Chapter 9

I’m bored.

The project has been canceled, so I have nothing to do for a while.

It’s not unusual for there to be no work even when I come to the office, but this time is a bit different. Even though most of the staff have fled, it’s our mistake that the deadline couldn’t be met. As a small, weak subcontractor of a subcontractor, this is bad. If we mess up, we might not get any more work.

The dispatch workers aren’t here, so our section, divided by partitions, is unusually quiet. In the end, it’s just me and Senior Tanabe.

Well, there are things you can only do at times like this.

Senior Tanabe seems to be pretending to clean. His usually chaotic desk area might be a bit tidier now.

I don’t have much personal stuff, so it takes me less than a minute to clean. The secret to cleaning is not having things. If you throw away unnecessary items, you won’t waste time organizing. Not that I have money to buy anything anyway.

With nothing to do, I turn on my computer and start fiddling with a custom plugin for a spreadsheet program.

It’s not like I’m doing anything special, but a little ingenuity can drastically improve work efficiency. Work is basically a repetition of routine tasks. If you write a macro, a job that takes an hour can be done with one click.

I keep it a secret from the other employees. If my work efficiency improves, they’ll just reduce the number of people. Besides, the boss will take all the credit, and if something goes wrong, I’ll be the one blamed.

Come to think of it, our stupid boss has been unusually quiet. He still comes to the office, but he hardly shows his face. He must have been blamed for everything this time, but I don’t feel sorry for him.

“What are you being so serious about?”

Senior Tanabe sits in the empty seat next to me with a grin. He hands me a piece of paper, which turns out to be a list of the executives. It includes their salaries and family structures.

“What’s this?”

“I’m like a super hacker or something. It’s totally ridiculous.”

The president’s monthly salary is a little over 5 million yen, which seems low for a president, but it’s actually his monthly income. The president’s wife, a young woman who occasionally visits the office, earns over 3 million yen a month. The president’s family receives at least 10 million yen a month, and with bonuses and other rewards, they earn more than ten times what we do.

“What do you think?”

“Well, it’s a lot, but not as much as I thought.”

Compared to me, a regular employee, it is a lot, but I don’t really envy them. The executives have wives who are like templates for spendthrifts, are burdened with car and house loans, and have to pay exorbitant donations to send their children to private schools. Considering their financial balance, they might be even more miserable than us. They come to the office and don’t work much, just complaining that they don’t have enough money. In a way, they are pitiful.

“Actually, they don’t have to work much and still get that much. It’s too good, isn’t it?”

I understand what Senior Tanabe is saying, but I’m fine with getting a decent salary as compensation for my work, and I don’t mind if there’s no service overtime.

Most young people these days work hard without complaining, even for low salaries. If the higher-ups had shown a little more consideration for us, no one would have fled, and the company would have run smoothly.

I remembered an old story about a goose that laid golden eggs. The farmer who said, “Don’t kill it, but don’t let it live,” was Ieyasu, right? Balance is important in everything.

Since there’s no work, there’s no overtime. Leaving the office at 5 PM feels incredibly liberating.

Since I have time, I decide to cook dinner myself.

I stop by a supermarket near my apartment to buy ingredients. Chicken thighs and potatoes were on sale, so I decide to make teriyaki chicken, which I used to make a lot during my student days. It’s both visually and taste-wise luxurious, and even with the potato salad, the ingredients for one meal cost less than a coin. I’ll make sure of that.

The key to a frugal lifestyle is knowing the prices of vegetables. Onions are within my budget, but carrots are too expensive, so I’ll pass. I haven’t been paying much attention lately, but food prices are becoming more volatile every year. A quick online search shows that the retail price of carrots has fluctuated nearly tenfold this month. You can only stock up when the prices are at their lowest.

I return to my apartment and start cooking right away. My cooking style is self-taught, so it’s simple. For teriyaki chicken, I just mix soy sauce and mirin to make the sauce, put the chicken thighs in a tray, and grill them.

