Uncomfortable Collaboration 2
"Ah, so you originally aspired to be a New York economics reporter?"
"Y-yes! I w-would cover stories on W-Wall Street, have m-meals, catch the eye of some p-promising fund manager, and m-marry into success—"
"You're pretty honest about your ambitions."
I nodded along appropriately as Claire spilled her words. Since we were stuck traveling together anyway, I'd tried some ice-breaking to ease the tension, and it had worked. Lucky for me, this bun-hat-wearing reporter was even more introverted and timid than I was. Maybe because we'd escaped those hostile glares, her expression had softened, and her stuttering had eased up a bit compared to before.
"Then one day, the d-desk editor called me in, said he'd s-seen my report and was i-impressed, and just like that, he p-pulled me straight onto his team..."
"Aigoo, poor thing."
"Th-then, sob!, suddenly he has me writing war r-reports... and now he's sending me right into the f-field where bullets are flying... waaah...!"
"Here, wipe your tears with this."
"Th-thank youuu... waaah...!"
Strike that—too effective. Once she relaxed, all her pent-up grievances came flooding out. Claire was putting my handkerchief to full use, wiping tears and blowing her nose like it was a complete facial cleanse. I debated whether to ask for it back as she thrust the slime-covered silk scrap toward me.
They said old Joseon folks thought Western handkerchief culture was unclean. Right now, I was fully on board with that view.
I smiled, took it gingerly with my fingertips, and stuffed it into my pants pocket.
"Feeling better now? Oh, about that report you wrote—"
"L-Lord William, you're... more m-mature than I expected..."
"Pardon?"
Sudden compliment?
"Honestly, at first I thought you were some k-kind of madman... with the desk editor thing, and r-running off with the stocks—"
Whoosh!
"Eeeek! S-s-sorry...!"
This time, the bodyguards whipped their heads around in unison. The air-splitting sound made me worry their necks might snap. Under their murderous glares, Claire bowed repeatedly, apologizing nonstop.
I gestured for them to calm down, then replied in my most understanding tone.
"I was prepared for those looks. I'm just grateful to the colleagues sticking with me despite it all."
"Oh, r-right. You seem close with your b-bodyguards too..."
"You're helping me out too, Claire—if you look at it broadly. I'm grateful for that, so have some confidence."
"R-really...? Hehe..."
She blushed and ducked her head shyly.
So help me out more, then. Sorry, but you're the easiest source for reading the board.
As I smiled at her, she finally cracked a genuine smile for the first time since we met, lifting the corners of her mouth.
At the same time, a faint, grumbling mutter drifted from up front.
"Grr...! When this is over, I'll make her my all-night body pillow. Young master!"
What the hell does that even mean?
Still, the harvest was slimmer than expected. From Claire, I'd only gleaned the anti-Anastasis coalition's goals and why some insiders distrusted the Shareholder.
Their broad objectives boiled down to:
1. Force Anastasis to spit out the swallowed Elson.
2. Withdraw specific corporate armies from the City of London and prevent future combat or escalations.
3. Reduce Anastasis forces stationed in Greater London.
4. Take joint military or economic action if needed to enforce the above.
But the department store terror and standoff had backfired—their forces weren't shrinking; they'd swelled to nearly a division's worth. The self-appointed leader, the Shareholder, hadn't countered effectively and was now suspected of backchannel talks, eroding his credibility.
That's solid intel, so why call it meager?
Because I already heard it all in the meeting with Allen.
The new bits from Claire were off-the-record backstory—nice-to-knows, not must-knows. Whenever I probed about Allen or her background, she'd start sniffling and derail into her life story, derailing every time.
She's sloppy, but still a big news agency employee for a reason. Maybe just knock her out in the chaos and scan her neural augment?
"W-we're almost there. The t-target's hiding in a p-prominent candidate spot..."
"Northern checkpoint... Is it the weakest defended?"
"N-not exactly, the r-reason is—"
"The escape point is nearby. They started searching immediately, so the target couldn't flee far—just barely holed up. Right?"
"Eh? Y-yeah, that's true..."
"Got it. Then—"
I shot a subtle glance at my mentor. She nodded and approached Claire.
"Reporter, didn't you say you needed the restroom earlier?"
"P-pardon? Me?"
"It's a lull now—go while you have time. A signal in combat would be disastrous."
"No, I'm f-fine—"
My mentor draped an arm around Claire's shoulders, leaning in so close their cheeks nearly touched. She whispered softly but with unmistakable coercion.
"Don't worry. I'll escort you. As the young master's ally, I'll charge half price for protection."
"Nooooo! W-w-wait, pleeease?!"
"Young master. We'll be right back—rest while we're gone."
With that, my mentor half-dragged Claire away. It made me curiously wonder about her school days. Would she humor a maid outfit request later?
Anyway, once they were far enough, Bell approached with her report.
"Young master, nearby power lines and cell towers are making signals unstable. Is that alright?"
"No issue. I can distinguish the prisoner's signal now."
"Understood. I'll guard the perimeter while you scan."
I gave Bell a thumbs-up and closed my eyes.
As mentioned, the area was a mess of signals scattered, distorted, and jumbled by the river-like flow of electricity. But amid it, I easily picked out the familiar one—like spotting a single black thread in a tangle of white yarn.
Lurking near the checkpoint meant they were biding for an escape window. Caught before they could, too bad for them.
"Found it. In that warehouse cluster over there... Hm?"
"Young master?"
I ignored Bell's puzzled question and refocused. Near the power lines, multiple military implant signatures pinged. Transco guards? They clustered, left one odd emitting object behind, then scattered.
Roll call? Too ominous to dismiss. Especially that suspicious emitter from the tower.
What the hell is that?
"Bell, can your radar ID bombs?"
"Yes, but it risks backtrace exposing us."
"We're firepower superior anyway. I'll mark coords—center on—"
BOOOOOOMMMMM-!!!!!
"????!!!!"
Before I could confirm, it happened. A flash ripping night into day. Thunder tearing ears. Shockwave shaking the earth. The power tower exploded.
"Ngh..."
"Young master!!!"
We were far from ground zero, so just some shaking. But Bell had shielded me instinctively, now gripping my shoulders as the blasts subsided.
"Young master! You okay?! What if debris—"
"You blocked it—why worry about me? More importantly—"
I refocused on local signals. Transco troops at the checkpoint bolted toward the tower in panic. And sure enough, movement from the warehouses.
Explosion as aggro and signal? No idea on allies involved, but our job was clear: Secure the escapee without drawing eyes.
"Bell! Target first! Straight to the checkpoint—ignore the rest!"