Following the flow of people, we soon came upon a large factory on the outskirts of District 15. It was a clothing packet factory, the kind every city had two or so of.

The enormous factory swallowed people without pause. There was no going against the current now. Caught in the crowd, we headed inside as though being sucked in.

A clothing factory that processed alchemical fabric into clothing packets.

It was an extremely labor-intensive facility. Countless people had to work on processing the fabric, and even a brief delay at one stage disrupted every stage afterward. No matter how many hands they had, it was never enough.

In other words, this was a place that welcomed even laborers who only came for a day.

"... So. You're saying you want to work for just today?"

The work supervisor overseeing the laborers frowned, looking between the captain and me. I answered with a bright smile.

"That's right."

"Unbelievable. You stroll in here with a woman at your side, and that's what you ask..."

The supervisor grumbled both out of displeasure and in hopes of finding some way to slash our pay. He took a particular interest in the captain, who, at least, was decently dressed.

Sneaking glances at her while pretending otherwise, he said,

"You don't expect normal pay for a single day's work, do you? You'll get seventy percent of the usual daily wage. Hey, you. Go to Rail Seven and follow instructions. And you, woman. You'd make a perfect model. Go to the fitting room and try on the clothing packet samples."

Surely anyone would do for that job. No, an Arche Avatar would actually be better than a person. I sensed a personal desire behind his insistence on choosing the captain.

Now, how should I handle this? While I briefly considered my options, the captain shook her head without a moment's hesitation.

"I refuse."

"Refuse? Did you just say you refuse?"

"Affirmative. I must maintain custody of that man, or provide equivalent supervision. As such, I cannot remain apart from him for an extended period."

She spoke as though this were a truth that naturally had to be obeyed.

Her outright refusal displeased the supervisor, who was something of an authority around here.

'A lowlife who came here for a single day's labor dares hold her head high in front of me? I was chosen as supervisor for my abilities, even among Level 2 citizens! She must think she has nothing to fear... Wait. Nothing to fear?'

And with that, the person responsible for appointing this man supervisor proved their own competence.

'That rigid attitude. That peculiar way of speaking. Could she be... an officer?'

Sensing danger, the supervisor's mind raced.

Factory or not, this place was also run by a technical officer dispatched by the Military State. A large factory near a city warranted a fairly high-ranking technical officer... but a technical officer was still a technical officer. Company-grade at best.

By contrast, the Military State's field-grade officers, who were deployed directly into battle, were quite literally military assets.

And he was merely a supervisor appointed by a technical officer. Nothing more than a steward exercising delegated authority.

An officer's standing was far beyond anything a mere Level 2 citizen—not even a technical officer—could dare challenge.

'Oh, come on, surely not... Don't think that, you idiot! Some ordinary person wouldn't just show up at a time like this and make such a bizarre request! Always act on the worst-case assumption!'

Coming sharply to his senses, the supervisor suddenly adopted a much more solemn expression.

"In that case, it can't be helped. I'll assign the two of you together. Please go to Rail Seven."

The Military State was a place people lived, too. There might well be fools who didn't know their place and squandered what power they were given.

But those people were usually the first to be dragged off to a labor camp.

"If you have enough mana to operate an Arche Avatar, I can assign you to that task. Laborers with mana are hard to come by. Would you be able to do that?"

"I have never tried, but I can use magic."

"Then you should be capable. Here, please channel mana into this Arche Avatar."

He pointed to the Arche Avatar, a mannequin-like human template, and made his request politely.

The captain was a captain, after all, and a mage capable of using not only standard-issue magic but unique magic as well. There was no way she couldn't operate an Arche Avatar.

The moment she touched it, blue lines appeared along the mannequin's Arche Avatar. Following those central lines, the alchemical fabric covering it unraveled thread by thread and drew inward.

Soon, the fabric that had covered its entire body was woven together and compressed into a single small packet.

A swift, rapid transformation that only someone with ample mana could produce.

The supervisor swallowed.

'Fuck. That's as much mana as a perfectly competent mage.'

He raised his paperwork to his face and pretended to jot something down. Even now, he wanted to keep the captain from seeing his face.

