Mr. Magical Girl

Chapter: 163. Dancing with Machines (RED)

It was a flight without any incidents or accidents for the first time in a while. The plane didn’t crash, monsters didn’t cling to it, there were no airborne kidnappings, the engine didn’t stop, and the plane didn’t land in an unknown world. Thus, the theory that if I hit the “Core Attack,” the vehicle would be destroyed was debunked.

Of course, there had been times when the vehicle didn’t break, but limited to planes, this was probably the first time.

Based on this evidence, the Association was compelled to provide me with a small aircraft. Was that terrifying event really not over yet? Well, I don’t know, but it didn’t severely impact my landing.

“Why are you blocking the road with such a satisfied face?”

Even the mechanic voice coming from behind amplified my current joy.

“We’ve flown together several times, right?”

“I remember. When we went to support in America, during the Atlantic operation, and the Phoenix incident… Hmm, there have been quite a few.”

“But we can’t just block the road like this.”

“Every single time, something went wrong with the plane. It feels like ages since I stepped down on solid ground without a worry.”

Descending the stairs of the airplane, I poured my excitement out toward my friend.

“Ah… I read a paper related to this. It said heroes are more likely to get entangled in special incidents than ordinary humans, excluding the tales. Hmm? Was that really a thing?”

There was a moment when I bobbed my head in admiration of the newfound knowledge.

“Surely… Haram’s name came up in there too. It was about a peculiar comparative group where if more than a certain number of people boarded a vehicle and traveled beyond a set distance, a 90% accident rate occurred…”

“What the heck?”

“Wait, my personal information is boldly in that unknown paper?”

“No way, does such statistical data related to us even exist?”

“Of course, it’s classified, right?”

“I uploaded it. Data equals power, you know? Oh, and don’t worry; I’ve censored any problematic parts.”

So it was you who caused all this!

The reason my vehicle license got completely suspended, the airplane tickets tightened up, and I received dunning letters from the rental car agency after throwing it in North Korean forests, all of it was your fault!

In a fit of rage, I bent my body to grab the vile villain by the neck.

Squeak!

A foreboding sound echoed beneath my feet.

“Oh, be careful. That part is seriously worn out—”

With that monotone voice of my friend, I fell from my body.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Clang. Clang!

The sound of metal panels pouring down from above struck my head with absurdity.

“Hmm, this confirms that the USSR’s public facilities are indeed deteriorating. And interestingly, the abnormal phenomena regarding Haram’s vehicle apply even after disembarking…”

“Don’t analyze that, you crazy scientist!”

Clang!

A clear, ringing sound rattled through my head in agreement.

Fortunately, it seems that the damage to the boarding bridge wasn’t attributed to me. Those pesky inspectors check everything down to the smallest penny, and if even a brick is broken, they demand a report, sending warning letters to the Association if report stacks build up, not to mention dragging witnesses for months later for dubious investigations.

Even the oblivious Soviet officials, who couldn’t even talk properly, didn’t blame me.

Of course, the hellish gunfire into the bureaucratic void from now on is just beginning.

“Damn red bureaucrats.”

I muttered resentments about what was to come.

“‘Red’ is a biased term; I would appreciate you using it less.”

Our capitalist graduate chimed in with acute ears.

“Why the fuss when it’s just their hostile country?”

“Damn desk-filling bastards.”

“That’s a rather pleasant term,” someone else agreed, lightening the mood a bit.

Thus, I continued grumbling as I walked.

“Damn Association parasites.”

“Although they receive a hell of a lot of support, they do cover the largest polluted areas, so it’s somewhat justified. But even so…”

As my feet stomped on the carpet, a strange sensation accompanied a cloud of dust rising.

“Isn’t anyone cleaning at this airport?”

“Damn it, the burden of the share-stealing thieves. See that janitor over there? Stop smoking and clean this up!”

“Isn’t it their break time?”

Oh right, I was seriously contemplating if the rising dust was actually tobacco ash.

“Damn communist bastards! I hate communism.”

Hmm. I feel like I’ve heard that phrase somewhere before…

“It’s not really an ideological issue. Poland and Eastern European countries are functioning quite well. It’s simply a problem with the Soviet Union,” she replied.

“Oh, just let me vent a little. Today is bound to be stressful, and I need to release it somehow.”

Having already passed several other passengers, it was just the Librarian and I, along with my grumbling self, that filled the dusty corridor.

Finally, that damn absolute powerhouse appeared.

The most troublesome location every time I entered the Soviet Union.

The hero-only immigration checkpoint.

To separate from regular passengers, I was directed to a corner. The officer sitting there blatantly laughing while watching TV didn’t seem to have any intention of working.

While it appeared so relaxed and slack compared to other countries’ hero immigration checkpoints, that was a huge misconception.

“Damn paperwork bastards.”

“What do you mean, ‘paperwork bastards’?”

Ah, Americans wouldn’t understand that.

“Oh, um… There’s a figure similar to a legendary hero from Eastern history.”

“I see. I’ll look it up later.”

I felt like I’d done something wrong, but it didn’t really matter as it was all roughly comparable.

I had just spat out my final complaint when—

Hah.

I sighed deeply.

Now, I steeled my resolve.

Thud.

