"Okay, okay..." Song Shu could only nod as Morin lectured him.
"Call the police and explain the situation," Morin said. He picked up a skewer and held it horizontally in his mouth, the sharp end on the left.
He bit down on the meat at the far right and pulled, cleanly stripping the skewer.
"You know what to say, right?"
"I know, I know..." Song Shu nodded. He wasn't stupid. He was just... less experienced than Morin.
...Wait.
Why was Morin so experienced?
Did he do this kind of thing a lot before?!
Song Shu suddenly realized this was a serious problem.
...
PPDC China Division Headquarters.
Mecha Designer Conference Room.
"He doesn't look the part."
"But is it even possible to get a perfect score in five minutes?"
"That's ridiculous. He wouldn't even have time to read the questions."
"We all contributed to the question bank. They're random and single-use. If he cheated, where would he even get them from? Did he bribe all of us?"
"The key issue is his age. He's only twenty-one. I'm not looking down on him, but... when we were twenty-one, weren't we still in college?"
A group of people whose combined net worth could easily buy a small country-though none of them would make that trade-were arguing.
Their argument revolved around Morin's test score and his background.
Here was the issue.
For those who passed the first test, the second-stage questions were generated based on the "knowledge mastered" section of the application form.
Even with clear warnings, some people still filled that section out randomly. That was inevitable.
But the first test filtered out almost all of them.
Less than one in ten thousand applicants passed.
Anyone who passed had real knowledge, education, and brains.
No one with common sense would list knowledge they didn't possess. Writing it down meant being tested on it. Failing would be humiliating.
Most applicants were conservative. To be safe, they listed only what they were absolutely confident in.
And yet Morin had done the opposite.
He not only achieved a perfect score on the first test-he had listed all knowledge related to mecha construction.
Since the profession was established, this was the first case of its kind.
According to protocol, his information was forwarded to all mecha designers.
They were stunned.
Every one of them was a top-tier expert in their field. Otherwise, they wouldn't be responsible for humanity's only effective countermeasure during a global crisis.
And now a twenty-one-year-old all-rounder had appeared.
Self-taught. No college education.
The daily lives of mecha designers were monotonous. Their entertainment consisted of comparing designs-functions, cost, combat performance, contribution to future generations.
New blood almost never appeared.
So Morin's file was like a rock dropped into still water.
Ripples spread.
They began asking each other about him.
They even convened a meeting.
What they didn't know was that this wasn't a rock.
It was a meteor.
"And that settles it," someone said. "Is anyone stuck at a technical bottleneck? Why don't you turn it into test questions for this 'genius'?"
"I'll do it."
"I've got nothing urgent. I'll contribute a few."
"The question bank hasn't been updated in ages. I'll add some."
"Count me in."
...
They were all curious.
Logic said what Morin did was impossible.
Reason said no one would fake something this blatant. Knowledge couldn't be forged.
It was like advanced mathematics. You either knew it or you didn't.
Academic fraud?
In front of world-class mecha designers?
That was suicide.
And if he really had connections, why choose this department?
Why come to the one place that demanded pure skill instead of somewhere more profitable?
Two completely opposite conclusions.
Both reasonable.
That contradiction fueled their curiosity.
So they collectively compiled a new set of questions covering everything Morin had claimed to master.
At the same moment, the man at the center of the discussion was standing outside a barbecue restaurant, lecturing Song Shu.
"You really should stop using violence so easily," Morin said with a sigh. "Isn't there anything that can't be solved through communication?"
"Look at you. You still have the skills from your mecha pilot days. So why do this? Sure, they insulted mecha pilots. Sure, they talked trash. But fighting is still wrong. Even if they started it, we could've used less force when defending ourselves..."
Song Shu nodded repeatedly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the police officer beside them.
The officer wore a stiff smile.
Police Officer: "..."
Don't think I don't know you're doing this together.
And don't think I don't know this speech is for my benefit.
"Ahem." The officer cleared his throat. "Regardless, you still need to come to the station to make a statement. Shall we?"
"Uh..." A young man with glasses stepped forward. "I can be a witness."
"I have video!"
"Me too!"
"I started recording when they argued!"
"I'm still recording!"
"Are you stupid? Why would you say that out loud?"
Once one person spoke up, more followed.
They were no longer bystanders.
