The Genius's Overhaul
While Kim Jian, fresh from his business trip to the 16th dimension, underwent various checkups at the hospital and enjoyed four days of peaceful rest.
At the serene headquarters of the Dimensional Credit Vault, one genius was seeking enlightenment.
"Hmm…."
Oatanocha, deputy manager of the IT Management Department, peered into his monitor once more today, confronting the problem he'd been mulling over during every spare moment for the past few months.
He was the proud owner of astonishing work efficiency—finishing not only his own tasks but even those of his senior bankers in the same department within the first hour of arriving at the office. Yet that didn't mean his drive for improvement had vanished.
Oatanocha had always pondered ways to optimize and automate operations, and this wasn't limited to his own duties. What this enigmatic tentacle mass craved was a boost in efficiency across the entire Dimensional Credit Vault.
Not out of any overflowing loyalty to the bank, mind you. It was simply the instinct of his species goading him on.
"Inefficient. Forcing three factions' separate IT systems into one hub like this? It's a waste of time and manpower on maintenance every quarter."
Just as some people feel rage at the sight of aesthetic ugliness, Oatanocha despised disorganized code and the irrational situations born from illogical thinking.
"Tch. Useless higher-ups."
As everyone knew, the Dimensional Credit Vault was a colossal bank born from the merger of three institutions.
Dis Pater Credit Vault, led by the underworld goddess Okerus Dis Pater.
Super-Dimensional Neptune Bank, a private banking chain run by the undead.
Erasmus Fairy Bank, which guaranteed credit through overwhelming combat prowess.
Naturally, merging three banks with different operational styles bred discord.
Before the merger, each had used a different vendor's IT system.
Dis Pater Credit Vault had commissioned Medra Computers, known for highly versatile systems.
Super-Dimensional Neptune Bank relied on Ravicro Soft's high-security setup.
Erasmus Fairy Bank had outsourced to Sataniel Electric, a military supplier that ensured operation even in nuclear war, handling both development and maintenance.
Building a bank's IT network was a reliably profitable business model. Vendors pocketed massive upfront fees plus ongoing maintenance costs—a chance to pour everything into a project.
Banks managed vast customer data, funds, and personnel; larger banks needed more servers. Once contracted, deals persisted unless catastrophe like a bank run struck, ensuring steady revenue.
Given the huge stakes in bank IT contracts, vendors touted their tech and cost-performance while discreetly lobbying decision-makers with bribes, lavish entertainment, and kickbacks to sway them toward their systems.
All upfront investments, of course—banking on far greater rewards upon securing the deal.
The issue arose when Dis Pater Credit Vault, riding the wartime boom to become Dimension 6-2's economic powerhouse in Great Huuriten, joined hands with the offshore bank Super-Dimensional Neptune Bank (managing elites' funds across dimensions) and Erasmus Fairy Bank (upholding credit via perfect hierarchy and force).
Logically, their IT systems should have unified. But the vendors, fearing lost revenue, lobbied executives from all three banks right before the merger.
They begged for help in getting their systems adopted at the upcoming board meeting.
And at that board meeting, the predictable outcome emerged.
'No choice. To avoid operational chaos, we'll just link the existing systems.'
None of the three banks wanted to abandon their setups. The result? The Dimensional Credit Vault commissioned a kludged solution to integrate data from all three.
The pinnacle of lobbyist-induced inefficiency.
Sticking with outdated systems offered nothing but the excuse that 'adapting to new ones might inconvenience customers,' justifying triple maintenance costs.
But even that flimsy rationale for accident prevention crumbled when disaster struck anyway.
Three years ago, during routine maintenance, the three systems collided, shutting down every Dimensional Credit Vault system without warning for a full day.
Bank ops halted, along with linked card companies under Dimensional Credit Financial Holdings. Customer trust evaporated overnight, forcing massive compensations, rate hikes, and huge losses.
