04.

Surviving in another world requires knowing your place.

Erable, a lowly lieutenant of commoner birth, had only one goal: to become a useful tool and do her best. If she did well enough, maybe she could survive and return home.

‘Let’s just do this right,’ she resolved, changing into the military uniform she’d been given before stepping out.

Two years later, she had survived, just as she’d resolved to do.

Though she wasn’t exactly sure how.

＊ ＊ ＊

“…Does it hurt a lot?”

He began to find the woman intriguing during the insertion of the identification tag.

The first time, sure, but after that?

He expected her to resist, stall for time, or try something—anything. But instead, the woman treated it like a regular monthly rent payment. And she was quite a diligent tenant at that.

“Hng… Ngh…”

The small woman was kneeling on the floor, collapsed against his desk, panting as if in pain.

Her short brown hair, with a slight wave, was disheveled and clinging to her face.

Dezeb perched himself on the edge of the desk next to her, asking if she was okay. Of course, she wasn’t, but he asked anyway.

His long fingers slowly stroked the back of her head. It was an uncharacteristically kind gesture, but Erable Vermilion was too out of it to notice.

The identification tag insertion, which happened every three months, was excruciatingly painful.

Even noblemen would often drool and scream during the process, yet this woman bore it with remarkable composure.

She knew her place well, was obedient, and diligent. It would be hard to find a more ideal person than her.

As he had predicted two years ago, she had proven herself useful in many ways. Dezeb gently traced the injection site on the back of Erable’s neck.

“I-I’m fine…”

She mumbled, trembling all over. Usually, when someone is treated this kindly, they start pushing boundaries, but Erable Vermilion showed no sign of that.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to respond.”

He continued to be friendly.

But it didn’t seem to help. Her back remained stiff, and despite her efforts to hide it, the fear in her eyes was always present when she looked at him.

“…I-I’m fine… M-Miro…”

“Shall I escort you?”

He asked gently, and she repeated herself in a small voice.

“…M-Miro… I’m fine…”

It seemed like she had rehearsed it in advance. Despite her body being broken down, she kept muttering the same words over and over. Miro… Miro I’m fine… Miro…

“Alright.”

Dezeb patted the back of her neck softly.

“You can go now.”

Once he gave permission, she shakily activated her Signum slot.

In no time, her faintly glowing great spirit, Miro, opened its mouth and swallowed her.

“Home… home…”

Her voice faded as she mumbled softly.

She often used the great spirit Miro as her transport, and today was one of those days.

“…”

There wasn’t a single drop of saliva on the desk where she had collapsed.

That’s because she had stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth to muffle her screams and brought it herself.

Dezeb lightly tapped the desk, still warm from where she had been.

＊ ＊ ＊

“…Ah.”

Three days after the identification tag renewal, Erable sat at her barracks’ dining table, swallowing a string of curses.

Damn it. After every tag insertion, she couldn’t help but curse. Sitting groggily in a chair, Erable muttered under her breath.

No matter how many times she went through it, she never got used to it. She doubted she ever would.

She only endured it because it happened every three months. If it were every month, she might have actually deserted by now.

‘I’d rather just die cleanly.’

She sighed, injecting herself with painkillers and muscle relaxants into the crook of her arm.

Since two years ago, she had been making good use of the bio-technology of this world. Most of it was banned substances, but…

If not for these, she wouldn’t have survived this long.

In this world, where mythology and planetary sci-fi were mixed together like a weird stir-fry, the only good thing was that the medical technology was surreal.

[…On the 24th, a crack 17 square kilometers in size appeared near Colony 80 in the 2155 planetary system. Authorities have officially stated there is no significant danger, but some citizen groups are… ]

Erable rubbed the tiny pinprick of blood on her arm as she watched the TV.

This world was like a black hole.

It absorbed information and intelligent life forms from parallel dimensions through sporadically opening cracks, though not always in a good way.

When a monster crack opened, it was a hellish party. Luckily, they were mostly concentrated in the 2155 planetary system.

The news, which had been discussing the situation in the conflict zones, soon transitioned to the weather.

That’s when Erable snapped back to reality.

7:10.

She hastily tidied up the scattered syringes and hurried to get ready for work.

