Kikiwai Island: Subtropical Paradise Four Hours South from Great Huuriten

Four hours south from Great Huuriten by airship lay the subtropical paradise of Kikiwai Island. There were several reasons why the board of directors had pushed so hard to establish a multidimensional branch outpost here among Huuriten's many overseas territories.

Kikiwai was home to a large population ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of wealthy retirees, who deposited massive sums in the island's local banks to secure residency rights. The board anticipated that advancing into Kikiwai would steal away those affluent clients from the regional banks—that was the first reason an outpost had been built here.

The second was that Kikiwai was a special district for research and development in dimensional travel technology. Close to the equator, it experienced minimal interference from dimensional force fields, making jumps safer and easier than on the mainland. Looser financial regulations were just icing on the cake. Since this wasn't solely beneficial to the bank, headquarters executives had little trouble convincing Kikiwai's local leaders and influential figures in politics and business.

Once the outpost was established, floods of foreign currency would pour in from dimensions where Dimensional Credit Vault had never set foot before. No matter how tightly intertwined Kikiwai's autonomous council was with the local banks, they couldn't resist such temptation. Even those who had opposed mainland banks encroaching on the island changed their tune once they saw the massive expected tax revenue, ultimately supporting the outpost's arrival.

Thus, the establishment of an outpost on the dreamlike island of Kikiwai was underpinned by very pragmatic calculations. Just like Disneyland couldn't run without money, dreams and fantasies were always sustained by mountains of cash.

The bus announcement yanked me out of my own little world and back to reality. Miraculously on time, I was riding the bus toward the outpost. Yesterday's hangover still lingered, making my head throb. The constant jolting made me want to puke, but I held it in.

Branch Manager Elama had said HQ would provide each outpost staffer with a company car, but how long would I have to wait? I'd applied for an interdimensional license ages ago, one that worked across dimensions for driving. Man, I could really use my own ride soon. Throw on an aloha shirt, top down... perfect.

"Urk."

They say to look at the horizon when you're carsick. I turned my head, and through the window loomed the massive dormant volcano, Diamond Pearl Head. Its white rocks, pink soil, and vast crater were the iconic symbol of Kikiwai Island. Sparkling under the sunlight, it looked like a crown studded with jewels.

Me, who'd never even climbed the hill behind my neighborhood, let alone a volcano, witnessing this? Hallasan back on Jeju was nothing compared to this jaw-dropping spectacle. My chest swelled so grandly I thought my ribs might crack.

"Is this paradise or what?"

It suddenly hit me: the place where I worked was one of Great Huuriten's top tourist spots. With its warm climate and daily refreshing sea breezes, this southern paradise had a charm utterly unlike Podoks City or Linden. Even without factoring in how multidimensional outposts were a fast track to promotion, plenty of bankers would envy a stint here.

"If only there weren't all the faction bullshit..."

But what good was pretty scenery? My workplace was ground zero for interdepartmental politics.

"Aigoo."

Tragedies look tragic up close, comedies from afar—that saying fit perfectly. Soon we'd be locked in another round of mind games as the three of them went at it, and I'd have to watch from the sidelines. My head already ached thinking about it. I just hoped the opening day wouldn't turn into hell's gate.

-Beep.

Lost in worries, the bus reached my stop. For now, I had to avoid screwing up at the plaque unveiling so no one could nitpick.

"Make it through today unscathed..."

Muttering a little prayer, I reverently tagged my transit card.

* * *

The outpost buzzed with more activity than I'd imagined ahead of the plaque ceremony. After finishing sound checks and such, I helped security guide guests inside and out while the catering crew set up tables on the beach.

Deputy Manager Bishuti had claimed yesterday he'd solve the parking issue, and I was curious what trick he had up his sleeve. Thankfully, it wasn't hot air. He'd airlifted in a special hangar owned by guE back on the mainland. Beyond the metal shutter lay a subsapce plenty big enough for VIP vehicles from the mainland and Kikiwai.

"That's military-grade stuff. Where the hell did he even get it...?"

Isaac stared at the subsapce hangar, mumbling in disbelief.

"Think about what guE faction is, and the source is obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you later if there's time."

