Chapter 405
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 405
Chapter Title: Who's Next?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"...So you finally decided to show up for work?"
"Cut me some slack, senpai. It's not like I wanted to skip out."
"Still, if you were taking sick leave, you should've at least given me a heads-up first."
"Ah, I wanted to, but that researcher guy said he'd handle everything, so just rest up."
Kseniya frowned briefly at Rimon's brazen response.
But in the end, she let out a sigh.
"No helping it if you were sick, but watch yourself, Supervisor Rino. Abuse the sick days too much, and if you don't meet your workload quota, it'll be a problem."
"I know, that's why supervisors exist, right? To prevent that."
And with that, Rimon's return to work wrapped up.
No supervisor was diligent enough to nitpick over a bit of sick leave.
The only one who might complain was the factory manager, tasked with overseeing the plant's output...
"You've finally graced us with your presence? How's the body holding up? Anything you need, just say the word!"
...who welcomed Rimon with more devotion than he'd shown his own hospitalized grandson, leaving the other employees even more impressed.
The real issue was Yekateriche.
"Elshar researcher, about this project..."
"Elshar, lend me a hand!"
"Miss Elshar. The mass production of the special ammo isn't stabilizing. Any ideas?"
As if they'd been waiting just for her.
Yekateriche blinked at the researchers who swarmed her the moment she clocked in.
"Why ask me...?"
It was so absurd—begging a newbie who'd been at the factory less than a month.
The girl forgot her act, slipping into her natural speech.
But the researchers looked more baffled by the question itself than her tone.
"Well..."
"Our research output's been lagging lately, so our quarterly labor points are looking shaky."
"With your help, Elshar researcher, we'd wrap it up in no time."
As if it were the most obvious thing.
Yekateriche tilted her head slightly at their sequential replies.
When she'd heard reports of Aynsha shining as a researcher, she'd chuckled to herself—That's my little sister—and let it slide...
Guess she played the pushover a bit too well.
How effortlessly must she have churned out results for them to request help so casually?
As Yekateriche pondered with a blank expression—
"Plus, we got permission from Supervisor Rimanov."
"Huh? From big bro?"
"Yup. He said your labor points are overflowing anyway, so milk her for all the help you can get."
"..."
The moment she heard that.
Yekateriche whipped her head around.
She narrowed her eyes at Rimon smirking mischievously outside the lab window.
"Hmmm..."
No wonder he'd so boldly demand labor point favors in a state-run arms factory where supervisors glared at you.
Realizing the setup, Yekateriche muttered under her breath.
"Big bro sure knows how to have fun."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
As if to say, If you're imitating Aynsha, handle her workload too.
Yekateriche giggled at Rimon's petty scheme of dumping a workload bomb on her.
He was the first to prank her like this—she, who'd dished out mischief her whole life but never taken it.
He's more fun the more I watch.
She added another 10 points to her fondness for Rimon.
Then—
"Fine, I'll help with the research."
"Oh! Thank you...!"
"But on one condition."
"...Condition?"
The researchers froze mid-celebration.
The girl stated flatly.
"Nothing in this world is free. If you want something, pay the price."
"But you've helped us for free so far?"
"That was the free trial period."
Making it sound like it was written on their foreheads, yet they couldn't voice the objection.
They just asked awkwardly.
"What's the condition?"
"...You've turned this place into a total circus."
Rimon stared in disbelief.
Yekateriche replied with her usual blank face, but laced with unmistakable glee.
"Circus might be a bit harsh."
"If this isn't a circus, what is it?"
"Hmm, let's see."
She pondered a fitting word for a moment.
Then tilted her head slightly, half-questioning.
"A circus?"
"First circus this messed up I've ever seen."
"Skip the nitpicks, big bro. Demanding master-level skills from rookies is too harsh."
"Says the one who turned those rookies into clowns."
"I never forced anyone. I just said I'd help if they entertained me."
"That's worse than forcing them."
Rimon sighed at Yekateriche flashing a devilish, impish smile just for him.
The lab wasn't merely chaotic—it was beyond that.
A young man collapsed mid-Cossack dance.
A woman fainted after popping a balloon animal.
A middle-aged guy got carted off after twisting his back in a contortion act.
It was heartbreaking to see Russia's intellectuals reduced to clowns, fainting left and right.
"Number 7, Yegov researcher—behold my beaker juggling!"
Whirr whirr whirr.
Crash!
"Gah!"
...Another victim added, dropping beakers on his own foot.
"Tch, no dignity. Step aside—I'll show you a real personal talent."
"The chief researcher himself...!"
"Yeah, the one who performed in Vegas back in his youth!"
Perhaps realizing this couldn't go on.
The old researcher, who'd been standing back with hands clasped, stepped forward and pulled out a thick deck of cards.
And the show began.
Shuffle!
The deck danced between his hands—forming long bridges, levitating, piercing through knuckles and palms.
A flashy card show rivaling any magician's.
At the end, he fanned the cards like a peacock.
"Pick a card, any..."
