Razma's Loophole Mastery
Ectopl Manager Razma, stepping to the center of the hospital room, exuded a strange sense of intimidation. A slender body whose very existence as flesh and blood was questionable. Atop his neck sat a glass helmet framed in metal, unlike anything on ordinary people. Inside it, thick gray smoke swirled endlessly. A body stripped of most biological traits, utterly inorganic. No, honestly, he wondered if it could even be called a body anymore. Regardless, just his presence alone seemed to drop the room's temperature by at least three degrees, an icy aura that dominated the space in a way utterly different from Elama or Masterhand.
"Let's get started."
Elama muttered with a reluctant expression.
-Gulp. Before he knew it, Kim Jian had swallowed dryly.
Necromancy was said to be an unnatural art that tampered with life outside the natural order. An undead like Ectopl Razma, who had deceived both the laws of life and death to linger in this world as a messenger of sorts. His specialty lay in "loopholes"—exploits that stepped beyond the bounds of law without outright breaking it—and it suited his existence to a chilling degree.
"...If you want, it wouldn't hurt to learn it. It's the secret to that guy's rapid rise."
He'd heard it from Elama before. The guC faction's bankers had served the bank for so long that most couldn't even use the word "lifespan" anymore, making promotions excruciatingly slow. With a limited number of spots occupied by veteran undead who'd held them for decades or centuries, even their small numbers couldn't climb quickly. It was the polar opposite of guE, where military service credits accelerated promotions insanely fast amid a decent headcount.
But Razma alone had been different. Among guC bankers, he'd achieved an unprecedented fast-track promotion, overtaking senior undead to become manager. And there was one reason for it.
He'd been guC's "dirty jobs specialist," handling all their darkest, grimiest tasks, as Elama had explained. Whatever that exactly meant, they were about to find out.
"Then, as usual, if you would."
A voice with an unsettling echo filled the room as Manager Razma raised his hand. Five men stepped forward. All retired private bankers—and skeletons stripped of flesh, or hazy figures lingering like mist. Undead, every one.
"I thought I'd put on enough sunscreen, but Kikiwai's still too much for me."
"It's just severe calcium loss."
A few grumbled as they shuffled to the window and drew the curtains, their appearances utterly surreal in Kim Jian's eyes. He'd been around non-human races for months now, but he still couldn't get used to the undead's looks. These were former private bankers, specialists in offshore accounts. Their main job: hiding clients' money through clever legal dodges. Loopholes, not outright crimes, were their expertise.
Active private bankers had to guard client secrets absolutely, but these guys had long retired. Selling out their consciences for pocket money and "justice" was no big deal to them.
"Ominoi Baloma—does that ring any bells?"
At Razma's question, the ex-private bankers nodded one by one.
"Any big cases?"
More nods from the former bankers. Even without a face, Razma's fishbowl head bobbed in what looked like delight. In guC, where everyone was undead, those who'd answered Razma's call were elites who'd worked major private bank branches hiding politicians' funds. These branches managed the wealthiest Dimensional Credit Vault clients in secret. With no gag orders beyond professional ethics, and fat retirement packages from the bank, betraying old clients was easy—especially now, with safety guaranteed and a noble cause. To them, the assemblyman was just prey.
"The branch?"
"Southern Orogon Island. I handled the client back then, so I remember every detail in the ledgers."
"Ah, that place. Excuse me a moment."
Razma picked up the confiscated phone and dialed the only contact listed.
-Bzzzzt!
"...You bastard. Why the hell are you only calling now, you moron?"
They'd finally confronted the mastermind. The voice crackling over the speakerphone belonged to a middle-aged man soaked in cigarette smoke. Ominoi Baloma, a mid-tier assemblyman with solid influence, the one plotting to wipe out Nanoi with cosmic monsters ahead of elections to eliminate risks. His rat-like chatter was so fast it was hard to follow, reeking of sleaze and cowardice.
"After all I've given you, you dare drop my name? I took in strays with nowhere to go, and this is how you repay me—with betrayal. It's over. You, your buddies—all of you."
The assemblyman spat fury from the phone, unable to bear the betrayal. Manager Razma listened silently until the man wore himself out.
"Say something, you punk! Beg for mercy, grovel...!"
Finally, as the old assemblyman gasped raggedly under his own steam, Razma spoke for the first time.
"Disappointing. You still haven't grasped the situation. I can't fathom how someone with such poor judgment holds a seat in the assembly."
Razma's words dripped with thick sarcasm, and the assemblyman's snorts grew harsher through the smartphone speaker. A new voice—not his subordinate's. It took one second to realize.
"H-Hey. Don't hang up, Assemblyman Ominoi. Everyone finding out where your slush funds are would be a problem, right?"
"According to Great Huuriten law, blackmail is a serious crime, though."
Ominoi tried to steady himself, feigning calm. But Razma's next words snapped his rationality.
"Public interest reports are different."
His polite tone grated nerves to the extreme.
"A three-term assemblyman like you, so sloppy—how do you even function? Can't even manage your underlings' mouths, yet your constituency loves you? Fascinating."
"......"
