Ch.165

The beginning of the matter was the arrest of the manager designated by Anderson, and the completion of the crackdown on the Nikephilia Club. It was the moment when the dispatch of personnel for cleanup was requested.

<── I should have ordered the <em>arrest and crackdown in the investigation...>

"──Yes, I confirmed that as instructed."

<──Good. I was worried that might have forgotten to mention it. remember didn't order the making of a <em>mountain of bodies.>

Through the mobile device, Anderson's grand sigh could be heard. Whether he was awakened in the middle of the night and in a bad mood or still working overtime, it didn't concern Moore. The one who assigned the mission has the obligation to listen to the report regardless of the time.

"──We encountered resistance, so I had no choice but to respond. I hope you understand."

<...Knowing Major Moore, I can't help but think you deliberately sparked it himself.>

"...You must be joking."

──I'm...not being watched, right?

While holding the mobile device to his ear, Moore involuntarily glanced left and right.

"...That aside, Your Excellency. Regarding the files I sent..."

<Ah, I read them briefly. Where did you get this much information?>

"...It's from an informant who is cooperating with us."

<...I see. Understood.>

The contents of the file sent from Viper included information on the Nikephilia Club, which is currently operating, including details about its location, manager, and individual employees.

Thanks to this information, the crackdown was expected to intensify.

However, Moore probably had no intention of revealing the identity of the informant. As the commander leading a somewhat independent special operations unit, he made the judgment. Anderson didn't press further, and he hinted at his understanding in his response.

"...We have also detained employees and customers of the club just to be safe. When can we expect reinforcements?"

<It 30 won't be long... about minutes. You better relax until then.>

"Please rest assured... I've already been waiting patiently with grand service."

While addressing the mobile device to his left ear, Moore, sitting in a box seat, repositioned his long legs and, with a cigarette in his mouth, lit it with an oil lighter, letting the purple smoke drift.

Seated with him were three mass-produced Nikkes manufactured by the three major corporations, each showcasing the characteristics of their respective companies.

As he lit the cigarette, the mass-produced Nikke of the I-DOLL type sitting next to him on the right offered an ashtray on the table.

"──Oh, thank you. ---Excuse me. I've been enjoying the hospitality of these beautiful young ladies."

<...<strong >Hospitality...>

Probably—no, undoubtedly—there were several Nikkes attending to him. Anderson vividly imagined the scene on the other end of the phone.

<...You seem to be making the most of privileges being handsome. Quite enviable. It's a perk.>

"...Not as much as Your Excellency..."

A middle-aged handsome man who aged gracefully, maintained a naturally rugged facial structure, and kept a low body fat percentage. He's the last person to say such things.

"...That aside, what will happen to those we arrested?"

This time, the mass-produced Nikke of the Mysis type, Product T12, who had taken a seat opposite, filled a glass with ice, poured water, and offered it to Moore on a coaster. As if expressing gratitude for the hospitality, he nodded in acknowledgment.

A young man with a rugged facial structure directed a piercing gaze straight at her, and perhaps because of that, a faint blush appeared on her pale cheeks, causing her to involuntarily avert her gaze.

"Well, since I didn't have handcuffs on hand... I've restrained them using their belts."

<──I assume you're using gags as well? I haven't heard any noisy commotion since earlier.>

Being Moore's immediate superior, it seemed he understood well what Moore was likely to do. As Anderson voiced his expectation, Moore, with a cigarette held between his fingers, brought the rim of the glass to his lips and tilted it enough to moisten them.

"──All of them are packed into soundproof private rooms. Thanks to that, we're spending our time comfortably, so even if the reinforcements are a bit late, it's not a problem."

<No, that's regrettable for them. It's a rare opportunity to use public services. I'll make sure notify them arrive earlier.>

"That's unfortunate... Ah, and on a related note, how are they being treated?"

The mass-produced Nikke of the Elysion type, similar as his companion Soldier O.W., leaned forward, presenting a plate of assorted cheese parfait to him.

On the other end of the phone—probably a high-ranking individual—the words addressed to them seemed to tickle their auditory sensors. Without a visor, tension ran through her face, and her youthful features became apparent.

<──I checked the manufacturing numbers of each individual you sent, but they've already been <em>disposed of according to the data.>

In other words, they no longer existed—similar to ghosts or phantoms.

