Clearing the Game at the End of the World
Game 155: [Chapter 10] Lead and Silver Coins (9)

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Fortunately, the situation was resolved without any bloodshed.

"I, I was just tense! Really! I never intended to harm!"

"Shut up, you snitch!"

"Ah!"

Ah, except for that guy. He was the initial reporter, and apparently, he's always been a bit off, so even after hearing his report, the station manager only ordered to aim without firing.

So, realizing there was some misunderstanding, I quickly came out to explain-

Bang-!

Crack!

A bullet fired by someone hit the truck's bulletproof glass. Before I could stop him, Vex was ready to return fire, and if I hadn't twisted the gun barrel away, dozens would have undoubtedly died right here.

It took 30 minutes for the manager to bring out the soldier who had fired, explain the situation, and for us to confirm each other's identities and realize that something had started off on the wrong foot. Only after the situation was somewhat resolved were we allowed to enter and finally face the manager of Station 42-a.

"Manager! Really! I never intended to shoot! My hands were just sweaty, so sweaty- uh- uh!"

"Shut his mouth! Take him to the warehouse for interrogation. He might be a spy for the Raptors!"

"Uh! Uhuhuh!!!!

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A soldier desperately flailing, being bound and dragged away by others.

"….You really have your hands full."

Watching the soldier being dragged to a gloomy warehouse, covered in blood, brought back old memories. Ah, the rookie. The fool. He babbled about infected Terrans and whatnot when reporting, and ended up causing a misfire. Truly, a commander's nightmare of a soldier.

Even my words of consolation seemed inadequate in the face of such a blunder, prompting the manager to let out a sigh that seemed capable of carving through the wooden table.

"I'm truly embarrassed. With the frequent personnel changes lately, such inexperienced individuals have ended up in external stations where we should have our most veteran soldiers…. Instead of offering you the hospitality due a distinguished guest, we've subjected you to this unfortunate incident. Though it's late, welcome to Station 42-a."

"Ha! A welcome, you say. It's the first time in my life I've seen people greet with targeted gunfire."

Unfortunately, unlike me, Ezel's anger had not subsided. In fact, aside from me, the rest were all still fuming. Vex was raging, demanding the eyeball of the one who fired as compensation for forgiveness, and Ian was saying things like, ‘I'm not one to put the safety pin back in once I've pulled it out,' looking ready to turn into Rambo at any moment, so the manager hurriedly assigned the station's supply manager to pacify their wrath with supplies.

This heated response was something I had instructed the kids to do, after noticing the disjointed shooting, the panicked expressions of the soldiers, and the ashen face of the commanding officer.

‘Good cop, bad cop. Carrot and stick. The most basic, textbook strategy that always works!'

[Three whips for one carrot. Isn't that a bit much?]

‘That's why I, the brains of the operation, am playing the role of the carrot.'

Vex, sitting next to the armed truck currently being washed and maintained, muttering about eyeballs and tongues in a macabre tone.

Ian, whose loud curses could be heard even from a considerable distance, in the supply warehouse.

And then there's us, facing the station's actual commander: Professor Park with a gold badge [Authority to exercise division head level powers in all Dome facilities], and Ezel with a silver badge [Veteran Investigation Bureau agent].

I hadn't planned to press this hard, but after losing our water and food supplies on the way here and realizing our resources were depleted beyond expectations, I couldn't pass up the ‘accidental discharge' opportunity that fell into our lap. It's like I was just trying to withdraw my own money from an ATM when the person in front of me dropped their card. And what's this? A note with their account balance and PIN? How could I ignore this?

I was worried Ezel might not join in on this ‘Dome fleecing' act, but during our arduous journey here, it seems his mind changed, as he's now actively, and indistinguishably between acting or sincerity, giving the manager a hard time.

Frankly, Ezel was the one who had it toughest among us four. Knowing how much worse it could get if we also ran out of supplies, his pressing of the manager felt not just sincere but desperate.

Personally, I felt proud to see him fall so splendidly in the right direction.

