The Soft Side of Absolute Power
While Jincheon was busy exploiting Heliane's weak points, Jotala was reviewing something with Gebel and several of his officers.
"What's the verdict?"
"Every analysis came back with the same answer."
What they were looking at was surveillance footage from the hangar.
On the screen, a Confedon officer — somehow ignoring the anti-cybernetic countermeasures — fired the railgun mounted along the inside of his arm. Then the recording froze on the moment Jincheon appeared before a startled Jotala and stopped the round cold.
"So… you're telling me this is teleportation?"
"No matter how slowly we play the feed, he appears at the exact instant the shot is fired," one of the officers answered, working the controls.
They scrubbed the surveillance footage frame by frame. The playback crawled so slowly that Jotala could track the shape of the muzzle flash blooming from the railgun and even the spin of the projectile as it left the barrel.
And yet, at that same instant, Jincheon's figure simply popped into existence — no warning, no buildup, nothing.
That alone was astonishing. What made it worse was that he had already been reaching out with his hand when he appeared. He had known exactly where the round was coming from. The proof was right there on the screen: the projectile stopped dead, caught between his fingers.
The video specialists all agreed that, based on the hangar cameras alone, teleportation was the only possible explanation — and that proper recording equipment would be needed from the start if they ever hoped to capture it cleanly. If anything, they were the ones most excited, itching to unravel the mystery.
The footage continued, showing an assassin who suddenly burst apart as if something invisible had seized him — nothing around him, no visible attack, just a man crumpling into a bloody mess.
"Could he be from the Bocondri Holy Kingdom?"
Every eye in the room snapped toward the speaker.
"I've heard the rumors. They use bizarre abilities without cybernetic implants or special devices."
"Psionics, right? I've heard of that strange power of theirs."
"But if they could produce someone this strong, wouldn't they already be expanding their territory?"
"And even if he is from the Holy Kingdom — why would a powerhouse like that show up in a place like this?"
The Beacon System was already thoroughly mapped; there was nothing left worth exploring. If the Bocondri Holy Kingdom were willing to send an operative of this caliber into a system like this, they would already be the single most likely contender for galactic domination. In reality, they were just a mid-sized nation with unique abilities — famous mainly for being the galaxy's only theocratic state.
Either way, the footage had made one thing crystal clear.
"All of you — until that man leaves, keep the men on a tight leash. For this one occasion, I'm authorizing act-first-report-later. I don't want a single idiot mouthing off to him or his people. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Everyone present — those who had watched the footage and those who had only heard about it — nodded with tense faces and filed out.
"Gebel… thank god you were there."
The image was still burned into Jotala's mind: a man catching a railgun round bare-handed like it was nothing, then crushing another human being to death without so much as a gesture. The footage alone couldn't prove whether he could kill multiple people the same way — but the fact that he had asked how many people were inside the fortress suggested he could wipe out a crowd in a single stroke. Realizing they had been one wrong move from death from the moment they first met him sent a chill down Jotala's spine.
"Still, something doesn't add up," one officer muttered, tilting his head even after the conclusion had been reached. "He clearly knows exactly how valuable that power of his is. With strength like that, wouldn't it be more profitable to skip the mechas entirely and just play king on some wealthy planet?"
He had a point. If any of them possessed that kind of power, they would be running the underworld of some rich world and raking in money — not piloting mechas as mercenaries.
"He's enjoying himself," Gebel said.
The officers looked at him.
"You all remember Jincheon's business card, don't you?"
Of course they did. A card that memorable was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
"Any fight with him must be conducted in a mecha. That was the first clause."
"Wait… ah—!"
"You don't mean…?"
As the officers recalled that first rule, Gebel's meaning clicked into place.
"He's treating it like a game. No matter how strong a pilot is, a mecha is still just a machine that handles gravity better than a human body."
"But if he loses, he dies floating in space. That's a guarantee."
"That's part of the fun for him."
"…"
His values were completely alien to theirs. A mind that treated even life-and-death warfare as play. It was like something wearing a human skin. The thought alone left the officers with the creeping unease of having just encountered an unknown entity.
