Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Monarch's Proposal
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It really comes in handy.
Especially when Roze gets all mopey or goes feral from hunger.
Plus, watching her devour anything you give her is satisfying.
I'm thinking of trying Korean food next time.
"Let's grab the rest at the cafeteria. Is class over already?"
"Yeah. They were supposed to have a few more practical spars after Roze... but looking at the mood, I doubt it."
Sahim was right.
After Roze and Darmosa put on such an overwhelming show, the atmosphere had gone completely flat.
With this huge crowd watching, no one else could step up and compare themselves.
Darmosa, quick on the uptake, promptly ended the class.
"You wanted to talk?"
As people dispersed, Orland and Raphael approached again.
"We've got a spot set up. Follow us."
External visitors' stay permits expired today.
I followed Orland Monarch to a nearby meeting room.
The escorts stayed outside, leaving just me, Orland, and Raphael inside.
"Get to the point."
"Don't rush it, bro. We're gone tomorrow anyway."
"I'm not here to chat idly with the Monarch family. Better to say your piece and be done."
The mad dog kept pressing in.
No matter how much I pushed him away, he just grinned and closed the distance, showing no signs of backing off.
'Things were perfect up till now.'
A business relationship.
With the Monarchs, tied by blood, there was a bit more leeway than with outsiders.
I'd been comfortable with that distance so far.
But blood really is thicker than water, it seems.
Even knowing I wasn't the original owner of this body, I couldn't easily shake off the approaching family.
'Might be the memories left in this guy's head...'
The memories vividly etched in Lemon's mind.
They'd been a huge help adapting to this original world.
But the more I delved into them, the deeper I immersed myself.
Beyond mere empathy, I was increasingly confusing them with my own—thinking of them as "me."
"Whatever you think, bro, whatever. Anyway, shall we talk business first?"
Raphael detached a small cylindrical device from his panel and placed it on the table.
A portable projector.
He tapped it, and pre-prepared video footage projected into the air.
"These are the alien-related military weapons our family is prepping. The ones up front are slated for delivery, and what comes next are still in development."
The Monarch family's ventures span many fields.
Their mainstay used to be space pioneering, but aliens wrecked that.
Still, their advanced spaceship manufacturing tech, navigation know-how, and infrastructure remain top-tier.
After that flop, they pivoted to high-end interplanetary shuttles and transports, and it's going great.
'And their military tech ain't bad either.'
The Monarchs' cutting-edge manufacturing isn't just for civilian use.
They build and deliver everything from bird-class destroyers—the smallest frontline warships—to murdoch-class and various special-purpose vessels for the human military.
'But this is a different field altogether.'
What Raphael showed was a departure from the family's core business lines.
Like personal firearms—small-scale military weapons.
Compared to their history of handling big stuff, this felt like a bold gamble.
"You're making these too?"
"It's a money pit. The results don't match what we've poured in."
Raphael griped.
I eyed him, then prodded.
"Showing classified intel like this to an outsider means you're taking responsibility, right?"
"Outsider? To the face of the Monarch family?"
"Bullshit. I wouldn't dream of it."
"Haha. We'll see about that, bro."
I let Raphael's words go in one ear and out the other as I sized them both up.
I knew Orland stayed out of military weapons, so this project was purely Raphael's domain.
Considering his age, it showed how much the family was backing him.
'Anyway...'
Thanks to all my studying lately, I could roughly gauge the quality of the tech in these videos.
I'd need detailed specs for the full picture, but even outside their main field, the level was impressively high.
'They've really put in the work.'
Honestly, it tempted me.
Tech at this level, plus their accumulated research knowledge, would supercharge my Salmon Lab.
No way this guy was aiming for that.
"You've got your eye on the Salmon Lab, huh?"
"Damn, you caught on already?"
"The lab has zero ties to Monarch."
"Really? Even if we hand over all our tech?"
"...What?"
Are they sane?
They'd poured resources into developing this far—it had to be a make-or-break for the family.
Handing it all over?
No matter how massive the Salmon Lab's funding, it paled against what Monarch had invested.
I couldn't help blurting it out.
"What do you want?"
"15% stake in the Salmon Lab."
"...That's it?"
"That's it? What you're researching is a goldmine, bro. We'd be getting the better end."
"Where'd the intel leak?"
"Come on, you think we planted spies? It's a hunch. A hunch from the next head of the Monarchs."
"You lie well."
"Busted? As expected from my bro."
You gotta make sense for me to buy it.
A giant like Monarch doesn't make decisions lightly.
Even if Raphael's the golden boy successor, he can't just do whatever.
Especially not swing a deal this big on his own.
'It could happen. But he'd need solid proof.'
