The Board's Divided Verdict
The response from headquarters regarding Dr. Marcus Bernard's loan application arrived a week later. For a personal loan, the decision had taken an unusually long time. The real issue, though, was that it was far more stringent than I'd imagined.
"Politically sensitive? This is?"
"Yeah."
Even after hearing Slick Ellama's explanation, I couldn't wrap my head around it no matter how hard I tried.
"I don't know about the dimension you came from, but this world has gods walking around in clothes among the people. Reactions to stuff like this are bound to be different."
Gods or no gods, Earth doesn't have undead, let alone a doctor with a burning sense of mission to extend their lifespans. I wanted to say it, but I held my tongue, worried it'd come off like I was vomiting complaints.
"Anyway, the board's opinion on this loan split right down the middle. guC supported it, guE opposed. It wasn't about convictions—they were just thinking of their own interests."
"So, we take it that the guD directors couldn't make a call?"
"They probably think it's too early. The board's stance is to decide after a field inspection."
I got the gist of how things were playing out. In short, the higher-ups were divided, and if we wanted the loan approved, we'd have to go to the doctor's clinic ourselves and dig up something convincing enough for the board—something worth risking social backlash and customer exodus.
"This is dizzying."
The one heading out for the field inspection? None other than me. If I couldn't muster a solid case to sway the board, this loan was dead in the water.
I didn't fully grasp just how massive the ripple effects would be in this world, but failure meant one patient would die. Sure, I hadn't even seen the face of the young undead girl suffering from an incurable disease. But no matter which way the loan decision went, a heavy responsibility would land squarely on my shoulders.
"Get in touch with Dr. Bernard and schedule the inspection."
"...Understood."
I could sort of see how this loan might deliver an irreparable blow to the entire Dimensional Credit Vault, as Elama had warned. Still, deep down, I hoped it would get approved. Maybe I was just an outsider barely adapted to this world, recklessly stirring up trouble without knowing better. But shouldn't we save someone who can be saved? Undead had rights guaranteed here anyway.
"I won't send you alone. This isn't something a single deputy can handle."
So, we'd be going as a group. Last time it was just me and Elama—who'd be tagging along this time, and how many? The pressure eased a bit, but now I worried about who else would come.
Honestly, I couldn't tell if the guD directors were truly neutral on this, playing it safe, or just lacking enough info to judge. The people joining me for the inspection would likely outrank me and have stronger voices. That meant they'd probably decide if the loan went through. Depending on their hidden agendas, Dr. Bernard's research could be branded a seed of civilizational decay—or the hopeful dawn etched into medical history.
I knew zilch about this field, so I couldn't confidently declare the doctor's work righteous. Even back on Earth, some grand-sounding causes hid ethically bankrupt research. This world surely had its share of mad scientists pushing boundaries with dubious methods.
In the end, we'd have to see it all with our own eyes to know anything for sure.
"I'll set it up right away."
I replied to Elama and headed back to the counter.
After consulting with Dr. Bernard, we set the inspection for three days later. His private clinic was in a major city on planet Isolde in Dimension 16, where necromancy was fully legal. Three days wasn't perfect, but enough to prep what we needed.
Once work wrapped and I got home, I dove into a broad but shallow study of Dimension 16's culture, laws, and etiquette.
"This place is tricky..."
Undead residents there outnumbered those in other dimensions by multiples, so unlike Dimension 6-2, you had to mind strict manners. Show any attitude distinguishing the living from the dead, and you'd be out—labeled a discriminator.
"Gotta be careful not to slip up."
-Bzzzzt-
I was deep in research when my smartphone buzzed.
"Huh?"
The name on the screen was the last one I'd expected. My entry cohort, now a deputy in the audit department.
"Irool?"
It was the angel Irool Hinea.
"Peace be upon you, Brother Jian! Long time no see!"
Irool's voice kicked off the call with that odd greeting, buzzing with excitement.
"Uh, yeah, long time. Thanks to you, I stuffed myself on meat that day."
Last time I'd seen Irool was the Linden business trip. I'd finally caught up with all my entry cohorts working HQ—Oatanocha, Irool, and Mira too. We rarely all gathered due to packed schedules. Would've been great if Isaac made it for the full five, but oh well.
"I heard the rumors. The board at HQ flipped over the loan case you brought in."
"You knew?"
