The Commander's First Steps
Back when I still had an office job — before any of this possession business — I used to kill time reading stories about people who woke up inside someone else's life. The protagonists in those novels were as different as the books themselves.
Some lucked into reasonably high stations and hogged every hidden opportunity already loaded into their heads, coasting through life on easy mode. Others dropped into stories they didn't know from dirt, hit the ground face-first, and only crawled out the other side after every ordeal the author could throw at them — the human-victory type.
For a genre wrung out as thoroughly as this one, the premises and the plots were always different enough that there was still a pleasure in reading them.
...Not that I had any idea it would be my future.
Anyway, in that respect, I can safely call myself lucky.
I hadn't just possessed a game I knew well — I had it memorized inside and out. I wasn't in a position where I'd have to scrape by in the dirt. I held what was, for all practical purposes, absolute authority. Thanks to the work competence etched into this body, I didn't have to worry about getting the job done, and then there were the operatives, endlessly well-disposed toward me.
At the very least, I didn't have to claw my way up from the bottom. This much was a stroke of heaven-sent luck.
Of course, this was a world where bullets were the baseline and superpowers of every kind came down like hail, so it wasn't exactly safe. But as an environment for surviving in a world completely divorced from the one I'd originally lived in, it didn't get much better than this.
...Yeah. For now.
...Nobody knows what happens from here.
Because I'd already steamrolled through the main story and every side story besides, the danger factors had dropped off exponentially — but paradoxically, that made things impossible to predict. I mean, I could get assassinated by a rival faction, or — stretching it a bit — Firma could get hit with a large-scale assault.
Sure, you could say there's nothing to worry about when every organization capable of that has already been smashed to pieces... but you never know with people.
...The proof of that is standing right here, after all.
I mean, getting possessed just because I stopped playing a game for a while? What kind of nonsense is that. I have to eat too, you know...
Anyway... if I'd possessed this at the start of the story, at least I would have had a clear sense of direction. Even then, one wrong step would have landed me in the same ugly situations... but maybe I would have felt a little more at ease.
Right now I was holding a bomb that could go off at any moment, and I had no idea where the bomb even was — about as helpless a situation as it gets. But I couldn't just sit on my hands.
I don't have a hobby of watching my own house get blown apart.
So, first things first.
Let's start by filling in the two-year gap.
The first step was taking stock of the hand I'd been dealt.
"A roster... you mean?"
The next day, I worked through my duties the same as yesterday while asking Rielly for a complete roster of every operative in Firma.
If the story had proceeded as written, they'd all still be employed — but I'd possessed my own account, so I needed to confirm whether only the operatives I'd pulled were here. If it was only the ones I'd pulled, I'd have to start thinking about how to find the ones who were missing.
Why did this matter? Because I'd been a hardcore veteran of Firma, that's why. So if there was anyone I hadn't managed to pull, it would only be the highest rarity — the 6-stars. And according to the world's lore, each 6-star was less a person and more a strategic weapon.
Depending on the circumstances, they were the kind of people who might put a knife in my throat, so I needed to bring them in as fast as possible.
Not in the physical sense — though they'd already stabbed me once, in a manner of speaking.
Making me survive on instant noodles for a month straight... sworn enemies of my wallet...
Ah. That's not the point.
"Yeah, a roster. You've got one, right?"
"I do, but..."
And yet Rielly, having received the request, opened her mouth with a distinctly uneasy look.
What. Don't tell me the operative roster hasn't been updated? No way. The person in charge had been gone, sure, but that kind of work was pretty minor. They should have handled it on their own.
Having one un-updated thing in this game was already more than enough... right?
"Um... won't that be too much for you?"
With those words, Rielly's gaze slid to the side.
Ah. So that's what this was about.
Dozens of file folders piled like a mountain on one side of the desk. Materials the Information Department had been whipped into delivering that morning, covering two years of developments across the entire Continent.
I hadn't brought them in as decoration. Some of them were already in front of me, and I was combing through them thoroughly. I needed to know how the board was laid out before I could make any plans, so even if it was a pain, I didn't have a choice. I had to check and judge every piece myself.
...And I was handling my existing work at the same time, so it might look like a lot.
