Chapter 394
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 394
Chapter Title: What More Could We Do?
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Trrring.
My ears were ringing.
The blaring alarm clock noise.
I fumbled around for what felt like forever, stretching out my arm to shut it off.
Finally silencing the racket and reclaiming some peace, but there was no chance to catch even a wink more of sleep.
I staggered out of bed and flicked on the TV.
Beep.
[News on yesterday's incident.]
[At XX:XX on XX day, during the welcoming ceremony, there was an assassination attempt on the Great Khan. It's believed the Liberation Brigade is behind it, right?]
[Yes. The Great Khan expressed deep regret but showed mercy by personally capturing the shooter alive.]
[A truly compassionate decision.]
[Indeed. However, some are saying the Khan's leniency is encouraging the rebels' recklessness and calling for stricter punishments...]
Beep.
I switched channels.
Soothing music flowed instead of the news.
With my mind finally at ease, I showered, then filled my stomach with kasha—oatmeal boiled in milk mixed with jam.
I slipped into one of the half-dozen identically pressed suits hanging stiffly in the closet and headed out.
Vroom, vroom.
The engine roared to life.
The Russiakan Khanate's pride and joy, the national car VAS, started smoothly, living up to its reputation.
Compared to my father's generation, where it stalled once every three starts, or my grandfather's, where the engine exploded once every hundred, this was remarkable progress.
But it still wasn't satisfying.
Ahead, behind, to the sides.
Just slight variations in paint or model at best.
Snow poured down relentlessly, and seeing the road lined with identical VAS vehicles made me sigh.
'Why does every VAS look so damn similar? A little design effort could double how good they are.'
Bump, bump.
'...Well, still better than that.'
My complaints were short-lived.
Seeing the rickety bus crammed full of people crawling along filled me with pity and relief.
If I weren't a second-class citizen, I'd be riding public transport like them, making an already tough life even harder without even a personal car.
As usual, with mixed feelings, I drove to my destination: a building emblazoned with a silver dragon emblem.
It was one of the largest factories in Moscow's industrial district.
"Oh, good morning, Miss Kseniya."
"...Mr. Bachmensky. You look healthy as ever today."
"What am I if not healthy? Otherwise, I'd be a corpse! Haha!"
The moment I parked.
The man who pulled in next to me in his foreign luxury car greeted me, and I forced a smile.
It was a greeting anyone could see was perfunctory.
But just my replying seemed to delight him.
Bachmensky continued chatting with a beaming grin.
"Did you catch the welcoming ceremony yesterday, Miss Kseniya?"
"No, I had work left over and couldn't make it."
"What a shame. Everyone's saying it was bigger than the Great Khan's birthday celebration."
'Meaning it offered more labor points than the Khan's birthday event.'
I muttered inwardly.
Citizens of the Russiakan Khanate, perpetually chased by labor quotas, wouldn't voluntarily attend an event—especially for that terrifying dictator's welcome—unless massive labor points were rewarded.
Of course, Bachmensky could afford it.
As a first-class citizen thanks to his well-connected parents, he had surplus points and time.
Driving a foreign car at his young age was a luxury beyond a second-class citizen like me.
That was exactly why I could never like him.
But oblivious to my feelings, he gossiped on.
"By the way, did you hear?"
"If it's about the assassination during yesterday's ceremony, I saw it on the news."
"No, the message from the factory manager this morning. He called you and me in right away."
"...You could've led with that instead of the chit-chat."
He's the kind of guy who's really hard to like.
I sighed repeatedly but didn't blame him.
Even if low blood pressure made mornings rough, checking messages was my responsibility.
Thanks to him, at least I avoided ignoring the boss's summons.
'Wonder what it's about first thing? Sudden extra orders?'
'That'd mean more overtime... Fine for me, but it might overburden the others.'
Worried, I headed to the factory manager's office with Bachmensky.
But the white-haired manager's reason for calling us was completely unexpected.
"Come in. I called you two to handle new hire training."
"New hire... training, sir?"
"That's right."
"What are you talking about out of nowhere? When did we hire new people?"
"Well, we're short-staffed these days, aren't we? I specially recruited some talented folks, so take good care of them."
Kseniya and even Bachmensky couldn't hide their bewilderment at the abrupt announcement.
Staff shortages were chronic, but suddenly filling them—and assigning training to them?
It made no sense.
Before they could question it, though, they soon met the new hires the manager introduced.
"Nice to meet you. Name's Rimanoff Kosikin. Call me Rino for short."
Was this a new hire?
Or a new boss?
A white-haired young man with an attitude so cocky it was impossible to tell, and...
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Rino's wife."
