Chapter 474: You Can’t Freeload on Salaries Like This
Chapter 474: You Can’t Freeload on Salaries Like This
“I don’t need your approval.”
The Minister of Defense waved his arm, sneering. “With two-thirds cabinet member support, I can force this resolution through despite your objections. What can you do about it?”
Kitajima Maki’s heart dropped. She knew this forced approval method existed, and the Minister would likely succeed.
Area 11’s intelligence had long confirmed vampire Fang Cheng’s involvement in Mechanical City’s coup.
Delayed retaliation stemmed partly from uncertainty about Fang Cheng’s whereabouts, partly from the Area 11 Government’s internal power struggles.
Now that the leadership conflict had ended – compromisers defeated, hardliners in charge – Area 11 finally moved to retaliate against Fang Cheng.
His actions during the Tokyo Incident had crossed the Area 11 Government’s red line, causing deep anxiety and fear among the higher-ups.
They needed to make an example of Fang Cheng to deter copycats.
Killing this fear-inducing target took priority, even civilian casualties wouldn’t stop them.
The Minister didn’t act alone – all hardline higher-ups backed him, making this the Area 11 Government’s current consensus.
Kitajima Maki understood this. Stopping them seven times already pushed her limits.
“If you can do it, why approach me?”
She said firmly, “I won’t sign. Remove me from office if you disagree.”
The Minister interpreted this as surrender, chuckling triumphantly. “Is this because that vampire killed Uehara Takashi? That’s why you block us?”
He immediately regretted his words – the government had secretly condoned Uehara Takashi’s behavior.
Kitajima Maki’s face froze. “What did you say?”
Her terrifying aura forced the Minister back, sweat beading his forehead. “D-don’t act recklessly!”
After glaring icily, she snorted softly. “Get out.”
She refused further interaction with this parasite. Partly, he wasn’t wrong.
Blocking seven proposals partly repaid Fang Cheng for eliminating Uehara Takashi.
There was also self-interest – Fang Cheng’s survival kept government higher-ups dependent on her for safety, even granting defense oversight privileges exceeding Uehara Takashi’s.
If Fang Cheng died, they’d restrict her immediately.
Thus, Kitajima Maki hoped he survived.
As tension disappeared, the Minister relaxed – then humiliation and anger surged.
He wanted to threaten her but didn’t dare, simply snorting before leaving.
Once they trained new aces, he’d eliminate this unstable dissenter.
Just then, an intelligence officer rushed in. “Lady Kitajima! Urgent Hokkaido report!”
Kitajima Maki took the document. The Minister instinctively paused his exit.
After reading, disbelief crossed her face. She reread carefully, then slammed the papers into the Minister’s face.
“See for yourself, fool.”
“You!”
The Minister of Defense’s eyes turned blood-red as he glared furiously at Kitajima Maki before snatching the fallen documents.
The first paragraph confirmed vampire Fang Cheng’s presence in Mechanical City, even including photos.
Overjoyed, the Minister realized this gave him grounds to override Kitajima Maki’s objections against attacking the city.
As he kept reading, his joyous expression froze. His face paled, eyes widening.
“Impossible…This can’t be…”
The report claimed Blood Queen Isis had appeared in Mechanical City, battled Fang Cheng, and been defeated—something more unbelievable than a trashy movie plot.
Even with photos attached, the Minister refused to accept this reality.
“Impossible!”
He shredded the documents, then grabbed an intelligence officer’s collar, spat in his face. “What’s your department doing? Can’t spot fake intel?!”
The officer didn’t resist, holding his breath. “Sir, we verified this repeatedly—”
“Excuses!”
The Minister slapped him.
“Enough.”
Kitajima Maki cut in. “Use that anger to verify facts instead of barking like a stray mutt here.”
The Minister stiffened, rage shifting to dread. He knew the intelligence department wouldn’t risk submitting unverified critical intel.
