Errant Mercenary Group
"So you brought her along?"
Captain Roena Cardin asked. Ian Carter had just returned from strapping her to his back. He'd gone to the Errant Mercenary Group's base, the ship Errant. Gazing at the gray-haired woman lying on the bed in the cabin, he replied.
"Yeah."
"Is she okay...?"
"No unusual signs. She's just unconscious."
"By the way, she said she'd pay? She doesn't look like she has a single credit to her name."
The blond boy, Luca, remarked as he eyed her ragged appearance. Her clothes didn't fit properly, threatening to expose everything inside, and the baseball jacket was so worn that threads were bursting out.
"That's what she said."
"So, is she some rich girl who got kidnapped?"
The brown-haired Marco Diego offered a plausible guess. But the red-haired woman, Seriana Lawrence, shook her head.
"No recent kidnapping requests. If it was a kidnapping, we'd have gotten the job right away."
"Then what...? Ian-hyung, you didn't get scammed, did you?"
"...Even without a request, I wasn't going to just walk by."
Ian spoke curtly, looking at Marco.
"Exactly, money isn't everything! Ian saved a person. Good work."
"Money matters, but I get what Captain sis means. Good job, Ian-hyung."
Luca winked at Ian.
"Anyway, we should get her some clothes, right?"
Seriana said, glancing at the rags that were barely clothes.
"It's late now, so let's grab some in the morning."
"Something that fits..."
Chatting among themselves, they naturally filed out of the cabin. Left alone in the space, she slept on.
Lean sank back into a deep dream. It was the same place as before.
Ah, another dream.
In the dream, he was in his old body—short silver hair, blue eyes, a honed male physique.
"...I passed out again."
There she was, far off. Lean approached immediately. For some reason, he felt connected to her.
She looks similar.
She resembled his changed body. This dream couldn't be coincidence.
But unlike last time, her eyes were closed, and he couldn't reach her.
"Hey! Got nothing to say to me?"
He called out for ages, but her eyes never opened. Pacing over the corpses and machine graveyard, he awoke.
Slowly opening his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling. His clothes were still rags, but he lay on a soft bed. His last memory surfaced.
He protected me. Good.
He didn't know who the man was. No clear name or face. Just that he was a mercenary. Mercenaries chased money as a rule. As long as he paid, it was safe.
As an Imperial Guard, top performer in the Golden Dragon Unit, he'd amassed plenty of wealth.
Just find my account.
Lean quietly sat up. A boy beside him spoke.
Blond with blue eyes—a pretty boy.
"Oh, you're awake? You okay?"
Lean asked right away.
"His teammate?"
"If you mean Ian-hyung, yeah."
"Where am I?"
"Our merc ship's."
"I see. Then... leave me for a bit."
The boy blinked his blue eyes, puzzled by the sudden request.
"You... what?"
"Need to think. Get out."
Luca thought she was odd. Few would command a stranger like that without introductions. He could have just left, but spite kicked in.
"You think you're in a position to say that?"
"Why not? I hired him through you. This much is fair."
Luca looked her up and down in disbelief.
"You got the fee?"
"...This getup caused a misunderstanding. I have plenty."
"...How much? What're you paying?"
"Ten million bel."
The girl said it dead serious.
Suddenly shows up offering ten million bel?
Luca decided fast. Anyone carrying themselves so nobly in this state had backing—and wasn't lying.
"—I'll head out!"
"Kuku, quick on the uptake."
With the intruder gone, Lean pondered again. He'd planned to contact the Imperial Guard. They had secret rendezvous everywhere. But his body was worse off than expected.
"Prosthetic adaptation first."
He flexed his hand, gauging.
"Should be fully adapted by tomorrow..."
The shrunken body and lost manhood still felt empty, but nothing to be done.
Get the body straight, return to the Guard. Explain, and they'll fix this.
He slipped off the bed. Spaceship cabin: sleek metal walls, surprisingly tidy furniture. A mirror too.
Standing before it, he shed the baseball jacket and inspected.
"Definitely a prosthetic..."
The skin was soft. No mechanical feel. Face: mouth, nose, eyes—all human-like. Arms, legs, joints—no seams.
"Just like a real person."
This era of interstellar expansion and planetary conquest naturally pursued body replacement tech. Partial prosthetics for lost limbs or combat upgrades, organ swaps, neural aids.
Even then, cutting-edge: full-body prosthetics. Replacing everything but the central nervous system—a forbidden procedure.