"An accidental discharge, you say… Manager, can you take responsibility for that statement? Even if external stations are a bit distant from the city, someone in your position should be well aware of the situation the Dome is in, right? Or do you not understand the weight of the title ‘manager'? Manager. The one in charge of overseeing the station! Every soldier here is under your responsibility! Even a minor mistake by a soldier could be considered to include your intent!"

Bang!

Ezel, truly embodying the role of an Investigation Bureau agent, further pressured the stuttering manager by slamming his hand on the desk.

"In this situation, with Raptor guerrilla forces running rampant, you target Professor Park, who is on a secret mission from the President himself? Manager, do you perhaps have complaints about the Dome's policies? Were you deeply displeased with the President's recent decision to overthrow the tripartite system and adopt a term system for the head position?"

"No, no! A sniper attack, that's a complete misunderstanding-"

"But that ‘complete misunderstanding' happened, didn't it! So, did I just imagine the bulletproof glass on that armed truck being cracked open?"

Crash!

Ezel's hand, which had been about to strike the desk again as he stood up with blazing eyes, was intercepted by my left hand, as he had been poking my thigh with a ‘how long do we have to keep this up?' signal for a while now.

From an accidental discharge to a conspiracy against the newly appointed pinnacle of power, the President. We've ruffled enough feathers; now it's time to gently prod with questions, and answers will pop out like from an automatic answering machine.

"Don't be too harsh. Isn't that just part of the commander's burden? Right, Ezel?"

"But Deputy Director, it wasn't just an accidental discharge. It was targeted shooting at the vehicle's windshield! There must have been some intention behind it…."

"Ah! Let's cover it up now. No one was hurt, so let's leave it at that. The remaining discussion is between me and the manager. You go and check on the supplies. That's an order."

"…"

Ezel silently rose from his seat, gave a brief nod, and hurried out of the manager's office.

In the classic good cop, bad cop role play, the bad cop who had been barking needs to leave the scene. If they remain, the scapegoat won't be able to open up.

Besides, there's no one as steadfast as the person managing supplies across all units, so attaching Ezel, a high-ranking official from the Dome, to Ian's side should prove to be very helpful.

‘Now, shall we carve into our medium rare station manager?'

I showed a gentle smile to the manager, who had suddenly plummeted from his station manager role to being a suspect of treason.

"….I hope you understand. As I've mentioned, there have been major battles in the Dome recently, and with Raptor's cyborg soldiers launching attacks, the Investigation Bureau's personnel are on edge. Actually, the cyborgization technology was ancient technology managed by the administrative research facilities, stolen by Raptor, so the Investigation Bureau is fervently rooting out spies from hostile forces."

"I, I understand! I fully understand!"

The manager turned into a perfect yes-man. Hmm, good response. Maybe pull a little more?

"How long have you been working here?"

"After my predecessor died, about a year…"

"Your family?"

"I have a wife and two children in Dome 47…"

"Living on Upper Dome Main Street, 8th Avenue?"

"Gasp! How did you know…!"

‘Well, that's where the Dome provides cheap housing for command-level officials.'

Given that he's out here in this remote station, he's not from the wealthy upper class. And with just a year of service, it's unlikely he could afford a real mansion for the wealthy, so it's obvious he'd be living in the military rental housing I used to live in.

The point is to give off the nuance of ‘I know everything, just checking to confirm, just in case'. Plus, with Ezel's spy suspicion already planted, when asking sensitive questions, like those involving secrets or personal embarrassments, even a moment of hesitation in answering could lead to:

‘Not answering? You hiding something? Got a will? Like being tortured? Want to visit the Investigation Bureau's basement?'

This made it possible to press further without much resistance.

Of course, seeing the manager sweating enough to dampen the collar of his uniform, it seemed there might not be a need to go that far.

To him, I offered a smile filled with warmth.

"Hahaha. No need to be so tense. It was just a light background check, after all. We don't ask for much from the manager. Just a little material support necessary for our mission, and information about recent events around the station. That should be sufficient."

"Materials and… information, you say?"

"Yes, that would be enough. To prove the manager's loyalty to the Dome."

Swoosh!

Clatter!

At the mention of ‘loyalty,' the manager's face turned pale as he sprang up, and like a freshly transferred recruit, he placed his hand over his chest in a firm stance and responded.