I remember my ex-girlfriend used to say that grilling teriyaki in a fish grill would cause a fire. The manual does say not to grill anything other than fish, but it doesn’t make sense that fish is okay but chicken isn’t. We have a fire extinguisher, and as long as I don’t leave it unattended, it should be fine.

While the chicken is slowly grilling on low heat, I prepare the potato salad. I know potato sprouts are toxic, so I remove them while cutting the potatoes. I peel the skin roughly because it’s a hassle. The skin adds a slight bitterness, but if you think of it as part of the potato’s flavor, it’s not too noticeable. I slice the raw onion and mix it with the boiled potatoes and mayonnaise. It’s a pretty casual potato salad, but it’s a man’s cooking.

As soon as the rice is cooked, I start eating, just eating.

The fragrant teriyaki sauce, mixed with the chicken fat, complements the potato salad perfectly. Homemade teriyaki sauce is not only cheaper but also the most delicious. I add a little sugar to the soy sauce and mirin, which costs a fraction of the store-bought sauce. Spices? Luxury is the enemy.

It goes best with freshly cooked rice. The chicken with rice, the potato salad with rice, and the sauce with rice are all incredibly delicious. One cup of rice wasn’t enough.

I cover the leftover potato salad with plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator, which I haven’t used in a long time. I can have a potato sandwich for breakfast tomorrow. If I make a little extra and bring it for lunch, it will be even more economical.

I feel like I’ve tasted a human-like life for the first time in a while. I go to bed feeling content. Even if I can’t see hope for the future, I can be happy with teriyaki chicken and potato salad. I feel like I’m forgetting something important, but I decide not to worry about it.

Just before falling asleep, I remember that today is the second day of the Christmas Tournament. I jump up, wide awake. It’s just past 8 PM. Good, I still have time.

I arrive at the game center just before 9 PM, which is about the same time as usual. It’s a bit more crowded than usual because it’s the day of the tournament, but I don’t have to wait long for my turn.

Just before I enter the machine, I see Jimmy looking dejected, having been defeated in the second round. I don’t have time to worry about him; I need to win first.

Fortunately, I’m quickly matched with an opponent. After a moment’s hesitation, I decide to go with my usual equipment, plus the Sword Breaker and Plasma Launcher.

It’s the desert stage, and the sunset version at that. The atmosphere is nice, but I don’t like the sunset stage because it’s hard to gauge distances.

I can’t see the enemy, but I’d prefer to face them with the sunset at my back. It’s not just for show; in a visual combat, it’s advantageous.

The enemy doesn’t attack. Maybe they have a high stealth performance; there’s still no reaction on my passive scanner. I think if both evaluation points are zero, it’s a draw, and both players lose. I’m getting anxious, but I can’t afford to rush.

There he is, standing boldly in the middle of the desert. He’s equipped with two Buster Swords, so he’s a dual-wielder?

I’ve tried dual-wielding before, but it’s too complicated with the balance and timing of the center of gravity, so I decided it wasn’t practical. But it’s a bit unsettling that the enemy is a dual-wielder.

The enemy’s machine looks like a Scutum at first glance, but the silhouette is a bit off. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t have a shield.

Well, if he’s aiming for close combat, it’s convenient for me. I don’t have to go through the trouble of getting close to him.

I close the distance quickly. He’s still not moving. I don’t like it; I can’t predict his first move from a defensive stance. On the other hand, my moves can be predicted to some extent from my movements.

Should I stop and reset the distance? No, he might just be bluffing and really just standing there.

I decide to test him with a light attack and charge in. Since we both have the same Buster Swords, the reach and attack timing should be the same.

But he parries my sword with one of his and slashes at me with the other. That’s how it works with a dual-wielder.

I barely avoid it but lose my balance. He doesn’t miss the opportunity and pounces on me with glee.

