Hearing the car engine outside, Raiden Ryōma lowered his newspaper, sipped his coffee, stood up, and yanked open the curtains.
He only caught a glimpse of the black car parked below, the rear passenger door flung open, empty.
He rushed out of his study. As expected, Michael was carrying Mei across the hall, carefully ascending the stairs.
"Mr. Michael…" Ryōma began.
Michael shook his head, tilting it downwards. Ryōma followed his gaze. Mei was fast asleep.
"She had a rather rough day. It's a bit early, but I thought it best she rest."
Ryōma, speechless, nodded, watching them pass.
He sighed, walking to the second-floor railing, tracing the wood grain silently.
Moments later, Michael emerged from Mei's room, clearing his throat. Ryōma turned, forcing a smile. "Thank you. Come with me."
They walked to the study. Ryōma didn't speak, and Michael, familiar with the routine, locked the door behind them. Ryōma closed the curtains and pressed a button on the wall.
"Beep—" Green lights flickered as armored plates descended, covering the windows and door. In fact, the entire villa, walls, roof, and ceiling, were reinforced with the same alloy used in the old Fire Moth base. The plates merely sealed the gaps.
This wasn't the only security measure. Hidden defenses activated. The garden bushes concealed over twenty automated machine guns, covering almost every angle, along with eight rocket launchers and two miniature anti-aircraft missile systems. Any uninvited guests would be reduced to ashes before they could even act.
In seconds, the elegant hillside villa transformed into an impregnable fortress.
As CEO of ME Corp, Ryōma's security concerns were understandable. But from an outsider's perspective, it was excessive.
No, not excessive, paranoid. Beneath the main building was a fallout shelter stocked with supplies and countless tactical mechs:
Twenty-seven MR-01 (Titan) mechs, eight MR-03 (Mikazuchi) mechs, thirteen MR-011 (Gaia) heavy mechs, and two each of the enhanced MR-01C (Skybreaker) and MR-011C (Bedrock) models.
Countless smaller mechs filled the remaining space, including the car Michael had driven, equipped with a basic AI module capable of transforming, like something out of a movie. That's how Michael had controlled it with his Herrscher powers.
Even Michael had been stunned by the arsenal. While mere toys to him, in Nagazora City, it was enough to raise suspicions of rebellion…
Of course, he understood. Ryōma's CEO title and ME Corp itself were a front. He was the executive officer of Anti-Entropy's Far East branch, and ME Corp was their cover.
Even Mei understood the current political landscape. Schicksal and Anti-Entropy both coveted the Far East, while Shenzhou, though disinterested in controlling it, wouldn't allow either of the former two to claim it outright. Thus, their operations here were more discreet than in other regions.
Anti-Entropy operated under the guise of ME Corp. Schicksal's Far East branch posed as St. Freya High School, a training ground for Valkyries.
Thanks to Ryōma and a certain diminutive overseer, an uneasy peace had prevailed between Schicksal and Anti-Entropy in the Far East for the past decade. But vigilance was necessary.
St. Freya could field three to four squads of B-rank Valkyries, plus the A-rank Valkyrie Himeko, the former S-rank Theresa, and the Hyperion battlesuit—far more formidable than the mechs hidden in his villa.
However, these were preparations for the worst-case scenario. After all these years, Ryōma might not understand Otto, but he understood Theresa. Conflicts were inevitable, but all-out war? Shenzhou, with its three powerful guardians, loomed across the sea.
Besides, Theresa wouldn't resort to such underhanded tactics.
"Snap—"
Ryōma lit a cigarette, the smoke easing his furrowed brow.
"Care for one?" he offered Michael politely.
Michael, seated across the coffee table, accepted without hesitation.
He held the cigarette, motionless, then conjured a small flame with his left index finger, lighting it. He didn't smoke it, however, leaving it upright on the table. The ash grew longer, the smoke rising like incense.
Ryōma shook his head. He'd grown accustomed to Michael's eccentricities. Nothing this man did surprised him anymore.
He took a long drag, then stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette.
"My daughter is grateful for your assistance today," he began politely.
Michael shook his head. "Professionally, we have a contract. Mei's safety is my responsibility, and you're paying for it. Personally, I have my own reasons for ensuring her survival."
Ryōma drained half his coffee, feeling slightly more alert. He wasn't surprised by Michael's attitude, but his words, like the man himself who'd appeared years ago, were enigmatic.
Perhaps he should ask, but he decided to focus on the present. "Mr. Michael, who do you think orchestrated this kidnapping?"
He finished his coffee and walked to the cabinet, retrieving a bottle of whiskey.
Michael waited patiently until Ryōma returned with two snifters. Ryōma poured a third of a glass for each of them.
"It's a shame… it's winter. By Scottish tradition, it should be warmed, but I prefer it with ice."
"That would be a crime." Michael swirled the amber liquid in his tulip-shaped glass, a golden glint catching the light. "Such fine whiskey, ruined by ice. A splash of cool water is the best way to enjoy it."
He snapped his fingers, and a small amount of water appeared in both glasses, lightening the color slightly.
