Chapter 392: The Joyful Laboratory (1)
Chapter 392: The Joyful Laboratory (1)
There is one thing I learned from that godforsaken Siberian Front.
No matter how bleak the future looks, and even if you know the endless battles will continue, you have to unwind the mainspring and rest when the time comes.
While it’s true that you’ll die if you don’t stay tense on the battlefield, the mental exhaustion caused by constant tension also leads to death.
It was true that I needed to catch the runaway scientist duo as soon as possible to stop their nonsense.
But honestly, I don’t have some convenient ability that lets me pinpoint a target’s exact location just by thinking of them. How was I supposed to catch guys who had escaped through the sewers?
Therefore, I decided to do what I could.
Without revealing their identities, I sent information to the Management Bureau about the appearance of such dangerous entities and requested an emergency wanted notice.
And though it would take a while for him to arrive, I called someone reliable to help gather information.
Calavera.
A man who knew the underground and a necromancer who could definitely extort information if the conditions were right.
I had originally set foot on American soil to see his face anyway, but I never imagined we’d meet like this.
I had planned to just have a meal with him in my spare time and chat about how the world was going, but to see him again under these circumstances...
Well, we haven't actually met face-to-face yet, but we will soon.
Since Calavera is a busy man, I was worried about when he’d be available, but once I explained the situation, he realized the severity and said he’d come as quickly as possible. I’ll be seeing him shortly.
In any case, this meant it would take some time for Calavera to reach the laboratory, and until then, it was my day off.
I tried to enjoy this sudden holiday, but a slight problem arose.
“I have nothing to do.”
“That’s the twentieth time I’ve heard that today. Poyo.”
Twenty times, whatever. Who cares?
“It’s because I really have nothing to do.”
I was even getting sick of lounging on the sofa or the bed.
“Then why don’t you watch a movie like me? Poyo.”
Our piece of gray trash said as he held up the tablet he was clutching.
Just as that idiot said, some flashy movie was playing on the tablet.
Probably one of those cliché movies where a Hero gains power and defeats a powerful enemy.
…But since we are those Heroes, what’s the point of watching that?
Is it because he’s a mascot pig and not a Hero himself that our sensibilities are different?
Whatever.
“There’s nothing I particularly want to watch.”
“If you keep looking, won’t something interesting pop up? Poyo.”
Un-ho’s words were logically sound, but did I really have to go that far just to watch a movie?
Thinking that, I didn’t feel like following his suggestion.
Besides, there was something I’d been curious about for a few days now. Since Un-ho was here, I might as well ask.
“Forget the movie. I want to ask you something.”
“What is it? Poyo. It’s the climax right now, so make it quick.”
Drop dead.
Flick.
Irritated by Un-ho’s attitude, I immediately summoned a steel marble and flicked it with my finger, piercing through Un-ho’s tablet.
Well, technically it was the laboratory’s property since Un-ho had borrowed it from their welfare equipment, but anyway.
“…Oh, the protagonist’s head just flew off suddenly. Poyo.”
Looks like it hit him right in the noggin.
Wait, the device still works even with a hole in it?
Science these days is truly amazing.
“The protagonist’s head flew off and he’s dead, so the movie’s over. Anyway, why is your fur gray?”
Yes, Un-ho’s fur was currently gray.
When I saw him a few days ago, I didn’t pay much attention, thinking he’d just been rolling around in a gutter, but seeing as his original color hadn't returned after several days, it seemed something was wrong.
“It turned this way after I took the medicine the scientists gave me. Poyo. Well, it’ll probably get better if I leave it alone.”
Having said that, Un-ho kept his eyes fixed on the perforated tablet.
Since getting a new tablet was a hassle, he seemed intent on continuing to watch the headless protagonist.
Anyway, medicine, huh?
He had been dragged away by the researchers under the pretext of being a rare specimen.
I suppose that fur color was the result of animal testing.
Even if he was experimented on, no one in the laboratory would be crazy enough to ruin a Hero’s mascot. Besides, Un-ho himself wasn't complaining, and his body was incredibly tough, so I didn't need to worry about his well-being.
I wondered if that fur color would ever return, though.
He seemed to believe it would, but… hmm.
Well, not my problem.
If all else fails, I can just bundle him up and toss him into a bucket of paint to turn him white again.
Regardless of Un-ho’s fur.
“I have nothing to do.”
“That’s the thirtieth time today. Poyo.”
Don’t lie, you gray pig. It’s the twenty-first.
It hasn't even been a few minutes, and he’s already inflated the number by ten.
Inferring from this, this might actually only be the third time.
As I was lounging around with such useless thoughts.
“Whew… Then why don’t you do what you usually do? Scream ‘I don’t have money for gacha!’ and run out of the house to go bounty hunting? Poyo.”
Un-ho let out a sigh and made that suggestion.
Along with a healthy dose of slander against me.
When did I ever say such a thing?
Sure, there was that one time I ran out of the house because I didn't have money for in-game purchases, beat up the first guy I saw, and then used the deposited reward money to pay for them.
And I might have thrown my phone out the window while shouting, ‘I’m quitting this trash game!’
But I have no memory of running wild while shouting such blatantly desperate desires.
And there was one more problem.
“I do Free Subjugations for the sake of regional peace, okay?”
Where else would you find such a diligent Hero who works hard to take down enemies even when he isn't short on cash? How could he slander me like that?
“Yes, yes. Of course. You protect regional peace and get paid. You do both, zZSupremeMage45Zz.”
“I don’t use that kind of nickname anymore.”
People treat me like an Old Man just because I used a nickname like that once. It’s enough to make a man sorrowful.
Plus, I didn't like the number either.
Apparently, the nickname was so common I had to go all the way to 45 to use it. Where in the world are there forty-five 'Supreme Mages'?
