A Precarious Encounter
"This is a prosthetic body."
I said it out loud. There was no way my body had suddenly changed like this. Realistically, there was only one possibility. They'd removed my head—my partial prosthetic—and transplanted it into this full-body prosthetic. And one more thing. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion filled my entire frame. My body hadn't been responding to my commands properly since earlier.
...Overload. The overload that comes when first using a prosthetic body.
My judgment was swift. I'd fallen into the enemies' trap and ended up in this body.
"But why?"
I was an elite operative of the Empire's innermost guard. There'd be no need for something this twisted unless they planned to kill me or turn me into a combat slave.
"I don't know why."
No point dwelling on it—there was no conclusion to reach. Not a single clue.
"I need to get back. Check if the intel made it through safely, if everyone's okay. I have to confirm."
White breath fogged from my mouth. A sudden chill pierced my body.
"...Even in a prosthetic body, I can feel the cold?"
I scanned my surroundings. Inside the scattered wardrobe were a short-sleeved T-shirt and pants, plus a torn-up brown baseball jacket. None of them fit right—they hung loose on me—but I had no choice. Dressed in the stained, ragged clothes, I took a step forward barefoot.
Thud.
But I didn't get far before I tripped and fell. The proportions of my limbs felt all wrong. My balance was off. I gritted my teeth.
"Get it together, Lean. You're with the Imperial Guard. You can overcome something like this."
Where was this place? Why was I here? What happened to the mission...? Pushing aside the flood of questions, I stood up again and started walking.
The frontier pioneer planet of Novar, on the farthest edge of the Empire. In a dingy back-alley dive bar, a noisy scolding was in full swing.
The source was the Errant Mercenary Group. Drifters of the stars, they made their living on odd jobs, cleanup ops, and wars. A small outfit of just five members. Their leader, Roena Cardin, was getting an earful from her crew as usual.
"It's your fault we're late, nuna! And we didn't even get paid!"
The pretty boy with blond hair and blue eyes slammed down his glass of orange juice, complaining.
"...Sorry."
"You do know how bad our balance is right now, right?"
"......Yeah."
"Haa..."
The boy sighed in frustration and chugged his juice. Beside him, a red-haired woman with an eyepatch over one eye—drinking beer instead—chimed in softly.
"Roena had her reasons, I'm sure."
"Pfft, you guys are too soft on the captain nuna."
Roena latched onto her supportive words, hooking her arm through the woman's and protesting.
"Exactly! I couldn't just walk past a kid crying on the street!"
"Captain, we're not exactly in a position to be helping random people, are we?"
A brown-haired young man nearby backed her up. He glanced at his glass and added,
"We're flat broke now. If we'd taken that job, we wouldn't be slumming it here—we'd be sipping fine wine at a classy bar."
"He's right! There had to be someone else to help besides you, nuna? The city cops were right there anyway."
"How can I trust those guys? Everyone here is rotten to the core!"
Roena gulped down her beer. Her purple hair swayed with the motion.
"And you blew our cash gambling!"
"Ahem. That's just my personal hobby, Captain. It's not illegal."
The brown-haired guy tilted his glass and said,
"It is illegal! They just don't crack down on it."
Clack—the black-haired man who'd been silently listening slammed his glass down hard. With his long hair cascading down and dressed in a black robe like a martial arts uniform, he spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
"If you're done drinking, let's go."
The red-haired woman nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. Time to head out. We've got a new client meeting tomorrow."
"Sigh. Fine."
They drained their glasses and stood. As they stepped into the street, a motley crowd flowed past: people with mechanical limbs replacing one arm or leg, folks concealing guns at their waists, and others slumped in corners, lost to drugs.
Novar, the pioneer planet. Still a frontier, but developing daily. In Sakar, the central city of settlement, this was an everyday sight. Refugees and mercenaries flocked here chasing work amid explosive growth. Stark wealth gaps, cronyism between officials and business, mafia dominance—it was a city half outside the Empire's gaze. The core gleamed with riches and progress, but the outskirts' slums bred crime.
