Chapter 2: Work

Well now—greetings again, dear Observers.

First, let me apologize for cutting the previous record off at such an awkward point. Ending without even introducing myself… yeah, that wasn’t great. I just had a bit of trauma resurface, that’s all. I’m fine. Totally fine.
…Give me a moment, I need to stop shaking.

Okay. Right, introductions.

My name seems to be Arato Shinito Komori. Naturally, that’s only my name in this life. My previous-life name is personal info, so that’s staying sealed. Not that anyone would care anyway.

And? What everyone is definitely curious about—my bust size is…???

………Let’s just say it’s very, very small.

Yeah, they exist. As in, they technically exist.

Alright! That’s enough self-introduction. I already described what I look like last time, so that should be good, right? I don’t want to engage in further self-harm.

Now then. As an ultra-beautiful shut-in NEET who’s terrified of the outside world, even I understand that I can’t stay like this forever. For some reason my current bank account has way more money than anything I could’ve dreamed of in my past life, but that’ll run out eventually. And for whatever reason, I have no memory of any parents I could turn to in an emergency.

This is bad. Extremely bad. I can clearly see a future where I starve to death.

To hide from pain only to end up dying of starvation is way too stupid.

And so, I spent a full week mustering the will to leave the house, three days forcing open the heavy iron door, and then finally launched myself into the outside world.

After risking my life on a job hunt… the number of positions I obtained was—shockingly—zero. Honestly, it’s almost impressive.

Well, to be fair, one person did try to introduce me to a job. While looking at me the way someone looks at a pitiful stray cat.

But whether or not I could actually do that job is another story entirely. Manual labor? Impossible. Mercenary work? Absolutely not. Customer service? Don’t make me laugh. Shockingly, I couldn’t do anything. Like, anything.

Ha… even I was impressed by my own inability to function in society.

But I did gain something. Half-dead from stress and exhaustion, I came home carrying what was basically junk. Absolute scrap. Anyone else would have tossed it out. But my eyes saw the truth.

Yes—my otaku vision told me that this was a robot.

A robot. An actual robot! A man’s romantic dream! Maybe it even had beam weapons installed!? Forget job hunting—this was way more important!

…Except after poking around a bit, the thing didn’t react at all. Not even a twitch. It really was junk. And it definitely didn’t have any beam cannons or other dream weapons. After wasting several more weeks, all I gained was the depressing truth of its uselessness, and the realization that I apparently had far more mechanical knowledge in this life—maybe some god-given cheat skill?

Totally not worth it. My savings were draining fast. If I was going to get a cheat anyway, why couldn’t it be something like pain immunity or the strength to flip tanks with one hand?

But that thought would be overturned completely a few days later.

"Wait—if I use this, can’t I make money without leaving the house?"

A stroke of genius. I shocked myself with how brilliant I was. I immediately began repairing and modifying the robot.

What was I planning to do? Simple: create a remote-controlled stand-in for myself. This world had banker robots walking around, and ramen shops run by cute little dog-bots. A remote-operated robot wouldn’t stand out at all.

Plus, as a gamer, I was good at FPS, and like all indoor types, I was much more powerful when interacting through a screen.

In other words, if I had this robot, I could survive this ridiculously dangerous world. Genius. Sheer genius.

And so, using the robot I had rebuilt, I began working to survive.

"Target sighted."

With practiced ease, I lifted a long metal sniper rifle, peering through the cracked lens to aim at the head of a dog-boy wearing lush brown fur beneath an expensive-looking fur coat.

Wind: light breeze.
Obstacles: none.
Guards: six disposable mercenaries… and, according to prior intel, four students from the Problem Solver 68 club. No issue.

Hmm? What am I doing, you ask? I told you—this is work. As you can see, I’m not a construction worker, nor am I in customer service. It’s something much bloodier. If mercenaries and bodyguards exist, then someone like me existing isn’t strange either.

It’s not like I wanted this job. Back then, I was desperate for money. After sprinting around town in this prosthetic body, this was the only job I could find. After that, they kept coming back thanks to my accuracy, and since I had no other way to make money, I couldn’t refuse. And so I got deeper and deeper into this line of work.
The pay is good, and it does feel like a video game, so that’s a bonus…

Honestly, I’m glad all the adults in this world don’t look human. Saves me a lot of guilt.

"Alright, enough chatting. The target’s moving."

I re-aligned my aim and placed my finger on the trigger.

"Sorry, cute little doggy. I don’t know what kind of person you were, but please become my grocery money."

"I’m just trying to survive too, so don’t hold it against me, okay?"

I pulled the trigger. A deafening BOOM echoed out as smoke rose from the muzzle.

Got him.

Or so I thought—right as I raised my fist in victory at the screen—

“…huh…?”

I witnessed an impossible sight captured by the camera I’d set up beside me.

"…what… just… happened…?"

There was no way they’d noticed me.

They shouldn’t have sensed even the slightest presence.

So why—why was that happening?

Why… why was that student catching the bullet!?

"N—no way."

The camera captured a pink-haired student lowering her head, intercepting the bullet with her own body to protect her employer.

