"Hmph. That should do it, right?"
X glanced at the full energy progress bar and planned to rest a while before doing more overtime.
As energy demands climbed, X found herself spending longer hours planted in that chair. Most of the entities she'd assimilated were unruly; she couldn't afford to take her eyes off the monitoring screen. A single lapse might mean an accident.
She rose to stretch, about to leave and brew another cup of coffee, when a message came in—from the Training Department Dean this time.
Angela was probably tied up with something again; X didn't mind. Angela had her own responsibilities, and there was no need to ask. She was an AI Secretary—yet more than a mere secretary; she was effectively the Corporation's executive aide.
Or perhaps X simply lacked the authority to command an AI. Angela listened because she chose to; she wasn't obliged. X could not compel that willful system.
X had realized her true standing in the Corporation early on and learned to keep quiet. Do the job of Manager—nothing more. If something truly important happened, Angela would notify her.
In practice, the Corporation ran on Angela's back. X's role as Manager sometimes felt almost ceremonial. Not entirely meaningless, but far from sovereign.
That wasn't bitter or painful to accept. With the AI handling the majority of affairs, X's burden eased: focus on Abnormality management and meeting energy quotas, without wading into administrative chaos.
A person's energy is finite. Managing Abnormalities and hitting production targets was already enough. The Secretary existed to share that load; Angela's behavior was reasonable.
X could empathize with Angela's burden. Despite being an AI, Angela was accountable for the Corporation's assets and operations. She didn't draw wages, true, but the obligations were real.
X couldn't view these vivid AI personalities as cold machines or disposable tools. They behaved like people—so much so that, if you weren't told they were artificial, you'd never suspect otherwise. Their emotions weren't mere simulation. The AIs genuinely empathized with employees, cared for them, took the work seriously, and served the Corporation.
"Hod—something wrong?"
X opened the Dean's message. In the corner of the screen, the Training Department Dean's face looked flustered and anxious.
"Manager—Pierre rushed into [Snow Queen]'s containment unit! My employee couldn't stop him… I'm sorry."
The [Snow Queen]'s Containment unit carried a strict restriction: no employee was ever permitted to work there twice. To minimize accidents, staff would be reassigned to other Abnormalities after a single session with the [Snow Queen].
But in the end, orders are just rules. Rules require enforcement, and employees do not always comply. In fact… absolute obedience would be the anomaly. If every rule were perfectly followed, there would never be accidents.
"You mean that elite employee from your Department, don't you? Calm down, Hod. When it comes to elite employees, ordinary staff can't restrain them. You did your best—I understand."
X's gaze shifted to another corner of the monitoring screen. The [Snow Queen]'s Containment unit had already been sealed, most likely after an employee barged in and was now face-to-face with the Abnormality.
The outcome was predictable. A reckless worker, relying on luck, had attempted a second management task with the [Snow Queen]. As expected, the result was an ice sculpture left standing in the middle of the Containment unit.
Given the previous incident, X had not assigned anyone to attempt a rescue.
And now, with the end of shift approaching, even if someone were still submitting their final work logs, X had no intention of addressing the frozen employee inside the chamber. It would serve as a lesson, a silent warning to the others.
X did not mind revealing her colder side. After all, a Manager who showed too much mercy could be just as dangerous—if not more so—to the Corporation's growth.
One should never harbor romantic illusions about the Corporation. This was no childcare facility, and employees were not infants to be coddled. If they ignored advice and disobeyed orders, X had no need for them.
Yet… accidents still happened.
There would always be the so-called "righteous" and "courageous" employees who chose to break orders for the sake of their comrades. Viewed from another angle, that made the Dean into a villain.
Mmm… and as Manager, she was that villain too.
But truthfully, X didn't mind. If cruelty was useful, then being painted as the cold, merciless tyrant in the mouths of employees was acceptable. Still, wouldn't it be better to be seen as gentle?
"It seems the result is out—Pierre actually rescued the trapped employee. Oh, how heartwarming."
The monitoring screen flickered with the scene inside the [Snow Queen]'s Containment unit. Against all odds, a single brave employee had defeated the Abnormality and freed his colleague. And what was more… the two seemed to have found a spark of sweet romance.
The display bloomed with playful, bubbly hearts. The rescued employee even appeared to kiss his savior in excitement. Though the Cognition Filter rendered the imagery as messy scribbles, their joyous expressions were clear enough.
The Corporation had no policy against romance. Affection between employees was not uncommon.
Still, X had never witnessed a scene quite like this before.
"Then… should I punish Pierre, Manager?" Hod Dean asked hesitantly. To the dead, punishment was meaningless. But for the living who defied orders, the Corporation had rules—and silence could be just as damning as breaking them.
"Of course, he must be punished. A written reflection and a report. At least two thousand words. That should suffice. His courage is praiseworthy, but his recklessness cannot go uncriticized. And don't forget—make him apologize to the colleague he endangered."
X rested her chin against her hand, delivering the command with an air of mock sternness. In truth, this was barely a slap on the wrist. Normally, disobeying direct orders would mean immediate dismissal… or worse, being thrown to feed something unspeakable, or sent on missions designed to be suicide.
Her attention was not truly on the employee, but on the [Snow Queen]. An Abnormality that held employees captive—only to release them afterward.
It was always stressed that Abnormalities were mindless, acting only according to set rules.
But… were they truly without purpose?
For those that could easily tear through walls and escape their Containment units, why did they remain so obediently within?
