Chapter 161
I recalled what I had learned in the Imperial Guard and examined my mental state.
Sitting on the floor, I meditated and gazed inward. I delved so deep into myself that even hours felt like mere moments.
Recognition of the continuity of consciousness, verification of the coherence of memory.
If my personality or memories had been altered, there would have been a sense of dissonance, a lingering unease somewhere.
‘There hasn’t been any distortion yet.’
Of course, I couldn't be absolutely certain. No matter how meticulous, self-examination was inherently biased. I had to keep doubting myself constantly.
‘The reason my rationality collapsed.’
I pushed deeper into my consciousness.
‘…My brain has learned that pushing past the limit results in fatal damage.’
Upon confirming Giselle's disappearance, my brain had kicked into full operation. The burden must have been immense, compounded by intense emotions.
It was as if an old machine, left unused for decades, had suddenly been forced to run at maximum output without a single drop of oil.
‘That’s why my consciousness shut down.’
The same principle as a system turning off before it overheats and breaks.
Once the brain learns a limit, it becomes difficult to push past it consciously. The survival instinct is overwhelmingly strong. Having experienced a near-death state, my brain feared returning to that situation.
‘I’ve learned something troublesome.’
My brain was resisting my will. Just because I understood the problem logically didn’t mean I could fix it overnight.
I needed to observe this issue further.
‘If it’s temporary, that’s a relief. But if this happens in combat, I need to take action.’
I carefully traced my memories of Giselle. I turned the faucet of emotions little by little, unwilling to lose my consciousness again like earlier.
‘Went missing during an assignment in Border City.’
My thoughts spread out like branching veins.
There were too many possible leads.
‘The Imperial Family, Barbara, rival corporations within the Empire, those hostile to the Custoria family, local businesses in Border City…’
And yet, for five years, no one knew where Giselle was.
In the worst-case scenario… Giselle was dead. Given how long she had been missing, the probability of her death was extremely high.
My emotions boiled red-hot. I wanted to dash to Akbaran immediately and begin an investigation.
‘I'm a troubling existence to the Empire and the Imperial Family. If they learn that I’ve regained consciousness, they’ll try to kill me.’
If Francec had still been around, I might have had a chance to investigate. But Ivan was not someone I could trust.
'Giselle smuggled me to Border City under the name Keisa Tres. She was trying to evade the Empire’s surveillance.'
To put it nicely, I was free now. I had finally escaped the Empire’s watchful eyes.
'How much, and who, can I trust? Even old friends won’t be the same anymore.'
I didn’t believe that those who had helped me before would remain the same. That was just wishful thinking on my part.
Just as my values had changed during my time as a cadet in the Imperial Guard, so too had they changed. The self and the will are not fixed entities but fluid phenomena.
In the past, I made mistakes because I didn’t trust Hemillas. But that didn’t mean I had to become a fool who trusted others blindly. Only spineless idiots constantly swing between extremes.
...Right now, I was no different from an abandoned dog. I wanted to rely on someone, anyone. If I entrusted myself to those who approached me with kindness, life would be much easier.
But I must not trust anyone too easily. Nothing in this world is given for free. Everything has its own reasons and motives.
I straightened my sense of self. I reaffirmed who I was.
"Hoo…"
Luka, Lukaus Custoria.
Right now, I knew nothing. What happened after the Storm Era, why I was here… everything was in the realm of speculation and hypotheses.
But the purpose given to me was clear. I was trained as a soldier. As long as I had a mission, I could move forward.
'Find Giselle Custoria, who went missing. And track down Kinuan to secure Jafa’s support.'
It was time to begin my second life.
* * *
I woke up.
Right now, every little thing in my life required verification. My sleep duration was one of them. I had slept for six hours.
There was a dull ache deep inside my head. Despite getting a decent amount of rest, a lingering fatigue remained. This was another thing to keep monitoring.
Shaa—
I stepped into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.
Aside from the five years I spent in cryosleep, I had an additional seven years of absence—three years of being incapacitated and four years of treatment. Time had surely worn me down.
My grown appearance over those seven years still felt unfamiliar. A rough-eyed young man with a messy face stared back at me. His body below was covered in old scars.
Skkk.
After shaving, my face at least looked somewhat presentable.
I twisted my damp hair with my fingers. Since there was no way to trim it on my own, I would have to keep it tied up for the time being.
“Hmm…”
I flung open the wardrobe and felt a strange sensation upon seeing the suits and coats inside. They were garments from humanity’s past.
I had heard that the Bellato Federation preserved Earth’s old styles the best, and now I could see it firsthand. Suits and coats existed in the Empire as well, but they had been modified into stiff, sharp designs that matched the modern Imperial aesthetic.