Therefore, employing and using them in establishments of this kind was convenient, but no matter how much they pretended, they were still essentially slaves.

With NIMPH's nanomachines, they could not harm humans to a significant extent. Being attractive and obedient, they were invaluable when it came to following orders—finding such suitable entities among humans was not an easy task.

Unpleasant feelings are expressed through Moore's forehead, and deep vertical wrinkles are etched even deeper into it.

<──Well, rewriting the information to restore their existence is not difficult, but problem lies in... what affiliation assign them.>

"Assigning them to the Nikke Management Division is a given, but... the question is which squad or department to allocate them to."

It was a rather complicated issue, and he sighed deeply while exhaling purple smoke. The fact that he exhaled in a direction different from where she and the others were sitting might be the minimal manners of a smoker.

To varying degrees, they were likely to harbor aversion and disgust towards humans.

Even if the mass-produced Nikkes were assigned to existing or newly formed squads as they were, the potential for trouble would persist.

Depending on the actions and words of the commanding officer—it might stimulate and potentially lead to trouble.

Now, what should be done—Moore sighed again, crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, and took hold of the glass, swallowing several sips of the well-chilled water.

<──I'd like to propose a simple solution from my perspective...>

"...I'm all ears for any solution other than memory erasure."

<──Oh? Heh, don't forget <em>you're the one who says it.>

Just a while ago, he had nearly tightened the noose around his own neck with an unnecessary remark. Even if he hadn't learned from it, Anderson, as his immediate superior, truly had a good understanding of his subordinate's thought processes.

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"─Well, that's the trigger for the reinforcements to the forward base."

"─Sorry, Commander. Can you wait a moment?"

Moore, who had switched from the Tetra-branded suit he had been using for the past few days to casual combat pants, a black short-sleeved shirt, and tank-colored boots, explained the situation in the commander's office of the forward base as soon as he finished changing.

Seated next to him, Anis, with bob-cut light brown hair, pressed her hands to her head as if enduring a headache.

"...Was the explanation too difficult to understand? If so, I can start over."

"No, it's not that. I actually respect Commander for the thorough and concise explanation."

"Oh? I feel exceptionally pleased when praised by Anis."

"Sorry. I'm not praising you."

"...That's unfortunate."

True to his words, he maintained a disappointed expression while holding the Goddess cigarette for his beloved smoke between his lips and lighting it with an oil lighter.

The forward base had been bustling since morning. In addition to the base personnel, rapid preparations began for the acceptance of the newly assigned mass-produced Nikes, including Rapi, Anise, and Neon.

They transported the basic electrical appliances and necessities taken from the storage room to the vacant rooms in the quarters, arranging and setting up the layout. However, around 10 AM, Moore returned to the forward base with twelve mass-produced Nikkes, and since the preparation was not yet complete, there was no option to tell them to pass the time at the Ark. Instead, they simultaneously distributed daily necessities taken from the storage room to the mass-produced Nikes and worked on organizing the layout of the empty rooms.

Although it felt more hectic, he was led to the commander's office by Anis.

Without saying a word, Anis grabbed Moore's arm and, after walking determinedly, arrived at the commander's office. The first words upon entering were—

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"─Well, then let's hear the explanation. Why did things end up like this? In detail."

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Quiet but compelling, her atmosphere was Tyrant-class—perhaps not to that extreme, but Moore might have considered fleeing barefoot if it reached Lord-class.

However, even if he wanted to explain, it might be dangerous to mix in the details of the dealings with Viper. Moore exercised caution as well.

It was unclear whether Anise or the others had digested their previous history. No, it would be more appropriate to say that they should have certain thoughts about it.

Therefore, to conceal it—though he thought it might not be the best choice if the hidden facts were revealed, he would only be despised. Moore brought up the events related to Viper as a secret as much as possible in his explanation to Anise, providing support to himself in his mind.

He fabricated a big lie, stating that he cooperated with a woman living in the Outer Rim in exchange for the desired stroll and date in Ark City.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he was not very expressive, which turned out to be lucky. Anis believed his version of events regarding this matter.

Anise unconsciously harbored the belief that he wouldn't lie to them, so saying that might be the end of it.

"─Did you engage in a shootout? At the Nikephilia Club?"