"Whatever else you do — do not break Jincheon's rules."
If anyone else had said that, they would have laughed it off as nonsense. But Gebel was the man whose instincts alone had built the Jotala family into what it was today, and every one of them knew it. So they nodded heavily, silently vowing not to cross the man.
"…"
Calsira could barely believe her own eyes.
"Heh. You smell nice."
"W-wait… don't cling to me like that…"
"Women really are fascinating creatures. You all use the same liquid cleanser, and yet you give off this sweet scent."
Jincheon had been glued to Heliane the entire time, speaking in a soft, lover-like voice that was nothing like his usual self. But what shocked Calsira even more was Heliane's reaction.
"Nnh…"
The woman who normally answered everything with a cold, steely gaze was flustered and blushing, completely at a loss.
And the problem was that look of hers.
What is this? Big sister looks… ridiculously cute. Am I losing my mind?
The gap from her usual self was so vast it felt unreal. The Heliane Calsira knew was not someone who got adorably embarrassed like this.
Is this a dream?
It was so far outside reality that she half-wondered if she was still asleep.
They say the sun is gentler than the storm — but she has zero resistance to being treated softly.
Watching Heliane's reactions, Jincheon confirmed it: she had absolutely no immunity to being treated like a lover.
And that makes this so much more fun.
Every time he whispered gently and caressed her body, her face went pale with embarrassment. A woman who always wore the face of a hardened warrior, making expressions this cute — he could do this all day and never get tired of it.
"Shall we go get something to eat?"
Jotala had told him that, as a guest who had played a major role in the war, his meals were on the house. It wasn't a huge sum, and the food wasn't any different from what the other pirates ate, so Jincheon had accepted the courtesy without complaint.
Whoosh—
"Ah…!"
As he suggested heading to the cafeteria, he slipped an arm around Heliane's impossibly slim waist — the kind of waist that looked drawn from a comic — and pulled her against his side. Caught by the narrow of her flank, she couldn't keep her eyes still, darting them around like someone with an emotional disorder, overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.
"Mmmph…"
Calsira's lips pushed out into a pout. Watching the two of them sink into a world of their own, completely ignoring her, she felt a sharp twinge of jealousy.
Jincheon caught the look in her eyes, glanced over, and crooked a finger at her — come here.
The blatant gesture was embarrassing, but they had already seen every possible side of each other. Calsira trotted over without protest.
Whoosh—
"Eek!"
"You're not a kid. Leave you alone for two seconds and you start sulking."
"I-I was not sulking!"
"Heh heh heh."
"I said I wasn't!"
Pulling her in by the waist as well, Jincheon set off with a flower on each arm, showing the world exactly what he was holding.
Now occupying one of his sides, Calsira carefully peeked past him to check on Heliane.
That's the face of a woman…
The expression Heliane wore, nestled against Jincheon's side, was not a warrior's face. It was the face of a woman.
What the hell happened after I got drunk and passed out?
Something had clearly gone down while she was out cold. But asking about it outright felt too embarrassing.
Swoosh—
"Ah?"
"Your hair's so soft. It's actually satisfying to run my fingers through."
"Eh…"
The hand that had been around her waist rose to stroke her hair, and Jincheon gave her a gentle smile.
Something… feels different…?
Jincheon's usual trademark was that easy, overflowing confidence — a smile that always said he had everything under control. The ease was still there, but something else had filled the space where pure confidence used to sit. Calsira didn't have the experience to name it precisely, but one thing was certain: he was completely different from usual.
"Ah—! Good day, sir!"
The moment they stepped into the cafeteria, a pirate bent nearly ninety degrees at the waist in a formal bow. He was one of the men who had watched Jincheon turn a person into paste back in the hangar.
"It's a cafeteria. No need to stand on ceremony."
"Y-yes, sir…"
From Jincheon's perspective the greeting was a little random, but he had spent so long in a position of absolute authority that receiving deference came as naturally as breathing. He handled it without missing a beat.