"With that much ability, I could leave an entire rail to you. Both of you, please go to Rail Eleven. Tell them you'll handle the avatar, and they'll understand."

'I nearly got fucked. Someone who can use magic like that can't be an ordinary civilian. No, even if she is, that kind of talent could put her at a higher level than me. Thank goodness I gave myself the excuse of calling it modeling. One wrong move, and...'

Cold sweat ran down his back.

What a clever fellow. If only my friend Anton had been half as sharp.

I approached him as he desperately avoided my eyes, bent down slightly, and whispered in his ear.

"You're in luck, Mr. Supervisor. You guessed right."

Learning that he'd guessed correctly brought him no joy whatsoever. He could only pray that we would hurry up and leave.

As I stepped out and closed the door, I heard his thoughts through the narrowing gap.

'... Let's keep being careful.'

The work was simply exhausting.

Countless people stood on either side of an ordinary conveyor belt. When alchemical fabric arrived in front of them, the laborers cut or folded it according to their assigned tasks, then passed it to the next person.

After passing through all those hands and gradually taking the shape of clothing, the fabric arrived in front of the captain and me. I dressed the avatar in it and gave her a signal.

Then she used her mana to turn the clothes into a packet and placed it in a box.

Before I knew it, we had reached our hundredth clothing packet.

I closed the lid on the full box and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Who was I? Why was I here?

Surely I hadn't been born to do this sort of thing. I'd outgrown playing with dolls ages ago. So why was I still dressing one?

But the conveyor belt kept moving, and the work showed no sign of ending. Fresh fabric kept pouring toward us.

Unable to stand it any longer, I quietly called to the captain.

"Whew. Pretty tiring, isn't it? How about we call it good and make a run for it?"

"Negative. This is quite manageable."

But the captain showed no sign of exhaustion.

No, she was tired, but her eyes shone as she devoted herself even more intently to her task.

'This is rewarding. Far better than sitting still in the Windowless Room and connecting to golems. Every time I complete my task and fill a box, I feel reminded, little by little, of the meaning of this work.'

Ah. I hadn't thought of that.

The captain was a communications officer who had endured labor harsher than anything in a factory, all on her own.

She had never shown it, but she even had enough mana to stay continuously synchronized with a synchronized-type golem for about a full day. The Military State's strange treatment of her aside, she really was one of the elite.

'One hundred! When have I ever piled up a hundred of anything except empty bean cans? I am someone who can make a hundred of something!'

Military State, I don't know whether you were trying to protect the captain or exploit her, but I know one thing.

You're to blame.

I sighed and got back to work.

And so that tedious stretch of time passed, as though something were clinging to the clock and holding it back.

"Avatar team, you're done! You can go home now!"

At the supervisor's shout, the laborers operating the avatars turned to him in puzzlement.

"Isn't it an hour earlier than usual? We can still squeeze out a little more..."

'If I'm letting you go early, just take the good fortune and leave! Why argue? There's an officer here, an officer! I need to send the officer off first!'

Despite his very different private thoughts, the supervisor answered with perfect composure.

"Mana is thin today. Thanks to the newcomer, we've already met our quota, and it would be a problem if you mana users collapsed. We'll change shifts a little early today."

"Since when have you ever cared about that?"

"Quiet!"

"Well, fine, but if we leave now, our pay..."

"You'll get the full amount!"

"Thank you! Goodbye!"

Granted a precious extra hour of freedom, the laborers streamed out like the ebbing tide.

Our supervisor certainly knew how to read a situation.

Contrary to his suspicions, we had only come for fun, but there was no need to tell him that.

I called to the captain, who was still busy compressing clothes into packets. She cast a regretful glance at the box she hadn't quite filled.

"How unfortunate. This was my chance to reach five hundred. An achievement unlike any other in my life..."

I'll say it again, Military State. You're to blame.

The sun that had hung high overhead was beginning its descent toward the far horizon. With a little time to spare, we collected our day's wages and left the factory.

Considering how often single-day laborers had their wages slashed, the supervisor had paid us quite generously. It was twice what an ordinary laborer earned, but since the captain had actually helped them exceed their quota, it wasn't excessive.