The clothes I was looking at now were the kind a 20th-century revivalist might wear. These revivalists considered the mid-20th century to the early 21st century as humanity’s golden age, longing for a time they had never even lived through. If that wasn’t stupidity, I didn’t know what was.
Click.
I put on a black shirt and buttoned it up one by one. Since I didn’t know how to tie a necktie, I tossed it aside, slipped on a jacket, and then draped a navy coat over it. The boots provided were made from non-functional, rigid material, making them uncomfortable.
Whirr.
Once dressed, the only visible cybernetic parts were my hands. At a glance, they could be mistaken for mechanical gloves. Since I had no reason to take off my clothes outside, there was no need to attach artificial skin over them.
Beep.
I checked my schedule on the terminal. The timetable had been adjusted according to my wake-up time.
The clothes still felt unfamiliar, so I adjusted my shoulders as I stepped out of the room. It was early morning, and the hallway was quiet.
The walls were covered with advertisement posters from Jafa Corporation’s subsidiary brands, most of them related to the food industry. A common theme among them was the use of snake meat.
- That outfit is far better than the white rags.
En was waiting for me in the elevator. It seemed he had stepped out right after I did.
“I don’t know much about the Tajirun species… but isn’t it unusual for them to work in the restaurant business? Who would want to eat food advertised by a snake?”
I tapped on an advertisement inside the elevator as I asked the question. En’s eyes flickered from behind his combat helmet before he nodded.
- Jafa is probably the only Tajirun involved in the food business in Border City. Tajirun usually prefer businesses that swindle others.
I recalled an old memory. Giselle had also described the Tajirun as “money-obsessed bastards.”
“With their race’s reputation, it must be difficult for them to work in service industries like food. Jafa is quite the eccentric one.”
- You’d do well not to betray Jafa. I’m not saying this just because he’s my employer. He holds significant influence and popularity in Border City. He possesses both the shrewdness of a Tajirun and a personality quite unlike one.
The high-speed elevator arrived at the upper floors. From here on, access was restricted, allowing only Jafa’s close associates to enter.
“Influence or not… he still had to wake me up just because he couldn’t find one person. Either that, or his subordinates are useless idiots who aren’t worth their pay.”
I stepped out of the elevator with a sneer.
- With that mouth of yours, you won’t live long.
“I don’t intend to.”
We headed straight for the armory inside the building. Jafa was already waiting in front of it, with two Equessian mercenaries standing behind him, each holding a bag.
"Hoyot! Good morning, everyone! I’m usually weak in the morning because of my low blood pressure, but I made a special effort to wake up for you, Luka! Since none of you have had breakfast yet, have some of this."
At Jafa’s signal, the two Equessians stepped forward and handed us the bags.
…I stared at mine expressionlessly. The logo on the front depicted a snake sandwiched between two pieces of bread. The bag was also plastered with Jafa Burger’s slogan, which started with "Snake, snake, snake…"
Rustle.
En pulled out a burger, slightly lifted his combat helmet, and stuffed it into his mouth in one go.
- Tastes good as always. If only the nutritional balance were better, I’d eat this every day.
"Hoyoooot! I anticipated that, so I’m developing a fortified nutritional burger! We’re working on drying snake intestines and mixing them into the bread dough…"
- I’ll look forward to it.
His voice was as monotonous as ever, making it hard to tell whether he was being sincere or sarcastic—even for me.
"Luka? You’re not allowed inside the armory until you finish that."
Jafa stared at me with an expectant look, rubbing his hands together.
Even En’s gaze settled on me. The two Equessian bodyguards were also watching. I felt an unspoken pressure as I opened the bag.
Crinkle.
A wave of steam and a strong, musky scent wafted out. The first impression wasn’t great. I wasn’t picky about food, but I could still distinguish between pleasant and unpleasant smells.
Grab.
I pulled out the burger and took a bite. A burst of sharp spices spread across my tongue, followed by an intricate and layered flavor.
Chew, chew.
As I ate, my eyes shifted back and forth as if lost in thought. It was a taste that made me contemplate.
This was surprising.
A disturbing burger. But to get straight to the point…
“…It’s good.”
I couldn’t immediately explain why it tasted good.
It wasn’t simply delicious. There was an unpleasant gamy odor, but the greasy texture, carrying an indescribable pungent flavor, melted that unpleasantness into something smooth. Like the interplay between bitterness and sweetness, there was a synergistic effect in the flavors.
A complex and addictive taste.
That was the best way to describe it.
