A Trial Parenthood
Three weeks had passed since Oatanocha caused that unprecedented incident.
Thankfully, Irool Hinea, who had been on suspension due to the events in Dimension 16 last time, had returned to work and was back to his normal duties. In truth, his "fault" amounted to losing his medication and his PTSD flaring up—that was it. Since no one got hurt because of him, a light disciplinary action was only natural, and the Audit Department being buried under the workload bomb Makina had thrown their way probably allowed him to return even earlier than scheduled.
Honestly, I couldn't help but suspect that someone had stolen Irool's meds and handed Angel's Ash to the terrorists just to create that situation.
"Who stands to gain from wiping out the guC executives all at once...?"
I was deep into studying the new IT usage manual from HQ when I stood up from my chair and flopped onto the soft bed.
There were more than one or two suspicious things about that incident. From my personal investigation, Angel's Ash was a optical weapon from the Great War era—something even the underworld struggled to obtain these days, requiring a hefty price that still didn't guarantee acquisition. How did a poor retired soldier, stripped of his wings and with cracks in his halo, get his hands on it? There's no explanation unless someone else was involved.
At least the guC executives were revived in a little girl's body, so that was fortunate. But if they had all been obliterated that day, who would have gained the most?
No need to overthink it.
"guE..."
Would a rival faction really resort to such extremes just to sideline their influence? I'd heard that before the merger, the Erasmus Fairy Bank was nicknamed the Armed Bank, but I never dreamed they'd go this far. Even if they were rivals, these were fellow employees at the same bank—trying to erase them without a second thought?
Judging by how Deputy Manager Razma treated Deputy Manager Bishuti without any change, it probably wasn't the deputy managers who orchestrated it, but someone much higher up.
I just wanted to safely protect my iron rice bowl and do fulfilling work, but the bank itself turned out to be a massive den of intrigue.
Manager Del Monte didn't ask me to play buffer between guC and guE for no reason. If this faction rivalry kept escalating, something horrific might erupt inside the Dimensional Credit Vault within a few years.
"...Am I getting dragged into this for nothing?"
What power did a rookie deputy like me, still treated like a chick, have to cushion guC and guE? If I busted my ass to climb up and become a big shot, maybe—but right now, I'm barely keeping up with my assigned tasks.
"Hoo."
Maybe my pathetic sighing looked pitiful, because the spirits clustered near the veranda came bounding over and surrounded me.
-Kyuuu
It felt like they were cheering me on, and these guys had surprisingly expressive faces. They looked just like super hamsters from a hero movie who'd gained powers.
"Don't worry. If I can't even handle one meal properly, I'm no office worker."
These little ones played a huge role in letting me survive Dimension 16. Dr. Bernard later told me that monatomic gold alone couldn't have created Rainy's body. It was the gold combined with our determination and the spirits' four primordial forces that forged a complete physical form.
I don't know why the spirits hid in Colossus and followed me, but without them, I'd have been reduced to a handful of dust alongside the city by Irool's judgment sword.
Dr. Sau, who gave me Colossus, and these adorable friends from Dimension 33—they were all lifesavers.
"......"
I'd somehow survived some truly hellish incidents. Professionally and biologically speaking.
It wasn't just my skills or luck. My cohort who's been with me since entering the bank. My superiors like Slick Ellama, clients, and even these spirits and the disinfection crew here.
I could lie comfortably in this dorm now because of everyone's help.
"I'm not asking you to protect me or anything. Just... let's keep getting along."
-Kyuuut
-Kyugit
Faction fights be damned. I'd survive somehow and climb up.
"Gotta keep working as a banker."
No matter how I thought about it, fellow bank employees targeting each other's lives, setting traps—it wasn't normal.
"Yeah. Just focus on the job diligently. No pointless bullshit."
So someone had to change it.
* * *
At the same time, in Great Huuriten's Podoks City.
West Podoks Branch Manager Del Monte had finished work and returned home, enjoying a leisurely dinner with his wife.
"How was your day?"
"Same as always. The IT system upgrade has made things a lot easier lately—thank goodness."
"Really? One of my Pilates clients brought a ton of tangerines today—"
The two chatted amiably about their day over dinner. Tonight's menu was cheese hamburger steak—a favorite of Del Monte's, despite his public image.
"Your family must own an orchard."
"Lucky. Should we try a simple weekend farm ourselves?"
"I'm for it. Thinking of starting with herbs on the balcony. They're good for beginners."
