The Chairman Targeting My Pet Humans
………… Anyway, after that, the blonde twin-tail alien girl became my neighbor. I even got her a pretty decent place to live, but the girl herself was still in a total funk.
Jenica spent every single day curled up in the corner of her bed, mumbling things like this.
"There's no way to go back, is there."
"Even if I did, they'd treat me like a deserter or a traitor."
"I lost the ship. Credits don't work here anyway."
"My life's totally ruined."
Like wax dripping from a melting candle, her mutterings just kept pouring out endlessly. I took a little lick of her emotions' flavor, and it tasted damp and gloomy, like a soggy sponge or moldy bread.
Aw, poor thing.
I tried to comfort her in my own way, stopping by her room every night to pat her back. I even brought her meals from the cafeteria that the otaku detective had ordered. Maybe it was thanks to all that dedicated care every day? Lately, Jenica stopped trembling sweetly under the covers when I patted her.
But even my enthusiastic patting didn't seem to fix the root of her depression. She wasn't shaking anymore, but the light in her golden eyes was still dimmed.
Hmm. Can't leave her like this.
I can't just ignore my neighbor's sadness. After some serious thinking, I came up with a brilliant solution.
I'd seen it in a TV documentary that Yi Gyu-rin had left on once. It was footage from Nikola, ruled by someone named Leon Dusk—specifically, the outskirts of Texas. There was this drug that poor folks used. The humans who took it got super happy and ended up slumped on the streets like zombies, bent over at ninety degrees, giggling hehehe.
[Shall we dance too? Like this!]
Yeah, that's it. If I synthesize that stuff and inject it into Jenica's veins? Of course, I'd have the doctor detective in the white coat tweak it for Kepler-442b biology.
The little detectives cheered me on.
[No more depression—just pure happiness!]
Right? It was a great idea. Let's make it right now. Okay, production team detectives—get to work.
The glasses detective crossed her arms. This felt different from her usual know-it-all vibe.
Huh? A drug that makes you happy and hehehe all day isn't drugs. It's just a mood booster.
The glasses detective wouldn't budge. Then the doctor detective in the white coat joined in. She usually stayed out of arguments, buried in her analyses, but today she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with glasses, looking dead serious.
Hmm, next scene? I think I got bored and switched to something else. Anyway, what does it matter? Jenica moping every day is worse than her hehehe-ing every day.
[It's a fentanyl-based synthetic opioid that destroys the central nervous system. Even adjusted for Kepler-442b physiology, it'll wreck hers too.]
These guys are tougher than I thought. I could smack them and they'd run off crying, but that'd hurt my pride. Just like when I proved I was the master detective-outer god, I need to dismantle them with flawless logic this time too.
My points are crystal clear.
One. Humans on TV were laughing.
Two. Laughing means they're happy. I even tasted their emotions—pure bliss.
Three. Being happy is good.
Four. Therefore, I'm right.
[That TV clip was a doc on Texas slum drug addiction, by the way.]
Hmm, give me a sec. Let me think of a counter.
I pondered for eight hours and fired back, but they hit me with an instant rebuttal. We went back and forth like that, bickering endlessly. I didn't give up, and the proper detectives held firm. The mental world's blackboard filled up with arguments and counterarguments from both sides.
In the end, it got tabled in this ambiguous limbo for a few days.
Then, surprisingly, Jenica pulled herself together on her own.
I dropped by her room that day for my usual patting session, but there was no gray tracksuit lump huddled under the covers to greet me. The bed was neatly made, and the messy room was spotless.
Huh? Where'd my alien neighbor go?
After searching around, I found her in the cafeteria. She was in her gray tracksuit with a fluorescent vest over it, grabbing a tray at the counter. Her hair was dusted with cement powder, and her clothes were streaked with dirt.
"Life is something you carve out for yourself!"
She said that while scooping up some curry. What a badass line. I should steal it for later. Though right now, speaking out loud would drop humans around me.
Apparently, Jenica's been working at a nearby construction site from dawn till lunch these days. At least six shifts a week. No idea how she scored the gig, but her Kepler-442b agility suits high-up work perfectly, so the site's treating her great.
Look at her, nose all high and mighty. Fine, whatever. I'll concede this one. Glasses detective wins this round. But next time, no mercy.
I should swing by the construction site later. Curious how Jenica works.
…………
The face-to-face between Oseong Group's chairman Lee and my attachment humans went down too.
Ah, Oseong Group? From what I saw on TV—
Damn, she stole my spotlight. I was gonna keep it to like 5700 words.
Hmph. Fine, make it quick.
Oseong Group Hierarchy
Chairman: Lee Se-hee (Total control)
Nice and concise. Good job. Now let's go watch.
Right now, I'm spread thin in slime form across the floor, stuck to Yeom Hana and Han Min-seo's shadows, slinking along.
I eyed the two walking ahead. Han Min-seo looked super shrunk down, shoulders hunched tight. Her emotions tasted like vinegar water—sour tension.
Yeom Hana was her usual self. Just no Neutronium Suit since it wasn't a fight. It was a choker anyway, so she could transform anytime.
The reception room door opened, and finally, the room's owner—Chairman Lee Se-hee—appeared.
Jet-black hair so dark it gleamed. Straight-cut bangs and side fringes stark against her pale skin. She sat with an air of arrogance, but I could guess her height—mid-170s maybe. And her outfit? A hanbok.
Whoa, a real hanbok. First time seeing one in person. Chaebols only wear them on TV, right?
But thinking about it, weird. Why do only chaebols wear hanbok?
[Even low-quality fakes cost as much as a luxury car. Real ones? A Seoul apartment. Chaebols jacked the prices to make them luxury status symbols. Class signaling.]
How many snack bags would that be?
Wearing 5 million bags worth of snacks as clothes. Impressive. All that snack money turned into fabric instead of eating. Wasteful, but pretty is pretty.
I hadn't tasted her emotions yet, but Lee Se-hee held her own looks-wise against Yeom Hana and Han Min-seo.
Meanwhile, quick greetings exchanged. Han Min-seo bowed deep; Yeom Hana just nodded lightly. Lee Se-hee barely twitched her chin in response. Not even "have a seat."
Lee Se-hee spoke.
"State your business. Briefly."
Cold, high-pressure casual speech. Starting with banmal could've pissed people off, but her voice didn't waver a bit. Like she didn't care if they hated her.
But Yeom Hana was Korea's top S-rank Awakener, and Han Min-seo a promising A-rank.
"You summon us here and expect us to keep it brief?"
"My hour's worth about 30 billion won. More than you'll make in a lifetime. Saving time is only natural, no?"
Han Min-seo's shoulders shrank further. Now she looked like a turtle with her head fully retracted.
Yeom Hana was different. Eyebrows twitched up faintly, jaw clenched so her masseter bulged. She was pissed.
Lee Se-hee ignored their opposite reactions, just staring them down alternately. Then she spoke again.
"Fight me. Whenever I want, stakes your lives. In return, I'll help the Management Agency."
Her black eyes flashed in the light.