Game of the Giants 2

Cashian, that old man, suddenly declares he's adopting me as his daughter. Am I reading a web novel? I opened my eyes and became the daughter of a cyberpunk emperor. Damn, what a killer title.

I asked Svetlana unnie why, but her answer was simple.

"It's due to internal company politics."

Politics? I want to stay out of that crap and just focus on research. Once I fix Alphabet, we can go back to an era where I can live it up without a care. Politics won't mean a thing then.

How much time would that take?

V, you're useless.

Wouldn't dream of it.

"So basically, the chairman's protecting me, right?"

"You can understand it that way."

Seemed like I couldn't just say no. Fine, whatever. I'd accept it. Every silver lining has a cloud, and being under ImmuneWire's wing came with its share of hassles. The news of me becoming his adopted daughter blew up not just inside the company but across external media too. Naturally, the story about Erebus getting smashed by Alphabet faded into the background.

"Okay, photo time!"

Of course, that meant dressing up in a gown, doing makeup, and holding hands with the chairman for pictures. What was weird was covering my face with jewelry and masks. Wasn't it to avoid becoming an assassination target? Then why the makeup? This was... corporate protocol? Anyway, I was getting used to the dresses and makeup. I could see why girls loved the princess treatment. Wait, what did I just say? Was I succumbing to female hormones too? Snap out of it, Neige. Your past life was a guy. Gotta hold out till I'm fully 19.

We'll see then.

Once I stamped the papers, I was officially Cashian's adopted daughter.

"So what do I need to do now?"

"No one below Klaus the chief secretary would dare touch the chairman's daughter. Just focus on your research."

Mentioning Klaus gave me the gist. Whatever the situation, that's probably why he adopted me. Someone worth worrying about slips out in conversation. For now, I'd follow Svetlana's advice and do my thing.

First up: recruiting people useful for research. The gifted academy director was top of the list. His papers dealt a lot with the human mind. Studies on mental effects of excessive cyberware. He'd suffered during the entrance ceremony cyberdemon incident but survived somehow.

"Professor, do you do neuroscience and psychology too?"

"Ah, uh... Miss? I do research in those areas, but..."

"Got room in your lab?"

"Yes?! I'd welcome it, but..."

The professor hesitated. No wonder—taking the chairman's daughter as a grad student was intimidating. Then a click sounded from somewhere, and he jumped.

"Plenty of room! I'm thrilled a genius like you chose me, Neige!"

It sounded like a gun racking, and the only one around was Svetlana. I'd pretend I didn't hear it.

My friends' reactions were fiery once word got out.

"Neige."

Clea first.

"It's hard to keep up with you now..."

"Sorry..."

I felt bad for no reason. I knew how hard she tried to stick with me. Saints, Ayaka and Lorenzo from Dead Sector contacts felt the same.

"...Neige is our... pr, pride of the research team."

"Saints, you were research team too? You guys just swing pens around... Guess that's why the chairman's an academic."

"L-Lorenzo was... war team, right..."

The research vs. war team rivalry between Saints and Lorenzo was hilarious.

"Br, brute alloy pig bastards..."

"...? What'd you say?"

Saints had unexpected sides. Of course, as research team, I sided with him. Screw those war team metalheads.

Ayaka was business team.

"You're way above class valedictorian. Historic record."

"Just happened."

"...But without business team, research team can't get funding."

Clea jumped in.

"I can infiltrate and steal it all."

"What kind of talk is that?"

Agent team had no beef with business, so why did Clea pick on Ayaka? Showing off? Her glances at me said yes. Probably jealous Ayaka talked to me. Scary, Clea. Good thing the Arctic ice was already gone.

My routine stayed like that for a while. Meeting professors for brain science and psych knowledge. Hanging with friends, gaming, walks. Back home, holing up in the lab ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠making emotion modules. Eventually, the video data from Protocol Z finished restoring.

The screen showed intense combat. Cyborgs in a nuclear plant control room exchanging fire. Probably electronic warfare too, but no cyberspace footage—bummer.

The leader woman directed from the center. Seoul and Barcelona handled robots up close while others dashed around the control room working.

That program was Z, which I found. Back then, Sao Paulo—Davi's real name—owned it, so Durandal.

The late-20s leader sighed, checking the screen.

The two laid fire down the hall, everyone evacuating. Cool. Alphabet War heroes.

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I savored the afterglow, then tilted my head at one face.

"V, zoom on Seoul."

"Yes."

V manipulated the table, zooming on the agent called 'Seoul'.

"...Doesn't she look like my little sister?"

"Comparing your memories to the woman on screen. Match: 68%."

Normal for same-country origins.

"Nah, right? World population's huge—fat chance it's her."

"Possible face alteration via cyberware."

"Whatever, just mistook her for a Korean after so long."

I shut off the video. Better fix Alphabet than speculate.

"Any reply from Alphabet?"

"Thanks."

"And?"

"Nothing else."

I covered my face with both hands.

"That guy's kinda tsundere, huh?"

V twisted her face—probably mimicking an emoticon. Ugh, ugly. Gotta fix her facial structure later.

Aargh. V, you're giving me a headache.

This peaceful routine got shattered as expected. By Klaus Richter, vice secretary-general.

"Aren't you the chairman's daughter?"

Two weeks after becoming his daughter. Mid-binge on 2170s candy for brain health, Klaus approached. Coming to the academy meant intent, not coincidence.

"No annoyances? I can clean them up if needed."

I replied curtly on purpose.

"I'm good. Friends were curious at first, but it's same as usual. No extra schedule."