Up close, I can see the details are different from a Scutum. The shoulder units are sturdy, not as much as a Torus, but clearly designed for close combat. It’s like a close-combat specialized Scutum.

My Links is also specialized for close combat, but its fighting style is to dodge enemy fire, get close, and finish them off with a powerful sword strike. If the prey is a Sagittarius, a shooting specialist, I can easily take them down once I get close.

He doesn’t seem as agile as Links. He’s probably not good at dodging shots. Instead, he’s sturdy, powerful, and designed to win in a dogfight. His prey is probably a lightweight, close-combat specialized machine like Links.

In other words, he’s my natural enemy. I must have looked like easy prey to him, rushing in without thinking against a new opponent. It’s a desperate situation, but the adrenaline is pumping, and I’m excited. I don’t mind a strong opponent; I’ll show him what I’ve got.

I have a slight advantage in movement, but he’s overwhelming me with the number of attacks, swinging his two swords like in a kung fu movie. I want to reset, but he’s surprisingly fast and hard to shake off.

I can dodge his relentless attacks because they are pre-registered motions. No matter how sharp the attack, if you know the next move, it’s not that hard to avoid. Of course, he might use different motions, so I can’t let my guard down.

Meanwhile, the durability of my Buster Sword is being quickly depleted. It’s a simple calculation; I’m taking twice the damage. He’s clearly aiming to break my weapon.

Damn, if that’s the case, I’ll use a dual-wielder’s weapon against him. I wanted to keep the Sword Breaker’s usefulness a secret until the later stages of the tournament, but I can’t afford to lose here.

I switch to holding the Buster Sword in one hand and quickly equip the Sword Breaker in the other. It’s a critical moment where even a small mistake can be fatal, but my body remembers the movements from repeated practice.

I predict his one-pattern attack, parry with the Buster Sword, and block one of his swords with the Sword Breaker.

His sword, which had already taken some damage, sparks and breaks upon contact with the Sword Breaker.

I thought I was free from the annoying dual-wielder, but he’s not that easy. He discards the remaining unbroken Buster Sword and activates the beam swords in both arms.

A normal Scutum has a beam sword in the right arm and a beam gun in the left, but they are both weak. This one has beam swords in both arms, and they look much more powerful than a Scutum’s.

Against beam swords, a real sword has an advantage, but he has two. A knife-sized Sword Breaker can’t completely block a beam sword.

But I feel like I have the upper hand. Why did he discard the unbroken sword? I suspect his dual-wielder motions require both weapons to be the same.

He’ll probably continue the same one-pattern attack, just with beam swords. If that’s the case, I have a plan.

Using a gun against a sword might seem a bit unfair, but I’ll try the Plasma Launcher. The floating plasma bullets can be used as a shield. They disappear when cut by a real sword, but they should hold up against a beam sword for a while.

I seize the moment to switch the Sword Breaker back to the left foot rack, switch the Buster Sword to my left hand, and quickly draw the Plasma Launcher with my right. I’m not used to using a gun in my left hand.

The enemy is clearly flustered. He’s not good with projectiles, which is obvious.

He tries to attack from my left side to avoid the Plasma Launcher. It’s actually convenient for me. I scatter the beam swords with the Buster Sword in my left hand and try to shoot at zero distance with the launcher in my right hand.

But the distance is too close, and I end up hitting his head unit with the launcher’s grip. It must have hit a vital spot because his neck bends at an odd angle. I realize that the safety mechanism prevents the launcher from firing at zero distance. I kick his body with my knee to create some distance and manage to fire.

I shoot a wire anchor into the dazzling flash of the exploding plasma bullet, pull the enemy closer, and deliver the final blow with the Buster Sword. It turned into a combo move.

The flash must have made it hard for the enemy player to see what was happening. I didn’t even understand what was going on myself.

In player battles, it’s not uncommon for the match to end without a clear understanding of what happened. It’s a matter of luck, but... well, I won, so it’s all good.