The Errant Mercenary Group strode proudly through the throng. The four chatty ones bickered among themselves, while the black-haired man trailed a bit behind.
Thud—a gray-haired woman in rags bumped into Ian Carter on the street. Her steps looked precarious somehow. She kept walking without a glance back.
Ian watched her go. In a place like this, dressed like that, her backstory was obvious.
Roena, the captain, eyed the woman trudging away and muttered,
"That girl's in danger..."
"I'll check on her. You guys go ahead."
"I'll come with—"
"Ah, Captain nuna! We've got stuff to do. Hurry up. Ian-hyung's not the type to get jumped."
"I can handle it alone."
With her team's encouragement—or nagging—Roena was dragged away.
"Still, as captain, isn't this too much?"
"Show some captain vibes then."
She followed them anyway, while Ian discreetly shadowed the stumbling woman.
She wandered aimlessly. Eyes stuck to her as she shuffled down the street—from homeless sprawled on the pavement to passersby. Then she turned into a dim alley. Her unsteady gait suggested she had no idea where she was headed.
Two men emerged from the shadows. Despite the cold, they wore light clothes. Their shabby outfits screamed back-alley thugs.
"Hey, miss! Where you off to?"
The gray-haired woman ignored them and kept walking. The men closed in and grabbed her shoulder.
"Talking to you. Where you going?"
"...Are you calling me?"
They pressed closer, chattering.
"No place to go? Come hang with us."
She swept them with cold blue eyes and spat,
"Cheeky for back-alley punks."
Her voice was rough, but frail—lacking any menace.
"What'd you say, bitch?"
"Forget it. Come quietly."
The nearest thug reached out a rough hand to drag her off.
"Unbelievable. Let go!"
Whack! She swung her arm wide, knocking them back, then retreated into a defensive stance.
The second thug stepped up, sneering.
"This chick doesn't get her situation, huh?"
He grabbed her arm again—
Whoosh—thud! She slammed him to the ground. It happened in a blink.
Her delicate looks clashed with the move; the thugs hesitated.
"Huff... huff... Don't get cocky. Scram!"
She panted the words, but another thug seized her by the nape and hoisted her up. She dangled helplessly.
"Guh...! Cough, cough."
"What the hell? You got done in by this scrawny bitch?"
The fallen thug stood, retorting.
"Shut up! I let my guard down."
"Kekeke, you serious?"
"I said shut it! Anyway, what now?"
"Gah! Put me down!"
She thrashed and yelled, her sharp voice echoing in the alley, but they ignored her.
"Sell her. She's got no meat on her anyway."
"Let's have some fun first."
He approached the wriggling girl slowly. All she could do was glare.
Then a man appeared behind them. Long black hair, clad in a black coat like a martial robe. Ian drew his sword.
"I've decided."
The thugs whirled around in panic. Too late.
"What're you—"
Shing—the blade sliced their throats in an instant. Strength drained from their bodies; they crumpled.
Thud!
The girl crawled out from between the now-corpse thugs, gasping for breath, staggering without support.
"Haa... damn it. To end up like this."
Self-mocking words escaped her lips. Ian steadied her and asked,
"You alright?"
"...Yeah. Thanks."
But her words rang false; she couldn't keep her balance. Barefoot and swaying, she looked perilously fragile.
"Who are you?"
She asked.
"That's what I'd like to know."
"......Can't say."
Ian replied instead.
"Mercenary. Just passing through. Got a destination?"
"Destination..."
The gray-haired woman fell silent for a moment, then clutched her head and continued.
"More than that... I want to hire you. I'll pay."
Ian had no response to her unexpected words. The girl pressed on.
"Protect me... right now......"
Her words trailed off as her body pitched forward. Ian caught her effortlessly. She was lighter than expected. The girl in his arms had already lost consciousness.
"......"
Ian gazed down at her wordlessly.