Chapter 378: This Is What It Means to Be a Corporate Drone
Kasimierz looked exactly the same as ever.
When Steven left, it was like this; now that he'd returned, it was still like this—as if nothing at all had ever happened.
The Kasimierz Waystone was placed right inside the office of the Armorless Union's headquarters.
So when Steven came back, no one noticed.
He didn't bother to inform anyone, nor did he have the slightest intention of organizing some kind of welcome.
He opened the Pokéball and released Surtr.
The red-haired girl blinked, still a little dazed—and then her eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before her.
Just a minute ago, she'd been standing in Ursus. Now, in the blink of an eye, she was standing in some kind of room of metal.
It was the complete opposite of the endless white snowfields she had just left behind.
If Steven hadn't handed her familiar sword, Laevatain, back into her hands, she would have sworn this was all an illusion—another one of his tricks.
"Th-this… this is Kasimierz?"
Leaning on Laevatain, Surtr looked around, utterly bewildered.
She'd expected they would take a flying craft or something—but this? One blink, and they were just… here?
Was this guy even capable of doing something normal for once?
The warmth in the air made it clear enough that they definitely weren't in the frozen wastelands anymore.
Temperature never lies.
"Of course. Want to sit down?" Steven gestured casually to a nearby chair.
"This is my company's office. If you want to explore Kasimierz, I can have someone show you around. I'm not exactly a local myself."
He dropped lazily into the boss's chair, spinning it once.
He hadn't bothered to mask his arrival, and he could already sense three Darksteels rushing over.
If Surtr wanted to go sightseeing, those guys might actually make decent tour guides.
"I'm more curious about how you did that," Surtr said, eyeing him like he was some kind of rare creature.
"No wonder you call yourself a 'free traveler.' Your kind of freedom is way more outrageous than I imagined."
She leaned closer, squinting.
Honestly, she used to think they were similar—both wanderers, both unbound.
Now, it turned out he was on an entirely different level.
"It's nothing special," Steven said with a shrug.
"Just something that makes it easier for me to revisit the places I've been to. Anyway, I've fulfilled your request. I suppose this is where we part ways?"
"Yeah… I won't trouble you any further."
Surtr smiled faintly. "Just getting to Kasimierz is already more than enough. The rest, I'll leave to fate. We'll meet again someday, won't we?"
She gave him a small wave—reluctant, but resolute.
Traveling with Steven had been one of the most enjoyable, effortless stretches of her journey so far.
Finding someone whose spirit resonated so closely with her own was rare indeed.
But all journeys, no matter how bright, must eventually part at a crossroads.
"Then I won't see you off," Steven replied with a small smile.
"Next time we meet, I hope you'll have more of your own stories to share."
He waved back lightly, watching as the red-haired girl turned and walked out of his office.
And then, two minutes later, Steven watched as Surtr walked back into the office—this time with several members of the Armorless Union following behind her.
"Umm… so, uh… I'm not really sure how to get out of this building…"
Sticking her tongue out a little, Surtr gave a sheepish, embarrassed smile.
The three Darksteels accompanying her, however, didn't look amused at all.
They eyed the red-haired girl warily, hands unconsciously inching toward their weapons.
If she hadn't come out of the boss's office, they would've already restrained her by now.
They couldn't sense any particularly threatening aura from her—but the giant sword strapped to her back… That thing reeked of danger.
Their instincts told them quite clearly that unless they wanted to die horribly, they'd better not mess with it.
"Boss, who's this?"
"Relax," Steven sighed, waving his hand helplessly. "A friend of mine. Just help her find her way downstairs, that's all. Don't worry about anything else."
The Darksteels exchanged glances, then nodded silently.
One of them stepped forward to act as her escort, while the other two remained behind, standing at attention before Steven's desk—looking very much like men who had something to report.
"Hmm? What's with those faces? You've got something to tell me?"
Steven raised an eyebrow.
He'd half expected the first person barging in to be Centaurea, or maybe Czarny. But no—it was his three security captains instead.
"Yes, Boss," one of the Darksteels said, handing over a file.