"Ah, maybe they tolerate it since it's your party's safe seat? Or are you buying them off with cash?"
Stunned by his name linked to "slush funds," Ominoi fell silent.
"Can't respond? Sounds like I hit the mark. Shall we chat more?"
Meanwhile, Kim Jian witnessed the same phenomenon from his chat with Dr. Sau last time. A hazy red mirage shimmered around Razma's smartphone. Rubbing his eyes didn't dispel it—the intangible aura asserted itself. To his eyes, the color screamed intense rage. Clearly, something had changed since Dimension 33. Could he now read emotions? Handy, if true... but focus on the moment.
"He's pissed."
"Anyone not losing it against that Razma bastard ain't human."
As Elama said. Razma's speech carried a snobbish disdain, looking down on others. Last time, hadn't he memorized Elama's rote script just to shred it with Bishuti? Even good-natured Kim Jian felt he'd go mad after ten seconds with him. How must the assemblyman—villain behind signal hijacking and Nanoi murder plots—feel, openly provoked? Strangely, Kim Jian empathized. Well, it just meant Razma's tone scratched nerves perfectly.
"...Who the fuck is this?"
Finally realizing it wasn't his hireling, Ominoi's voice tensed.
"Who else? The one here to end you."
Razma continued, his reaper-like visuals fitting perfectly. No shred of humanity in his silhouette. From now on, he'd literally snuff out one man's political life.
"Southern Orogon Island branch."
"......?!"
The breathing on the line cut off abruptly. Silence blanketed the room. Razma savored it, tilting his head back slowly before speaking.
"Looks like you get it. Lucky. Seems like a pretty important spot for you."
Ominoi stayed mum. As a three-termer, he wouldn't slip easily. But his tight-lipped facade screamed fear of exposure.
"...What bullshit are you spewing? Never heard of that island. Enough time-wasting."
"We aren't done here."
"If you have something to say, come to me fair and square—"
"If you don't dodge responsibility for this incident, we'll bury the Orogon account info. How's that?"
Razma cut him off with his signature eerie tone.
"Hm."
Listening quietly, Kim Jian asked Elama.
"This feels off."
"What does?"
"Signal hijacking, attempted murder coaching... well, no one died. But even without knowing how much cash is hidden on Orogon Island, isn't it a bit weak as blackmail fodder?"
Forcing a choice without details from his team? What was he thinking?
"What're you getting at?"
"Cover your slush funds if you admit the crime? Feels like he won't bite."
"Hmph."
"Huh?"
"You think I'd bring a guy who can't account for that into Kikiwai?"
"...Ah."
Right—this man picked and pushed talent regardless of faction. Hell, Elama had even directed Razma personally on the beach last night. Yeah, they had something up their sleeves.
"Kuh... heh... hahaha."
"I don't know what you punks are scheming, but if you think I'll fold to blackmail, you're dead wrong."
"Is that so?"
"Me, Ominoi Baloma? I've held this seat through scandals, interference, whatever—by winning my voters' trust and entering the assembly."
"Take your pathetic offer? No need to choose. Do your worst. Slush funds alone won't take me down."
"True. Might be tough with just the slush funds. How about this?"
"What—"
"Deal like this: Turn on the TV right now."
Razma slyly turned to Director Masterhand.
"Editing done. Satellite link ready."
The director grinned and waved. Kim Jian instantly got why.
"Kim Jian."
By the time Elama spoke, he'd already grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.
-Beep.
The TV showed Razma's mosaicked back. Not studio footage, but a live feed from right here. From the call's start, during the assemblyman's chat with Razma, cameras had recorded everything.
"No way...!"
"Never said it was just live feed."
The crew had insisted on Kikiwai live broadcasts. Distracted by slush funds, Ominoi hadn't noticed the recording.
"No escaping now."
As Razma mocked him, the TV kept airing their talk.
"Call it a time-lag attack?"
"You maniac...!"
The broadcast exposed his signal hijacking involvement and slush fund location. Cursing, Ominoi hung up. Slush funds alone might not have sufficed, but Razma's intel and surprise strike landed a fatal blow. The decisive end to a long, dirty fight—guC, guD, and guE bankers united.
"Don't drag me into crap like this again. Even as a has-been, if Ominoi blabs that info leaked from private bankers, it'll tank the branch's rep."
Grumbling, Razma led the retired bankers out. Watching his back, a small realization dawned on Kim Jian.
"Now you get why Razma rose so fast."
"He dances right on the line."
Razma had sown chaos and gotten results with minimal info—no leaks on his job or unrelated details, zero risk.
"......"
Here was a fresh answer to what Del Monte had stressed: how far could you push the line? Whether Kim Jian should copy it was debatable, but it was undeniably one valid path among many.
"Kikiwai police called. Cops arrive in two minutes."
"Time to pull out. Afro's probably prepped for relaunch too."
As Bishuti tied the thugs to beds to prevent escape, the crew packed gear. The bankers' job was done. Now, wait for Nanoi's message to reach the masses.
"Hope it sells out."
Leaving the room and heading back to the northern coast, Kim Jian's steps were light. Finally, time to properly enjoy Colossus Mark 2 in action.