Once all the invitees were seated, the emcee took the stage and kicked off the event.

"We will now commence the plaque unveiling ceremony for the Dimensional Credit Vault Kikiwai Multidimensional Outpost. Please stand and face the national flag on the podium."

The ceremony began. After the pledge of allegiance, the orchestra accompanied as everyone sang the two national anthems.

"Bless Huuriten with the gifts of industry. That city shall prosper through trade. Rule, Huuritenia. Rule the dimensions—"

"Kikiwai, my rock. Great pillar, the port opened in the age of need. True chiefs and descendants shall not waver—"

I faked singing along since I didn't know the words, scanning the attendees' faces instead. Fitting for a strategically vital outpost, the guest list was stacked: Dimensional Credit Vault's top brass, led by the multidimensional HQ chief; business leaders like the general manager of The Larryert Kikiwai, where Isaac and I had eaten yesterday; and even the heads of Kikiwai's autonomous council's two major parties.

"...It's like a who's who."

"All familiar faces, huh."

No wonder he'd memorized the roster faster than me—turns out they were his dad's connections.

After the commemorative tree planting and ribbon-cutting, we escorted the VIPs on a tour of the building. As I'd noticed yesterday, the outpost was several times larger than a standard one, with as many teller windows as any other branch.

Come to think of it, there'd only been one teller consultant visible yesterday. Were they short-staffed for the counters? Would support come from other branches?

We were guiding guests from the interior tour to the outdoor tables laden with food when Isaac suddenly approached with a grave expression.

"Kim Jian."

"Yeah?"

"What the hell is that guy doing?"

"......"

I looked where he pointed and froze in shock. Branch Manager Elama, whom we'd been hunting for with no sign, was chatting amiably with native Kikiwai assembly members.

Networking with politicians was par for the course for an outpost manager. The problem? He looked nothing like the man from yesterday.

"It's an honor to meet assembly members who work tirelessly to protect Kikiwai's democracy. Meeting you two in my grandmother's homeland must be fate arranged by the island's mother herself."

Elama emoted with reddened eyes. His hairstyle matched the two party leaders perfectly: traditional native Kikiwai style with the back twisted up and sides shaved short. Not only had his skin turned a light brown, but he'd even added traditional tattoos on his hands and neck—anyone would peg him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as mixed native.

"The boss's hair grew out."

"Anyone can see it's a wig, you idiot."

Even if he wanted to impress political heavyweights, selling out his grandma like that? Ruthless.

"Dunno if it'll even work, though."

"If it didn't, he wouldn't go that far."

Isaac stated flatly, nodding subtly toward the assembly members. Somehow, their wives dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs while the party heads conversed in choked voices.

"...Maybe I should pick up a few wigs myself."

No, what the hell was I saying? For a second there, Elama's madness had nearly infected me. The thought of working under that guy felt utterly daunting. How had it come to this?

I'd heard guC and guE were factions full of crazies, but seeing Elama made guD seem no slouch either.

"At least everyone gathered here at the outpost is dead serious..."

Isaac muttered, quietly glancing at non-flame Bishuti and ectopl Razma. Each was huddled with their faction's executives, deep in discussion. Bishuti and the guE bankers surrounding him exuded an ominous aura. Their precise movements—even picking at finger foods—were razor-sharp, eyes locked on Razma and the guC crew, with a palpable murderous intent.

"What do you think of them?"

I asked, eyeing the guE bankers with their slicked-back pompadours and muscular, solid builds.

"Diverse races, but strict hierarchy, uniform attire, disciplined behavior. Ex-military?"

What? I hadn't said that yet.

"Spot on. Most guE bankers are veterans from battlefields or mercenaries."

I tried not to show my admiration for Isaac's insight.

"Soldiers turned bankers."

"Erasmus Fairy Bank roots trace back to a cooperative founded by soldiers. Long ago, its credit division spun off into a full banking corporation."

"That explains why retirees formed its core."

Cooperatives aim to boost member welfare. Staffing mostly ex-soldiers made their shift to banking natural. I'd heard HQ staff bowed deeply to those missing limbs or eyes because they were likely guE heavyweights—survivors who'd crossed death lines, revered reverse-turn heroes. guE boasted the strongest bonds and combined service years for rapid post-entry promotions.

