Black Badger

A few months earlier.

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Did you hear?]

Mae, drinking an Americano with hollow eyes, checked the alert.

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Hildebert woke up]

Her lifeless eyes flew wide open.

The dopamine that hadn’t seemed likely to appear before lunch flooded through her body in an instant.

Mae straightened in her chair and pulled the keyboard closer.

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: Really?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: When? Today?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: How is he? Is he okay?]

It wasn’t that she was deeply worried about Hildebert.

Mae and Hildebert had never once spoken. Of course, she knew who he was. At this point, there were hardly any people left in Center Core who didn’t know the name Hildebert, but Mae had known of his existence even before Hildebert had truly made a name for himself.

Mae was a general staff employee for Black Badger.

And she frequented the company cafeteria.

Which meant she had seen Hildebert quite often. Hildebert was a regular there. Every time Mae spotted him in the cafeteria, she found herself watching him.

He was the kind of person who made it hard not to look.

His hair color and eye color were unusual. He stood out visually, and he was friendly too, so whenever he stepped into the cafeteria, someone always greeted him like an acquaintance.

Just like a special-duty operative, he ate a lot too. The Black Badger cafeteria was famous for nutritionally balanced meals, sure, but honestly, it wasn’t exactly delicious.

And the menu rotated in cycles. After eating there for years, anyone would get sick of it.

But Hildebert always ate as if it were the best meal in the world.

Sometimes alone, sometimes with special-duty staff, sometimes with scientists. The people sitting beside him seemed to change every time, but he always ate well.

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: I asked a nurse I know, but she hasn’t replied yet]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: I’ll let you know the moment she answers]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: Wow, so he really got back up]

[Red ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Shirt Survivors / T.W: Guess that’s because he’s a Badger]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: He’s not a Badger tho]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: Then what, a Creature?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: Wait, how many months has it been since the coma anyway?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: 7]

Mae’s mouth fell open.

Seven years as a Black Badger office employee. For the past few years, she had been crushed under unbelievable overwork.

The last year and a half had been especially brutal. Even then, the only reason she had survived this well was because she wasn’t in General Affairs. If she had been, she probably would have gone on leave from sheer exhaustion.

It had already been seven months since the Third War—the war that had caused everyone’s overwork—ended.

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: The people who never gave up on him are amazing]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: But did he really wake up okay?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: Didn’t they say he went into shock?]

That part bothered Mae too.

She stared at the screen, hoping good news would come back.

There were many people who disliked or avoided Hildebert Taleb because he wasn’t human.

But Mae didn’t really care. He looked human and spoke the common language like a human, so what did it matter?

Besides, the Hildebert she often saw in the cafeteria had always seemed like such a good person.

And in reality, his reputation was good too. When he had fallen into a coma, the cafeteria staff had been so visibly heartbroken that Mae had actually felt reluctant to go there for a while.

When she brought that up in the group chat, one of her coworkers said:

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: The scientists were even worse]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: Next quarter’s performance numbers got obliterated]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: “His Majesty” loved it though, said they finally beat Science Division’s metrics]

[Red Shirt Survivors / E: fcking psycho bastard]

“His Majesty” was the nickname for her friend’s team leader in the Social Affairs Division.

He was obsessed with report metrics and squeezed every last drop out of his team members.

On top of his hunger for power, he couldn’t stand subordinates talking back, so among her coworkers he was known as “His Majesty.”

Mae spent a while enthusiastically badmouthing His Majesty with the others.

Then the coworker who had first brought the news appeared again.

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: He’s talking]

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: Holy crap, like totally normal?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Seems like it, but I guess they can’t go into the room right now]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Apparently veteran Badgers had been crowding the place from the moment he started showing signs of waking up]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: But now they’re all freaking out in excitement, so she says she’s too scared to go in]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: Fair enough]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: You really have to watch yourself around special-duty staff]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: fr if an excited special-duty operative elbows you it’s instant orbital fracture]

Mae agreed with them.

A lot of people had applied for office positions because they wanted to see the special-duty Badgers, but Mae firmly believed in avoiding getting involved with them whenever possible.

Reading the reports they submitted after reclamation work was more than enough.

Of course, when she was new, she had been curious about the special-duty Badgers too. Her seniors had vividly shared stories showing off their arrogance and stupidity, but that hadn’t satisfied her curiosity. So seven years ago, full of youthful energy, she had wandered around the cafés they often frequented with her fellow new hires.

She quit after six months.

The special-duty Black Badgers wrote field reports like absolute garbage.

Even though they completed every ridiculous quest the scientists threw at them just fine, the office workers had to suffer headaches every single time over their disaster-level field reports. The Economic and Social Division’s main work was writing analytical reports on the “next recovery territories,” so the reports from the Black Badgers returning from reclamation missions were inevitably critical.

But those reports were usually infuriatingly awful.

It got so bad that former Commander Yehyeon had personally nagged them several times to put more effort into their field reports.

Nothing changed.

They’d improve for a little while, the reports getting slightly longer, and then they’d go right back to the way they had been. Some team leaders had even gone directly to the special-duty operatives to beg them to please write properly.

