Guarding Against Assassins Is More Exhausting Than Imagined
Guarding against an assassin was more exhausting than I could have imagined. All of us tellers, myself included, stuck to our posts alongside the facility managers, covering for the couple until 6 p.m. Our opponent was a professional assassin. A madman who even fired rockets at the bank. Led by the expert Bishuti, we maintained organic coordination with security personnel, scanning for any danger signals that Colossus's radar might have missed, no matter how unlikely.
"…So far, everything looks fine. We should be good to head to dinner."
There was a reason I suggested room service wasn't necessary and proposed going to the resort's buffet instead. The Adijen couple had been cooped up in one place, trembling with anxiety. Now that we'd confirmed no assassin was nearby, eating in a crowded spot would surely help their mental health. They were trying hard not to show it, but the data displayed on my contact lenses still revealed their fear. More than that, they were suffering from severe stress. The fact that they'd taken this much psychological damage in less than a day meant dragging this out could push them to bolt somewhere out of desperation.
"What the hell are the Kikiwai police doing…?"
The CCTV near the outpost should've captured the license plate of the getaway vehicle the assassin used. Yet no leads after all this time? The police had to be more incompetent than I'd thought. Or maybe the assassin was just that good. Either way, time to fill our empty stomachs first.
"This way."
With Elama leading, we escorted the Adijen and Minoli couple to the resort buffet, sitting in a circular formation around a round table for full visual coverage without blind spots. The resort's food looked decent. A simple course with a main dish, plus buffet-style sides where everyone grabbed what they wanted. It was a bit chaotic watching waiters and guests bustling around, but that's the lively vibe of a southern resort. Since our group consisted of relatively well-behaved bankers on vacation, the relative quiet was a blessing.
"Um, is this really okay? Maybe we should just hide in the room…."
"No issues so far, so relax and eat. It's safe here."
I might not know everything, but I trusted Nanoi's tech implicitly. And the ability in this eye of mine. Didn't Deputy Manager Bishuti say there were no sniper spots nearby, making the open outdoor tables better for watching for explosives? It had to be fine.
"Beef and tropical fruit carpaccio."
The first appetizer course was served, and we eagerly speared the thinly sliced meat with our forks and popped it into our mouths. And the next moment—
Clatter.
Adijen's fork hit the floor with a loud crash.
Yohane watched the bankers and their two targets start eating from a distant table. Were they minimizing exposure time to prying eyes, or just hungry? They arrived at the outdoor restaurant right as dinner service began, but plenty of other guests were already ordering around them.
"Showtime."
The waiter was already serving appetizers. Yohane hadn't just poisoned the buffet items—he'd laced every dish in the course menu with toxins that induced various symptoms. He'd even been considerate enough to use amounts far below the lethal dose specified in Gagamel's instructions. The targets were just picking up their first bites with forks. Gagamel had called it a delayed-action poison. Effects should kick in after about ten minutes.
But then—
Clatter.
For some reason, the fork slipped from the hand of the male target—Adijen Bainaus.
"……."
Yohane maintained his poker face, but he was rattled. He'd believed Gagamel's claim that it was delayed-action poison.
Gagamel….
Something was wrong. What Adijen had eaten was probably an instant-acting deadly toxin. Gagamel wouldn't have screwed up. This was a mission not to kill the targets. Failing that meant someone—Gagamel or whoever—had set him up. He started to rise from his seat in a hurry, but then—
"Ah, sorry. My hand slipped."
Fortunately, Adijen wasn't dead. He calmly requested a new fork from the waiter and resumed savoring the carpaccio.
"Phew."
Embarrassed for even briefly suspecting Gagamel, Yohane sat back down and leisurely enjoyed his own order. As a rare descendant of an elusive species even in the multidimensional world, Yohane could transform his body into any creature he'd seen. He'd lived so many forms that he'd forgotten his original gender and appearance. Among his transformations was one that neutralized all poisons. For exceptional talents like him, partial transformations were possible, so before eating, he'd swapped only his internal organs for those of a poison-immune species. Imagining himself dining blissfully while others writhed from the delayed poison filled him with superiority and pleasure.
But ten minutes passed.
Thirty minutes passed.
The bankers and targets showed no discomfort, refilling plates and enjoying the courses.
What the hell is going on?
Gagamel wouldn't have given him plain water labeled as poison. And civilians like them couldn't possibly have poison resistance. Maybe the glasses-wearing lizardman or the already-dead undead, but not these guys.