If Fang Cheng truly defeated Isis, Area 11 Government’s priority wouldn’t be revenge—they’d need to play dead and pretend past conflicts never happened.
Kitajima Maki’s status would soar as everyone relied on her for protection. No one would dare cross her now.
The Minister fled without another word.
Alone, Kitajima Maki lit a cigarette by the window, staring at the city below. Her calm mask hid inner turmoil—she’d been just as shocked by the report, but better at controlling her expressions.
The intel had to be real. No department would fabricate something so outrageous unless wanting mass dismissals.
Fang Cheng defeating Isis might not shake the world, but it would reshape Area 11’s power balance.
Humanity resists monsters through three means: advanced tech like nuclear bombs, religious followers wielding divine power, and lab-grown superpowered individuals.
Among these, strategic-level superpowered individuals reign supreme. Only five exist publicly—three at Human Rights Coalition headquarters, two under North American United Government. Western Europe’s council has none, though they claim the Church’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Strategic-level fighters combat disaster monsters. If Fang Cheng single-handedly beat Isis, he’d become Area 11’s sole strategic-level asset.
With such overwhelming combat power shifting to Hokkaido, no number of government-trained aces could counterbalance it.
The higher-ups wouldn’t dare seek revenge even with ten lifetimes’ worth of courage. If they had any sense, they’d scramble to reconcile with Fang Cheng at the earliest chance.
If they were shameless enough to grovel their way back into his favor, Area 11 could leapfrog to become the world’s third government with a strategic-level asset.
Kitajima Maki finished her cigarette, quietly marveling at how wildly different people’s paths could be. She’d spent years clawing her way to ace status, yet Fang Cheng had rocketed to the global elite in what felt like moments.
Though they’d never met, he kept surprising her.
She’d have to properly thank him someday.
…
Human Rights Coalition headquarters.
A cluttered room lay strewn with items. Against the wall, a blanket formed a lumpy cocoon on the bed.
“Beep beep beep!”
The alarm blared relentlessly until a snow-white arm emerged from the blankets, blindly swiping until it grabbed the device. After futilely mashing buttons, the hand hurled the clock against the wall, reducing it to fragments.
The dented wall and floor’s thick layer of debris testified to countless fallen alarms.
Hours later, a girl surfaced from the bedding, hair wild, yawning in a crumpled T-shirt resembling a trash bag.
Her disheveled state couldn’t mask her striking beauty, flawless figure, or the generous curves beneath her shirt.
Squinting, she fumbled under her pillow for the phone, unplugged it, and launched her game. Still playing, she shuffled off the bed, expertly navigating floor clutter to the bathroom. Her eyes never left the screen—not while walking, brushing teeth, or hastily wiping her face with a damp towel.
Breakfast was fridge-cold sparkling soda and a grabbed bag of potato chips before retreating to bed, munching while gaming.
Beneath her goddess-like appearance lay the lifestyle of a certified shut-in.
Watching her base’s explosion and four teammates’ creative insults about her ancestry, she chuckled instead of raging.
Winning bored her—the real joy came from sabotaging teammates as the resident mole.
As she prepared another round, a priority alert popped up—internal briefings only for headquarters members.
The update detailed Blood Queen Isis, disaster-level monster, defeated in Hokkaido by an obscure vampire: Fang Cheng. Attached were his documents and real-time battle reports.
“Serves that hag right,” she snorted, closing the message. Gaming mattered more.
Her gaze paused on her friends list—specifically “God Slayer.” Her mole antics usually repelled allies, but this persistent soul kept playing their mutual sabotage game, forging odd camaraderie.
Lately though, God Slayer had vanished. Did a vampire snack on them during a soy sauce run?
A voice barked outside: “Li Yu! Working today?”
“Taking leave.”
“Seriously? You skip 29 days, then ‘officially’ ditch the last? Even freeloaders try harder!”
“Buzz off,” Li Yu yelled, slamming the door with her gaze as she restarted her game.