"Praise never fails to thrill me. It seems I’ve gained another regular customer today, hoyot."
Jafa wriggled his long fingers as he spoke. While I ate, he deactivated the armory’s lock.
Creak.
The armory doors slid open. I licked the seasoning off my fingers and stepped inside.
The space was massive—hard to believe it was just an armory within a building. The weapons were arranged so neatly that it resembled a museum.
"A collector’s warehouse."
I shared my impression.
"But none of these are decorative pieces. Every single one is lethal. I’ve heard Imperial Guards prefer a combination of melee weapons and pistols."
Jafa led me to a wall where melee weapons were displayed.
There was a wide variety, ranging from simple, sturdy blades to those with monomolecular coatings or electric shock features. Some had unusual mechanisms—like weapons with gun barrels embedded into their blades or spear shafts.
I browsed through them, picking some up and giving them a few swings.
"This is a high-compression heavy weapon. It was crafted by an artisan from the Empire. I believe you’ll like it."
Jafa pointed to a sword resting on a stand. Like Crucis, it had a single edge, but its blade was slightly wider.
Whoo-ung!
I swung it a few times. My cybernetics powered up, causing a motor hum to echo.
‘It’s different from Crucis.’
The quality was lower. The weight distribution was slightly off—subtly imbalanced in a way that disrupted its trajectory.
"A so-called artisan, huh? Doesn't seem like it went through proper refinement."
Unsatisfactory. If it clashed with another high-compression heavy weapon, it would likely shatter.
I couldn’t immediately explain why it tasted good.
It wasn’t simply delicious. There was an unpleasant gamy odor, but the greasy texture, carrying an indescribable pungent flavor, melted that unpleasantness into something smooth. Like the interplay between bitterness and sweetness, there was a synergistic effect in the flavors.
A complex and addictive taste.
That was the best way to describe it.
"Praise never fails to thrill me. It seems I’ve gained another regular customer today, hoyot."
Jafa wriggled his long fingers as he spoke. While I ate, he deactivated the armory’s lock.
Creak.
The armory doors slid open. I licked the seasoning off my fingers and stepped inside.
The space was massive—hard to believe it was just an armory within a building. The weapons were arranged so neatly that it resembled a museum.
"A collector’s warehouse."
I shared my impression.
"But none of these are decorative pieces. Every single one is lethal. I’ve heard Imperial Guards prefer a combination of melee weapons and pistols."
Jafa led me to a wall where melee weapons were displayed.
There was a wide variety, ranging from simple, sturdy blades to those with monomolecular coatings or electric shock features. Some had unusual mechanisms—like weapons with gun barrels embedded into their blades or spear shafts.
I browsed through them, picking some up and giving them a few swings.
"This is a high-compression heavy weapon. It was crafted by an artisan from the Empire. I believe you’ll like it."
Jafa pointed to a sword resting on a stand. Like Crucis, it had a single edge, but its blade was slightly wider.
Whoo-ung!
I swung it a few times. My cybernetics powered up, causing a motor hum to echo.
‘It’s different from Crucis.’
The quality was lower. The weight distribution was slightly off—subtly imbalanced in a way that disrupted its trajectory.
"A so-called artisan, huh? Doesn't seem like it went through proper refinement."
Unsatisfactory. If it clashed with another high-compression heavy weapon, it would likely shatter.
"Is… is that so? Hmm, they boasted that it was on par with Imperial workshop standards, but it seems they lied to me. I’ll have to make some adjustments later."
Jafa flicked his tongue, his pupils narrowing into thin slits.
I silently stared at the subpar sword. I didn’t want to entrust my life to this thing. Maybe I should just use a monomolecular blade instead.
But monomolecular coatings were consumable. After every battle, they had to be reapplied. For someone like me, who constantly clashed blades, it was an inconvenient choice.
- You look like you don’t see anything you like. How about taking that one? The man-eating cursed sword. A perfect weapon for someone who doesn’t plan on living long.
En muttered from behind me.
Jafa flinched and frantically waved his hands.
"N-no! Luka is an invaluable asset. I can’t give him such a dangerous sword…"
His reaction only piqued my curiosity.
"Just hand it over. I’m used to walking with my life on the line."
Jafa hesitated, his tongue flicking nervously, then pressed his palm against the wall. Recognizing his touch, the wall rumbled and flipped over.
"It was a custom order, only 52 made in the first batch. The workshop went under, and the craftsmen were beaten to death by their clients' families…"
Jafa continued explaining before the wall had even finished rotating.
"The model name is Firelight Saber. A weapon with an ultra-high-temperature heat filament embedded in the blade."