"Something's off."
Yohane transformed his finger into the toxic skin of another species, mixed a stronger poison into a glass, and stirred it into a drink. Then, disguising himself as a waiter from behind a pillar, he delivered it to the bankers' table.
"Sparkling wine on the house. How about a glass to cleanse your palate before dessert?"
The targets and their escorts confirmed the low alcohol content and gladly drank it. Instant-action poison. It should've taken effect in under three seconds.
"Tastes a bit different from what I've had, but not bad. Different vintage, maybe."
The targets and protecting bankers were all fine.
Damn it, what the fuck is happening…!
Stubborn now, Yohane served cheese and desserts laced with even stronger poisons one after another, but the results were the same every time. He even undid his poison-resistant organ transformation and tested it on himself—somehow, the poison had zero effect. It felt like some mystical force was preventing anyone at that table from collapsing from poison.
I can't accept this. Me, failing a commission….
With a far more sullen expression than usual, Yohane left the restaurant. But his eyes still burned with the will to win.
High above Dollar Dollar Island, something was happening unbeknownst to Kim Jian or Yohane. Colossus, directly monitoring the island via radar from over the resort, was exerting a mystical influence within a 10km radius centered on itself, thanks to its monatomic gold power source.
Monatomic gold, produced only in trace amounts in the 0.1-dimensional Nanoi, was the most coveted substance among multidimensional alchemists. It had the miraculous power to turn the mind's strength into reality—creating souls or achieving immortality depending on its use. But compared to these outlandish abilities that stirred desire, its basic functions were obscure to non-experts. Like forcibly reducing or annihilating poisons ingested by nearby intelligent beings the moment they entered the body, preventing negative effects.
This defied physical laws like a miracle, but few understood it. Even Kim Jian, owner of the Colossus replica, hadn't read the manual properly, dazzled by its looks. Thus, the poisons administered by Gagamel through Yohane—under duress from a loan shark—had no effect. Colossus had once again saved Kim Jian and countless resort guests. Even its AI, housing the monatomic gold, didn't know what had happened.
"What a prickly guy…."
I'd stepped out to the smoking area for a cigarette and muttered absentmindedly. Through Colossus's radar and my eye, I'd just spotted one of the waiters inwardly fuming for no reason.
"People drop forks while eating sometimes. Why hold onto that grudge and keep getting pissy about it?"
At least the waiter held it together till the end and brought our drinks and desserts. We'd had low-alcohol sparkling wine, but maybe because I was more tense than usual, no buzz at all. Actually, this wasn't just tonight. Lately, even cracking beers and ordering chicken back at the dorms, I never got drunk. Maybe I'd toughened up to booze since coming to this world.
Bishuti of the Unfire faction was a veteran killer. A pro who'd traversed countless battlefields, slaying enemies and leading his group to victory. That's why he sensed an assassin's presence faster than anyone, even without overt killing intent. Different appearance, but the gait and eyes gave it away.
That one's it. The rocket-firer from the bank earlier.
Disguised as a waiter. Using magic or some special species ability.
Among assassins he'd encountered, some treated murder as mere work or hobby—lunatics. So when Kim Jian claimed he could detect killing intent via radar, Bishuti had scoffed and maxed his vigilance.
Planning to poison the targets, huh.
When the suspicious waiter first brought drinks, Bishuti was quickest to sip his. His body, honed by special training, could withstand most poisons. That's why he'd confidently thought he could check the targets' drinks risk-free. But the moment Adijen beside him swiftly swapped their glasses and he tasted it, he realized: no poison at all.
Afterward, the presumed assassin waiter brought food several times, but no toxins. Or rather, it smelled like poison Bishuti knew, but had no negative effects.
This isn't good….
Elama wanted Bishuti saving Kim Jian from crisis to boast to the president—not Colossus or unrelated factors foiling the assassination. This would derail the plan. Unless the assassin directly charged at Kim Jian and the Adijens with a weapon, Bishuti couldn't intervene to protect them.
"…This is problematic. I must be the one to thwart the assassination."
All he could do was wait for an opening. When the foe, thwarted repeatedly by some unknown force, lost patience and charged—that would be his chance to prove his worth as planned.
"For the glory of my comrades."
The armed bank teller sharpened his senses, lying in wait for prey. Patiently enduring was the soldier's virtue, he reminded himself again and again.