It had already been two years since she enlisted.

Erable had grown accustomed to life as a soldier.

She had thought she would be lonely away from the Count’s estate, but to her surprise, she had made drinking buddies.

With nightly drinking sessions that left her practically knocked out, she had no time to feel lonely.

Erable Vermilion had developed a level of adaptability that even surpassed that of a cockroach.

In ten years of living in another world, adaptability seemed to be the only thing that had increased. Of course, there were some things you could never fully adapt to.

“What the hell is wrong with the way you handle things?”

One of those things was her boss, who loved to start picking fights first thing in the morning. It wasn’t that she couldn’t adapt to it, but more that she didn’t want to.

“What seems to be the issue, Captain Hag?”

On her way to work, Erable nodded politely to the red-haired superior who had picked a fight with her in the hallway.

“Issue? Why didn’t we get summer uniforms? Why wasn’t the operations team given any extra supplies?”

“I completed the distribution on the 28th at 11:38 a.m.”

Despite her detailed answer, Birgo Hag still had an angry scowl on his face.

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

Yes…, Erable responded in her head, thinking of the mutt she used to know back in the Count’s estate.

Birgo was just like that dog, always causing trouble. If he had been the dog, she would have yanked him by the hair by now, pulling it all out at the roots.

She had plenty to say, but she kept her mouth shut because she valued her life.

“The records show confirmation of receipt.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

Birgo gave a sinister smile.

Erable smiled back. After two years, she had gotten quite good at this fake smile.

A survival smile, necessary in an environment where predators were constantly lurking.

“Yes, one copy of the record is stored on the division commander’s personal server, so it’s definitely confirmed.”

“…Why is it on Dezeb’s server?”

“I assume it’s because incidents like this happen frequently.”

“Then what about my buttons? Two of them fell off!”

“You can take them to the repair shop.”

“But I don’t like strangers touching my clothes!”

She had no idea what kind of logic that was. His body was practically public property, but his clothes were off-limits?

She wanted to tell him to get familiar with the repair shop staff if he was that concerned, but once again, her life was more important, so she held her tongue.

“You could sew them on yourself.”

“I can’t, so you sew them for me, Erable.”

Birgo moved closer with a suggestive smile. Erable nodded.

“That’ll be 12 CP.”

“…What’s the deal with that extra 2 CP?”

“I’m not feeling well today.”

Direct refusal was never a good strategy with these murderers. It was far better to slip out of things like a fish and prioritize personal safety.

These people saw even small rejections as acts of rebellion.

Of course, the prime example of this mindset was Dezeb Avganis himself.

In any case, outright refusal was off-limits.

Offering some form of compensation within reasonable limits was the best way to handle them.

They viewed it as “flexible communication.”

Because of that, they often accepted proposals, thinking of themselves as civilized.

Both were severely mistaken. It wasn’t communication, and they weren’t civilized.

Still, preventing them from thinking along the lines of “I guess I’ll have to kill them” or “They don’t listen, so I’ll just chop off a few limbs” was the best and only strategy.

“How about taking payment in kind, huh? I’ll pay with my body.”

“How about you handle inventory for today?”

“You’re sticking with the 12 CP, huh?”

Erable glanced down at the money she had been handed.

‘Tch, whatever.’

As she pocketed the cash, Birgo leaned in and whispered suggestively into her ear.

“Erable, tell me, how much is your body worth?”

“I only accept Signum for physical exchanges.”

After two years with these bastards, responding to these minor provocations was a waste of time.

Those two years had felt like two thousand.

“You’re really consistent, you know that?”

Birgo sighed.

“If you just flat-out refused, I’d have an excuse to pin you down. Come on, Erable. Don’t you want to try getting pinned down?”

Of course, the dogs were stunningly handsome. Even when they spouted absurdities like that, it was hard not to laugh at them.

Erable held a slight grudge against their looks ever since she had been caught at the banquet two years ago, but she couldn’t deny it. Still…

“I see the division commander every day.”

“…Could you not mention Dezeb? What if you mess up my function, huh?”

I’d celebrate.

It was one of the few small hopes left in this world. Erable almost felt like giving him a round of applause.