Late night in Orleans sank into silence, with Nangong Wentian sitting at his desk, the screen of the Star Core glowing with an eerie blue light.
Three days had passed since their first meeting, and Kijima Takashi still hadn't responded. This was within his expectations—a person repeatedly beaten down by life wouldn't easily believe in a stroke of luck falling from the sky. But Nangong Wentian wasn't in a hurry; he had plenty of time, and this period was perfect for one thing.
A deeper background investigation.
He pulled up Kijima Takashi's complete file in the Star Core and began verifying each item one by one.
Educational Background.
Massachusetts Institute of Technology Affiliated School of Engineering, Atlantic Federation, Master's in Materials Science. Graduation Year: Cosmic Era 48.
Nangong Wentian retrieved the school's enrollment records, transcripts, and thesis titles from that year. Kijima Takashi's grades weren't top-tier, but they were stable. His graduation thesis was titled "Research on the Application of New Titanium Alloys in Spacecraft Structural Components."
"Titanium alloy…" Nangong Wentian murmured softly. This research direction had a certain technical connection to the Gundanium Alloy he was currently tackling. Kijima Takashi might not be a genius, but he had a solid foundation in the field of materials science.
He continued scrolling down.
Work Experience.
Cosmic Era 48–50, a certain aerospace materials company in the Atlantic Federation, R&D Engineer. Resigned and returned to his home country in Cosmic Era 50.
Why did he return? Nangong Wentian pulled up news records from that year. In Cosmic Era 50, the Atlantic Federation passed the "Coordinator Restriction Act," beginning to exclude Coordinators in various fields while also investigating Naturals who had dealings with Coordinators. The company Kijima Takashi worked for had undertaken a project in collaboration with PLANT and was investigated by the government.
"He didn't fit in with the atmosphere there." Nangong Wentian recalled Kijima Takashi's words in the café. It wasn't that he couldn't adapt to the work, but to the atmosphere of hostility and hatred.
Cosmic Era 50–52, Orb, a small-to-medium-sized enterprise, Technical Supervisor. The company went bankrupt due to poor management.
Cosmic Era 52–55, Orb, another small-to-medium-sized enterprise, Technical Supervisor. The company was acquired by Morganreti, leading to layoffs.
Cosmic Era 55–58, self-employed, established a small materials R&D studio. Closed due to a broken funding chain.
Cosmic Era 58 to present, unemployed, working odd jobs.
Nangong Wentian looked at this career history and remained silent for a long time. Twelve years, five jobs, each ending in failure. Not because he lacked ability, but because fate had never favored him.
Financial Situation.
He pulled up Kijima Takashi's bank records, loan records, and medical bills. The numbers were staggering.
Medical expenses for his daughter, Kijima Mayu, approximately 2 million Orb Yuan per year. Savings had long been exhausted. High-interest loans, totaling 3 million. Monthly income from odd jobs, about 50,000 to 80,000. Monthly expenses, including basic living costs and medical bills, exceeding 150,000.
"Every day is spent on overdraft," Nangong Wentian murmured softly. For an ordinary person, it would have led to a breakdown long ago. But Kijima Takashi did not. He did not complain, did not vent his grievances, did not resort to shortcuts. He simply lived in silence, studied in silence, and cared for his daughter in silence.
Social networks.
Nangong Wentian spent an hour browsing all traces Kijima Takashi had left online over the past five years.
There were almost no social updates. Occasionally, he would share technical articles or answer technical questions on professional forums. His last post on social media was three years ago—a repost of a news article about advancements in rare disease treatments, accompanied by just two words: "Hope."
He never complained about anyone online. He never cursed the boss who fired him, never cursed the clients who rejected him, never cursed the suffocating world he lived in. Only late at night, he would search for medical papers related to his daughter's condition and quietly save them.
Nangong Wentian leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
He recalled Kijima Takashi's words at the café. "I don't hate. Hatred is useless. All I can do is keep moving forward."
These were not empty words. Every day of this man's life was a testament to them.
He opened his eyes again and continued his investigation.
Credit records.
No criminal record. No fraud record. No civil dispute record. The only negative mark was a few months of overdue medical bills, but the hospital, aware of his situation, had not pressed him too hard.
Character reputation.
Nangong Wentian scoured the social media of Kijima Takashi's former colleagues, finding scattered mentions of him.
"Senior Kijima is a good person, just unlucky."
"Back at the company, Teacher Kijima taught me how to draft blueprints step by step, never holding back."
"I heard his daughter is sick. I wanted to help him, but he refused, saying, 'Everyone has their own struggles.'"
"His skills are impressive, but he's too honest. He doesn't fight, doesn't compete. People like him don't last long in the workplace."
Nangong Wentian looked at these comments, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"Too honest, doesn't fight, doesn't compete." In this era, it was a fatal flaw. But for what he intended to do, it was precisely the most valuable quality.
What he needed was an honest person. Someone who wouldn't dig too deeply into the source of his technology, someone who wouldn't waver in the face of profit, someone worthy of trust.
He continued digging and discovered a detail.
After Kijima Takashi lost his job, he had received interview invitations from several major companies, including Morganreti and Morgenroete. But he never attended. Why?
Nangong Wentian pulled up the recruitment records of those companies. Morganreti's position was "Materials Engineer," involving participation in military projects. Morgenroete's position was "Composite Materials R&D Engineer," also related to military technology.