Feeling a fresh sense of pride in the money she had earned through her own efforts, the captain walked with a spring in her step, clutching the alchemical gold coins to her chest. She probably didn't realize it, but her golden hair and skirt bounced lightly with every step.

"Is this your first time earning money? Why are you so happy?"

"It is my first time receiving pay like this. So this is the weight of money..."

"Oh, right. Soldiers get their salaries paid out in a lump sum through the veterans affairs office, don't they?"

"Affirmative. There is no particular need to spend our pay while serving in the military..."

Because alchemy existed, no currency other than alchemical gold coins could exist in this world.

Paper money and promissory notes could hold no value in the face of alchemy, which could imitate even gold.

Only a nation like the Military State, with the entire country's administration in its grasp, could pay salaries through the veterans affairs office in the form of promissory notes or pensions. The neighboring League of Nations had slaughtered every alchemist in the country, only for its economy to collapse anyway and the country to tear itself apart.

"Come to think of it, Bee, you are a captain of sorts."

"Negative. Not 'of sorts.' I am most certainly a captain."

"If you've been saving your money without spending it, you must have quite a lot left."

"Affirmative."

"What do you want to do with it? Isn't there anything you want to accomplish?"

Was it because earning money through her own sweat had made it feel real?

Clutching today's precious wages to her chest, the captain seriously considered my question.

'I am a Level 3 citizen. I have the right to inherit, but no property to receive, and I cannot leave property to future generations. In the first place, I have no one to leave it to. When I die, all of my property will be destroyed.'

Oho. You finally got that far.

Will you show me now?

Life is resistance. A struggle to protect and preserve my small, fragile universe against a fierce and threatening outside world.

When faced with truly losing something of their own, the living cannot help but resist.

'The money was paid to me by the military authorities anyway. There is nothing to regret if it is destroyed and returns to the Military State. If that money can accomplish something better, if it can go to those other people who rejoiced at small strokes of luck...'

But the communications officer seemed to know nothing of that.

You really, really were to blame.

They say everyone gets three chances. If you're this awful, isn't it about time you were destroyed?

'At least I am fortunate to remain registered with the institution where I grew up. If I die on duty, compensation will be paid to them. It is hardly an inheritance, but it will be my final gift... to the younger children.'

Soldiers were encouraged to marry.

The reason, simply put, was property.

If you didn't spend it, your wealth accumulated. And if you died? It was destroyed, just like that.

Nor could you go to the veterans affairs office, request a lump-sum payment, and stash it away somewhere. If you were caught, you were off to a labor camp.

A family was essential, if only to spend your pay as it came in. The veterans affairs office didn't stop family members from collecting a soldier's pay on their behalf.

That was why so many soldiers started families young.

What if you casually started a family, then died and could no longer provide for them? Even then, there was no need to worry.

There would be no inheritance, but a death benefit would be paid.

An amount greater than most inheritances.

Soldiers, who had no choice but to consider what came after death, put all their efforts into leaving a family behind.

'Thinking of it that way, I do feel some regret. If I had married, could I have left a little more behind?'

Still, I had at least brought about a positive change.

To leave something behind.

The barest aspiration of someone who had accepted the death that would someday come.

Savoring the poignant desire that had blossomed in her heart without her realizing it, the captain hugged the small change in her envelope close and answered.

"... That is classified."

I didn't ask any further. This was enough for today.

And so we were walking back through streets slowly settling into dusk.

There was a commotion in one corner of the market. Where there should have been a lively mix of voices, today there was nothing but bewildered murmuring.

The gathered people were looking around as though seeking help. Then they spotted me and immediately shouted.

"Hey! Hughes! Something terrible's happened!"

Reading their thoughts, I realized what had happened half a beat sooner, but for once, mind reading wasn't much help.

"Anna's been beaten to a pulp...!"

Because it became clear in no time, without any need to read minds.

Pushing through the crowd, we found Anna collapsed on the ground, bruises all over her face and arms.

Anna, who had always been so indomitably tough, now lay there as pale as someone gravely ill.

The captain's expression changed, and she rushed forward. Letting her go, I scratched my head as I looked at Anna, who lay as though unconscious.

Wow.

Things really had gone to shit while I was away.

Anyway, who's going to cook for us now?

I'd been looking forward to dinner.