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Food Wars: Not about Food
The doctor in charge of the physical examination was still talking.
"With his physical condition, he only needs a bit of training to pilot a mecha. But that would be a waste. I suggest a full training and testing program. We could even custom-build a unit for him and try the old single-pilot design. If he can master that, it would truly-"
"Stop."
Qin Guang, finally snapping back to his senses, looked toward the locker room where Morin was changing.
"Don't tell anyone about this. Especially him."
"Why?" the doctor asked, confused.
His mind immediately ran wild with theories-troubled family background, offending someone powerful, or some hidden reason preventing him from becoming a pilot.
He was an old bookworm, after all.
"It's not what you're thinking," Qin Guang said, seeing the look on his face.
He glanced around, leaned closer, and lowered his voice. "He's a mecha designer. And not just any designer-the best, most talented one we've got. Think about it. Which matters more? A top-tier mecha designer, or a mecha pilot? Even if he has the potential to be an ace pilot, we can't take that risk."
"That's impossible. He's only twenty-one..." The doctor froze mid-sentence. "Wait. Could it be him?!"
His eyes widened.
Recently, he had been assigned to conduct physical exams for mecha designers.
At first, he found it strange that so many of them were in poor condition. He even entertained wild ideas-biological weapons, targeted strikes.
But the results were simple.
Exhaustion.
One or two cases made sense. Mecha designers often forgot to eat or sleep when absorbed in their work.
But so many at once?
It felt off.
When he asked, several designers gave him the same answer.
He assumed it was a unified excuse tied to confidentiality agreements and didn't pry further.
Better not to know what you shouldn't.
Now, it all clicked.
"So someone like that really exists?" the doctor asked quietly.
"Don't spread this," Qin Guang warned.
"If he finds out, he might decide to become a pilot. Then we'll be stuck."
"I understand," the doctor nodded, then sighed.
"It still feels like such a waste."
"You can't have both," Qin Guang said, shaking his head. "You give up one to get the other."
"That's true." The doctor handed over the report. "I need to cool down."
Anyone would.
Everyone knew the right choice.
But shouldn't an adult's first instinct be-
I want both?
"Sigh..."
Qin Guang looked down at the physical report.
He didn't understand a single line of it.
Every character, number, and letter made sense on its own.
Put together, it was nonsense.
"The report's good?" a voice asked nearby.
"Yes. Unbelievably good-wait, what are you doing here?"
Qin Guang answered instinctively, then realized who it was.
Morin.
He nearly jumped out of his skin.
The moment it sank in, he wanted to slap himself.
He had just warned the doctor not to say anything.
And now he'd said it himself.
Oh no.
Qin Guang desperately searched for a way to make Morin forget what he'd just heard.
"So... was it an unimaginable result?" Morin asked, smiling.
"Uh..."
Qin Guang studied him for a moment, then relaxed.
Of course he'd know his own body.
"Yes," Qin Guang said slowly. "According to the doctor, your body is at the human limit. Near-perfect. Everything is coordinated."
He paused, carefully avoiding certain words.
"How did you train like this?"
Morin replied calmly, "It's simple. One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, and a ten-kilometer run every day. Keep it up for a while."
Qin Guang: "..."
Why did that sound so familiar?
"That... sounds familiar," Qin Guang said, frowning.
"It's the training regimen from One-Punch Man," Morin said seriously.
Qin Guang: "..."
Was he really saying this with a straight face?
Couldn't he at least try harder to lie?
"Anyway," Morin continued, expression unchanged, "I didn't reach Saitama's level, but my body became much healthier. My physical condition improved a lot."
"And then... you got this?" Qin Guang raised the report.
Since Morin already knew, there was no point hiding it.
"More or less," Morin said, taking the report and scanning the data.
He let out a quiet breath.
The numbers matched.
He could read them easily.
In his spare time, he liked learning new things.
With that kind of brain capacity, why waste it?
In other worlds, he had already run full physicals on himself.
He'd expected situations like this.
So he tested what kind of data machines would show.
Then he adjusted it.
Muscle control. Hormones. Neural activity.
He could control all of it.
The [Constitution] skill didn't just strengthen his body-it gave him precise control over it.
He stopped only after stabilizing himself at the perfect human limit.
Then he memorized that state.
Perfectly.
In other words, the report in Qin Guang's hand reflected Morin's body-
And a state Morin had actively chosen.
He wanted to display his extraordinary abilities without ending up on an operating table.