Not 100%, but 70-80% conviction-level info.
And with the lab totally under wraps, a leak would be obvious.
"So? Interested?"
"First, tell me where the intel came from."
"Oh, that."
Raphael grinned slyly, straightening up and glancing at Orland.
She gave a slight nod.
"Pretty much all the funding you're using comes from my family."
"...That alone wouldn't cut it."
"Once you trace the money flow, the rest isn't hard. Watch."
As Raphael explained, I found myself reluctantly convinced.
My knowledge of this world's finance was admittedly lacking.
I made a mental note to study more as I listened closely.
"...And that's how we pieced together what the lab's focusing on. After that, it got easier. Factor in your external activities and extra research materials procurement, and you get pretty close to the truth."
"And Mother handled that process?"
Raphael nodded, then gave me and Orland a weird look.
"...Yeah, but since when do you call Mother 'Mother'?"
"What's odd about it?"
"No, it's just..."
Raphael shook his head.
Originally, Lemon had called his birth mother, Orland Monarch, "Lady Orland."
It wasn't taught that way.
Just a petty rebellion against a mother who'd never paid him much mind.
But over time, it became habit for both.
Now that I used the proper term, it startled them every time.
Then Orland spoke up—maybe thinking we were veering off-topic, or for some other reason.
"Raphael. Enough chit-chat."
"...Got it, Mother."
Her tone dipped just a fraction—too subtle for non-superhumans to catch.
"Anyway, that's how it went."
"Even so, you expect me to believe you're giving all this for just 15%?"
"15% is the opener. We'll throw in our lead researchers too. In exchange, how about 20% with the Mohaim royals?"
"No thanks."
"What a shame."
Now they're openly saying they'll plant spies?
No way.
Sure, even 15% would let them wield influence and leak info anyway.
But openly poaching versus not is a world of difference.
"Of course, we weren't banking on that alone. But your recent moves suggest some are near commercialization already. That automatic combat machine by Fontana Unte, right?"
"You dug that deep?"
"Well..."
He spread his palms like it was no big secret.
At this point, they pretty much knew everything worth knowing.
No real point hiding more.
"Yeah. It's gearing up for field tests. Three models, and we're expecting all three to get adopted with high probability."
"Yes!"
The field test was key.
Internally, we were optimistic based on our own trials.
Hitting real results this fast was largely thanks to Fontana Unte.
Plus, the three main combat machine models were optimized for everything military procurement demanded: combat power, AI compatibility, productivity, material supply ease.
Once approved, production would be smooth sailing.
"20%. I'll throw in all the cash you're wasting on dead ends too, bro."
"Plenty of eager suckers lining up to fund us."
"But you're the boss, carrying the Monarch name. Can't have the Monarchs skimping compared to the Mohaim royals. How about this?"
Raphael pulled out something new.
Stock in memory stick form.
I checked it—Monarcrew Dock Station.
"5%. I'll toss in some board seats too. Audit and HR teams sound good?"
"You prepped this? How?"
"Think of it as my personal stash. But the exchange stake goes to me personally. Got it?"
The tech handover was huge.
But this card was on another level.
Monarcrew Dock Station.
The core company of the Monarch family.
Its influence spans the entire space industry, with a massive workforce.
And crucially, it controls their prized spaceship docks.
Its shares are held exclusively by Monarch main bloodline and Human Alliance departments—no external trading.
Taking this meant recognition as main family blood.
'Not that it matters to me.'
Raphael offered 5% of Monarcrew Dock Station in exchange for equivalent Salmon Lab stake.
Even with the lab's promise, it was an unbelievably generous deal.
Others would call him insane.
Even Orland beside him twitched her eyelid unusually, clearly out of the loop.
"You madman. For real?"
"Nah, I'm perfectly sane."
Ever seen a madman admit he's mad?
"Deal."
"As expected from my bro. Contract first?"
"Leave it. I'll review and send back."
"Cool. Business done. Spill some Academy gossip? I actually wanted to enroll here too."
"As if."
"Why? Superhumans are awesome, right?"
Superhumans are undeniably humanity's heroes in the Alliance.
But think carefully.
Being a superhuman is like a prison without bars.
Dragging you to battlefields for life, no discharge—any perks for a guy like Raphael?
'That's why some hide their powers on purpose. Like that one.'
The last member of the Miracle Generation, absent from the Academy now, came to mind.
I'd cross paths with him eventually.
"Raphael."
"Finally using my name?"
"Cut the crap. You said you'd become family head, right?"
"Of course. It's my seat."
"If you're gonna do it, hurry up."
"Huh? Why?"
My words came out of left field, and Raphael blinked in surprise.