"I will prepare everything without holding back anything! Just give me a moment, please!"

"….We'll be watching."

As the manager dashed out like a bullet, Professor could no longer hold back his laughter.

Exactly 90 minutes later.

After leisurely finishing showers with three buckets of water assigned for showering (a tremendous luxury here, where water is scarce due to the proximity to radioactive areas requiring the use of deep groundwater), getting dressed in the new clothes provided, and satisfyingly eating a strangely luxurious military meal,

Click! Click! Click! Click! – Shick!

"Report! Station 42-a, current situation report ready!"

From afar, the manager and his subordinate officers approached with precise steps, raising a Dome-style salute with their hands over their chests. Excluding the dust-covered uniforms, their movements were so polished they could be mistaken for the Inspector General's honor guard.

"If you need more rest, we can wait-"

"No, no, we've rested enough. It's time to get to work."

"Then, this way."

Following the manager's lead, we leisurely walked behind them into a large tent.

"Wow."

The walls were covered with operational maps and photo documents.

Soldiers busily distributed thick folders to our seats.

And the highlight was….

"All this in just 90 minutes?"

"After hearing from Professor Park and Ezel, I realized I had been too relaxed during peacetime and prepared as if going into battle."

"Well, the documents are one thing, but where did all this equipment come from…?"

"In 30s Area, a lot of old-era equipment is still left, and machinery not related to survival is relatively easier to come by compared to other items."

In that short time, the manager, who had emptied an entire soldiers' barracks to transform it into a meeting room, had prepared a 3D screen projection device located in the center of a large round table, often seen during the Great War.

"Let's begin the report."

Whirr-

As the 3D screen flickered to life, displaying the bold letters "Station 42-a Mid-Year Report," the manager, regaining his confidence, began his presentation with a conductor's baton in hand.

****

"That concludes…."

After an impassioned, indeed desperate reporting session had ended.

As if he had burned himself out, towards the manager who had finished the report,

Clap… Clap, clap, clap.

Unknowingly, the rest of us, including myself, were sending our applause towards the manager who had finished his presentation as if he had burned himself out.

"All that combat data summarized in such a short time, and even finding footage and observation records from other stations…"

"I'm truly relieved that you're satisfied…."

The manager seemed choked up by my admiration, perhaps overwhelmed by everything. The combination of treason suspicion + family back home might have been too much. What was this middle-aged man thinking as he sifted through dusty archives?

"Hmm. To think the manager was this capable and diligent. A reassessment is urgently needed. I'll speak well of you, so for now, go and rest."

"No, I'd like to hear your review and feedback…."

"I need to think, so just go quietly. Ah, the same goes for the others. You've all worked hard, now go and rest. We have things to discuss among ourselves."

Only after I firmly spoke did the manager and the officers hesitantly leave the temporary meeting room, allowing us finally to breathe out the breath we had been holding.

"Phew! Pretending to be tough is exhausting."

"Feels like the power of the strongest group in the wasteland. To think a remote station manager could be so capable. And the quartermaster, acting all ‘over my dead body.' Dome people are no ordinary folks."

"Professor Park, what exactly did you say to the manager to make him so desperate?"

With Vex and Ian shaking their heads and Ezel slowly distancing himself from me,

"Well, if the outcome is good, isn't that all that matters?"

Professor picked up the baton left by the manager and reactivated the 3D projection device.

As the startup sound played, a detailed hologram of a dissected Raptor cyborg soldier appeared, complete with noise.

Each part, added and removed organs, contrasted with the latest technologies applied to cyborg soldiers as published by the administrative research team, and their traces revealed in various places near Area 42.

Faced with a masterpiece of a summary that nearly utilized every piece of available information here, I couldn't help but be amazed.

"When we meet the President later, we should ask for the manager's promotion."

"Absolutely. It'd be a waste for such talent to languish in the outskirts."

Agreeing with Professor, Ezel nodded emphatically as data overlaying the multitude of traces onto the map floated gently beside him.

Though not certain, it felt like we had grasped a clue to this mission, previously as obscured as if buried in fog.

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