"The Armorless Union has been restructured according to your orders. Everyone with a criminal record or unresolved incidents has been dismissed and dealt with. Those remaining are clean and willing to work honestly. This is the updated roster. Please review it."
Steven took the file, flipping it open lazily.
The old Armorless Union was now nothing but history.
If he'd said it would become just an ordinary security company from now on, then that was exactly what it would be.
For the Darksteels, that wasn't a bad thing at all.
They'd long been looking for a way to wash their hands of their old lives—to stop being assassins and start living as normal men.
Steven's decision had their full support.
With his funding backing them, the "cleanup" process went smoothly enough.
"You don't need me to check this," Steven said, tossing the file aside casually.
"As long as everyone's clean, that's fine. Just do your jobs properly and stick to the straight path. As long as you do that, I'll make sure you're well taken care of. But if anyone tries to pull the same shady crap as before…"
He smiled, voice turning just a little colder.
"Then don't blame me when I come down myself to clean house."
He leaned back, stretching.
There was no need for him to personally monitor every little detail—that was what the Pinus Sylvestris Knightclub were for.
If something ever did go wrong, then he'd step in.
Seeing that the Darksteels had nothing else to report, Steven pushed back his chair and stood up.
"By the way—where's Czarny? He's the one managing the company's operations now, isn't he? Don't tell me he's finished everything already and has nothing to report?"
Steven rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
He had full faith in Czarny's capabilities—but even so, it didn't make sense.
There was no way that one man alone could have cleaned up the entire mess left behind by the old Chamber of Commerce in such a short time.
If anyone should be standing here reporting to him right now, it ought to be that man.
"He… uh, was hospitalized due to overwork. He's on his way here now, though."
The Darksteels looked equally helpless as they gave their report.
Everyone who had ever worked alongside Czarny knew just how terrifyingly dedicated the man was.
Forget 996—he was practically on a 007 schedule.
He didn't just work hard; he practically staked his life on it.
No wonder the boss trusted him so much.
And sure enough, before the sentence was even finished, the door to the office swung open with a bang.
A man rolled in—one hand gripping an IV stand, the other pushing his own wheelchair.
His face was pale and thin from exhaustion, eyes sunken from lack of rest, yet in those eyes still burned a fire brighter than anyone else's.
"Boss! You're finally back!" Czarny burst out, voice hoarse but energetic.
"I've already taken over most of the Chamber of Commerce's assets. But I'll need your guidance for the next step—should the Block Consortium continue the old monopoly model, or should we align with the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi and cooperate with Kasimierz's national policy?"
Steven stared at him, half impressed and half horrified.
At this rate, the man might literally drop dead in front of him mid-sentence.
"Let's… talk about that later," Steven said, massaging his temples.
"For now, maybe find yourself a partner or something? You don't look like you're in any shape to keep going like this."
He swore to God, he had never asked Czarny to overwork.
He'd always believed in letting people do things at their own pace.
Who could've guessed Czarny would go and self-destructively outwork himself like this?
'Self-inflicted overtime… truly a tragic art form.'
"Actually," Czarny said after a pause, "I've been thinking the same thing. And I may already have someone in mind."
Steven blinked, mildly surprised.
Czarny rarely said things he hadn't already carefully considered.
"Sir Młynar of the Nearl family," Czarny said seriously.
"I admire his sense of duty—and his work ethic is impeccable. If he agreed to become my assistant, I'm confident my efficiency would rise dramatically."
For a moment, Steven just stared at him, expression turning… complicated.
Czarny, utterly earnest, didn't notice.
"...If you can actually convince him to do that," Steven finally said, sighing, "then I've got no objections. Anyway, that's between you corporate drones. Handle your own workaholic alliances—I'm not getting involved."
He waved his hand dismissively.
"As for the rest, we'll discuss it later. I just got back, and the last thing I want to hear about right now is business strategy."
He leaned back in his chair, already feeling a headache coming on.
Commercial talk always drained him faster than a fight ever could.
Honestly, he'd much rather be off somewhere relaxing with Centaurea.
At least that lazy little pony never tried to talk to him about balance sheets and monopolies.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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