"Mr. Cape, there's something I don't quite understand," Cronin began hesitantly. "Why does your corporation recruit such… unconventional people? Those with physical defects contribute far less value than those who are healthy and capable."
Cape chuckled softly.
"Heh… Cronin, you still don't get it. A helping hand in the snow is far more precious than adding flowers to the brocade. Yes, strong and well-educated individuals can indeed create greater value for my group—but their sense of belonging is weak."
"You mean…"
"Sometimes, emotions themselves can generate tremendous value. What I require from my employees isn't just their intellect or labor. Their emotions, their memories, their families, and their relationships—all of it must serve me."
"…But sir, the cost of that is enormous, and the returns seem minimal. It doesn't seem worth it."
"You're thinking too small, Cronin."
"…Then what is your view, Mr. Cape?"
"Tell me, Cronin—don't you think that life itself has a price?"
"…"
"Money isn't limited to mere paper notes," Cape continued smoothly. "Houses, jewels, social connections—they all hold value. So tell me, what is the value of a life?"
"…You have a point."
"No need to force yourself to agree with me, dear Cronin. With our relationship, there's no need for such empty politeness."
"…I suppose I was being too formal."
"It's fine. After all, we are good friends, aren't we?"
—Though this little boat of friendship is about to capsize~
---
"Ig, is this your nest on land?"
Ishar'mla asked curiously as she strolled down one of the brightly lit streets of the Kashchey Duchy.
Even at night, the city was bustling and full of light.
Families walked together, couples whispered affectionately to one another, and elderly citizens—supported by caretakers from the Happiness and Peace Committee—moved slowly but peacefully through the crowd.
Those "caretakers" were employees of a subordinate agency known as the Assured Happiness Service Bureau, whose mission was to care for citizens who had lost their independence.
To ensure the people of the Duchy felt secure—that the elderly had someone to rely on, the young had protection, and even the sick or disabled had their basic needs met—
was to ensure that they could live, work, and die for Kashchey without hesitation.
And perhaps more importantly—
the Duchy of Kashchey was no longer a mere city.
Through intricate Arts arrays and the Black Snake's endless corrosion, the land itself had become a source of nourishment for Kashchey.
The sighs of the elderly as they reflected on life…
The psychological journey of the disabled as they learned to accept their condition…
The pure, unblemished hearts of children…
All of these emotions—loyalty, sorrow, devotion—
their memories, their consciousness—
could be absorbed by the Black Snake to strengthen itself.
Oh, and as a bonus—
such acts of "benevolence" only elevated Kashchey's image in the eyes of these short-lived creatures.
So why not?
As for the expenses… well, that wasn't a problem either.
After all, the Duchy of Kashchey tolerated no parasites.
The Black Snake would never allow anyone else to taint what belonged to him.
Everything within the Duchy belonged solely to the Duke of Kashchey.
That was the first—and only—law of this land.
"So," said the Duke of Kashchey, turning to a woman dressed in red who looked identical to Skadi, "what do you think?"
No one noticed them.
Because in the Duchy of Kashchey—
everything belonged to him.
Including the sight of every living being—
all belonged to Kashchey.
"...It's nice," Ishar'mla said flatly, her expression unreadable.
"That's good to hear…" Kashchey let out a small, relieved sigh.
But before he could relax completely, Ishar'mla suddenly took his hand.
"Ishar'mla, what are you doing?" he asked, wary.
She didn't answer. Instead, she simply pointed ahead—toward a young couple walking hand in hand, laughing softly under the city lights.
"I'm learning," she said, still expressionless.
Kashchey blinked.
"Learning?"
"Yes, learning."
Ishar'mla had once been taught by Ig what that meant.
---
Back when Ig was still attempting to advance—or perhaps "devolve" in the early stages of the swarm's evolution—he had run into a few difficulties.
The Seaborn were creatures that evolved by devouring fragments of their kin, reading the genetic information contained within.
For the Black Snake, this was an enormous obstacle.
After all, the body Ishar'mla had given him didn't hold nearly enough of the knowledge he wanted to pass on.
He was still unfamiliar with the Seaborn physiology, and unlike Ishar'mla, he had no desire to force direct communication—lest he accidentally reveal information the other Snakes would prefer remain hidden.
One Ishar'mla was already troublesome enough.
"Ishar'mla," Ig had once said to the massive sea creature towering above him, "we have another way to learn. It's something I brought from the surface world!"
The two-meter-tall, terranoid sea-born creature gestured toward the twenty-meter leviathan.
"Maybe we can learn simply by perceiving information—by observing and imitating—instead of adapting through instinct alone!"
As he spoke, Ig hastily brushed away one of Ishar'mla's restless tentacles that had started poking at him again.
She always seemed far too interested in his flesh.
Eventually, after much debate (mostly Ig's persuasion and the swarm's confusion), the idea was approved.
Only some of the lower sea-born followed his lead…
though, among them, a single higher sea-born had quietly joined.
---
"…Ishar'mla, you can't just observe that one couple," Kashchey said, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "You need more reference samples."
He tried to pull his hand free. Even with enhanced strength, he couldn't.
"Couple?" Ishar'mla asked, tilting her head slightly.
She didn't understand the term.
After all, not even that so-called "Abyssal Hunter" she had studied possessed a concept of such things.
The Aegir tongue was quite different from Ursine, and Ishar'mla, while hiding on land in search of the wandering "Ig," had been in dormancy for long stretches of time.
The knowledge she'd acquired from that deep-sea being was… limited.
"A couple," Kashchey explained awkwardly, "refers to a man and a woman—well, not necessarily anymore; sometimes it's two of the same sex. It means two intelligent beings brought together by what people call love."
"Love?"
"Uh… that's a bit complicated," Kashchey muttered. "Even if I explained what I think it is, it might not be correct. People have different interpretations of that concept…"
"Ig, do you and I have love?"
"No."
"I see. Then we're not a couple."
Ishar'mla's crimson eyes stared blankly at him.
"Then… are we husband and wife?"
"…Where did you even learn that term? Of course not."
"But," she continued with perfect calm, "did we not once merge into one being—"
(Kashchey winced, remembering how she'd almost eaten him alive.)
"—and raise children together?"
(She meant, of course, when they had trained the lesser Seaborn side by side.)
"Is that not what husband and wife do?"
"…No," Kashchey said through clenched teeth.
The adaptability of the Seaborn really is terrifying.
He kept his composure, though inside he was deeply unsettled.
Ishar'mla's awareness—her self—was growing stronger. Her ability to learn, sharper.
Tch… she's getting better at pretending to be terran.