Yocanan—more precisely, the person assigned the codename “Yocanan”—looked steadily at the young man before him.
The blond-haired youth’s hair was somewhat tousled, his expression alive yet confused.
His name was Raimund Geppert.
According to the credit stick records, he was nineteen this year and had lived as nothing more than a rookie without a proper job until now.
He was from an orphanage; his parents were unknown, and after becoming independent, he gathered other orphans in similar circumstances to live together.
Normally, the Foundation Federation does not concern itself with ordinary citizens.
Especially not with children who reek of artificial baby formula. No matter how much they mobilize such people, there is nothing to gain.
Citizens—and humanity itself—are merely beings to protect and guard in their eyes.
But the request regarding this youth was of a somewhat special nature.
So special that the director of the Anomaly Management Bureau gave direct orders.
“Is there any chance this figure is wrong, even slightly? Absolutely not?”
“No. This estimate has been carefully reviewed multiple times by the finance and legal teams and preliminarily approved by the shelter government.”
Yocanan’s dry reply hid other thoughts brewing in his mind.
The Foundation Federation comprised various organizations and individuals. The only thing binding them was the cause of humanity’s preservation; apart from that, their personalities were so strong and diverse that it was nearly impossible to keep them gathered in one place.
Yet there were times when even such a group had to unite.
“P-please give me some time.”
“It’s a lump sum payment. The shelter government cannot delay the consolation money any longer and is pressing for a response. We ask for your understanding in these unavoidable circumstances.”
Those belonging to the Hyresis faith, the four sects predicting the apocalypse—
the so-called “mad occult groups”—had begun to reveal themselves in the shadows,
and the Foundation Federation was created to check them.
But humans tend to choose the short and easy evil path over the righteous and hard one.
How many people must have been seduced by those sweet devilish whispers?
No matter how many times the Federation ran around trying to suppress them, the wicked hands always pierced through unimaginable routes,
and in the end, people...
Just as Yocanan was about to dive into serious contemplation, Raimund suddenly raised his voice without realizing it.
“But I have no job, so I can’t get a loan from the bank. If I borrow 30 million credits from a loan shark, I’d have to start selling my organs the next day!”
“That is your personal circumstance, isn’t it? We have no obligation to show further leniency toward a bomb courier. You must realize that allowing you to finish by paying compensation is already a huge favor.”
“I’m grateful for that. I also want to settle amicably by paying credits if possible, but honestly, I only have about a thousand credits in my pocket right now. Could you please give me some time? Even just a week... please!”
Watching the desperate plea, Yocanan remained silent for a very long time before sighing as tensions reached a peak.
“This is difficult. So you mean you have no credits on hand?”
“Yes.”
“No savings either?”
“I earn just enough by collecting recyclables daily to get by. How could I save?”
“That is problematic.”
Yocanan repeated firmly.
“This is truly problematic.”
“Is there really no way? I’m not saying I won’t pay, but please just give me some time to find a way to pay the compensation.”
“As I mentioned, we have already delayed to the limit while waiting for your recovery. We didn’t expect this. This is troublesome.”
The young man before Yocanan looked as if he wished he could die immediately.
Thirty million credits. A sum no ordinary shelter resident could hope to touch in a lifetime.
If anyone could pay that lump sum, it would only be the shelter bank manager or a high-ranking politician working in the central district.
Yocanan leaned forward very cautiously, as if sharing a secret.
“Actually, it’s not impossible.”
“What?!”
“Right now, you need assets, do you not? Enough credits to pay this huge compensation.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“In that case, the Foundation Federation will pay your compensation upfront. Think of it as a kind of loan.”
Raimund jumped up at once.
His sudden movement knocked over the chair, and Cozet, standing by the door, flinched. But Raimund was too overwhelmed by this sudden fortune to care.
“Really?”
“Yes. But of course, this is not free. There are conditions.”
“What conditions? I still have two kidneys. I don’t drink, and I’m healthy, so maybe my liver’s fine too.”
“…No, that’s not what we require. The condition for lending you credits from the Federation is—”
Yocanan smiled.
It was the first businesslike smile he’d shown since entering the room.
“Would you consider working with the Foundation Federation?”
“...Work? Me? With you, Yocanan?”
“It’s not me. The contracting party signing with you, Mr. Geppert, is the Foundation Federation for the Preservation of Humanity itself. Of course, if necessary, you can work with me, Cozet standing behind you, or others.”