With heavy footsteps, the sound echoed throughout the empty immigration checkpoint.

What kind of questions would torment me today?

Thud.

Would I be given trouble with bureaucracy again?

That sound must have drawn the employee’s gaze now shifted from the TV.

Thud.

The stiff expression that had been laughing at the screen disappeared, replaced by a blank face devoid of emotion.

They treated foreign heroes this way while showering their own heroes with preferential treatment.

Clicking my tongue, I pulled out my identification.

The entry permit.

Hero certificate.

Mission details.

Companion confirmation.

The employee accepted them with robotic movements, quietly scattering the papers.

And so, I braced myself.

What part would they try to nitpick today?

At least the most fundamental aspects had already been thoroughly reviewed by the Librarian, leaving no room for error.

There weren’t even any common typos, and thanks to the Librarian who wrote it instead of me, there was no chance of being caught for bad handwriting.

Even if there was nothing wrong to nitpick, interviews and numerous obstacles still lay ahead.

“It seems there’s no problem with the paperwork.”

At least I wouldn’t have to bicker about the documents for dozens of minutes.

“It states that the purpose of entry is to assist the companion hero’s operation. Is this always applicable, or do you also act separately at times?”

Here comes the moment of truth.

The extremely unemotional interview.

The key is that I must not mention that I don’t know anything or that I have no plans.

If I say such things, I’d be immediately rejected and sent back to redo the paperwork.

But that doesn’t mean I can pick either of those options.

Otherwise, they’d interrogate me about how ‘always’ relates to how often, and under what circumstances I act separately.

What’s important is that they won’t find anything to nitpick.

Even if it’s not entirely factual.

“This is basically… we always act together…”

As I began reciting the perfectly rehearsed answer…

“Yes, thank you. Please allow me to pass.”

The employee cut me off, stamping the documents.

“Wait, is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it. I wish you success in your mission.”

No, how about showing a little smile? Saying that with a blank expression is just scary.

Ah, it’s a trap.

“You’re planning to drag me off to jail behind this, right? Do you think I’m going to fall for that trick?”

Do you know who I am and what I’m carrying right now? Huh?

For times like this, I had brought the emergency travel document stamped by the Branch Manager Hyunseok.

Haha, try dragging me off. I’ll show you!

“Please pass quickly. Your heroic companion is waiting.”

“Ah, I see. You plan to split us up? Thinking I wouldn’t know? Okay, let’s see. I can’t hold back today. Huh?”

Damn it, are they really pulling this on me?

They probably overused rolling me in the immigration checkpoint, so it seems they’re changing tactics.

Filled with rage, I stomped my way directly to the lobby.

I wasn’t carrying much luggage other than the backpack on my waist, so there was no need to pick up anything; customs checks had long since passed into the realm of hero privileges.

Now the only thing left was someone from KGB or the Soviet branch of the Association, some secret police in the airport, or some damn someone approaching me.

So, with utmost tension, I sat in a lobby chair waiting for them to come.

What is going on?

Why is nothing happening?

I waited for several minutes, but nothing at all occurred.

No, to be precise, someone did come.

Perhaps sensing my discomfort, a security officer wandering around the airport asked, “Is there something uncomfortable?”

Since they saw me yelling, they left shortly after—maybe I had captured some poor innocent civilian in this mess, but it’s all because of those damned Soviets!

What the heck is going on?

Why is no one coming?

As my mood grew increasingly sour and I started chewing on the skin around my lips…

“…Why are you releasing hostility into the air? Thanks to that, the citizens are avoiding this place.”

“Oh? You made it out quickly too?”

The Librarian had come to find me sooner than expected.

“It took me some time to find my luggage; I thought I’d be a little late…”

As she said that, she tapped on her luggage.

There was no feeling of annoyance from that action.

Something felt off.

“Did they not harass you at the immigration checkpoint?”

“They were a bit stiff but passed me without issue.”

Way too suspicious.

Does that even make sense?

Those Soviet officials?

It’s highly suspicious. Too suspicious.

“Librarian, take battle stance.”

“What is it? Suddenly? Did you catch something weird? My radar isn’t detecting anything.”

“From the looks of it, it’s clear the Soviets are cooking up something. If we’re going to be targeted, we need to strike first—I’ve always wanted to smash that damned Kremlin.”

“Are you annoyed because the Soviets have been behaving?”

You hit the nail on the head. That Librarian’s intuition is sharp.

“Of course. It’s the Soviets. If they come out this easily, there’s something definitely brewing.”

“Maybe simply the Soviet factions have been replaced?”

Wha— What does that even mean?

“From the looks on your face, you didn’t know, huh? A significant number of upper echelons of the Soviet branch of the Association and the Red Army have been forcibly retired. Apparently, some scandal broke out.”

…Seriously?

“Yes, indeed. It was a hot topic these last few weeks, and I’m sure it was being talked about animatedly on TV. They supposedly call their radicals.”

Wait, what happened while I was away for about ten days of mobilization training?

The whole world turned upside down in that brief time?

“What in the world is a radical?”

“Oh, it’s that current trend. Heroes should enhance their strength and all that. Apparently, that fits the preferences of the Soviet branch members quite well.”

Hearing that made me panic.

Plans had progressed immensely while I was blissfully unaware.

What in the world is going on?

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