Seven years passed, and Vera Warde was still Vera Warde — broke as hell, still without a clue how to make money.
This world is sof**kedup, she thought. The technology here was so advanced that everything she could build had no market at all. The first time she'd sold her tricycle had only worked because Jin Ke was curious; after that, no matter what she pitched, he never fell for her talk again.
Worse yet, whenever she tried to score a bite of Jin Ke's desserts at school, he would always give her that knowing, mystical expression—then walk off hugging his snacks.
Since she was technically "a child," no shop would hire her. She barely scraped by repairing household machines for people on weekends, but most appliances came with federal warranties, so her jobs were limited and the pay miserable.
And that had taken her weeks of effort to find.
With tuition each semester, daily food and drink, and energy for the "electric bike," life was tight. She never left the abandoned building near the dump; she just added some second‑hand furniture to make it less awful.
Even so, Vera never gave up self‑study toward becoming a mecha engineer. She had read every book on mechas in the library. Since she couldn't afford materials for practice, she built complete models in her mind.
"Here." Jin Ke waved from his front door.
Vera had come to fix his mother's music box—an old antique they'd bought that had stopped working after a few days.
"I can fix it," Vera said after a look.
Jin Ke lifted his wrist to send payment, but she stopped him. "Half price."
"The sun coming up from the west?"
"One condition—let me borrow that book you were reading for two days."
She had run out of new titles, and books here were insanely expensive.
"Deal." He entered the transfer.
While she worked on the music box, Jin Ke was designing a mecha joint for his next exam.
"You picked the wrong bearing," Vera remarked without looking, reassembling the box.
He stopped. "That's what the book said."
She clicked her tongue. "Funny—you can think on your feet anywhere else, but the moment it's a mecha you go stupid. Maybe command's more your thing."
It was an off‑hand comment, but he put down the unfinished joint. "You're right. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a mecha engineer."
The last screw went in. Vera flipped the switch; music filled the room.
She whistled. "All done."
Then turned and blinked. "What did you just say?"
Jin Ke sprang up. "I've decided to study command! Someone as smart as me can't stay mediocre."
Vera deadpanned. "3212 Academy doesn't have that major."
"3212 doesn't, but other planets do! I'm transferring." He shouted for his parents.
"What is it?" asked his father, hurrying in.
"Dad, Mom! We're moving to Liujixing today! I want to study command."
His father blinked, then nodded. "Sure, if you want to, let's go."
Seven years ago when Vera first met Jin Ke, his family had run a small junk‑processing company on 3212 Star. Now, after years of reform under his direction, the Jin family handled a third of the Federation's waste management business—and were still expanding. Filthy rich.
Though Jin Ke himself remained just as stingy.
Compared to him, the adult‑minded Vera was pathetic.
"I'll pack," his mother said.
"No need! We leave now—still time to catch the starship." Jin Ke was beaming. After seven years obsessing over engineering, he had finally realized maybe he was better suited to command.
Moments later, their craft hovered outside.
"I'm off. Take care." He gripped Vera's hand solemnly. "I know you have your reasons for staying. We'll meet again if fate allows."
JinKetheImaginativePrince thought: Themysteriousmasterfamilyhideson3212—betternotexposethem.
Vera: "???"
She just stood there watching their flyer disappear into the sky—no money left behind. Not even a coin.
His departure changed little in her broke‑as‑always life, except that now she had no one to talk to.
At least Jin Ke had been a precocious soul she could meet half‑way as an adult.
"I watched the group battle this morning," their teacher announced, hand to chest, expression pained. "I'm heartbroken! No form, no discipline—you lot were chased around by the other class like plucked chickens. The principal was 'very impressed,' so thank you for that."
He began to call names one by one.
"You—two opponents and you freeze up?"
"And you—where's that energy you use on your own classmates? I bet the other class enjoyed pounding you."
"I've taught so many years," he sighed, "and you're by far the worst bunch. Panicking in a brawl—what will you do inside a mecha?"
"Can't even beat the neighbor class—you think you'll make military school? You'd be better off hauling sh*t."