Impossible. What kind of reflexes is that? What kind of eyesight!?

Moreover, despite taking a fairly high-caliber bullet, that student merely clutched her head and groaned. Not even a scratch on her halo.

…I should have known how tough these students were, but this was completely unexpected. I need to rethink the plan──────

"──────!!??"

Our gazes met. And at that exact moment, even through my prosthetic body, I felt a sharp, unmistakable killing intent. Damn it! If the leader is a monster, then her subordinates must be monsters too!

"Retreat!"

"What!? Hey, ‘Cleaner’! Did you get them!?"

"The job’s failed. I’ll transfer your advance and penalty fees to your account! Don’t call this number again!"

"Wh—"

Before even hearing a reply from the client, I cut the call. A monster group like that could easily trace us.

My perfect 100% completion rate? I didn’t have the luxury to worry about that now. I needed to retreat immediately—and investigate them.

"…Problem Solver 68… I… I’ve memorized your faces."

This was the first time I tasted defeat since taking up this work.

“Alright! Leave that job to us, Problem Solver 68!”

In that moment, the girl deeply regretted accepting the request in the heat of pride.

“President? Are you okay?”

“I-I-I’m fine! Completely fine!”

“Then why are you sweating so much~?”

“P-Probably nothing! J-Just nerves, maybe!”

“Amazing as always, Aru-sama!”

Honestly, she wanted to run straight home.

The job should’ve been simple: a standard VIP protection mission. Keep the client safe from the Helmet Gang, local delinquents, and any assassins hired by rival groups. Straightforward, high-paying, predictable.

Or so it should have been.

“They’ve hired a ‘Cleaner.’ I heard you’re very capable! Please, you have to accept this job!”

Every time she remembered that one word—Cleaner—a cold fear crawled up her spine.

Even she, an aspiring outlaw, knew the legend. A mercenary who appeared in the Black Market only under certain conditions. A perfect success rate: 100%. As long as you paid, they would “clean up” anything.

And Rikuhachima Aru, leader of Problem Solver 68, had once admired him as the ideal outlaw.

Which made the reality painfully clear:

They weren’t doing the cleaning.
They were the ones about to be cleaned.

Ahhh, she wanted to go home so badly.

“This little girl’s useless anyway, right, President?”

“W-What did you say?!”

“Hah! I mean having her here is pointless. We can protect the President without some kid.”

“I-I won’t let that slide! You’re the ones who’ll drag us down when things get serious!”

“W-What!? You—!”

“Amazing as always, Aru-sama!”

Her comeback sounded confident, but inside she was shaking. Not just because of the Cleaner—these adults were probably hardened underworld veterans. Their faces alone were terrifying.

“You get what it means to pick a fight with us?”

“Aru-sama, what do we do? Should we take them on?”

“…No. Not now. This isn’t the time.”

Typical bickering on the verge of escalation. The large man snarled, the monitor over his face flickering violently. Haruka, a junior employee, raised her shotgun while Section Chief Kayoko rushed to stop her. Meanwhile, their President was dealing with a far more immediate crisis.

She felt a sneeze coming.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

A true outlaw must always look cool. Which meant she absolutely could not let out a huge, ridiculous “ACHOO” in front of everyone. She had to hold it back. Even if she couldn’t stop it completely, she needed to make it small—quiet—unnoticeable.

“─────”

Just a little more. Just a little more and she could suppress it—

“Hey! Are you listening!!”
“Pft!?”

No—no, no, no. Not now—

“------aah”

And at that moment, the wave of the sneeze finally broke.

A deafening blast—no, gunfire—ripped through the air, shaking the room. And at the same time, a sneeze burst out.

“───Ah-choo!”

The sound wasn’t the real problem. It was the sudden movement. The abrupt jerk forward was impossible to hide.

And then, something completely unexpected happened.

“──Nghkya!?”

An explosive impact smashed into the right side of her head. Pain like her skull was splitting open. Nausea churned, her vision spun, and she couldn’t tell what direction was up.

The rapid escalation and unreasonable pain brought tears to her eyes.

(This is… bad. I can’t handle this anymore───)

“Whoa—!”

She lost her balance, but the Squad Leader, Mutsuki, caught her before she collapsed.

“W-What…?”

“Enemy attack! Sniper! Protect the President!”

“No, it’s alright. Looks like they pulled back. Maybe they realized a surprise attack wouldn’t work.”

“R-Really? Then… th-then…”

“……Huh?”

For some reason, everyone turned to look at her at once.

“Well done, young lady!”

“You did it! That was incredible just now!”

“H-Huh?”

“Thank you! Thank you! It’s all thanks to you! The reward will be generous—we’re truly grateful!”

“Amazing~! As expected of Aru-chan!”

“I-I’m impressed!”

“Yeah. Really impressive. Truly.”

She had absolutely no idea why they were praising her.

But there was one thing she could understand:

“He-heh heh heh! That’s right! I’m amazing! A Cleaner isn’t even worth fighting!”

She was incredible. That much, she was certain of.