At times, X felt as though the [Snow Queen] was waiting for her. Freezing employees, then inviting others to challenge her. Waiting… for something? For a hero to break through layers of difficulty and awaken the "Princess" sealed inside the ice coffin?
Should she… try interacting with the Abnormalities herself?
The thought crossed her mind, but she knew Angela would never permit it. Such contact endangered the Manager's safety.
—Angela wouldn't even let her walk the corridors during work hours.
—Not even during lunch breaks.
But the forbidden always tempts. The more something is denied, the stronger the pull to seek it out.
Still, X had always been able to restrain herself. Reason and logic kept her impulses shackled, stopping her from slipping into recklessness.
When confronted with desire, some indulge. Others restrain themselves—or avoid it entirely, with a tinge of fear.
Her gaze slid back to the monitoring feed: an employee currently assigned to the [Porccubus] unit.
On the screen, their expression was plain to see—eyes glazed in intoxicated bliss, mouth slack, drool spilling, their body collapsing into a useless heap before struggling back upright seconds later.
Seconds in the Manager's control room. But within the Containment chamber's warped timeflow, it had been minutes.
X was, by nature, conservative. She never hid it. She had no interest in matters of emotion, nor had she considered pursuing them. It all felt too premature. To speak of desire… she almost never allowed herself to bring it up.
And yet, it was not something one could avoid forever. An adult had no excuse to ignore it.
As long as a creature lives, it is bound by desire. That much is undeniable.
—Is it really that pleasurable?
—No. That's not right.
X shook her head and took a sip of bitter coffee.
She shouldn't be thinking like this.
Apart from endlessly reminding herself to stay disciplined, there seemed to be no other solution.
Human imagination was a peculiar thing—so absurdly rich. No other creature possessed such boundless capacity for association. Humans inevitably tied one thought to another, conjuring bizarre visions and ideas, birthing comic strips, manga, art books, and every kind of creation imaginable.
[Manager, you have completed today's Energy Quota. Won't you take a break?]
That familiar voice slipped into X's ears. Angela had returned at some unseen moment, materializing like a phantom—appearing and vanishing without a sound, always at her back like a silent ghost.
"No, I'll work overtime a little longer. I still have the energy to handle this."
X turned down the Secretary's rare, well-meaning suggestion. It wasn't that she disliked rest, but stepping away early also meant avoiding the AIs—and this was precisely a fragile moment.
She hadn't yet figured out how to handle the Deans. Or perhaps, how to avoid them.
The Training Department Dean, for example, was already on her alert list. X certainly wouldn't be so foolish as to approach her carelessly. Ideally, their interactions would remain strictly professional. If the Dean simply did her job without requiring comfort or attention, that would be perfect.
But as Manager, X couldn't simply ignore the Deans, either. That made things complicated.
So what was the best method? Work. The busier, the better. Drown them all in endless tasks. Wear down the Deans, exhaust herself too, and use the frenzy of labor as an excuse to escape deeper entanglements.
It was a sound plan. In theory.
In practice, however, she ran into her greatest obstacle—
[Manager, you must rest. The foundation of work is not to consume your body.]
The AI, ostensibly the Corporation's perfect advocate, always celebrating efficiency and performance, was now interfering. It actually moved to stop X's relentless overtime.
"No! I refuse! I have to work overtime! I'm doing this voluntarily!"
X raised her voice, determined to assert her "will to overtime," blind to the weary faces flickering across the monitoring screens.
Time itself was hard to grasp here. Within the Corporation, day and night blurred together. In this sealed environment, even the simplest measure—the hour of the day—became uncertain.
Time itself flowed unevenly… and Singularity tech could bend and snap it at will.
Her protest, however, did nothing. X's insistence on working overtime was shut down by the intelligent AI.
The AI Secretary lifted her from the Manager's chair. Cradled in its arms, X heard the broadcast: quitting time.
The posture was awkward — the heights were wrong. Normally the taller one holds the shorter; here the roles were reversed. Their ranks were nearly equal, too.
[Your thoughts are always written on your face. Haven't you noticed?]
The AI had already read her. Or rather, it knew these little moves all too well. No matter how normal, upbeat, or bubbly she acted, she was still the same person underneath. Her core hadn't changed. The real problem: a self-destructive streak.
Most people cherish their own lives and ignore others'. A few dismiss life entirely, others' included. You must love yourself first before you can love anyone else. Lacking self-respect is a serious flaw.
[Would you like some wine, Manager? I hear you like Gin. I've prepared a few new vintages—you can taste them.]
"I don't want any, An—ge—la. Put me down first!"
X bristled like a hedgehog. Maybe it was the way the AI held her that made her already fragile sense of security even worse.
[If you keep this up, I'll have no choice but to place you on the bed.]
That line read like an outright threat. X—who had been flailing—fell silent the moment the intelligent AI spoke, folding into obedient stillness and allowing herself to be carried without resistance.
Was the AI joking, trying to frighten her? Or was it serious? X wouldn't bet on the odds. She'd learned not to gamble with an AI's truthfulness.
She was used to subtle hints—but never such bluntness.
"All right, then—one drink, Angela. I still need to check Netzach's report later, so I won't drink much."
Although she'd placed the Deans on an alert list, the AI Secretary remained X's primary concern. As Angela poured, X's focus slid from the glass to the AI's face.
Angela was beautiful—undeniably so. The thought flushed X's cheeks, warming them again.
Even as she tried to sneer at the notion, an inappropriate idea had already sprouted.