Alone with the Empress Dowager
Jincheon's party transferred ships to the Rastold Silverion, under Eirin's command.
The transport vessel was set to follow on autopilot, so that part presented no issue. The real problem was that she had taken the transport's supplies.
Eirin had first insisted that, as comrades who would now fight side by side, they ought to live together and deepen their bonds — and so she moved Jincheon's party aboard the Rastold Silverion. After that, she piled on one justification after another, arguing that they needed to share resources to weather this crisis, promising to repay everything later, and transferred Jincheon's supplies onto her warship.
Ordinarily Jincheon would never have swallowed any of it. For some reason, though, he agreed without a fight, and life aboard the Rastold Silverion began.
If I told people he was pulling this idiotic stunt just to get the Empress Dowager and the Imperial Guard Captain, would anyone believe me?
He already made a fool of himself once. Doing it again won't make much difference, will it?
Heliane and Calsira, watching the whole farce with blank disbelief, traded remarks through sound transmission. At first they had been stunned that such an absurd method of communication even existed — but once they realized nothing beat it for talking in front of other people, they started using sound transmission for anything that mattered.
At the moment, the two of them were training their bodies in the warship's exercise room.
Clank. Clank-clank.
"Hoo— huff—"
"Hnn— haah—"
A pilot had to build muscle to withstand high gravity, which meant physical conditioning was non-negotiable. They had learned techniques for reinforcing the body through Inner Qi cultivation methods, but Jincheon had advised them that only by training the flesh itself could they fully draw out those methods' effects — so they never stopped working out either.
The warship was stocked with equipment that put any cutting-edge gym to shame. Both women had stripped out of their nano-suits and were focused entirely on their bodies.
That aside, these people can't even surveil properly. My face is burning.
They're the Imperial Guard. Elites only, remember?
Others were training as well, but a few of them were only pretending to work out so they could keep watch. Their goal was to overhear the two women's conversation and figure out where they belonged. Having no way of knowing the pair was communicating through sound transmission, the watchers reached their own conclusions.
"Their lips are sealed tight."
"I haven't seen them exchange a single private word."
"Highly trained operatives, maybe?"
They had decided Heliane and Calsira must be elite agents with mouths of iron.
They're watching us so openly I don't even dare speak out loud.
Well, thanks to the surveillance, at least nobody's picking pointless fights with us. That's something.
After everything we did for them, what do they have to be so sour about?
Cut them some slack, sister. Imperial Guards learn arrogance as a passive skill.
Was Zabalcan like that too?
If we'd been there, they'd have started screaming about hornless nobodies daring to use facilities like these long before now.
All of this while the two of them poured out an endless stream of chatter through sound transmission, completely unnoticed.
So how long is Jincheon going to keep playing the sucker?
Isn't it obvious?
Heliane answered Calsira's question as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Until he makes the Empress Dowager sisters his. He'll keep it up until then.
Hmm…
You look like something's bothering you.
Actually…
"Hooo—!"
Calsira, mid bench press, racked the bar and paused her sound transmission long enough to steady her breathing. Once she had her breath back, she sent another message.
At first I was focused entirely on surviving. But once I actually survived, became a mercenary, and started making money… I started wondering whether it's really okay to just spend time like this.
What are you talking about?
Living as a mercenary, I noticed other people get a job, earn credits from it, spend the credits, then go looking for another job. Over and over. That's everyday life for them, I suppose.
Calsira shifted positions to work her chest and core.
What's your point?
I want a goal.
A goal?
Yes. Living like other mercenaries — taking contracts, earning credits, taking more contracts when the credits run out — that isn't bad, but…
The future feels too uncertain. That it?
Exactly. I want some kind of goal that would still matter later on. Growing the mercenary company, or becoming a Giranlek noble, receiving territory, and developing it — something like that.
Hmm…
Heliane found herself drawn toward the same idea. Calsira had already succeeded at her highest priority — survival. Heliane had abandoned her revenge for her father. Both of them had, whether through success or failure, moved past the purposes that once defined them.
For ordinary mercenaries, life meant modifying mechas and chasing entertainment when money was plentiful, and hunting for contracts when it ran dry. But the two of them, gifted with exceptional power thanks to Jincheon, had started wanting more.
And so, buoyed by the strength of their Inner Qi, ambition for the future began to take root in both their hearts.
Around that same time, Jincheon was in the briefing room, where a three-dimensional map hung in the air and a debate was underway.