"Clink—" The only sound was the gentle clinking of their glasses.
"Excellent." Ryōma took a sip. Michael downed his in one gulp.
"I never knew you appreciated whiskey. I assumed you didn't drink."
"Not drinking doesn't mean I don't know how. As for appreciating it… just a couple of old friends enjoyed it, that's all."
Ryōma leaned back comfortably. "Now, back to business. Who do you think was behind the kidnapping? Any clues at the scene?"
Michael shook his head. Ryōma wasn't sure which part he was denying.
"Mr. Ryōma, do you really think there's any other possibility regarding who hired the kidnappers?"
Ryōma shrugged. "Many people would benefit from kidnapping my daughter to leverage demands from me. Schicksal, perhaps. Even Shenzhou…"
"Ryōma, no need for these games. You know I'm not talking about that."
Ryōma's sentence was cut short, but he wasn't offended. He brought the snifter to his lips, his eyes narrowing.
"Whoever targeted Mei today, and the ones behind the recent unrest within ME Corp, and your assassination attempt yesterday… it's the same person, or group."
"Any leads?"
"The mercenary who attacked you yesterday and the one who kidnapped Mei today are the same group. That much is certain."
"Oh? How so?"
"They're both highly ranked international mercenaries: Raven and Ural Silver Wolf, the infamous Siberian duo."
"Them? I heard they disappeared two years ago. I thought they'd retired… And they're so young? I didn't see their faces, but their builds… about Mei's age. Still children…"
"Surprised? Siberia is a no-man's-land between Schicksal and Shenzhou. Nominally co-governed, practically ignored. Already sparsely populated and impoverished due to the harsh climate, the Second Eruption fourteen years ago devastated the country. I wouldn't be surprised if those kids learned to shoot before they could walk."
Ryōma sighed sadly.
"Well, cheer up! At least it means you don't have another enemy to worry about. Isn't that great? Let's toast to that!" Michael poured himself another half glass.
Ryōma, though used to Michael's sudden mood swings, still felt a sense of unreality.
He sipped his whiskey, waiting.
"As for who this enemy is…" Michael chuckled darkly, emptying his glass. "Ryōma, you know ME Corp is Anti-Entropy's Far East branch, and you're the one in charge. If Schicksal or Shenzhou wanted to target Anti-Entropy, they'd aim to dismantle ME Corp entirely. Assassinating you or kidnapping Mei wouldn't achieve that. While Anti-Entropy's control over its executives is loose, ME Corp wouldn't simply switch sides if you were gone. They'd wait for a replacement. So, besides you, who benefits most from your removal?"
Ryōma sighed. "Anti-Entropy."
"See? You know it."
But Ryōma shook his head. "No, the Overseer, Einstein, and Tesla wouldn't do this. They might have deceived us about 'Welt,' but I don't believe they'd resort to infighting."
"Oh? I don't disagree. But when did I say it was Anti-Entropy HQ?"
"Hmm? You mean…?" Ryōma's eyes gleamed.
"Where are Raven and Silver Wolf from?" Michael interjected seemingly randomly.
But Ryōma instantly understood.
"Siberia," he replied weakly.
Michael refilled his glass and drank.
There was no mistaking it. This ruthless approach… only she was capable of it.
"From today onwards, stay home. I'll protect Mei outside. But I don't think it's that dire."
"What do you mean?"
"She… probably doesn't intend to kill." Michael stroked his chin. "Mei, as a hostage, has more value alive. But your assassination attempt yesterday… frankly, knowing Raven and Silver Wolf, they're excellent assassins. Exposing themselves to the target isn't their style. If it were someone else pulling the strings, perhaps they were concerned about attracting attention and had to resort to a less conspicuous, riskier approach. But Cocolia? That woman would sooner blow you up with a bomb in broad daylight than strangle you with fishing line. It doesn't make sense."
Ryōma touched the faint scar on his neck, a shiver running down his spine.
He wasn't a fool. He continued Michael's line of reasoning. "So, the assassination and kidnapping were staged. A warning. Step down from ME Corp, or else?"
"More or less."
"Hah! I'd like to see her try!" Even a clay Buddha had a temper, let alone Ryōma, repeatedly provoked.
ME Corp's growth was thanks to Anti-Entropy, yes, but he'd built it from the ground up. No one could simply take it from him!
He'd see how Cocolia, that madwoman, fared in the unfamiliar Far East against someone who'd cultivated his influence here for a decade.
Besides…
Ryōma glanced at Michael. "Mr. Michael, could you just… eliminate Cocolia…?"
"I refuse. Our agreement doesn't include dealing with your enemies."
"Fine…"
"Well, if there's nothing else, I'm going to bed." Michael stood up, eager to leave. Ryōma finished his whiskey.
As Michael reached the door, the armored plates began to retract slowly.
"Michael," Ryōma said suddenly, "you promised to protect Mei."
"Yes, regardless of your actions, or the time and place, I will protect her. As for why, I've already said, I have my reasons. But as for other matters… frankly, I have no interest in playing these childish games."