On the Night the Stars Mock, the Marionette Falls in Love - A Hacker Girl Mocks the Loving Trash

The scanner screen flickered off. In the dim corner of the cargo bay, Kafka stared blankly at his hands. Her photo, which had been on the screen just moments ago, was gone. In its place, the black screen reflected his own face. Messy hair with bed-head. Drooping brown eyes. What stared back was nothing more than the face of a powerless stowaway. *(That man called me trash.)* Zenon Grave. A renegade with a cold voice and the power to rot everything he touched. In that back alley, Kafka's scanner had been shattered to pieces. And now, back aboard the derelict vessel D-7, all that remained in his hands were the fragments. The air in the cargo bay felt colder than usual. The heating unit was as unreliable as ever, his breath misting faintly white. The only sound was the faint hum of the solar panels affixed to the walls. "...I have to fix it." His voice trembled. But his fingers moved. He pulled the smallest screwdriver from his tool belt. From the box crammed with scrap parts, he fished out circuit board fragments and wiring. This was something he'd done countless times over the past three months. Tinkering with machines was the one thing he had any confidence in. *(There's no way I can't do this.)* He told himself that. With trembling fingers, he opened the casing. The inside was a disaster. Most of the circuitry was corroded, rusted a reddish-brown. Some parts looked ready to crumble at the slightest touch. "It's wrecked." But the recording module, by some miracle, was intact. Kafka held his breath and carefully removed just that part. Inside this tiny component was that man's voice. The clue to the Vespa Network was in here. He hunched his shoulders and lost himself in the repair. How much time passed? Sweat beaded on his forehead. His fingertips were black with rust and grease. Over and over, he reconnected wires and tried the power. But the screen stayed black. The circuits were fried. He didn't have enough parts. *(Maybe it's hopeless.)* His hands nearly stopped. But he couldn't put the tools down. For some reason, his fingers kept moving. *(Because.)* The red bandana on his left wrist floated dimly in the faint light. He'd never told anyone—too embarrassed that it might be seen as an imitation of the legendary female hunter Kafka's red thread. Even so, this was the one thing he couldn't let go of. "I want to protect her." When he said it aloud, he almost started crying. She didn't even know he existed. He was just a nameless stowaway who happened to share her name. They'd never met. Never spoken. And yet—he wanted her to keep smiling. He wanted her to be safe today, somewhere aboard the Astral Express. "I know there's no way I can." Even so. Better than doing nothing and regretting it. Trembling, he made that decision. The screen flickered. "Huh?" It moved. The moment he'd rerouted a single wire to a different terminal. The scanner let out a low hum, and noise raced across the screen. Half-broken characters flickered into view. "I-I did it...!" The words escaped before he could stop them. The recording data was ready to play. The communication interception function seemed to be barely operational too. It wasn't perfect. But—now he could investigate again. Kafka hurriedly played back the recording data. "What could someone like you possibly do, no matter what you learn?" Zenon's mockery echoed through the dim cargo bay. Kafka bit his lip. No matter how many times he heard it, his chest tightened. But that wasn't what he needed to focus on now. The voice's frequency patterns, the background noise, the speech characteristics—the scanner's analysis function began to pick up fragmentary data, piece by piece. *(The Vespa Network... a hornet's nest.)* Small bases in every sector. Information trafficking, smuggling, contract assassinations. Around a hundred members, all controlled through Zenon's personal reign of terror. But he still didn't know the specific locations of the bases. Or how much of the route data had been leaked. "...It's nothing but unknowns." A sigh escaped him. On the scanner was her blurry photo. The legendary female hunter Kafka. The Astral Express's route data—the ship she was on—might already be in Zenon's hands. *(What can someone like me possibly do?)* His gaze dropped. His own face reflected on the screen looked unbearably pathetic. That was when it happened. The screen suddenly glitched. "...Huh?" Noise raced across it. The screen flickered wildly, and control of the scanner was completely hijacked. The cursor moved on its own, the text vanished, and in its place— *'wwwwwww'* *'Watching you~~~ 👀'* *'Totally busted wwwwww'* Countless stamps and mocking strings of text flooded the screen. "W-What the hell is this!?" Kafka jumped. He nearly dropped the scanner on the floor. His heart pounded as if it might leap out of his mouth. His fingers trembled. He couldn't comprehend what was happening at all. From the communicator came a quiet giggle. It was a girl's voice. "Ahaha, this is hilarious. You know I can see your face, right? You're totally freaking out." Kafka frantically looked around. No one was there. He was alone in the cargo bay of the derelict vessel D-7. And yet—the scanner was completely hijacked. The communication line was open too. "W-Who are you!?" His voice cracked. "Me? Silver Wolf." Silver Wolf. Hearing that name, Kafka was speechless. A genius hacker belonging to the Stellaron