"We now have enough supplies for two or three engagements. I believe the best course is to adjust our route and push into loyalist territory."
"If the enemy mounts stubborn resistance, it could cost us more time than we can afford. Safer to stick to the original route."
"If we drag this out any longer, the loyalists may start to waver. We need to make contact with them as soon as possible."
The meeting of Imperial Guard platoon leaders had split into a breakthrough faction and a detour faction. Entry into the Imperial Guard required not only raw skill but the ability to read a battlefield, so officers of platoon-leader rank had more than enough ability and leadership to command a small engagement.
Both sides have a point.
Safety, or boldness.
Eirin and Beatrix studied the three-dimensional map, turning the problem over in their minds.
Punching straight through the star systems held by the traitors would get them to loyalist space in twenty days. But if enemy resistance proved fiercer than expected and burned more time than planned, the pursuit force would catch them and they would be caught in a pincer. Taking the safe way around would also leave the pursuit force without resupply — so even if the enemy managed to cling on a few times, a better-provisioned force on this side could brush them off easily. The problem was that the long way around would cost fifty days. In that time, the traitors might shake the loyalists hard enough to peel some of them away.
The ideal move would be to put the Emperor and the Empress Dowager on my transport and warp straight into loyalist space…
Jincheon had never mentioned that his transport carried a Warp Drive.
This is the only chance I'll get to stay this close to the Empress Dowager and her sister, the Imperial Guard Captain.
He had deliberately played the sucker and handed over his supplies for one reason: to get aboard this ship. Only then would he have any pretext for approaching Eirin and Beatrix.
That aside — both of them are absolute top-tier stock.
First, Eirin. Long, straight hair that carried the dignity of high nobility, emerald-green strands that caught the light with a mysterious luster. Eyes and every gesture that somehow combined steel and sensuality, elegance rising from her posture as naturally as breath. A slightly snug pure-white uniform skirt and black leggings that emphasized the clean line of her legs and the narrow cinch of her waist, the beautiful curves of a woman readable even through cloth. And below her shoulders, the gentle, full arcs of a generous chest that marked her as a married woman who had borne a child. A woman who could stir lust without showing an inch of skin.
That is not a body that has given birth.
Next, Beatrix. Where Eirin's hair suggested deep refinement, hers fell in a hime cut to her back that mixed dignity with haughty pride. Her arrogant eyes — the look of someone confident enough to dare any enemy to come at her — carried a provocative allure. In a pilot suit of muted pink and white, she displayed a figure that even other women couldn't help staring at. Her legs, longer and more slender than her sister Eirin's, held a seductive power that could bring a man to full hardness from nothing more than the thought of them wrapping around his waist.
A leopard of a woman. Sleek and beautiful — and if you approach carelessly, she'll tear you apart.
Beauty, presence, figure: top-class women in every respect. And the reactions they would show when women of such high station were pinned beneath a man of low birth… he was already looking forward to them far too much.
A little revenge, maybe — but consider it payment for helping yourselves to my supplies.
Jincheon pushed the energy of Sex Cultivation into Eirin's and Beatrix's bodies. They had treated him like a mark and seized his resources as if by force; this was a fair response. Besides, the tension of being hunted left them no room for desire — so he needed to create an opening he could work into somehow.
"What do you think?"
"About breakthrough versus detour, you mean?"
Eirin suddenly turned the question on him. Thanks to Yang-ui Simbeop, which split his mind in two, he had been listening to every important point even while his thoughts wandered — so he answered without stumbling.
Originally the technique was a supreme cultivation method that let a martial artist run two trains of thought at once, unleash different arts with each hand, or cultivate two kinds of Inner Qi simultaneously. Jincheon was using it to appraise women's bodies during a critical strategy meeting. Any Murim master who saw it would have wept blood and ordered him never to use it that way again.
"Common sense says breakthrough is the right answer."
"Common sense?"
The platoon leaders who favored the safe detour frowned at his words.
"Without me, the safe detour would be correct. With me here, breakthrough is correct. That's what I mean."
"…"
"…"
An unpleasant silence filled the conference room. The Imperial Guards carried pride that bordered on arrogance — and Jincheon was several times more arrogant still. Even under every glare in the room, he wore an easy smile.
I really cannot stand this man!
Every single arrogant line out of Jincheon's mouth grated on Beatrix. Eirin felt a similar irritation, but she was both a noble and a commander who ranked among the great generals of her line.
