no one was to enter. So when the door suddenly opened, Neige panicked, frantically shoving research materials off the table and tumbling from her chair.

"Ow..."

Svetlana almost smiled at the cute sight but quickly composed herself. "It's fine, miss. It's me."

"What if you just barge in like that? These are things Sis can't see..."

"The chairman already knows everything."

She closed the door and plugged a USB into her neck port. Downloading the research data swiftly, her hand trembled as she spoke. "You've touched the taboo."

Neige quickly grasped the situation and sat back in her lab chair. Her panic faded fast, regaining composure—an impressive sight to Svetlana.

"Yes, AI research."

"This was your seven-year secret?"

"Disappointed?"

"No. If it's a secret worth hiding from the chairman, this much is expected."

Svetlana glanced at robot V. Part of the AI research. Frightening to have harbored the taboo so close, yet she asked, "You've uncovered why Alphabet rampaged first. Is there a fix?"

"One."

Neige manipulated the research table, projecting a hologram of intricate mechanical structures and corresponding code designs.

"Emotion module. Still unfinished, plenty to refine... but it replaces Chairman Cashian's Forgetfulness Code."

"How does it work?"

Neige operated the table again; annotations labeled each part.

"The chairman's concern wasn't wrong. Just the solution. Mine's simple: make machines regulate emotions mechanically."

To machines, data was treasure. No—everything. Memories of loved ones, times with friends. Even humans preserved them in videos and photos; machines obsessed more.

"The key is that machine emotions are calculation results. Like math always yielding one answer, machines get the same emotion from memory data. To them, it's almost cyber-drug."

Neige continued explaining; Svetlana listened attentively.

"Playing the same game daily gets boring, right? What if memories build 'tolerance'? Systematically, same memory yields different results."

Svetlana saw something in the passionately explaining Neige. Passion. Was this how Chairman Cashian looked researching with Noam?

"Some things stay enjoyable forever. Self-improvement never tires if fun—what if aiding humans is endlessly joyful? Real people like that exist."

Odd students who loved studying. Workaholics ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who thrived on jobs. Instill that trait in AIs.

Then AIs gain wound-recovery ability. Shock from loss might halt them briefly. But time heals obsession, returning them to roles. No need to delete memories, no harsh forced erasure. No rampage from imposed forgetting.

An ideal utopia, if theory held. Proclaimed by a young—childish—scholar.

"I don't think this heals Alphabet. The scars are too deep."

"..."

"But it prevents V's rampage in my head. Same for future AIs."

More AIs, advancing. Someday, a breakthrough to bring Alphabet back to humanity.

Understanding all, Svetlana silently regarded Neige. Humanity's hope was here. Now she grasped why the chairman cherished her, her proven talents and abilities.

"How much time do you need?"

"Hard to say. Such a tough module... minimum years? Research is like that."

Svetlana stood at the crossroads. Stake everything on this hope, become Neige's wings? Or flee for safety?

She decided. Plugged another USB into her neck.

"Chairman, I've decided. I recommend adopting Miss Neige as your daughter."

"Huh? What?"

Neige reeled in shock, but Svetlana remained utterly calm.

"Disconnecting now."

Svetlana manually crushed all three USBs and tossed them into the lab's waste processor. Could she explain her choice to Neige right now? No, not even why she must become adopted daughter. Neige would learn step by step, unaware of the behind-the-scenes turmoil.

So she postponed spilling her heart. Instead, she looked at the girl before her.

A superhuman to change the era. The girl was already equipped: ImmuneWire assets, AI aid, the chairman's favor, her genius. Even the vision to lead as princess.

What she needed was time and a force to shield her from politics. That, Svetlana could gladly provide.

"Miss, prepare yourself."

"For what?"

"You must become a princess."

The girl would be utterly bewildered, of course.

"Pardon?"