Up until now, Jieun hadn’t had a name as a magical girl.
She had been called “Black Magical Girl” or “Terror Suspect.”
Did she have a new name now?
Magical girls usually had names inspired by flowers.
What name would suit Jieun, dressed in that white, beautiful outfit?
In Ji-hye’s opinion,
“Lily, how about that?”
While stepping outside briefly in the morning for some fresh air, Hayoon said something rather strange.
“Lily?”
Uncertain of her intent, Ji-hye asked, and Hayoon shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re a magical girl too. Shouldn’t you have a name as a magical girl?”
Ji-hye gave Hayoon a look of lukewarm disbelief.
“So, you’re telling me to use that name?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“More than just liking it or not, I don’t even see why such a name is necessary.”
Truthfully, Ji-hye didn’t understand the point of having separate names for magical girls.
At least in other stories, there were settings where revealing their real names would cause problems, but that wasn’t the case here.
Everyone’s real names were already out in the open.
In this world, the name of a magical girl was little more than a stage name for a celebrity.
Some celebrities have stage names, while others don’t—so why couldn’t she just operate under her real name?
“Well, because… you’re a magical girl?”
“And how does being a magical girl have anything to do with having a name like that? Also, why Lily of all things?”
“Isn’t a lily the first thing that comes to mind when you think of white flowers?”
Well, that’s true, but…
“And besides, having a name as a magical girl might be more advantageous.”
Seeing Ji-hye’s skeptical expression, Hayoon seemed to think she needed a better argument and continued as if she had prepared for this.
“How so?”
“If we keep fighting, public perception is important, isn’t it?”
“Well… yeah.”
It couldn’t be helped.
It was much easier to fight when the police weren’t interfering.
This time, they had even helped.
While the police alone couldn’t defeat the enemies, their assistance did increase her chances of success.
Beyond that, in a democratic country, politicians couldn’t ignore public opinion.
The country’s leaders were all elected, after all.
Even if they couldn’t openly cooperate with her, they would act much more cautiously if arresting or disadvantaging her risked shaking their approval ratings.
“So, making people see you as one of us is important.”
Ji-hye decided to stay silent and listen.
“We all use flower names as nicknames, each matching our own color.”
“Wait, you guys chose those names yourselves?”
“Not exactly,” Hayoon replied, her face turning red.
She was embarrassed about it herself.
Why did Ji-hye have to feel embarrassed about it now too?
“Isn’t fighting alongside you guys enough?”
When Ji-hye asked, Hayoon fell silent.
Risking her life to fight should have been enough, shouldn’t it?
People on the radio already thought of her as being on the same side.
“That’s true, but…”
Hayoon lowered her head slightly, clasping her hands behind her back and tapping the ground with the tip of her shoe.
It wasn’t about logic anymore; she just seemed determined to call Ji-hye “Lily.”
Ji-hye let out a deep sigh and scratched her head.
…Was this really important?
Maybe Hayoon, having been a magical girl for over two years, thought so.
Why, in the military or other organizations, aren’t there always things you do “just because that’s how it’s done”?
Maybe this was one of those things.
“…Fine.”
“Huh?”
“If you really want to call me that, go ahead. It’s not like it’ll matter if I tell you not to—you’ll all call me that anyway.”
At Ji-hye’s words, Hayoon’s face lit up with a bright smile.
“Yes!”
Was it really something to be that happy about?
Honestly, I disliked everything—names, white dresses, all of it.
…That white outfit may have come from my subconscious, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
Seriously, who combines black and white in the same team?
“So, with things as they are, why don’t we become the fourth faction ourselves?”
During a discussion about what to do moving forward, Cherry proposed this idea.
“The fourth faction?”
I furrowed my brow and asked, and Cherry nodded with a serious expression.
“Yes. A fourth faction, separate from the Federation, the government, or the corporations.”
“Oh? I didn’t know you had such ambitions for power.”
“Does this look like I’m doing it for power?”
Well, it probably wasn’t for power.
If I had to name the two weakest people here, it would undoubtedly be Cherry and James.
As for James, I was fully prepared to turn him into rat food if he crossed the line.
He seemed aware of that, as he hadn’t overstepped yet.
Since his circuits were altered, James had been preoccupied, and his tendency to challenge me had lessened significantly.
Though, he and Cherry still fought constantly.
“Anyway, go on.”
Knowing they could bicker endlessly, I prompted Cherry to continue.
“Ahem. So, if we become the fourth faction, we can establish ourselves as a force no one can mess with easily.”
“And what’s the benefit of being the fourth faction?”
“It makes it easier to form temporary alliances when fighting other factions.”
“Oh.”
I understood now.
Rather than aligning with any one group, the idea was to be independent, able to cooperate or oppose as needed.
“But don’t we lack the strength for that?”
James, arms crossed, interjected.
“You can’t call it a faction unless it can offer meaningful resistance.”
“That’s why I’ve been thinking.”
Cherry responded to James with a confident tone.
“The former chairman—isn’t he still alive? Not dead yet, right?”
At Cherry’s words, James fell silent.
“Noir Corporation isn’t a publicly traded company, right? So the current chairman isn’t really a chairman, just someone who forcibly took what wasn’t theirs. Even the Federation sees it that way. That’s why they cooperated initially, thinking they might dispose of the chairman and take over the company.”
“But their view has changed now, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Cherry nodded at Hayoon’s question.
“Right before I came here, there was even talk of cutting ties quickly. Of course, since the organization is so vast, everyone within it has different stances. But it seems they’re considering whether continuing with such dangerous activities is sustainable in the long term.”
“So, are you saying we should find the former chairman?”
“If not the former chairman, then the next in line. Since it’s a private company, the top position is monopolized by one person. If we install someone legitimate at the top, we could stabilize the situation somewhat.”
It didn’t seem like Cherry was entirely on the Federation’s side.
However, James, loyal to the former chairman, wore a deeply displeased expression.
Perhaps he didn’t like the idea of ‘using’ his boss?
Cherry’s goal seemed to be securing the former chairman or a successor, not to normalize the company right away, but to leverage it as a bargaining chip.
Normalization would likely take a very long time, given how entangled the power struggles surrounding the circuits were.
A resource as valuable as oil, yet as volatile as plutonium or uranium.
Earth’s position in the universe had risen to such a precarious point.
“You’d want to find them too, right? Even if it brings short-term disadvantages to the company, normalization is necessary for future operations.”
At Cherry’s words, James sighed deeply and reluctantly nodded.
So, even he had moments of emotional reasoning.
If he weren’t emotional, he wouldn’t bother antagonizing me sometimes.
“Let’s make this place feel more like a headquarters, then. We’ve gained a new ray of hope. If I help, we can make better use of energy.”
Cherry clapped her hands together as she spoke.
Well, if we were going to become a separate faction, we’d need to look the part.
But do we have the necessary components for that?
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