But guE's danger couldn't be summed up that simply.

"Ever hear Erasmus Fairy Bank's old nickname?"

"No."

"Soldiers' bank. Can't guess how it operated?"

Isaac eyed their scars and piercing gazes before answering.

"...Armed bank."

I nodded. Even after the prolonged world war ended, Dimension 25 was rife with bank robbers and illegal loansharks. There, Erasmus Fairy Bank staff wielded their specialties to protect client assets and the brand. Armed tellers shot robbers dead; field bankers bombed loanshark offices that lynched colleagues, eliminating rivals.

Not criticizing. Without going that far, they couldn't have survived—that's all.

"Bishuti's probably a serious vet too. That's enough on guE. Next up, guC..."

"Those dilated-pupil freaks?"

Isaac nodded toward Razma. Unlike guE's uniformity, guC bankers had eclectic looks, but shared one stark trait: an indescribably sinister aura.

"Overwork. Or worse. Their welfare was clearly abysmal."

"They don't look too healthy, huh?"

Far scarier than overwork, but yeah.

"Interdimensional Neptune Bank pioneered dimensional jumps for branches across dimensions, long before others followed."

"Long ago, huh. Specifically?"

"Dunno. Two hundred years?"

Opening branches elsewhere required dimensional travel tech. The issue? Safe jumps were invented just decades ago.

"That wrecked state is the price of unfinished tech."

Razma's transparent helmet probably shielded his bodiless soul. It showed how dire the side effects of unsafe jumps were.

"Two centuries back, only the dead, disembodied, or insane could endure the backlash."

What drove them to keep jumping despite body-shattering agony? Greed for money? Something else?

"Among factions, guC leads in profit passion and tradition. Enduring that pain for centuries proves it."

Despite smallest size due to ancient history, they held loyal clients and top performance.

"......"

"Why the silence?"

"Something bugs me."

Isaac's pupils tore wider than usual staring at Razma—a suspicious glint, from experience.

"Razma's a deputy manager. If he joined within ten years, why lose his body?"

Now that he mentioned it, it felt off. Other guC were long-timers in key posts; his rank was too low.

"No idea. Definitely the faction's baby, though."

As we spoke, Razma turned our way. Far off, but maybe he heard his name.

"......"

"......"

Eerie smoke swirled in his glass tank. No face, no expression, but cold sweat trickled down my spine.

"Gonna step out for a smoke."

Unable to bear the vibe, we slipped quietly to the outpost's back door.

"One who's died once versus ones who've killed many. Makes the boss seem normal."

Isaac felt the same unease—we'd touched a forbidden secret. He pivoted topics fast.

"He might be the craziest. We saw it earlier."

What banker swaps wigs on the fly to impress clients? Only a total nutjob.

"Smoke up and come out quietly dropping ash, not gossiping about the boss like morons. Deputy life is sweet, huh."

That was when Elama appeared around the outpost corner.

"Misunderstanding, sir. We were just admiring your professional dedication."

It wasn't a lie—we were impressed. Ethically iffy, but top-tier banker for sure. I was even starting to think I'd learn something working under him.

"Professional dedication, eh? This?"

Elama adjusted his wig with both hands.

"Gotta do this for the natives. Sincerity's salesmanship basics."

"What happened to your skin?"

"Burned it with a torch. Nearly passed out two or three times."

"With fire?!"

I gaped; Elama grinned ferociously.

"Tanning machine, obviously. Finish inventory checks and prep to open."

"On it."

"Sharks eyeing premium rate accounts will swarm. Stay sharp to survive. Oh, and Kim Jian."

"Yes?"

"From today, you're the loan counter ghost."

Me on loans right away? With two deputies already?

"I just made deputy."

"So? Can't do it?"

"No, I can."

"You'll get approval authority up to a limit, and no one interferes till you bring papers. Prove your Job Authority isn't for show."

An unexpected chance. Elama plucked a cigarette from my silent pack and lit up.

"Light."

"......"

Damn, called out.