"...Yeah. We subdued them all, though. What's the matter?"

Although she listened carefully to his explanation, the current question was about how the raid on the Nikephilia Club, intended for crackdown, escalated into a gunfight.

─What the hell are you doing, Commander?

Anise couldn't help but let out a big sigh.

He should have responded to Mustang's call two days ago only, but why did it turn into a gunfight? Even though she received an explanation, how did he end up involved in a shootout?

Of course, there was no doubt about his combat abilities and skills. Undoubtedly, Moore surpassed the average person in the act of combat.

However, there was a but.

"...What will you do if something happens?"

"...It's not like I engaged in a shootout without any chance of winning. I even used an ice pick."

She didn't want to know the details of how it was used. The feeling that her only living organ, the brain, would be squeezed was inevitable.

"...Well, it's done now, so there's nothing we can do about it. Commander is different from us Nikkes. You're not immortal, and you don't grow new limbs."

"I understand that. My life is a one-time deal."

She wondered if he truly understood—Anise's suspicious gaze intensified, but he just shrugged lightly, took a puff of the freshly lit cigarette, and exhaled a faint purplish smoke.

"...But... well... yeah. I guess that's what a Commander would do."

Perhaps she had reached a point of resignation, Anise shook her head gently from side to side and finally opened the newly released 350ml can of Tetra Line's carbonated water that she had been holding. She lifted the pull tab, making a sound as the carbonation was released.

"─You can't just leave people in trouble, huh? That's like a kind Commander."

"...Kind?"

Is that really the case? Moore tilted his head while holding the cigarette between his fingers and expressing an invisible question mark.

"Yeah. But... well... yeah. Considering the circumstances, it's a bit much for Commander to handle."

"...Rather, there's a lot I can't do."

Not necessarily incompetent—but Moore understands that he is not particularly capable. Rather, he might be a problematic child.

"If you understand that, then it's fine. So, Commander, take a little break. You must be tired, right?"

"...Not that much."

Even in the Outer Rim, he took breaks for physical recovery. Just as he was about to mention it, Anise, who had raised her hips, pointed her finger in front of him.

"Just rest! Besides, Commander is overworking! If the superior works too much, it's not easy for us subordinates to take a break!"

"...You don't need to worry about that..."

"Alright, then rest! In the first place, Commander is working too hard! I won't feel at ease taking a break if my superior, Commander, is overworking!"

"...If you say so."

Once again, Anise's well-structured face approached. Round eyes like a cat's reflected prominently—Moore couldn't help but feel the overwhelming atmosphere again.

However, Moore first requests to dismantle and maintain the handgun alone. He wants to ensure it's properly maintained since it was used in last night's combat.

Reluctantly, Anise nods in agreement.

"─However. If you haven't slept by the time I come back, I'll have to nag you again."

"...I'll make an effort."

She really hopes he does.

As Anise leaves the commander's office, presumably to participate in the acceptance process for the newly stationed mass-produced Nikke units, Moore starts working on maintaining the handgun after crushing his cigarette in the ashtray.

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"Excuse me, Commander. Is everything alright? Feeling better?"

"...I'm making an effort to sleep."

With the acceptance process mostly complete, Rapi stands in front of the commander's office to inquire about entry, intending to report on the situation. After an unusually long silence, a low voice grants permission to enter.

Upon entering, she first sees Moore reclining on the reception sofa.

With his legs crossed on the armrest and his knees raised, he lies on his back. He's using his arm to cover his eyes, presumably in place of an eye mask.

On the coffee table, next to the .45 caliber handgun, which appears to have been maintained, there are supplies and oil for gun maintenance neatly arranged, left untouched.

"...Is making an effort required for sleeping?"

"...Unfortunately, I'm not accustomed to napping. ...Sorry for the awkward position, but please proceed with your report."

His mouth is visible. It moves, urging Rapie to report, and she faces him to inform him concisely that the acceptance process for the 12 mass-produced Nikkes units stationed at the outpost is mostly complete.

"──Additionally, some of the electrical appliances removed from the supply warehouse are difficult to use due to aging, so for the time being, other staff members' appliances will be used."

"...Understood. I'll file a request. Please list the items needed later."

"Thank you. Here's the report."