The way they're looking at us has changed. Someone upstairs must have put out a warning.
Noting the shift in the pirates' gazes, Jincheon took it as a matter of course. He had demonstrated something bordering on the supernatural — any leader with half a brain would lock down their subordinates after that.
"Oh! Jincheon!"
But the people approaching him now weren't pirates, so they hadn't received any warning. It was Kader and his crew — the smugglers Jincheon had helped keep alive.
"We watched the battle from a distance. You put on a one-man-army performance out there."
"It was incredible. When you charged the enemy fleet alone, I honestly thought you'd lost your mind."
Kader's crew chattered excitedly, heaping praise on Jincheon's skill. At first, seeing no "female candidates" that matched his tastes, Jincheon had planned to give a few polite replies and end the conversation. Then something occurred to him, and he spoke up.
"Come to think of it — as smugglers, you've been all over the place, right?"
"Yes. We've covered just about everything in this region."
"Including Keren?"
"It's famous for having plenty of work."
"But the competition's just as fierce."
"It's no exaggeration to say the big contracts all get snapped up by the mercenary companies."
Listening to Kader and his crew, Jincheon realized this was going to be a longer conversation than expected. Since the smugglers had come for a meal as well, both groups loaded up their trays and found a table.
"I'd like to know more about Keren."
"You could look it up on a Bio Device…"
"There's a rule that applies to every kind of work: the truly important information only exists on the ground."
"…"
"So I want the atmosphere, the real intel, from people who've actually been there. I'm not after your livelihood or anything."
"Mm… well, if it's just that much…"
Kader laid out the kind of information anyone could pick up by walking around Keren for a day. After a few spoonfuls of food to organize his thoughts, he confirmed what his crew had learned during their own time there.
"If you want to take mercenary work once you arrive in Keren, there are two routes. Join a mercenary company, or join a guild."
"A mercenary company? Why bother if there's a guild?"
"Because guild contracts take a cut as a commission. With a reputable mercenary company, the employer hires you directly — no middleman fee. You keep the full amount."
"Hmm."
Jincheon made the appropriate noises of interest while shoveling food into his mouth. The ingredients were cheap, but someone had at least managed to make them work together well enough that the meal was edible.
"And there are multiple guilds and multiple mercenary companies."
"Companies I understand. Why multiple guilds?"
"Because even inside Doperos — the merchant nation that built Keren — there are competing factions. Those factions founded their own guilds and fight over which one the employers go to."
Normally a place like this would have a single unified guild. Apparently that kind of common sense didn't apply in Keren.
"And this is just my prediction, but the moment you arrive, you're going to get scouted by half a dozen guilds and companies."
"To win the competition."
"I heard you traded the Saisalas for the Gareld. A B-class mecha like the Saisalas and two top-tier C-class Garelds — that's a force anyone would covet."
Then the heavyset woman with one eye sitting beside Kader added more.
"If you don't join at least a company or a guild, you can assume you'll never get work. Ever."
"I see. A company means being tied down, so a guild would be the better option."
A guild still let you take contracts freely or leave for somewhere else. A mercenary company locked you in place. The guild was clearly the smarter choice.
"What kind of jobs are most common?"
"The bulk of it is merchant escort work, but with every corporation in the sector piled on top of each other, they also hire people to sabotage each other. Those jobs usually go to the companies, of course."
"Merchant escorts, huh."
Back in Murim, he had taken escort contracts for merchant caravans as a wandering martial artist. Those days had been crushingly boring — too many eyes around, forcing him into involuntary abstinence when all he wanted was to do things with his women. But this world was different. They had their own ship. Radar handled the watch. He could download games on his Bio Device or kill time with a VR console.
"It's not all escorts and sabotage, though," the one-eyed woman continued. "Sometimes you get hired to hit a pirate outpost, or to fight as a proxy in official corporate duels."
Jincheon asked about the atmosphere of Keren as well, and got the kind of vivid, on-the-ground description that only people who had actually been there could provide.