New 𝓬hapters are published on

Chapter 387: The Rotten Dog of Nouvelle Vague (5)  

Another page has been torn from the Nouvelle Vague calendar.

At the end of each month, the guards are evaluated at the end of the month.

The Nouvelle Vague labor system is somewhat unusual, with one guard leading 12 prisoners to work.

At this point, the guard is like a god to the 12 prisoners in charge.

Whether he uses corporal punishment, how much there is to do, how much he makes them work, and how much he lets them rest are all at his discretion.

This group is changed once a month.

At the end of the month, both the prisoners and the guards are divided.

So the guards have a month to work with the prisoners in their group, and they can decide whether to punish them, reward them, make the work harder, or make it easier. fr(e)e

However, this did not mean that the guards were always able to accommodate the prisoners.

The guards at Nouvelle Vague were also subject to evaluations at the end of the month, as mentioned above.

They receive a score based on how much work they complete with the 12 prisoners they are responsible for during the month, which is then factored into their performance review for promotion.

The guards had to get the maximum amount of labor out of the prisoners for their own score.

It was up to the guards to use any method to achieve this.

Some guards would beat the prisoners with knives or whips, restrict their food, sleep, rest, or solitary confinement, while others would appease them by giving them a little more bread or work tools.

Prisoners also had to work hard to ensure that the guards in charge of them did not receive poor scores.

Otherwise, the guards, who had the power of life and death over them, could do anything to them.

...Well, whatever.

At the end of the month, an announcement was made in Nouvelle Vague.

It was a ranked list of the best performing guards.

It's a competition between the guards to get a good ranking on the list.

There was a constant battle of nerves, with guards cheating in the ratings to get a good, well behaved prisoner into their group, bribing them with riches to get them transferred, or sneaking bread or tools for the other group.

Of course, goods in the Nouvelle Vague are limited, and if someone gets an extra meal, someone else has to go without.

One of the more talkative members of the group was the junior guard, Second Lieutenant Garm Nord.

Garm's life was always miserable.

No motivation, no grades, no future.

Living up to his name, 'Stupid Garm' or 'Rotten Dog', Garm was always given only the rudest prisoners to work with.

Bread and work tools were always stolen by other guards, and Garm had to give up his own meals to encourage the prisoners to work.

Of course, the prisoners in Garm's group were not at all eager to do their labor.

Once they were in Garm's group, they had no intention to perform well, and Garm's timid nature meant that he rarely used corporal punishment.

As a result, he was always ignored, even by his fellow guards.

Needless to say, he was bullied by his own colleagues.

In terms of grades calculated by adding up the progress of construction in the area in charge, the number of prisoners sent to solitary confinement, and the number of riots suppressed, Garm has never been outside of last place.

However, an unusual and unprecedented turn of events has occurred.

<List of Report Cards>

※ Name/Rank/Task Completion Rate

Garm Nord / ◆ / 108%.

Kirko Grimm / ◆◆ / 96%.

... / ... / 89%

...

.

.

Garm has always been in last place.

This time, he scored first in the monthly evaluation.

He even exceeded the workload guidelines set by his superiors.

Instead of achieving 100%, he exceeded it by 108%. This was unusual among junior guards.

So whenever the junior guards got together these days, they always talked about the report card.

"Wow – did you see the report card this time? It was crazy."

"I found out for the first time today that the task completion rate can exceed 100%."

"You know, they always set the achievement rate a little too high, just to make sure you don't hit it." "Exactly. That's why even Kirko only gets around 95% to 96% every time."

"That's huge. Did you see the gap with third place? 7%."

"But the gap between first and second is 12%. How is that possible?"

"Did Garm ever do that well in the first place?"

"Of course not, it's 'Stupid Garm', he was always in the bottom 40%."

"What, he's been hiding his power and acting like a nerd all this time? That's a pretty damning development...."

Then. The atmosphere in the dining hall, where the junior guards were gathered, suddenly became quiet.

It was because Kirko, who had always been in charge of the first place, and who was ranked second in the monthly evaluation, appeared.

...tag!

Kirko set her plate down on the table and sat down to eat.

Grilled waterfowl, fermented sea catfish, boiled peas, and a cup of sea cow's milk were on the menu.

As Kirko ate in silence, she heard the chatter of the other junior guards.

"Kirko, does she look like she's in a bad mood today?"

"Of course she is. She just lost first place to that Stupid Garm."

" ...If this continues, isn't Garm going to get promoted first?"

Kirko stopped chewing her peas.

Then she turned her head in displeasure.

Then.

"...!"

Both Kirko and the junior guards who were talking behind her back stopped in unison.

Garm. The subject of the conversation had entered the dining hall.

* * *

Garm. No Vikir was chewing on a boiled pea, thinking over his plan.

'To activate Poseidon, I need to apply as much mana, or physical impact, as possible to the detonation point.'

To do that, it was much easier to act as a guard than a prisoner.

He could keep an eye on Poseidon's behavior at all times.