Approaching Moore, Rapi unlocks the tablet she's holding under her arm and hands it to him.

It's good to be prepared. She works quickly. Moore, taking the tablet handed to him with his right arm that had covered his eyes, starts checking the list of required items displayed on the LCD screen.

"...I'll arrange it to be cost-effective."

"Yes. It's great that the personnel increased, but we accepted 12 at once..."

Rapi subtly indicates that various expenses will increase in the future. Moore seems to agree, showing a faint nod. He then continues to rub his eyes with the back of his fingers.

"...You seem tired."

"...No, just a little blurry vision."

Is that so? She could easily grab his bare right hand. For a moment, Rapie considers checking his condition, but it's Moore after all. Stubborn as he is, he wouldn't openly admit to fatigue.

Having a long history with Moore, Rapi releases a small sigh of exasperation towards her commander and casually takes a seat on the sofa where he lies down.

"Excuse me."

Taking the tablet gently, Rapi places the device on the desk. With both hands, she lifts the back of his head and places it on her thigh.

"...Sleeping like this could strain your neck."

"...Sorry. Thank you."

"...No problem."

Rapi removes her gloves. White hair starts to stand out among the slightly raised black hair. Looking somewhat gray from a distance, she lightly strokes the beginning of gray hair with her slender right hand and covers his eyes with the other.

"...Just relax as you are. Take deep breaths..."

"...I know how to sleep, you know."

He chuckles faintly from the depths of his throat, as if implying he doesn't need to be put to sleep. However, he shows no resistance and quietly lets her leg become his pillow. Gradually, he releases all the tension from his body.

His ability to fall asleep is quite good. In no time, his consciousness fades, and regular, shallow breathing repeats.

Acknowledging that he has slept even a little, Rapi herself relaxes a bit, releasing tension from her entire body. She continues to gently stroke his head, encouraging peaceful sleep.

"...Excuse me. Rapi, how is the Commander—"

After some time has passed, the door to the commander's office opens, and Anis cautiously peeks in, asking.

Rapi puts her index finger to her lips, signaling to keep quiet. Anis, correctly interpreting the gesture, nods and enters the room, followed by Neon.

Silently moving like a ninja, the two of them peered at Moore's face.

"Oh, he's resting properly. ...His sleeping face---- is cute, though."

"Huh? Where?"

The disciple, who didn't seem to fit the description of "cute" for Moore, tilted her head in confusion.

Seeing that, Anis, as if saying "oh well," shook her head a few times.

"Look, the wrinkles between his eyebrows have lightened."

"...Really?"

Although Anis pointed it out, it was a relatively subtle change. Neon, who couldn't usually tell, tilted her head significantly and crossed her arms, lost in thought.

"Both of you, be quiet. The Commander is about to wake up—"

"Oh, I'll leave."

Rapi, with a sigh, restrained the two, attempting to draw their attention when the telephone, installed in the Commander's office, rang.

Instantly, Moore's eyes, which had been closed, opened, and his upper body rose.

"...I was sleeping soundly."

"...Would you like to rest a little longer?"

"No, it's enough."

Hurrying to the ringing phone, Neon picked up the receiver and continued the conversation while putting it to her ear, but as the dialogue progressed, her forehead started to furrow, expressing her growing confusion.

"Um, Master. It's a message from the Guard Unit... Master's elder... sister... and her... friends... have arrived."

"What!? The Commander's!? Seriously!? Oh, no... I-I need to go put on makeup!!"

"The Commander's...?"

Watching Anis rush out of the commander's office in a panic, Moore, still slightly sleepy, captured her back with eyes not quite focused due to just waking up.

"...She has a beautiful face. Does she really need makeup?"

"...And, Master, about the sister...?"

His words are probably a compliment, a form of praise, but it would likely be appreciated if said in person. Leaving that aside, as Neon asked with the phone on hold, Moore tilted his head slightly.

"...A sister... I don't remember—no, sorry. I do have one."

"Huh!? So, it really is Master's!?"

He rarely talked about his family, and Moore's background had become a mystery among them. With the possibility of glimpsing a part of it unintentionally rising, Neon asked with great interest, but Moore stood up from the sofa and shrugged his shoulders.

"...Well, there's no blood relation."

The single sentence he uttered left Rapi and Neon tilting their heads in confusion.