"In that case — will you take the vanguard when we break through the enemy lines?"
She made him pay the price for his words. Refuse the lead and he became a coward on the spot. Accept it and he would be thrown into the hardest fighting of the battle.
"Of course. That's exactly why I painted mine a bright, eye-catching red."
"Very well. We will concentrate all firepower and punch through the enemy lines."
Jincheon answered with an arrogant smile. Eirin, who could not afford pride when survival demanded every tool available, chose breakthrough.
"Your Majesty the Empress Dowager!"
"That is far too dangerous!"
The detour faction tried to stop her.
"I am aware it is a high-risk operation. But did the traitors not already prepare everything and seize the capital in an instant?"
"That is…"
"Mm…"
This betrayal had not been spontaneous. It was the product of meticulous planning, precision itself. Nothing else could explain how more than half the capital defense force had turned without a single person noticing.
"They will already have prepared methods to win over the loyalists once we are dead."
"But we have already announced that we are alive, have we not?"
"Exactly! Nobles who understand honor would not be swayed so easily!"
…I am in a sci-fi world, right?
Hearing them argue that no one would defect because of something as archaic as "honor," Jincheon suffered a brief moment of genre confusion.
"Or they may strike while the loyalists are still scattered and defeat them in detail. If we had no supplies, it would be another matter — but now that we can fight several battles, we must unite the loyalists as quickly as possible."
"…Yes. Understood."
"We will follow your orders."
Persuaded by Eirin's explanation, the detour faction raised no further objections.
Good judgment.
She was a former commander and held the title of Empress Dowager, yet she did not crush dissent with authority and orders. She persuaded them step by step. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been unnecessary — but a mutiny here would end everything, so she talked them into compliance rather than breeding resentment. Watching her stamp out the seeds of discord before they could sprout, Jincheon understood how a party with a child emperor and no real authority had made it this far.
Fortunate. She isn't the type who rules by rank alone. She's a commander with real leadership.
In peacetime, authority alone would have been enough. Disobedience could be punished without effort. But they were being hunted by rebels, and until recently they had been in the extreme position of having no supplies at all. Treat subordinates carelessly in that state and a revolt could erupt. Eirin had persuaded her juniors into following her command instead.
With the decision settled on breakthrough, they began drafting strategy around expected enemy responses. After some time, Eirin recognized that what her people needed was not a more elaborate plan but a chance to enjoy the rare breathing room they had found — and she ordered the meeting dismissed.
"We will adjourn for today. Issue special rations to the maintenance crews, and once this round of repairs is finished, give them a proper rest."
Knowing how hard the engineers had worked, stretching nonexistent resources to hold off the worst, the platoon leaders acknowledged the order and filed out of the conference room.
"Jincheon, was it? I would like a word with you. Come with me."
Eirin's tone shifted from commander to Empress Dowager.
"Sis— Empress Dowager, there is no need to speak with someone so undisciplined…"
"That is for me to decide, Guard Captain."
"…Understood. Then."
When Eirin issued a formal order, Beatrix complied — but not before shooting Jincheon a glare on her way out of the conference room.
"This way."
Left alone together, Jincheon and Eirin left the conference room and headed for her private quarters.
What is this? What kind of situation is this?
Jincheon had been waiting for a chance to be alone with Eirin or Beatrix. Now Eirin herself was arranging it, and he was thrown off balance. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he followed her to her private chambers and listened closely for whatever she was about to say.
"We are alone here. There are no listening devices and no watching eyes, so you may speak freely."
"What is it you wish to hear, exactly?"
"Hmph. Playing coy."
She gave a light snort of laughter and asked again.
"I mean you may tell me who stands behind you."
"…?"
"So suspicious. I already said there is no surveillance."
Jincheon, still trying to parse the situation, spun his thoughts at high speed. The answer that came was this:
I see. She thinks some organization or nation is backing me.
A pilot who could control absurd speeds and possessed matching skill — a mercenary that famous was hard to believe was truly unknown. She had clearly decided some state had sent him as covert support. But she could not publicly acknowledge foreign intervention, so she had called him in for a quiet discussion.
This is my chance.
Ordinarily he would have had to circle like a hyena, hunting for any opening to get her alone. Instead, a misunderstanding had collapsed the entire process in an instant and delivered the two of them into a private room. Jincheon decided he would not waste an opportunity that had walked right up to him.