"He doesn't want to touch weapons," Nangong Wentian understood instantly.
Someone who had worked in the field of materials science for years couldn't possibly be unaware of where his skills might be applied. He refused those jobs not because he lacked the ability, but because he didn't want his technology to become a tool for killing.
This reminded Nangong Wentian of himself. He was the same kind of person. Technology itself was neither good nor evil, but those who used it had their own stances. He was willing to entrust his technology to someone who said no to weapons.
The late-night lamplight.
The final item of the investigation was Kijima Takashi's recent activity patterns. Nangong Wentian accessed the surveillance camera footage near his residence through the public monitoring system.
Every night, the light in that window would stay on until two or three in the morning. Sometimes even later. Through the gaps in the curtains, a figure could be seen hunched over the desk, occasionally flipping through books, occasionally writing.
What was he studying?
Nangong Wentian pulled up Kijima Takashi's recent internet search history. Design theories for new energy systems, efficiency optimization plans for solar cells, the latest research progress in energy storage materials... even the application of artificial intelligence in material research and development.
"He's preparing for that day's meeting." A complex emotion welled up in Nangong Wentian's heart.
This man, even while being crushed by the weight of life, still hadn't given up on learning. He hadn't abandoned himself to despair over fate's unfairness, nor harbored resentment over society's indifference. He simply moved forward silently, stubbornly, one step at a time.
Nangong Wentian turned off the screen and sat in the darkness for a long time.
Outside the window, the silhouette of the Morgenroete building stood silent in the night. Scattered lights glimmered in the distance, belonging to those who, like him, were working late into the night.
He recalled the look in Kijima Takashi's eyes during their first meeting. There was exhaustion, helplessness, but more than that, a calm, almost stubborn persistence. Like a spring compressed to its limit, yet not broken.
"He won't betray," Nangong Wentian said to himself.
Not because of the high salary, not because of his daughter's medical expenses, but because of his principles. A man unwilling to let his technology become a weapon would not sell out a partner for profit. A man still studying new technology late at night would not be content to be merely a puppet.
He opened the "Star Core" and wrote the final evaluation on Kijima Takashi's file:
Trust Level: A. Recommendation Reason: Solid technical skills, reliable character, moral principles, and vulnerabilities that can be leveraged. Suitable for a core role.
After writing this, he added another line:
This man is worthy of trust, and also worthy of respect.
He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
A week of investigation had finally yielded results. Kijima Takashi wasn't the smartest, the most capable, or even the youngest. But he was the most suitable. In this world full of lies and betrayal, an honest man was more precious than anything.
He picked up the talisman on the desk and held it in his palm. It was a pendant Xiao Guang had made from discarded circuit boards—crude but warm.
"Time to send the second email," he said to himself.
He opened the encrypted mailbox and began drafting a letter to Kijima Takashi.
"Mr. Kijima, after careful consideration, I believe you are the suitable candidate. If you are willing, we can hold a second meeting to discuss the specific details of our cooperation. The time and place are up to you."
After sending the email, he turned off the computer and walked to the window.
The late night in Orleans was quiet, with only the occasional sound of vehicles in the distance. The halos of streetlights diffused in the mist, like hazy moons. Most of the lights in the Morgenroete building had been extinguished, leaving only a few windows still illuminated.
"Who's working overtime behind those lit windows?" The thought flashed through his mind. Was it Erica Simmons? Or the engineers agonizing over the failure of the MS Frame?
They didn't know that in some corner of this city, a twelve-year-old boy was doing the same thing as them. The difference was, they had the resources and equipment of Morgenroete at their disposal, while he only had an encrypted hard drive and knowledge from another world.
"Soon," he whispered. "Once Kijima agrees, the Colossus Group can take its first step."
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.
The crack in the ceiling was still there, like a bolt of lightning in the darkness. Staring at it, he pictured Kijima Takashi reading under the lamp, and the smile on his face when he patted his daughter's head.
"A person with a weakness is the most reliable person," he reaffirmed this judgment.
Not because the weakness could be exploited, but because it gave a person a bottom line. Kijima Takashi's bottom line was his daughter. For her, he would do anything that didn't violate his conscience.
And what Nangong Wentian needed to do was make this job both consistent with his conscience and able to save his daughter.
It was a win-win transaction.
He turned over, placing the amulet beside his pillow.
Tomorrow, or the day after, Kijima Takashi would reply. Then they would meet for the second time to finalize the details of their cooperation. After that, he would offer Kijima Takashi a generous annual salary, allowing him to pay off his debts and secure the best treatment for his daughter.
In exchange, Kijima Takashi would become the legal representative of the Colossus Group, standing at the forefront to handle all public affairs. And he, Nangong Wentian, would hide behind the scenes as the true mastermind.
"The Shadow Warrior Project officially begins," he whispered.
Moonlight from outside the window filtered through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the amulet on his chest. That scrap circuit board glimmered faintly in the moonlight, like a tiny star.
He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
In his dream, he stood on the top floor of a building
, overlooking the entire city. Beside him stood Kijima Takashi. Pointing at the distant Morgenroete building, he said, "One day, we'll stand taller than them."
Kijima Takashi didn't speak, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
It was a smile of trust.