The funniest part? Nothing changed despite it all. Systems stayed the same. Minor tweaks like adding IT staff and response manuals appeared, but the core inefficiency persisted.
And this mess lingered even after Oatanocha joined.
Ugly code, wasteful systems, pointless costs, lingering risks—all physiologically repulsive to him.
He'd endured for months as a newbie, but no more.
"I'd rather end it all than manage this garbage."
But today, Oatanocha made up his mind. Not suicide, as his words implied—instead, drawing hints and insights from the 16th-dimension incident, he resolved to design and build a entirely new IT management system.
A few days later, an alert swept every Dimensional Credit Vault branch.
It began with a teller at a major branch noticing something off.
Checking customer info via the system at her counter, she realized delays were dozens of times shorter than usual.
Then came the key part. That afternoon, a couple arrived—one with an account from Erasmus Fairy Bank days, the other from Dis Pater Credit Vault—to open a family account post-marriage.
"…Huh? Why's it so fast?"
Seeing their data from separate DB servers display seamlessly without lag left the teller baffled.
With over three years' tenure handling triple-digit customers daily, she couldn't miss even minor system changes—especially without any update notices.
She reported it to her boss immediately.
Thus began the full audit. From HQ to every branch, they dissected the anomaly.
At first, they thought only subtle frontend UI tweaks had boosted efficiency.
But backend inspectors were dumbfounded.
A staggering truth awaited.
"The three systems and the hub…."
"All—"
"Upgraded?!"
The Dimensional Credit Vault's IT had been utterly replaced by someone's handiwork.
Not rebuilt on old foundations—this was an autonomous system delivering peak performance via self-optimizing judgments, unprecedented in the industry.
"W-what the… Impossible!"
"But it's running smoother than ever?"
"Doesn't matter! It's unverified! Shut it down now!"
Board directives and managers ordered halts, but it was futile.
"Its security's ironclad! Can't breach it!"
"Find vulnerabilities!"
"No access to source code!"
"Damn it! Announce weekend internet banking maintenance, back up servers! Rebuild originals on formatted drives, reboot Monday!"
Staff scrambled to restore the old system, to no avail.
Backups yielded only irretrievably encrypted data. Shutting servers didn't stop the new system, running on distributed ledgers. Disconnecting terminals just reinstalled it, forcibly linking to unknown servers and overwriting clients.
The new system had seeded itself everywhere, intranet and internet alike. Formatting was pointless—it overwrote everything.
Reverting meant replacing every ATM, terminal, and server storage medium entirely. Even then, customer and deposit data couldn't migrate from the new system.
Considering costs and time, utterly impossible.
In short, they had to swallow the unknown developer's system—or else.
Blind to any backdoors.
"This is trouble."
"But announcing it…."
"Would shatter our built-up trust."
The silver lining: the mystery creator made all data packets passing through verifiable by the bank—far more transparent than before, with constant access.
Monitoring revealed two facts.
The system ran flawlessly under powerful AI control, self-updating as needed, with security so tight even the designer couldn't tamper.
And the designer harbored no hostility toward the bank.
"No other choice."
The board opted to hush it up, provided it kept running smoothly under watch.
Not a bad deal, really. Grumbling execs with kickback ties aside, maintenance fees vanished, saving the bank a fortune. Unified, no clashes either.
"We still don't know who did it, but their fee's quite reasonable."
Above all, the designer demanded a pittance compared to old costs.
The message in the system conveyed only a polite wish against inefficiency.
True intent unknowable, but with reversion impossible, acceptance was the board's only option.
"Just in case, summon Deputy Kim Jian to check the system's 'potential.' His Job Authority might work on inanimates if we have the name."
That was why Kim Jian was summoned to HQ.
He caught an afternoon flight to Linden and scheduled dinner with Oatanocha.
That night.
"The board seems pleased with my handiwork."
Over drinks, Oatanocha detailed his deed to Kim Jian.
"…Are you insane?"
Kim Jian could only gape in shock.