These days, I use a more romantic nickname, like ‘Hammer Forged by Starlight.’
And really, I don’t do Free Subjugations just for the money.
Of course, when I’m short on cash, I do it for the money, but the ultimate goal is to protect regional peace as a Hero.
So, I could fly to a nearby city and smash the heads of everything in sight to earn some decent dollars, just as Un-ho suggested, but...
“Anyway, I can’t even do that. I don’t have my subjugation terminal right now.”
“Why not? Poyo.”
Why do you think?
“A-bin took it away, telling me to get some rest. She said the world would keep spinning just fine without me.”
Just as Un-ho said, I had intended to go out for Free Subjugations from the very first day, but A-bin suddenly stepped in and snatched the terminal away.
And then she nagged me for a while…
Honestly, I don’t remember a single word she said.
She was chirping about something, but I treated her voice as background noise and the television as the resonance of truth. I only let terribly unfunny American-style comedies into my ears, like: ‘Why didn’t the chicken cross the road? Because it was a chicken.’
Wait, thinking about it now, that joke is actually pretty good.
A play on words where a chicken is a coward.
I should use that sometime.
After stuffing the chicken joke into an important folder in my mind, I tried my best to recall A-bin’s words.
‘What goes up but never comes down? Taxes and my age.’
‘If you throw butter into the sky, it spreads its wings. Because it’s a butter-fly.’
As I struggled, only jokes that got better the more I chewed on them came to mind.
Finally, I managed to break through the mountain of humor and recall Han A-bin’s words.
‘That’s a sickness. Please get some rest. This isn’t even our house.’
I remembered Han A-bin saying something like that.
Hmm. A sickness, huh?
Is that how it looks to others?
I thought I was unwinding the mainspring and resting quite well, but I guess it didn't look that way to A-bin.
Of course, it was highly likely just A-bin’s prejudice.
At the very least, it seemed I needed to find some other hobby for now.
I was patrolling the valley—the terrorists' base—twice a day, right after waking up and right before bed, but other than that, if I just rolled around on the sofa and bed doing nothing, I’d just be a total bum.
Normally I’d play games, but unfortunately, it seemed communication was blocked in this laboratory unless it was through a designated device.
No single-player games, no Free Subjugations, and there was a limit to how much I could lounge on the sofa and bed.
“…I should go find a hobby.”
With that thought, I left the room, leaving Un-ho behind to watch his movie on The Hole-ridden tablet.
* * *
“Get out.”
I was kicked out.
How did it come to this?
I was just walking along and saw them doing an experiment that looked interesting, so I offered to help.
At first, they certainly welcomed my participation.
It was a prototype of an All-Terrain Vehicle, built with a massive budget and new technology.
Since it was intended to be used as a standard vehicle for the Defense Force, stability and sturdiness were paramount. They needed to perform durability tests, but they hadn't been able to do anything rigorous because they lacked a test driver.
So, I, who wouldn't die no matter what happened to me, boarded the prototype and drove it. In the beginning, everything went smoothly and amicably.
But then, for some reason, in less than five minutes, the prototype they had poured so much of their budget into exploded and vanished.
No, seriously, what happened?
Why did a car that was supposedly guaranteed to be safe explode in five minutes and disappear into a rift in dimensions?
And that didn't just happen once.
When the first incident occurred, the researchers' faces froze, but they soon cheered up, saying they had obtained rare data.
The problem was what happened next.
The second prototype was a motorcycle.
Less than four minutes after I mounted it, the wheels detached. The motorcycle, having lost control while accelerating at extreme speeds, slammed into the laboratory wall and exploded.
From that point on, the researchers' expressions began to sour.
The third prototype was a Walking Assist Suit.
It was a device meant to protect the feet during marches or rapid maneuvers, though I questioned if it could even be called a vehicle anymore.
They insisted it was a vehicle because you "boarded" it, avoiding my gaze as they spoke.
Looking at it, it seemed like something they had built by using the budget however they pleased.
No matter how much it was a military walking suit, there was no way a sane person would equip it with laser weapons or holographic wheels.
Furthermore, the adjustment range was wide enough to fit my body?
No matter how you looked at it, no idiot would adopt such an ultra-high-performance suit for military use.
The researchers had conspired to use the budget for their own hobbies.
Well, embezzlement aside, I personally liked the item.
Isn't romance essentially the pursuit of inefficiency?
A device that could fire lasers from its legs and use wheels to move quickly in an emergency.
I never thought it would manifest in the worst possible way.
The wheels, accelerating rapidly, got caught on the wreckage of the motorcycle that had exploded earlier, causing me to dance in mid-air.
The suit, suspended in the air, malfunctioned in some way and began firing laser guns in all directions.
The laser guns, possessing an overwhelming firepower far too great for personal use, turned the entire laboratory into a wasteland.
The experimental team, who had completely lost their minds, kicked me out. That was the whole story of this incident.
No, really. I can understand the progression of events.
Since such a catastrophe happened as soon as I joined, it was only natural for them to view me as a God of Misfortune.
But if you think about it, wasn't it ultimately their fault?
How does a military car explode in five minutes, a military motorcycle wheel fall off in four minutes, and a weapon attached to a suit fire on its own?
The wheels… let’s just call that a design flaw.
Wasn't everything else the result of their poor craftsmanship?
To pin that on me... it’s just absurd.
I blamed the researchers in my heart as I loitered in the hallway.
Soon, I found another interesting research team and joined them.
* * *
“Master! I’ve been hearing rumors around the laboratory that you’re a ‘Budget Breaker.’ Did something happen?”
“It’s nothing.”
Yeah. It’s nothing.
…No, seriously, it wasn't my fault.