The Villainess Takes the Cockpit

The aftermath of battle drifted through the void.

Following the order to return, Arden made its slow way toward the hangar.

(…How do I get back, again?)

Letaria had no instinct for direction in open space. Arden reflected that fact in every uncertain lurch of its movement.

Grain's machine drew quietly up beside her.

"I'll guide you in. Follow me." His voice came through the comms. Letaria answered simply.

"…Thank you."

It was the first honest expression of gratitude she had offered since arriving in this world.

Once they had landed safely in the hangar and she climbed down from the cockpit, Grain confirmed what he had suspected.

(…She can fight like that—but she can't land. She's definitely an amateur.)

His gaze settled on her clothing.

(…No pilot suit. Trace Mode. In ordinary clothes.)

She had run that punishing, reckless sequence of maneuvers without a single piece of protective equipment. The thought made him faintly dizzy.

"…Unbelievable."

He muttered it quietly. There was no reproach in his voice.

From behind Letaria, the voices of the vigilante corps carried over.

They praised her in passing, then dispersed to finish their duties.

Letaria watched them go. And then—

"Princess."

She spun around at the voice.

Milea was standing behind her, arms folded, her tone pitched just a fraction lower than usual.

"I…I am not a princess…"

She could hold her ground against enormous enemies without flinching. But the quiet pressure of this woman in the white coat was another matter.

◆◆◆

The break room.

"Were you trying to die?"

Milea's voice was sharp.

"You beat that thing half to pieces. Arden's in rough shape. It's an old model, so that's one thing, but…"

Letaria said nothing. She stared at the floor.

There was nothing to say.

She was thinking about the state Arden's arms and legs had been in when they returned.

(…Arden. I'm sorry.)

"That's enough."

Grain stepped in.

"She saved a lot of lives today. Let the hero rest."

"…Good grief."

Milea let out a breath.

(…A hero. Me?)

The word caught her completely off guard.

Milea turned to face her again, her gaze direct and serious.

"You're extraordinary. Remarkably so. All the more reason to take better care of yourself."

Letaria wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

(…She's genuinely worried about me.)

She gave a small nod.

"The room is cramped, I'm sorry—but please go and rest."

◆◆◆

Walking alone down the bare corridor toward her quarters, Letaria thought.

She had charged out on impulse. Fought without thinking. Been scolded for it.

But—Grain's word stayed with her.

Hero.

The warm, tired voices of the vigilante members stayed with her.

(…I feel as though I've recovered something.)

She couldn't have said what. Only that something which had been grey for a very long time had taken on the faintest trace of color.

And then—Arden's battered arms surfaced in her mind.

Milea's face, tight with worry.

(…)

In that moment, one other face crossed her thoughts. Just for an instant.

Kiara. Her attendant from the old world. Wearing a look of quiet sorrow.

(…)

Letaria did not stop walking.

She only slowed, just slightly.

◆◆◆

After she had gone.

The conversation between Grain and Milea was quiet.

"You ran the tests. What did you find?"

Milea's eyes stayed on her terminal as she answered.

"…She looks entirely human on the surface. But inside, she may be something else."

"…What does that mean?"

"Her tissue composition matches ours in many areas. But there's an unknown substance mixed in.

Her physical resilience…is on par with someone wearing a powered exoskeleton."

"…So that's how she could run Trace Mode in ordinary clothes and come out of it in one piece."

"Exactly."

Grain folded his arms, his expression difficult.

"That machine of hers—it's an Escad-model Crafid, isn't it.

That thing shouldn't be capable of what we saw.

Specs-wise, it should underperform current models across the board."

"That part I can't explain. Escad went under long ago, and the records are sparse.

Someone with unusual interests might have done a custom job, but…"

Milea cut herself off. When she continued, her tone had shifted.

"That's not even the main issue."

"There's another anomaly. Beyond the physical resilience."

"What is it?"

"Her brainwaves. There's a pattern in them that no human being should be producing.

It doesn't match anything in any existing database."

"…What does that mean? Is she an actual esper? Is she going to tell me it's magic?"

It felt faintly absurd to say it out loud. But then again—he had watched her do things that felt faintly absurd.

"An enhanced human, perhaps. Or an experimental subject. That's the most likely explanation."

Silence settled between them.

"…What happens to her from here?"

Milea answered Grain's question with a quiet shake of her head.

"That's for her to decide."

Grain turned to the window.

Across the vast dark of space, the lights of Seldia's residential sector glowed on, steady and quiet.