Favila got full-body tech.
Two types: daily prosthetics for lifestyle, used by nobles chasing immortality. And full-armor prosthetics for pure combat—inhuman.
"And I'm trapped in a daily one."
Its goal: indistinguishability from human. Top-tier tech here.
He swung limbs.
Joints fine. Sense of touch... sharper, even.
Short limbs still felt off, but time would fix it.
Knock knock. A strange male voice from beyond the door.
"Can I come in? Miss?"
Miss? Ridiculous.
He donned the jacket and sat on the bed.
"Tch, come in."
More people this time. They entered one by one; the apparent leader started introductions. Pointing to herself, the purple-haired woman said:
"I'm Roena Cardin. Captain of this ship and leader of the mercenary group."
Turning, she pointed: brown-haired youth, the blond boy, redhead woman, black-haired savior.
"In order: Marco Diego, Luca, Seriana Lawrence, Ian Carter."
"Scavengers, huh?"
Those roaming space for bounties, wars, jobs. Derisively called scavengers.
"Ahem. Scavengers!"
Didn't matter. He'd leave soon.
He started to give his name.
"I'm Leah—"
And stopped. He was famous. Imperial Guard hero across battlefields—plenty of enemies. Revealing his real name here was idiotic.
"Leah."
"Leah, huh! Mind if I ask what happened?"
Roena asked carefully.
Her pity irked him faintly.
No sympathy needed.
"First: I'm no fragile flower. Drop the kid gloves. And I can't say."
"Ah, uh. Right. Got it."
Roena faltered at the unexpected response. Lean pressed on.
"I hired Ian. Thanks for the protection. But I have places to be. Can you drop me in the city center? I'll pay then."
"Hehe. Just like Luca said—quite the character."
Seriana chimed in. Sultry voice. Striking face, eyepatch over one eye.
"Same vibe in the alley."
Roena replied.
"Sure, Leah. But first, eat. Change clothes! Who knows what trouble that outfit brings."
The coddling grated, but she was right. Overloaded, he lacked full strength.
...And his stomach growled. Some mechanism...
"Fine. Roena."
"Good you're recovering. Here's clothes to change into. Shower?"
They left. He eyed the clothes: baggy jeans, white hoodie.
"Better than nothing."
Gender-neutral. Battlefield vet—no issue with women's clothes for missions. Still, mild aversion.
Underwear was the problem. Bra and panties.
"Hah..."
He swallowed a sigh at his plight.
No time for luxury.
Plain ones, no frills.
"Shower time."
He steeled himself and entered the corner shower.
It took longer than expected.
"So, what do you think?"
"Checked again—no kidnapping jobs or related activity."
"Not ordinary, though. Weak strength, but trained in martial arts."
"Ah~ The thugs she beat."
Roena, slicing meat into bubbling tomato soup, continued.
"So what is she?"
Luca took over, washing veggies.
"Org member or test subject. One or the other."
"Test subject?"
"Yeah. Frontier planet—lots of shady experiments."
Marco perked up at Luca's words.
"Wasn't there a huge explosion lately?"
"The A-3 crater incident?"
"Yeah! Rumors it was a Favila secret base."
Roena paused stirring.
"Then... awful experiments..."
"No no! Just a guess. Why so worked up, sis?"
"R... right?"
"Yeah, don't overreact~."
"Captain worries too much. Didn't you see her face? Cool as ice."
"True. Not our business. Org or subject."
The door opened; Leah emerged. Freshly changed, hair ends damp from half-drying. Dirt gone, her beauty shone even in plain clothes.
All stunned; Roena smiled.
"All clean? Come eat."
Table: tomato soup, veggie salad. Tomato stirred—chunks of meat inside. He scooped meat, tasted. Fluffy texture, tangy tomato burst.
Relief inside: taste implemented. Sharper than before.
Salad bite: crisp freshness chased the tang. He focused on eating.
Her tension eased to calm; they noticed and dug in.
"Taste good?"
Munching with his small mouth, he said.
"Munch munch—delicious. You've got talent."
No flattery.
"Hahaha, thanks, Leah."
Seriana beside him.
"Why not dry your hair fully?"
He brushed damp strands.
"Tried. Too long—took forever. Annoying, so I came out."
"Still, dry it properly. Ruins the ends~."
"I'll handle it."
He finished the soup. Silent meal resumed. Quite satisfying.