"Glad to hear. Mind if I invite you to a party?"

"Party?"

Random.

"ImmuneWire top brass all attend. Grateful if the 'princess' graces us. Here's the invite."

He shoved it and left. Classmates envied my casual chat with the chief sec, but I hated it. Wanted to decline. Top brass? Reeked of trash.

Back at the lab, Svetlana suggested the opposite.

"It's a regular event. Skipping would cause issues."

"Then I'll go?"

"I'll arrange support. Know someone who can help."

I set aside the emotion module blueprint I'd been agonizing over with V and stretched. Fine, if can't avoid, face it head-on.

The party mixed two vibes perfectly: top brass arrogance like nobility and cyberpunk sleek design. Groups sipping booze pretentiously—masterpiece. All backstabbers and employee-killers. Drink watered booze, not wine.

I could've figured that out.

Same result?

Post-merge with V1 and V2, V got prankier. I'd seen her desperate thought processes during experiments, so I played along often. I mimicked her emoticons mentally. (≧▽)o—tricky.

Messing with V while hunting sweets, Klaus approached as expected.

"You came. You have no idea my worry."

"Should've worried more."

"Haha, good joke. Care for a chat?"

"About what?"

"Constructive discussion on the company's future, naturally."

He gestured to a group staring over. Waiting for me, by the looks.

Damn, Klaus dragged me to flaunt his faction. No wonder Svetlana watched him. Near-shadow ruler power.

"We're a refined group discussing ImmuneWire philosophy."

What bullshit. Philosophy while censoring databases and purging people? Nazism seminar?

I joined per his lead. Me and Klaus took huge round table chairs first, others by rank.

"Neige, wanted to meet you."

"Chairman's daughter!"

"Already so beautiful."

Soulless greetings got nods, then to business.

"Neige, one philosophical question."

Klaus serious-toned.

"Right now, humanity depending on one person—is that correct?"

Obvious shot at Chairman Cashian.

"Dunno. Never thought deeply."

"Then, a topic for our genius girl."

He scanned the group, spoke heavily.

"Interested in research to maintain Erebus with multiple people, not one?"

I leaned back silently. Two aggressive questions in a row. Was this Klaus's style? No. This reckless push wasn't him. Before drowning in questions, why? Focus there.

Open coup talk—treason in a monarchy. But chairman can't kill Klaus easily. Not strength, but his massive faction here.

Got it. Why chairman made me daughter. Research needs all ImmuneWire resources—inevitable target. Better elephant than burrow-rabbit. He protected me. Problem: lions don't tolerate elephants in territory.

Glanced around. Party fun died; all eyeing us slyly. Klaus wants throne. Normally, break chairman, loyalists scatter. But me? They'd rally for revenge around me. His faction huge means huge enemies. To avoid, kill or recruit me. Hence the risky game: flaunt power, pressure me.

Chairman'd counter, but my stance clear.

"Love research. But chairman—er, 'Father's' request first. Not friends with you, Chief Sec Klaus."

"Not friends?"

He nodded amused.

"Then let's play a game to bond."

He placed a toy on table—childish decor clashing party.

"Toy you'd like, Neige."

Beautiful diplomacy calling me 'kid' nobly. Knew it: compute battle toy, friends used sometimes. Wire up, race processing power.

"Sounds fun."

Acted oblivious, plugged in smiling. He did too.

"Start!"

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One attendee hit button.

Shrapnel flew at his face. Skin cyberware'd save him, but mood ruined.

"Kinda flimsy durability."

Mimicked his noble diplomacy.

"Most toys can't handle my compute. Guess you didn't know, Klaus."

Second-in-command losing compute duel to 12-year-old? My brain's V-tortured masterpiece—can't beat it.

Group panic palpable. No one expected this. Perfect line: not enemies, not allies. Civil war or chairman dead kills research. But not pushover. Showed game fear when I enter.

Giants' game: uncomfortable coexistence 'cause full war loses too much.

Awkward stares, we glared sharply. Then a crass voice shattered it.

"Whoa~ Thought where all you high-and-mighties hid—crammed here!"

Huge guy dwarfing Klaus. Uniform not suit, practical cyberware ignoring looks. Rough voice screamed battlefield.

"No majors here? Wait, one's lackey is—why'd I miss out?"

Crazy intruder at ImmuneWire elite party. My first impression. But reactions differed.

"...Who? Holy Legion commander, 'Alpha'!"

War director under Klaus stood, approached.

"Know invite snub hurts. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Step out for chat?"

"Hey, boss. Saw extra star on shoulder, but you got authority over me?"

"...Alpha!"

"Fuck off. I obey my Messiah only."

Talking like that to top war exec controlling all arms? Amazed, Alpha winked at me.

Realized: Svetlana entered entrance as promised.

Alpha table-kicked chaos; Svetlana approached, glared Klaus.

"Can't leave lady in this vulgar place. Coming with me."

Klaus menaced.

"...Sec 3, picking sides already?"

"Sides? All ImmuneWire secs serve chairman only."

She calmly retorted, led me out.

"Unnie, perfect timing. Just landed a hit."

"Good."

"Who's that guy?"

"Commands ImmuneWire's strongest single legion, Holy Legion. 'Alpha'."

Top elite. Thought weirdo, but act—reassuring.

"'Holy' Legion? Odd name."

"Only those seeing chairman as god."

"...So Alpha's weird name too?"

"Renamed first apostle of chairman."

Recalled 'Messiah' obedience. Cult army.

Felt brain heat as we exited.