Naturally, nothing changed.

If they didn’t listen to the Commander, why would they listen to office staff pleading with them?

The special-duty Badgers had always looked down on the office staff.

“Digging through action-cam footage and satellite data is way better.”

That was what her team leader had said when she was a rookie.

“Special-duty types generally don’t have brains.”

Within six months, Mae had memorized the names of the Black Badgers who actually wrote good reports.

Carl Dow (he’s a legend), Richard Green (so many office workers attended his funeral), Ricardo Sordi, Choi Ami, Will Stowe, Asil Fiscer....

She had read a report written by Hildebert Taleb once too.

Normally the squad leader wrote the field reports, so someone of Hildebert’s seniority rarely had reason to write one. But one day, a report with his name listed as the author was uploaded to the internal network, and it quietly became office gossip.

“Choi Yun made him write it.”

Of course, everyone realized as soon as they read it that Choi Yun had helped his junior with the writing.

“So the rumor that he really takes care of his subordinate is true?”

“Wow, is that even possible? That Badger is incredible.”

“The Personnel Director really is something else.”

“I kind of want to ask him to set me up on a blind date.”

“You sure? What if he just dumped the work on him?”

“No. You can feel Choi Yun’s energy in the sentences.”

Choi Yun almost never wrote reports.

But that man did write a field report every once in a while, and whenever one of his reports appeared, the office staff went out of their way to read it.

Even more information-dense than Carl Dow’s, yet written with absolutely no consideration for the reader’s intelligence, his reports were unmistakably unique. Some of the office-report freaks even printed them out and stored them in clear files.

Still, the ideal of all field reports was undoubtedly Carl Dow’s.

Anyway, the point was that Mae preferred keeping her distance from the special-duty Badgers.

How many people actually enjoy being looked down on?

There were plenty of special-duty operatives who were kind to office staff, but generally speaking, special-duty Badgers had no interest in them and were sick of hearing complaints about reports.

If Mae hadn’t built up a strange one-sided sense of familiarity from seeing Hildebert so often in the cafeteria, she probably would have been as indifferent to the news as everyone else.

When no more hot updates came from the medical wing, they drifted back into ordinary conversation.

Talking behind the backs of lunatic bosses. The new café and bookstore that had opened in headquarters. Life updates from coworkers. Gossip about famous special-duty Badgers whose names were known like the first- and second-generation Badgers. The new Commander. The upcoming personnel reshuffle....

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: If there’s any more info on Indoor-Meals, let me know]

After chatting enthusiastically with her coworkers, Mae left that message before going back to work.

“Indoor-Meals” was what they called Hildebert.

The nickname came from how he always seemed to be eating inside the building.

When chatting on the internal messenger, it was safer to refer to everyone by nicknames, so they tended to nickname everyone.

Yehyeon’s nickname had been “Old Fossil,” but after becoming Black Badger’s advisor, it had been upgraded to “Twisted Fossil.” The current Commander’s nickname was “Chairman,” and the Personnel Director’s was “Pherom,” short for pheromone.

Choi Yun’s nickname was “Labtil,” short for LAB-Tillion....

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Twisted Fossil is crying]

[Red Shirt Survivors / T.W: damn]

[Red Shirt Survivors / A.T.C: Well, the final weapon came back to life, so I guess it’s emotional]

[Red Shirt Survivors / M.W: Emotional because he’s happy? Or because something went wrong?]

[Red Shirt Survivors / BC: Probably the first one, I’ll update again]

Please let it be the first one.

Remembering the sight of Hildebert happily eating cheese pork cutlet in the company cafeteria, Mae made a small wish.

I hope the person I used to quietly enjoy watching comes back healthy.

Mae stared at the messenger for a moment, then pulled up her work window.

***

And then she was busy all over again.

People in General Affairs didn’t merely dislike the special-duty staff—they hated them.

After listening to a fellow hire vent, Mae stepped out of the café. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Time had flown. It had already been months since the sports festival ended.

Long enough, in other words, for people to return from war to daily life.

But not long enough to completely erase the scars of war.

Which meant the office workers were still busy.

Still, Mae felt lighter today.

She had finally cleared the report that she and her team leader had been struggling over all morning.

Today, I’ll go work leisurely from the company café.

Her team leader had taken a half day off too, so no one would be looking for her, and there were no administrative documents that absolutely had to be finished today.

The others were too busy to drag out with her, though.

She had heard the newly opened café this time was pretty nice.

She figured she’d order an iced matcha latte there and leisurely sketch out the first draft of the next report. It was a bit far from the main building, so there weren’t many people there either. Finally, a café worth going to. Café Senabi was always swarming with scientists with deep dark circles, and Café Cello was a known leadership hotspot, so she never went near it.

I need to go before everyone starts coming here too often.

Thinking that, Mae pushed open the door to the café Banana Soda, laptop in hand—

and blinked at the unexpected sight before her.

A bright, refreshing café bursting with pale yellow and sky blue.

At an hour when all the office workers should have been busy, one person with highly noticeable hair was sitting there alone.

Isn’t that Hildebert?