Pinch.
"...Rino, my cheek hurts."
"Don't do things that deserve a pinch, then. Anyway, that was a joke—just now. This is my little sister, Elshar Kosikin. Nice to meet you."
"If possible, I'd prefer sister-in-law over little sister..."
A white-haired girl, face hidden behind sunglasses and a mask, mumbling as her cheek was pinched, expressionless.
Thus began the bizarre entry of these highly suspicious siblings as a new supervisor and researcher at the Moscow State Armaments Factory.
'Parachute hires again?'
The initial shock from the sudden hires faded as Kseniya pieced it together.
Unless someone pulled strings, the manager wouldn't shuffle personnel like this.
Like Bachmensky, some higher-up must have forced them in.
The Moscow State Armaments Factory, developing and producing advanced weaponry, was a sweet gig with decent labor points.
Honestly, she couldn't stand parachute hires.
But work was work.
Kseniya did her best to train the newbies.
At first, anyway.
"Hmm, so basically, just work the staff hard?"
"Some think that, but no. A supervisor's job is managing staff properly to maximize efficiency."
"That's just cracking the whip on the lazy ones, right? Carrot with labor points for the good workers."
"How the hell did you become a supervisor...?"
Kseniya was dumbfounded.
Even parachutes needed basics.
But this white-haired guy named Rino lacked even common sense.
She had it better, though.
Bachmensky, stuck with the sister, was losing his mind.
"Researcher Elshar, could you repeat your major from earlier...?"
"None."
"Ah, um, so you didn't specialize and studied a bit of everything?"
"Didn't study. Know nothing about weapons. So teach from basics."
"......"
...Even Kseniya, who normally disliked Bachmensky, felt deep sympathy.
This deepened her suspicions.
Even by parachute standards, these two were absurd.
But she didn't know.
A bluebird was watching her watchful gaze intently.
[Hey, Team Leader. You really think this'll work?]
"Infiltration's basics of investigation, isn't it?"
[Basics or not, I never saw you do undercover work back at the PAB.]
"Never needed to back then."
[Fair, but still...]
Yuna Kyung scratched her head with a wing.
Back at PAB.
Director Kang Jeongsu made great use of Rimon.
Whenever a high-level player needed suppressing, Rimon was first dispatched.
To recoup deficits from his casual building-wrecking with labor, a simple, efficient method.
PAB's high clearance rate with few staff was thanks to him.
But Rimon worked 24/7, no time for undercover ops.
That was why.
Yuna Kyung couldn't shake her doubts.
[For undercover, shouldn't it be more subtle? Acting this blatant now makes anyone suspicious.]
"That's the point."
[Huh? Why?]
"Stir the grass, and snakes come out."
[...You're deliberately acting suspicious to provoke the Liberation Brigade?]
"Precisely the revolutionaries, not the Brigade. Suspicious activity nearby, and they'll react—even if not directly."
Rimon pointed out coolly.
Like a thief's guilty feet, revolutionaries would be sensitive to local stirrings.
Whether probing back or growing wary.
He was confident he'd spot any odd reactions.
But Yuna Kyung looked skeptical.
[Sounds good, but what if it doesn't pan out?]
"No choice. No reliable intel or time for textbook investigation."
Grass-stirring doesn't always flush snakes.
If they hid reactions perfectly, it might backfire.
Especially given the revolutionaries' evasion of Russiakan surveillance.
Still, Rimon just shrugged.
Plan in motion, no turning back—and with shaky trust in Yekateriche, no alternatives.
Above all, he had a clear reason for undercover.
"The sniper rifle and special rounds from yesterday's hit were made here. Dig right, and we'll find clues."
[But tailing the top suspects via training excuse is too obvious.]
"Better that way. More pressure on them means more mistakes."
[Hmm, maybe.]
As Yuna Kyung reluctantly nodded.
Ainsha, listening beside, clenched her fist and said flatly.
"Got it. I'll act even more suspicious."
"...What more could you possibly do?"
[She's already so suspicious she hasn't been fired despite everything...]
Hearing that.
Rimon and Yuna Kyung grimaced.
Not just Ainsha's sunglass-and-mask getup.
Her track record alone was beyond "suspicious"—unsalvageable.
How many incidents at the Moscow State Armaments Factory?
Bachmensky's screams as her mentor said it all.
"Researcher Elshar! You can't plug that there!"
"No problem. Hole matches size perfectly. Fits right in. My eyes are accurate."
"It's not the size—the voltage is...!"
Bzzzzt! Boom!
"Aaaah! The plasma injector we just bought for 300 million rubles this year!!!"
"...Not my fault. Machine's defective."