He wasn't afraid of military force.
But cooperation made things smoother.
Even so, he didn't take chances.
That was why he came to check the report himself.
As for blood samples, hair, and the like-
They reverted to normal once separated.
He didn't know why.
Some kind of protective mechanism, probably.
He made a mental note.
"Hehe..." Qin Guang laughed awkwardly.
He didn't believe a word of it.
He'd be an idiot if he did.
"My residence. Office. Laboratory," Morin said, handing back the report and smoothly changing the topic.
Now wasn't the time to mention piloting.
When the time came, he would pilot the mecha he designed himself.
Whether officially allowed or not.
"I'll take you there," Qin Guang said, leading him away.
Everything was already prepared.
Morin's mecha designer certification would be issued the next day.
Residence. Office. Laboratory.
All top-tier.
Morin didn't care much.
He'd lived too many lives.
He could enjoy luxury hotels.
Or spend loose change on a bowl of sweet tofu pudding at a street stall.
(Team sweet tofu pudding forever. Dumplings must be savory.)
By the time everything was settled, night had fallen.
Morin used the excuse of needing rest to send away the excited designers crowding his door.
Finally.
Peace.
He understood their excitement.
That didn't mean he had to answer questions endlessly.
He wasn't here to teach.
A little guidance was fine.
Too much, and nothing would get done.
Questions never ended.
Meanwhile, in Zhao Wei's office.
"What did you say?" Zhao Wei stared at Qin Guang.
"You're sure it's not someone else's report?"
"Absolutely," Qin Guang said. "I watched every test. The doctor handed it to me personally."
"This is his."
"So you're telling me," Zhao Wei said slowly, "that a genius mecha designer is also a genius mecha pilot? Someone who might even withstand solo neural strain?"
He looked incredulous.
"That sounds like a mythological hero."
"What came before already felt like a myth," Qin Guang muttered. "This is just another layer."
"But... thinking about it," Zhao Wei said, suddenly thoughtful, "it does make sense."
"He's young. He's mastered impossible amounts of knowledge. That means his comprehension is on a completely different level."
"Right."
"Then his brain must be different. Extremely active. Strong neural output."
Zhao Wei nodded as his own theory solidified.
"So that's why the doctor mentioned solo piloting," Qin Guang said.
"Exactly."
"And his physical condition?" Qin Guang asked.
"I'm not sure," Zhao Wei admitted. "Did you ask how he trained?"
"I did." Qin Guang sighed.
"Hundred push-ups. Hundred sit-ups. Hundred squats. Ten-kilometer run."
"That's it?" Zhao Wei rubbed his chin.
"It sounds simple. Could it really be that effective?"
"I think he was joking. It's from an anime," Qin Guang said.
"Or maybe not?" Zhao Wei frowned.
"What?" Qin Guang froze, then understood.
"You want to try it?"
"It's just exercise. It won't hurt," Zhao Wei said. "Have a few people test it."
"What if it works?"
"...That would be something," Qin Guang admitted.
What if-
It really worked?
...
The next day, Morin went straight into the laboratory.
He activated the holographic projector and supercomputer.
And began.
A mecha was no small project.
Forty to fifty meters tall.
Neural synchronization with the pilot.
Withstanding thousands of tons of impact.
Maintaining stability in close combat.
Those were just the basics.
Beyond that-
Life support: shock absorption, radiation shielding, heat management, oxygen.
Operating systems: responsiveness, durability, control stability.
Materials: tensile strength, compression resistance, shear, torsion.
And far more.
To design one alone was impossible.
Unless you were a true genius.
Morin's hands never stopped.
He recreated the mecha already complete in his mind.
This wasn't copied from the system.
It was his own.
And it wasn't ordinary.
It would surpass every mecha in the Pacific Rim world.
That world's technology was still immature. Flawed.
Morin's mecha knowledge was only entry-level-
But complete.
In the evening, the lab doors opened.
Qin Guang, who had been waiting anxiously, finally relaxed.
"You don't need to rush," he said. "Mecha design takes time. Even for one person."
"Even with your condition, working all day isn't healthy-"
"I'm done," Morin interrupted.
"So there's no need to-huh?" Qin Guang stopped mid-sentence.
"I've completed the design," Morin said.
"It took time because the holographic projector's modeling and computing programs were inefficient. I modified them. I hope that's not an issue."
"Of course... not," Qin Guang replied instinctively.
Then he froze.
"...You're really finished?"
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