“Are you looking for janitors or office assistants?”
“No. To proceed, I must briefly explain. I understand Cozet gave you a brief overview of our work.”
“Oh, right. Something about locking up anomalies or abnormal phenomena. I didn’t quite understand everything.”
“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn what ‘anomalies’ and ‘phenomena’ are. The important thing is that our work is extremely dangerous.”
Danger.
Raimund slowly stood the fallen chair back up and sat again, looking confused.
“Dangerous?”
“Yes. You must have seen the blocks quarantined below. Each block boasts strength that cannot be broken even by heavy machinery. Below them is deep seawater, and the only exit is designed like a maze. If an unauthorized being attempts to use the lift, it immediately explodes, and the field team is called to suppress it.”
“Ah.”
“But did you know the anomalies quarantined in such strict facilities are among the safest we have found?”
Indeed.
Beneath the bustling Foundation Federation building lie safe anomalies.
Even if they escape, people encountering those phenomena might survive.
The most dangerous anomalies, comparable to disasters themselves, cannot exist inside the shelter.
If one were to get out, it would be a living hell.
“We live constantly with danger. I risk my life daily, and the field and research teams encountering anomalies prepare themselves with great resolve every day. That’s why many leave the Federation.”
“They submit resignation letters.”
“We’re living beings, after all. Constant tension wears people out. I understand.”
Among the official documents given to new Foundation employees, there is leave of absence, but no resignation form.
Most die before they can even submit resignation letters.
Yet Yocanan concealed the truth skillfully without even moistening his lips.
“Anyway, the Federation is always short of personnel. One person shoulders too much work. But as you know, our ‘work’ means traveling between life and death with even momentary negligence. Fatigue clouds judgment.”
“True.”
“For staff safety and better welfare, since last year, the Federation has contracted external personnel. Even non-affiliated individuals can freely collect and share information and perform commissioned tasks under contract.”
“So, like part-time work?”
“Effectively, yes. But even external contractors receive the same pay, benefits, and authority as a Federation third-grade agent. We provide communication devices and office supplies for work. If you have proper documentation proving necessity, additional expenses may be reimbursed.”
Raimund’s green eyes widened.
Blinking nervously, he cautiously asked,
“It might be awkward to ask this already, but it’s important—what about the pay?”
“First, here’s the base pay per mission.”
Yocanan flipped over a sheet of scrap paper and wrote numbers with a teal pen.
Raimund stared at the figures, stunned, but the pen kept writing.
“The hazard pay is 30% of the base pay. Since you do dangerous work, you get extra pay. Unfortunately, we do not pay overtime from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., but external contractors receive additional pay if the mission continues past midnight. This extra pay is 5% of the base pay per hour, including hazard pay.”
“Th-that much?”
“Also, if you manage to secure anomalies within the phenomenon after completing the mission, the Federation buys them separately from the commission. The average base price for a safe-grade phenomenon is 1,500 credits, and for the Lupe grade—since it’s more dangerous—it’s 3,000 credits. Of course, these are based on last year’s Federation data, so prices may vary with circumstances and market value.”
Raimund thought hard. The total compensation he had to pay was 30 million credits.
With the pay Yocanan offered, he might repay it all within five years... maybe even four if lucky.
And since the Federation buys the phenomena separately, securing higher-grade phenomena would accelerate the payoff.
But there was one concern.
Looking confusedly at the numbers, Raimund asked,
“That’s quite a lot of money, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It includes the value of your life.”
“Do you really think I’m worth that much? It’s awkward to say myself, but I’m from the 5th Residential District and didn’t finish school properly. I think you should know that much.”
“Worth.”
Worth. From Yocanan’s point of view, this question was somewhat awkward.
He only followed orders from above.
He had no authority to judge Raimund’s worth.
What had Director Adam said when recommending this youth?
“Worth is subjective, so I can’t say for sure, but those higher-ups seem quite impressed by your courage.”
“Courage?”
“People who make the right choice in a life-threatening situation are rare.”
Raimund now looked not at the numbers but at Yocanan piercingly.
And finally, the young man spoke.
“I’ll do it.”
Yocanan stood and shook his hand firmly. The warmth from his strong grip was lukewarm.
“Welcome to the Foundation Federation for the Preservation of Humanity. Let’s proceed with the formal procedures, Mr. Geppert.”