Still, if you actually counted, it wasn't as much as it loo—
...Okay. It's a lot.
...Looking at it again, the volume was pretty substantial. I felt a little bad. I'd asked for it thinking it would be light work, but the materials the intel staff had brought over were anything but light.
...As in, physically heavy.
Well, of course — they'd made a thud when they set them down. How did they even carry all that... If it had been me, I would have collapsed on the way.
I'll give them a separate reward later, so if any of you are imagining plunging a knife into my back... please don't...
Well, managing information on paper alone was a bit old-fashioned. Naturally, everything was digitized. So I could have just accessed it with my own clearance, but I wasn't the type to get a lead and then dawdle.
Time needed to be compressed as much as possible.
"I asked because I can handle it. I'd appreciate it."
"...Understood. Please just don't overdo it."
"Come on... I'm not a child. I'll take care of myself."
I waved a hand to tell her not to worry, then focused again on processing the documents that had come in today. And of course, I didn't forget to keep reviewing the materials our Information Department people had brought.
Alright then... time to put this brain to work.
She nearly flushed at the Information Department's protest over being handed yet more work, but the Director happened to step in, and it passed without much fuss.
That said, given that woman's personality, this was unlikely to be simple consideration — so it would be worth watching what she did going forward.
"Do try to speak a little more nicely to the Commander, would you?"
...What an unpleasant woman.
Then again, she'd been the type to openly hit on even the old, ice-cold Commander, so after two more years of that, what else could you expect. Of course, like everyone else, her success rate had scraped the floor — but in terms of sheer attempts, she ranked among the highest in Firma.
It would be nice if she'd broken the habit in those two years... but Rielly would settle for it not getting worse.
...Not that I have any right to talk.
She paused her hurried steps for a moment and let out a small sigh.
She'd been too hasty. Indulging her own selfish desires... and ending up in a petty squabble right in front of the Commander. That little lady from the Reconnaissance Battalion had her share of the blame... but if you really parsed it, Rielly was more at fault for doing something she never used to do.
But it was the Commander's fault.
How were you supposed to forget someone who shook your heart like that and then vanished without warning? If you were going to do something like that, you could at least be aware of what you'd done... but she didn't even remember anymore, so that was a lost cause.
"Haa..."
And another sigh. She knew it wasn't good to let this harden into a habit, but she couldn't help it.
The truth was, no matter how you looked at it... the Commander's return had been the greatest gift of the year, for her and for everyone else.
There had just been a small accident.
That she had come back unharmed was a genuine mercy. But that alone wasn't enough to say that her... no, their Commander had truly returned.
Amnesia.
Just what had she been doing, and where.
Having even a half-intact memory was fortunate, in its way — but that was no comfort to Rielly personally. The distance between them had become, unlike before, faintly easier to close. But that was all.
The feeling that every memory they'd made together had, in a single instant, collapsed into something she alone remembered... honestly, it wasn't a pleasant experience.
And though her appearance was unmistakably the Commander's, there was a sense of dissonance in the way she sometimes acted. It made Rielly herself wonder whether this really was the Commander she had known.
Of course, as an operative, Rielly would do everything in her power to help her recover her memories.
But if — even then.
If, at the end of it all, she couldn't recall even a single moment of the countless hours they'd spent together...
She might, just a little, be sad.
"...Ah."
By the time Rielly snapped out of her thoughts, she had long since arrived at the command office. She'd definitely stopped walking at the end there, but her body had found its way to the destination on its own.
She hurriedly checked her face. Smoothing her somewhat twisted expression back to normal, she took a calm breath.
Knock knock.
"Commander, it's Rielly."
She knocked and carefully asked permission to enter, but no answer came. Just as it had been for the past two years, only a dead, mouse-still silence hung beyond the door.
...It's okay.
Just a few days ago, the knowledge that no one was on the other side of this door would have drowned her in despair and helplessness... but she didn't need to feel that way now. She wasn't the same as before — but the Commander had definitely come back.
Surely she wouldn't leave again without a word.
"...I'm coming in?"
But contrary to that thought, a creeping unease rose up, and she added a trailing remark she wouldn't normally make before opening the door.
Creeeak—
And then.
Looking at the scene spread out before her eyes, she couldn't take another step.