Both Del Monte and his wife were machine humans born in the Great War era. Until recently, their kind had faced discrimination due to misunderstandings, but now laws protected them, allowing seamless lives.
The only difference from other sapients was their mechanical bodies. Created by primordial mysteries, they ate food, drank alcohol and water, bore and raised children just like anyone else. Few delved into their internal structures unless they were specialists, but it was undisputed fact.
"That was delicious."
"Hand me the plates. I'll clean up."
After dinner, Del Monte quickly did the dishes, then settled on the sofa with his wife to watch a movie. They were excited for Flat Sharpendora's upcoming film next year and had promised last night to rewatch his old works after viewing the teaser.
"Ah. This scene... no matter how many times..."
"Right? Heh."
His wife giggled softly, nestling her head into Del Monte's chest. The film was Evergreen Garden Barbecue, from Flat's child actor days. In modern times, it'd be slammed as clichéd family melodrama—classically a "classic," critically a cheese-fest.
Yet it endured high praise thanks to the screenwriter's sharp dialogue and prodigy child actor Flat Sharpendora's performance, delivering fresh emotion on every viewing.
And these machine humans, stern in appearance, were suckers for tear-jerking family flicks.
A family hit by sudden financial crisis from an accident. The diligent smoked barbecue master dad, gentle heavy-lifting champion mom, and their child discovers unexpected talent. Trained by a legendary modern dancer called the "legend of contemporary dance," the kid spreads wings on the dream stage.
A dime-a-dozen story. But the couple clung together, silently shedding tears throughout.
Del Monte's tear glands were weak to such stimuli, and they envied the onscreen family for reasons of their own.
"Honey."
"Hm?"
As the credits rolled, his wife spoke without looking away from the screen.
"I want one."
"......"
"Maybe we should have a kid?"
Del Monte couldn't respond.
"...Repin. You know it's not possible."
Del Monte gazed into his wife's eyes. His kind showed less facial change, but now indescribable emotions swirled in the irises' apertures.
"Still..."
Branch Manager's wife Repin trailed off.
Del Monte knew well: his wife Repin's body made pregnancy difficult.
Repin was a fellow soldier veteran. They'd endured the Great War together, comrades watching each other's backs. Del Monte handled frontline firepower; Repin was the medic. They braced against daily fear and anxiety, leaning on each other.
But on the day before armistice, when enemy mortar hit their barracks—shrapnel tore Repin's abdomen. Her mechanical womb shattered over halfway. Post-war surgery with newer parts followed, but doctors said pregnancy risked both mother and fetus.
She knew, yet still yearned for a child.
Of course, Del Monte valued his living wife's life over an unborn child.
"You know your condition."
"Adoption's fine by me."
"...Adoption's a bit."
He wasn't ready to raise someone else's child.
"Can't we just be happy as two?"
"......"
Repin didn't answer. She strode to the bedroom, entered, and locked the door.
"Haa..."
Left alone in the living room, Del Monte felt tormented.
He wanted to grant her wish, but it meant risking her life or raising another's child. The former was impossible. Only adoption left.
"If we could just practice..."
Even absurd thoughts like trialing life as a family of three surfaced.
"That's not right."
Not like buying and returning merchandise—he didn't want to adopt then abandon, scarring a child forever.
But rushing without resolve wasn't an option either.
"Driving me mad..."
Lost in thought, Del Monte flopped on the sofa, sighing deeply.
He shared her feelings. He didn't dislike children—quite the opposite.
"Maybe it's time I decide."
Visit an orphanage next weekend? As he pondered, his smartphone buzzed on the table. Caller: a guD senior teller, now an HQ executive.
First time after hours. Something serious?
"Del Monte speaking."
"Ah. As expected, you're the only one for this role."
"Pardon?"
"Sorry for the sudden nonsense. Could you come to Linden urgently tomorrow?"
The voice was calm and cautious—something secretive, unfit for phone. Personnel matters? Del Monte guessed.
But the next day, at Dimensional Credit Vault HQ in Linden, he received an unexpected proposal.
"You and your wife have no children, right?"
"Yes. My wife's health issues are severe."
"Any adoption plans?"
"We're considering, but no concrete plans yet..."
"How about a trial run?"
"What do you mean?"
"Adoption, naturally."
"...Pardon?"
"We'll send a child over."
At the executive's order, the secretary opened the door and entered.
"Executive, what is this...?"
"Introduce yourself. This is Makina."
The secretary led in a machine human boy who looked about three years old.