Then he added, "Except for Vera. Nice work this morning—dirty and efficient. I like that."
Vera stood straight, eyes fixed ahead, hands clasped behind her back, impassive.
As expected, the teacher strode over and poked her shoulder. "Four students sent to the infirmary because of you—half an hour in the healing pods. That made me happy. But if your strength doesn't improve, brains alone won't save you!"
Seven years had pared their class from hundreds to under a hundred. Vera ranked upper middle; judging by the teacher's experience, she'd probably score around B on the graduation test in two years.
A B‑rank or higher allowed entry to military school; an A could reach the Federation's Top Five.
Training was all about raising perception; the fitter the body, the stronger the sense.
The teacher—everyone called him Li Belt—suspected Vera's skill went beyond what she showed, but she kept her levels steady on purpose, never too high, never too low, so he often singled her out in annoyance.
Finally fed up, he snapped, "Get back to class and study!"
After school, Vera rode her "BMW" home. Over the years she'd improved its speed so much that the trip took only half an hour.
Government aid housing stood near the junkyard for the scavengers; rent was cheap. The child who'd once lived in her body had stayed there with the mute old man before losing the room to others.
Now even if she could afford rent, rules limited one unit per person and the rooms were tiny—no space for her experiments. The abandoned building was better: she had a bedroom and a makeshift workshop divided by plastic film.
No one cared to come near the place anyway; locals seemed to avoid it. Fine by her. Snakes and rats were a nuisance, but she'd handled that.
She carried the materials from her basket to the workshop.
Tonight she planned to build a mini mecha for practice. InfusionGold was out of reach, so she'd bought a cheap imitation metal called OilGold — the name alone screamed "counterfeit." Even that tiny chunk had cost months of savings.
Mecha knowledge was heavily restricted by the Federation; civilian nets lacked real data. After seven years, she'd exhausted 3212 Academy's entire library, achieving at best a trainee engineer's level.
Still, in her original world she'd mastered mecha theory deeply—the only thing missing then had been rare materials like Infusion Gold.
That's why today she would make a miniature mecha—full form, working weapons, just tiny and cheap. Maybe fifteen centimeters tall.
Sitting at her table, Vera assembled the shell quickly. The sequence was etched in her mind; she could do it blindfolded. Attached to its left hand was the most important part—
a laser gun she had spent a year building: capable of piercing metal and firearms alike, though useless against Infusion Gold.
When everything was done, she carried the mecha outside, aimed it at the wall, and hit the switch.
A beam flashed. Instantly a hole appeared.
She grinned and pressed again—another hole.
Third try—nothing.
"Great. Two shots and out of power," she muttered. F**kingfantastic. Poverty as far as the eye could see.
Sighing, she turned back toward the workshop.
Crack—
"…Huh?"
No way. Two holes couldn't bring a wall down.
Right after she comforted herself, more cracks snapped in succession. Then the entire wall collapsed with a roar, the floor shaking as dust choked the air.
Vera lifted an arm to shield her face and turned to look.
One look and cold sweat exploded down her back.
Behind the fallen wall stood a three‑meter‑tall creature with glowing red eyes.
Abeast.Abug‑beast.
It looked like a mutated, giant wolf, breathing heavily, blood‑red eyes locked on her.
No time to think how it was here—Vera bolted.
The thing charged after her at terrifying speed.
Hearing the whistle of air behind her, she abruptly dropped and rolled, barely dodging a claw swipe—only for the next strike to slash her back open.
Pain registered later; for now she sprinted for the workshop, snatching up a knife.
The beast closed in. No retreat left.
As its head lunged down, she timed it, pushed off the wall, and drove the blade into its eye.
"ROAR—!"
The stench hit her face as it screamed and swatted her hard, sending her flying.
Everything hurt. She tried to stand and failed, lying there watching it stalk closer.
Should'vetrainedharder. For once, Engineer Vera regretted her laziness.
Its jaws opened wide—then suddenly the head snapped off, rolling aside, spraying blood all over her.
Vera blinked. "…F**k, this thing's blood stinks like hell."