Shimizu Koji rode his bike to the address listed for the physical fitness test. Unlike last time, when he had only been given an email address, this time he followed the directions straight to a place called Shirahato Pharmaceuticals—or rather, a research institute.
Two security guards were stationed at the front gate, and surprisingly, two more were seated inside the nearby guard booth.
On the other side, there was another pair of guards flanking the entrance to the underground parking lot. Through the glass doors of the institute, it looked as though there was yet another guard on each side just inside the entrance.
If none of them had been unarmed, the level of security might have made one think this was a military facility.
As expected, Koji was stopped at the entrance. After he presented his letter, the guards searched him to make sure he wasn't carrying anything suspicious, then allowed him inside.
The marble floor of the lobby reflected faint light. With so few people around, the air inside felt cold and sterile.
"Don't look around."
An emotionless voice sounded beside him. Koji turned his head to see a guard on his right pointing toward a hallway.
"Go that way, turn left, third room. Don't wander."
Their attitude was extremely cold, but Koji didn't think much of it. After all, he usually looked even colder than they did.
He walked on silently, following the guard's directions—down the hallway, left turn, third room.
The door was open. The windows had been covered with newspaper from the inside, and a sheet of white paper reading Testing Area was taped to the door.
The room was fairly large, with various common medical examination devices arranged neatly throughout. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, making the already quiet space feel even more desolate.
Inside was a male doctor wearing a white coat. He seemed about to stand up to leave, but when he saw Koji at the door, he froze briefly before sitting back down.
At that moment, Koji felt that something was off. He had assumed there would be many people at the testing site, yet he appeared to be the only one there.
"Please, have a seat," the doctor said.
"May I ask—why are there so few people here?" Koji asked.
He began to suspect that he might have walked into some kind of scam company in disguise.
"Hm?" The doctor let out a small sound of surprise, then smiled. "Actually, we're about to get off work."
"Didn't you read the footnote on the notice? It says we close around three in the afternoon, so I was just about to leave."
"Also, this recruitment is labeled as preliminary hiring. Even if you pass, you won't be able to start work immediately."
"And since it's not aimed at long-term full-time employees, there were only a dozen or so people who came in for testing today, even including you."
Koji glanced up at the wall clock.
2:55 p.m.
As for the phrase not aimed at long-term full-time employees, translated plainly, it meant something like temporary or dispatched labor—most likely without even a formal contract.
That didn't matter to Koji. As long as he could work, it was fine. He only saw this job as an option for the upcoming winter or summer break anyway.
After explaining, the doctor guided Koji through the testing process. It started with standard medical checks, then moved to a neighboring room that looked like a training area.
Using several uncommon machines, they tested Koji's strength and reaction speed. Once Koji understood what was being measured, he thought for a moment and deliberately held back.
Even so, the resulting data still surprised the doctor, who happily patted Koji on the shoulder and assured him that he would definitely pass.
"Excuse me, I'll be leaving now," the doctor said politely.
After the tests ended, the doctor exchanged a few formal words with Koji, locked the door, and left with a stack of documents.
Though he had said he was getting off work, Koji noticed that the doctor headed deeper into the institute. Apparently, he was just another overtime worker.
After a short pause, Koji retraced his steps and returned to the entrance lobby.
"Director, I'm sorry, but you can't leave right now."
Unexpectedly, a short-haired woman in a white lab coat—clearly a department director at the institute—was being stopped by security at the entrance.
"Move aside," she said coldly, frowning.
"Sorry, those are the orders from above. For the time being, you're not allowed to go out," the guard replied calmly.
He had been given strict instructions. So even when facing Director Sherry—someone who ranked just below the very top within the institute—he didn't retreat an inch.
As Koji appeared, both Sherry and the guards turned their gaze toward him at the same time.
Koji, however, had no interest in getting involved in the institute's internal disputes. Preventing a director from leaving was probably due to confidentiality issues or some experiment. Since he hadn't even officially joined yet, he had no desire to invite trouble.
Sherry glanced at Koji as he emerged from inside the institute, briefly scanning his clothes before letting her gaze linger on his face for a second.
A new member?
When Koji wore a blank expression, his presence was imposing. With just one look, Sherry formed a misunderstanding.
And when Koji walked past them as if no one else existed—without sparing them a glance—and left the institute directly, that misunderstanding only deepened.
Watching Koji's retreating figure, Sherry's expression shifted, growing increasingly unreadable. She didn't look at the guards again, nor did she insist further. Instead, she turned around and headed back inside.
Her footsteps echoed through the underground corridor as she passed laboratories and research rooms, walking deeper into the facility.
"Yo, Sherry."
Turning a corner at the end of the corridor, she encountered a figure approaching her, along with a voice tinged with amusement. Sherry lifted her eyes.
Chianti had a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder, as if she'd just finished training. Naturally, she greeted Sherry upon seeing her.
One of the organization's younger members—and currently one of its most indispensable assets. Still a bit immature, perhaps.
But Chianti had no doubt that in a few years—or once this girl fully devoted herself to working for the organization—even Gin might someday have no choice but to listen obediently in front of her.
"Chianti," Sherry said calmly, looking at the heavily made-up woman before her.
"Where's Gin?"
"Hm?" Chianti sensed something off about Sherry today, but still answered honestly. "No idea. But he's probably not at the base right now."
Sherry fell silent for a moment.
"What about Vodka? Tell him to come see me."
After saying that, Sherry turned and walked away. Chianti stood there, stunned for a second, about to say something—but Sherry had already disappeared around the corner.
Gin isn't here?
Sherry didn't quite believe that. If she remembered correctly, Gin had suffered fairly serious burn injuries, and only a few days had passed since then.
She thought it over carefully. She believed Gin was still at the base—it was just possible that Chianti didn't know.
As for Vodka, he was nothing more than Gin's lackey.
At least, as far as Sherry was concerned right now, he ought to listen to her.