"Of course! It came straight to the audit department."
I hadn't expected the audit department—tasked with watching for banker corruption—to have such intimate details on a personal loan.
"Who'd you hear it from?"
"Straight from our department head."
A bad feeling crept in. Not just HQ gossip—the audit head telling Irool directly. That meant the department had reason to get involved—
"What'd the boss say?"
"Said I should join the next field inspection."
"......"
The audit department, led by angels like Irool, was one of the divisions bankers feared most—right up there with HR. Outsiders might wonder why clean bankers would fear audits, but it was simple. Ambitious Dimensional Credit Vault employees belonged to one of the three factions or at least their orbits. If someone on your "line" got nabbed by audit, your career could shatter.
Audits routinely checked if HQ and branch bankers were doing their jobs straight and not scamming the bank or clients. Throwing them into a loan field inspection team? Unheard of, probably unprecedented at any bank.
The audit banker's role here was likely watching for bribes from the doctor or biased judgments from us. Normally, inspections involved just the loan officer and an HQ personal loan reviewer. HQ's call showed how intensely the board cared about this loan—not distrusting me, but leaving nothing to chance. All to give guD directors grounds to approve or deny based on our findings.
Still stung, though. What do they think we are?
"Anyway, that's how it is. First time leaving HQ for audit business outside—I'm too excited to sleep."
"...Yeah. Congrats."
"Brother Jian? Something bad happen?"
"Nah, nothing. Just dazed—first inspection with a fellow rookie."
"Right?"
HQ wasn't insane enough to send just two deputies. They'd dispatch Elama as trip lead, plus other senior staff.
"Anyway, we're teaming up—let's make it good. Dinner after?"
"Splendid. See you then!"
I played it cool through the chat with Irool, then hung up.
-Thud-
"Hoo..."
As I sank into bed, spirits swarmed me instantly. They must've sensed my stress, rubbing against me fervently—probably trying to massage it away. But today, it barely registered.
"This is blowing up weirdly."
This loan's amount was smaller than past cases, but its worldly impact loomed larger than expected. I'd just filed the papers hoping treatment went well for the sick person—how'd it snowball like this?
I dozed off mid-study. Maybe the world's too complicated for someone like me. That thought filled my head right up to sleep.
Dimension 16, Isolde. On the outskirts of a capital region metropolis housing millions, atop a hill sat a modest private clinic where a girl awaited salvation.
Her name was Rainy. No family name—her parents who'd have given it had abandoned her instead.
Born frail and left at an orphanage doorstep, Rainy survived her illness thanks to the director's devoted care. But at just five, a severe seizure claimed her.
She lingered in this world as a being—broadly alive—thanks to rare fortune. Last year, the director used funds from an anonymous gentleman donor to arrange necromancy surgery for her.
Though renowned interdimensional expert Dr. Marcus Bernard was booked solid, they secured an emergency op from another noted specialist. It honored Rainy's desperate wish to live this life, and she was grateful.
But misfortune persisted. The vessel crafted by necromancy to hold her soul was crumbling. As the soul's sustaining power faded, Rainy would soon vanish from the world—not to the underworld managed by gods, but to eternal oblivion, penalty for defying fate.
A doctor unrelated by blood or bond reached out to the girl clutching a ticking time bomb.
"...Doctor."
"Rest easy. It'll work out."
In the shabby interior, importing equipment for her treatment was tough on a clinic funded by lecture fees and royalties. Even undead who once praised Dr. Bernard refused donations for this research.
Now, only the Dimensional Credit Vault's loan remained. With so many undead bankers, maybe they'd extend a saving hand.
"Begone, cursed doctor of hell!!"
Protest chants echoed from outside again. Rainy plugged her ears and shut her eyes.
"......"
The doctor silently closed the window and drew the curtains. Unknown protesters had encamped before the clinic, holding a relentless vigil. The world intolerant of her existence was cold. Even if the child wanted to tantrum, the voices wishing her death only grew louder, guarded solely by the clinic's concrete walls.
"Am I... not allowed to live...?"
The pale girl's tearful question. The doctor shook his head.
"...No one in this world isn't allowed to live."
He repeated his sole conviction to the girl—and to his own wavering self.
"The bank men will help. Have faith."
There had to be a way. Dr. Bernard clung to hope, praying Rainy did too.