Opponent Color (3)
I could faintly feel the texture of the ground brushing against me through my shoes. If it hadn't been for the shop she recommended, if that guy hadn't looked at me like he'd figured something out and dropped suspicious phrases like "special talent" without me ignoring him or calling him a quack, none of this would have happened. Of all the critical things to hit a wall on first...? If this was a dream, I wished it'd just end already. Getting deemed unfit for implants felt like a deeper gut punch than being stuck living with Helena.
Of course... not everyone in the metropolis was a superhuman. Just thinking about the pedestrians littering the streets or the mercenaries I'd bumped into, most people were probably just scraping by on basic cyberware enhancements without going full overhaul. And if I trusted that doctor's words, you had to pass through the triple gate of surgery costs, compatibility, and amplification rates to become a real superhuman—so the number of truly dangerous freaks had to be even fewer.
...Fuck, that's just for civilians! Factor in the corporations, and all sorts of lunatics pop out of the woodwork. No way in hell that put me at ease. To get home, I'd have to square off against a goddamn mega corp…!!
"Ughhh…!!"
"Asha… cyber engineers get by just fine without those mods. No issues at all."
"……."
Hearing that from a badass who could shrug off bullets made my chest tighten. I looked up—and there was our heroine, wearing some oddly pleased smile.
...Even setting aside the implant issue as unavoidable, something still felt off. A combat cop? And she wasn't supposed to be this friendly and approachable. Always flashing that easy smile, casually touching me… it was driving me nuts.
"Hold on… Helena! Why the hell are you petting my head?!"
"…You've got a filthy mouth on you, sis. Guess we'll have to ride a bike to the robot shop too…?"
"…!!"
Her scary words hit, and I put some distance between us. My arm was still caught, so it was only two steps, but… pulling out threats right away? Was this really the Helena Valentin I knew? Or maybe the original timeline hadn't kicked in yet, and her personality was still a bit softer.
……Timeline? Wait.
"Helena…! I'm the olde…. No, the senior here!! I'm 27…!"
"……?"
I'd finally found the key to escape this endless pressure. At the game's start, Helena was estimated to be mid-to-late 20s. No exact age was ever stated, but based on dialogue about never getting anti-aging surgery and her looks, user brainstorming had pretty much nailed it. So I was older…!
Almost got fooled like with the mercenary trio. Good thing I could turn crisis into opportunity….
"…Citizenship ID."
"……Citizenship? Why the sudden—"
"Last time I checked, it sure as hell didn't say 27. If it's fake… I'll hug you all the way to the shop as punishment for the weird joke."
"……When the fuck did you snoop on that?!"
"Checked it fair and square."
Whatever trick she'd pulled, Helena looked dead certain. Come to think of it… had I ever told Grandpa Heinrich my exact age? We were both too embarrassed back then…?
Before sending data to the menacingly glaring Helena, I quickly checked mine first.
"…."
Go… good. It wasn't cross-checked against corporate databases, so tweaking one number was a perfect crime. But my shallow scheme got seen through by her blazing eyes.
"Ah."
Dangling. My poor Walker shoes swung, not touching the ground. Lacking the guts to face onlookers, I clasped my hands over my face.
...Burned even hotter after eye contact with a passing kid. …Hey! Don't go crying for mommy hugs!! It's not like that…!
Unlike the implant shop tucked away like a hidden gem away from the main drag, the robot store was in a massive shopping center piercing Harvest Planet's upper, mid, and lower levels. That meant insane foot traffic… and anyone acting weird drew every eye.
"Gonna lie again?"
"No… it's not a lie, for real…!"
Helena's arm loosened from my waist. Had she finally gotten my innocence? Nah—we'd just arrived amid the chaos.
Cool, intricate robots snagged feet regardless of era. The prime spot by the main entrance was dominated by a robot shop packed with mechanical soldiers of every type and purpose. Legs alone: bipedal and quadrupedal basics, plus models on wheels or treads.
I walked deeper, dead serious. Sensing my mood, she stuck close without a word.
Despite promising endless revival, I didn't even know that idiot's model number. …Well, how could I, when even he didn't?
Passing androids that looked human and intimidating droids, I entered the Carebot section. A promo sign caught my eye.
The Best Choice for Your Family This Era!
From Tedious Housework to Patient Safety—Meet Your Home's Guardian Today!
"…Pfft."
By that logic, I'd need four. Grandpa… Helena… and a Carebot for the Carebot.
...Gonna have to grind like a madman. A quick scan showed prices weren't joking. Even bare-bones Carebots without extras started at 70-80 million credits. In the wasteland, 3-4k covered a meal—this was obscene luxury.
But… for a life debt? Dirt cheap.
"Ah!!"
A familiar silhouette in my peripheral—I bolted. No drone arms, scanners, or lethal add-ons, but staring down that head amid blazing earth was my sharpest memory. I'd forgotten the Seeker's face that doomed me, but not the robot who'd trusted me with his core.
……Thinking about it, this bastard was why I'd turned into such a crybaby.
Anyone seeing that would get PTSD.
"…You did merc work to buy this? 100 million credits… big goal."
"……No, this isn't the goal… uh… more like a starting line?"
Helena, now glued to the display case, questioned. My pride was no slouch—living in debt to him meant I hadn't even reached square one. He'd burned his circuits for me; I'd grind for him.
"Business done, then?"
"……Yeah."
Today's haul: massive disappointment overcome by ironclad resolve. Smart to hit both shops today. With this drive, I could do anything…!
Thwack!
"…Huh?"
Helena grabbed my arm as I stepped out all cheery.
"Where do you think you're going…?"
"Where? Back to the hotel, obviously…?"
No implants meant lunch was early, but that didn't stop me from crashing in a comfy hotel bed. The world kept shoving me out; deep down, I was cautious, never underestimating dangers beyond the covers.
But her face scrunched at my perfectly reasonable answer. Sigh included.
"Haa… You're saying everything you own is what's on you right now? No daily essentials at all?"
"Uh… got plenty of ammo…?"
"……."
...Fuck, slip-up. Her head tilted sideways at my dumb reply.
"Fine… I won't pry into whatever backstory makes you live so grimly despite your soft heart. But!"
"Eek?!"
Not kidding—lightning-fast, she yanked me. Forced eye contact, then:
"Even minimalists need spare clothes, right?! You haven't been surviving without?!"
"Th-that's what the cleaning gel's for…?"
...If I'd seen three seconds into the future, I'd have confessed this was my first real 22nd-century shop. Might've gotten labeled a freak, but at least saved my sanity.
"……Asha, we're hitting lingerie first with sis."
"Pardon…?"
Before my brain caught up, my arm was dragged.
"! Hey, what the— Eek?!"
"Oof…!!"
Helena Valentin's unprecedented boldness parted the shopping center crowd. A pedestrian shouldered aside turned away fast upon seeing her. Screeech…!! I braked hard, but it closed in. The store design that instinctively repelled me, no matter the era.
Flowing pink cursive sign, seductive mannequins at the entrance. Even with real faces—not the white blobs in my memory—doubling the shame.
But that was nothing compared to the shopping hell inside.
"Asha…? They say this is popular with minimalists."
"?! Wh-what the hell is this bandage play…? No, I'm not a perv!!"
"Oh, ma'am? Looking for something specific…?"
"Comfy stuff…! Anything easy to move in, please!!"
"Gotta try on to know for sure, right?"
"Sis?! Wait…!"
……Our—her shopping spree skipped lunch and raged on.