"Trying to palm the sleeved switcheroo?"
"...W-what are you on about?"
"I see every trick. Boring. Practice more."
"..."
Thud!
"Chief! No!"
"Ambulance! Call an ambulance!"
The critique hit too hard.
As the others panicked around the kneeling, unconscious elder—
Yekateriche chuckled briefly before speaking leisurely.
"It was amusing enough, so I'll help out specially."
"O-oh."
"Thank you... so much..."
Her tone implied their antics amused her more than the acts.
But the researchers gratefully accepted, thrilled their sacrifices weren't in vain.
Rimon, however, wore a strange expression.
"Boldly agreeing to help is fine, but you sure you can pull it off?"
"Big bro asks the funniest things."
As if he'd told the world's worst joke.
She dropped her facade and giggled.
Then whispered in his ear, lips brushing close enough only for him.
"—Who do you think I am?"
"..."
The same unflappably confident face as Aynsha.
As the girl boasted that if her sister could do it, so could she—Rimon said nothing more.
Prove it with results, he seemed to say.
He just crossed his arms.
Under Rimon's watchful eye, Yekateriche heard out each request.
Then turned to one researcher.
"Stabilizing the special ammo sounds most fun. Show me the data."
"Data?"
"Research logs, datasets, errors found. Hand over everything, no omissions."
The young female researcher hesitated.
She'd always "coincidentally" solved things before—demanding this now was unexpected.
But no reason to refuse.
She accessed the files from her station.
"This is the data for the special ammo mass-production method we're working on. The basic principle is..."
"Skip the explanation. I'll see for myself."
"Pardon?"
Instead, Yekateriche eyed the monitor.
First, playfully skimming.
Then, with mild interest.
Finally, bored.
She scrolled through rapidly, tapped the keyboard a few times, and hit enter.
Whoosh!
The research data flew across the screen at terrifying speed.
Complex blueprints, jargon-filled theories, photos—hundreds flashed per second.
Dizzying even for high-level players.
But Yekateriche didn't blink.
Her pupils dilated and contracted thousands of times per screen change, absorbing it all.
As the lab supercomputer spewed heat and noise—
"Ah, there it is."
Tap tap tap!
She halted the scroll.
And hammered the keyboard furiously.
"E-Elshar?"
Seeing her not just browsing but rewriting the server-stored files wholesale, the others panicked.
But too late to stop her.
She finished editing, printed it out.
"Here."
"Th-this is...?"
"The monster materials added for mass production were mixing badly. Make it like this instead... should work."
"..."
New production blueprints.
Chemical formula for an improved neutralizer.
Projected performance.
Even profitability-based output analysis.
The hefty documents left them speechless.
Not just grasping volumes that'd take a PhD days to review—in minutes.
Solving a months-old unsolvable issue.
Incredible.
But Yekateriche showed no pride or joy.
Instead, bored.
She yawned lazily.
Turned to the others, casually asked.
"Alright, who's next?"
"Yawn..."
She stretched once.
Then slumped over the desk.
Muttered disappointedly.
"Wasting time on such trivial nonsense. Time is money, after all."
Dismissing the researchers' dedicated efforts outright.
But Rimon didn't call her out.
He'd witnessed it all—they couldn't deny it either.
"...You really went all out."
"Of course my big sis outshines her little sis. Right, big bro?"
"..."
He couldn't refute her playful question.
Aynsha's achievements as a researcher were genius-level, enough to earn acclaim.
But Yekateriche's were on another plane.
The approach alone differed.
Aynsha foresaw and recreated rare coincidences.
Yekateriche relied on no luck.
Just pure logic.
Verify each datum.
Analyze it.
Research.
Revise per theory.
Iterate through trial and error.
Reach optimal solution.
The tedious opposite of Aynsha's direct results.
But Rimon knew.
The Silver Dragon Clan's accumulation of such processes made them rivals to the Gold Dragon Clan, the Seven Dragon Society's strongest.
Aynsha's feats impressed.
Yekateriche's crushed spirits.
The researchers proved it—stunned into despair.
Results matter more than process sometimes.
But not for the Silver Dragons.
They could turn any process into results at will.
"How much time did you sink into proving just that one thing?"
"Who knows?"
Knowing this, Rimon's casual probe made her tilt her head.
Blink.
Tilt the other way.
"I could answer, but mind a request first?"
"Request?"
"Yeah. Can't the big bro who tested me give a little reward to his little sis for acing it with 200 out of 200?"
"...What kind of reward?"
I'll hear it out, arms crossed.
Yekateriche smiled sweetly.
"Take me to the cafeteria and buy me a meal."
"..."
Grrrowl.
Not even bothering to sit up.
Her stomach thundered, yet she grinned from her slouch, making the plea.
Watching Yekateriche, Rimon thought to himself.
Whether the Great White Dragon Emperor and Re-Silver Dragon Saint were truly sisters, one thing was clear: Aynsha and Yekateriche were cut from the same cloth, big sis and little sis through and through.