However, access to Poseidon in the depths of Level 9's labor camps was not possible with a lower ranking guard.

'It would be beneficial for me to be promoted at least to the rank of Captain, and safely to Major.'

A captain wears the insignia of three diamonds.

A Major wears a single leaf.

This should be enough so that there is no hindrance to activities.

'... Mid-level guards of the rank of captain and above are allowed to roam the labor camp without reporting. It will be possible to activate Poseidon secretly at night.'

To do so, he had to earn his merits diligently.

Luckily, unlike the regular army, where promotion could take months or even years, in the Nouvelle Vague the rewards for performance were quick and certain.

This was especially true since so many guards were killed or crippled during their service.

Vikir was thinking about this and that.

...Thud!

Something was placed on the table in front of him.

It was a powder in a paper bag.

"Garm Nord. You have a birthday today, right? Congratulations~"

The cook tapped Vikir on the shoulder.

Only then did Vikir realize that Garm's birthday was today.

"...?"

The paper bag was filled with a white powder.

He dipped his finger in and tasted it, and it tasted sweet.

"Is that sugar?"

It was the same one in Garm's diary.

At Nouvelle Vague, a bag of sugar is given to each guard on their birthday as a gift.

However, the sugar in the bag had a somewhat unpleasant taste.

It was the same white powder, so it was hard to see, but there seemed to be a significant amount of salt mixed in.

"What is it?"

Vikir shook the envelope and scratched his head.

Then.

"Are you a real idiot or what?"

A sarcastic voice came from beside him. Vikir turned to see Kirko standing there, arms crossed.

"Same reaction every year on your birthday. That's why the others call you 'Stupid Garm'."

Kirko peered into the bag of sugar in Vikir's hand and shook her head.

"Colonel D'Ordume must have done it, from what I've heard he has a sneaky sweet tooth. I'm sure he's embarrassed for himself, so he filled it with common salt."

"I see. Blindfolded."

"Don't you know why Colonel D'Ordume was demoted to Nouvelle Vague in the first place? He was caught mixing sand and rice bran into the rice he gave his subordinates when he was serving on the ground. He claims he was discriminated against because he's a Beastman, but in fact, it was because of embezzlement of military supplies."

Kirko grumbled, saying, 'I can't spoil a dog.'

She must not have a normal personality because she was swearing at her boss as well.

"...Anyway. Well, happy birthday."

Kirko hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"And thank you for helping me last time."

The words that followed were so muffled that even Vikir, whose hearing reached a superhuman level, had a hard time understanding them.

'Birthday.'

Vikir thought about the day he was born.

A date he didn't remember or attach much significance to.

It was a common thread in all of his lives, the three lives he had lived before his regression, the years of old age he had spent in the Hell Tree, and now this one.

In the Nouvelle Vague, a birthday was merely a low point in the gloomy, languid passage of time.

It was always the same in the Age of Destruction, in the Abyss Tower, and in Baskerville.

The sugar quickly became sticky due to the sticky moisture.

The tangy fishy smell of the peas was stifling.

...tag!

Vikir picked up his empty plate and headed for the exit.

Kirko looked back at Vikir with a slightly embarrassed expression on her face.

"... is weird, too."

Muttering quietly to herself.

(Proofreader : What ! Another one ! It's the 5th !!! Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinclair, now Kirko! Haaa man I'm so jealous of you TT)

* * *

For the next few days, Kirko kept a close eye on Vikir.

'Garm, is he always like that?'

She had watched him occasionally since they were children.

The Garm she'd seen had always been pathetic and stupid, but not to the point of disrespect, unlike the others.

Just someone who didn't fit in here in Nouvelle Vague, that's all.

Kirko hated Garm for some reason, though she wondered if it was because he had lived on the surface as a child.

For her, born in Nouvelle Vague and never having seen the surface, the surface was represented by Garm's image.

Idle, wimpy, not very fast, and somewhat timid. A boy who had never shown any signs of struggle or competition.

... But recently, his behavior has changed.

He's been leading prisoners to achieve workloads that were thought impossible, and he's been scoring big on physical fitness tests and written papers.

Gradually, the way his fellow guards looked at him began to change.

The usual indifference, or even disrespect, gradually gave way to a friendly, friendly attitude.

But for some reason, Kirko didn't want to admit it.

...inferiority complex.

Maybe it was because she didn't want to acknowledge the surface world represented by Garm.

Maybe it was a manifestation of the complex of being a frog in a well, no matter how good she was here.

Could it be that? Kirko was stirring up an emotion in Garm that she had never felt before, or with anyone, for that matter: competition.

'How the hell do they make you work? What do I have to do to achieve that amount of work?'

Kirko had secretly followed Garm and the 12 prisoners in his group as they went down to do their labor.

Kirko wondered how the hell he could get the prisoners to achieve the ridiculous feat of 108%.

Then.

Kirko watched as Garm led the prisoners to the labor area.

Kirko was stunned.

"...!?"

Something she could never have imagined was happening.

(Proofreader : I'm sure Vikir is working with the prisoners...)