They were participants.
Participants defending what they believed was right.
"Just statements are enough. Thank you. We don't need witnesses-just send the videos. And hey, make sure I look good on camera."
The officer was surprisingly relaxed. He answered questions and didn't stop anyone from recording.
"We'll handle this impartially. An official statement will be released later. You can follow it online."
Morin stayed silent.
He observed the crowd and felt something unfamiliar.
Since transmigrating, he had often used the public deliberately.
In Fast and Furious, he controlled Rio's traffic system to manipulate crowds and vehicles.
In Assassin's Creed, he planned to weaponize public anger against oppression-until things went off the rails.
Now You See Me.
Batman.
Again and again.
This time was different.
This was the first time he hadn't planned anything.
The public acted on its own.
He felt... touched.
And at the same time, another thought surfaced.
I really am a person of justice.
The bane of evil.
No doubt about it.
Even so, procedures were procedures.
Morin and Song Shu got into the police car. The unconscious thugs were taken away as well.
The statement process was simple.
Time.
Location.
Name.
Gender.
Address.
Workplace.
Then a detailed Q&A recounting the incident.
Review.
Signature.
(Don't ask why he was so familiar with the process.)
The outcome was never in doubt.
Morin and Song Shu were released.
The thugs were detained for disturbing public order.
Song Shu knew where to strike. Chin and cheeks only. Enough to knock them out without lasting injury.
"You're free to go," the officer said. "Just be careful next time. Try not to use violence."
"Okay, okay. Thank you," Morin and Song Shu replied.
They turned to leave.
"Wait," the officer called.
"Yes?" Song Shu asked.
"I heard one of you is a mecha designer, and the other's a mecha pilot?" With official matters done, the officer's expression turned openly curious. "Can we take a photo together?"
"Actually, I'm not yet-" Song Shu scratched his head.
"He will be soon," Morin said.
In this world, Morin had crafted a persona.
A genius.
But not a flawless one.
Too perfect was dangerous.
He wanted to be seen as peerlessly talented-and openly arrogant.
Blunt. Condescending.
Human.
If a genius knew everything and handled people flawlessly, suspicion would follow.
As for being disliked?
Talented people were always forgiven more easily.
"That's even better!" The officer laughed. "Then we definitely need a photo. Xiao Chi, didn't you just get a Polaroid?"
"Right here!" Xiao Chi said, bringing it over. "Brother Hao, how should we pose?"
"All three of us," Officer Hao said. "Make us look good."
"Yes, sir!"
Photos with police required care.
One civilian and two officers could look like an arrest photo.
The Polaroid printed.
Morin took it, glanced at it, and signed his name.
"Keep it safe," he said, handing it to Song Shu to sign as well. Then he gave it to Officer Hao. "This autographed photo will be worth a lot someday."
"Hahaha! I'll hold you to that."
After they left, Officer Hao stared at the photo and scratched his head.
"Arrogant... but maybe he's got the skills. Not a bad guy."
"Xiao Chi," he added, "send me the digital copy. I'll post a short report later."
"Got it. By the way, Brother Hao... who were they? Celebrities?"
"Celebrities...?" He hesitated.
"Then what?"
"I can't really explain it. But maybe... just maybe... they're people celebrities can't compare to."
...
"What are you looking at?"
On the way back, Song Shu kept checking his phone.
Morin noticed his expression. "What's wrong?"
"An article by a commentator," Song Shu said. "Remember what I told you about mecha production not keeping up with Kaiju appearances?"
"Of course."
"There've been a lot of similar takes lately." He handed the phone over. "There aren't that many idiots in the world."
Morin read the article.
"Heh." He let out a cold laugh. "It's a fight over."
"The Kaiju threat and the mecha program created. But the pie is limited. Some want a bigger slice."
"You're saying... they're doing this intentionally?" Song Shu's eyes widened.
"There are always idiots who can't tell what matters," Morin said calmly. "Or who value money and power more than their own lives."
"That's why I had to step in. Otherwise, look at the decisions they're pushing. Walls. Retreat."
"Even with heavy losses, mechas can fight back. But walls and nukes?"
"In the long run, can the environment survive? Humanity would be forced underground."
"And even if a wall really couldn't be broken..."
Morin paused.
"...don't Kaiju fly?"
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