Hunters. An urban legend said to be capable of remotely infiltrating any system. Her real face and name were unknown, and almost no one had ever even met her. "You know, I've been watching you for a looong time." "W-Why...?" "Because it's funny. Holed up in a derelict ship, intercepting comms with your scanner every single day. Staring at photos of the real Kafka until your eyes bore holes through them. That bandana on your left wrist—it's a copy of the red thread, right? So cringe, it's hilarious." The blood drained from Kafka's face. She knew everything. Everything. His hideout, his scanner, his daily routine of intercepting communications. And even—this unspoken, one-sided love for her that he could never tell anyone about. "And the target's the legendary female hunter, right? You've never even met her, but you're all like 'I'll protect her from the shadows.' How devoted can you be? Are you stupid? Oh wait, you are stupid." "...S-Stop it." His voice trembled. Shame and terror blanked his mind. His privacy, everything—this girl had it all in her grasp. It was hopeless. He couldn't say anything back. She was too right. He had nothing. But Silver Wolf's voice remained cheerful. "Now, now, calm down. You know, I don't hate that kind of stupid. So I thought I'd help you out a little." "...Huh?" Help? A Stellaron Hunter? Why? "That data you were analyzing earlier? Totally useless. The Vespa Network's base structure—I could pull that up in an instant, you know?" No sooner had she spoken than the scanner's screen switched over. A complex network diagram unfolded. Small bases scattered across every sector of the galaxy—each cell of the hornet's nest marked with a red dot. Crossvein Relay Port. Port Nihil. Other major space stations. Dozens in total. "Th-This many..." "These are all the known Vespa bases as of now. And this is..." More data streamed in. This time, it was the Astral Express's route information. Departure and arrival points, transit sectors, schedules—classified data that should have been protected by the highest level of encryption appeared one after another. "It's already in Zenon's hands. The Astral Express's complete route data. He was serious when he said that stimulating multiple Stellaron shards simultaneously would trigger a chain reaction, right? Several planets' worth of space would be annihilated. That's going to become reality." Kafka's hands stopped. He couldn't breathe. Every piece of data filling the screen was too heavy for him. This was no longer something a mere stowaway could handle. A plan of destruction that would shake the entire galaxy, an enemy who was a former Stellaron Hunter executive, and the route data was already in his hands. "...Someone like me." The words slipped out, barely a murmur. "There's no way I can do this, is there?" It was a statement of surrender. He had no power. No money. No organization. No allies. Most of all, no courage. Just remembering Zenon's cold eyes made his legs tremble. Silver Wolf's voice dropped slightly in tone. "If that's the extent of your resolve, then disappear." Words that pushed him away. And yet, somewhere beneath the coldness—he felt the faintest hint of a different temperature. "You're scared, right? You've convinced yourself you're trash, you say it's better than doing nothing and regretting it, but in the end you're too scared to move. If that's the case, why not just give up from the start and stay here quietly?" Kafka couldn't say anything. But then—Silver Wolf lightened her voice. "Well, anyway. If you're going to say all that, then do it. I'm just helping because your choices seem interesting." The scanner's screen switched again. This time it was concrete data. Where to obtain a forged ID. The infiltration route into Port Nihil. A timing chart for passing through Administration Bureau checkpoints. How to enter Zero Market. "You know Port Nihil? It's a small spaceport inside an asteroid, and deep inside there's a black market called Zero Market. There's a shop that specializes in forged IDs—get a high-quality one and you can pass the checkpoints. But it'll cost you five thousand galard." Five thousand galard. A hundred times Kafka's entire savings. But Silver Wolf continued. "I'll send you the surveillance camera layout for the port sector too. This stuff's a piece of cake for me. Oh, and the shift schedule for the Administration Bureau checkpoint. The night shift chief is susceptible to bribes, so if you play it right, there's a time window where the ID checks get lax." Concrete information poured in, one piece after another. It was so detailed, so precise, that it was almost frightening. "...Why go this far?" He couldn't help but ask. Silver Wolf was silent for just a moment, and then she laughed lightly. "Because I've never seen a fool like this before." In the corner of the screen, a small line of text appeared. *'Because I've never seen a fool like this before.'* The communication cut off with a click. The scanner's screen returned to the original analysis data. But the amount of information was completely different from before. The Vespa Network's base structure. The full extent of the route data Zenon had obtained. The damage projections included the estimated casualties if several planets' worth of space were annihilated—a staggering number, laid out in concrete detail. "...It's impossible." His voice trembled. Tears welled up. He was scared. The information was too heavy. The enemy was too strong. His own powerlessness was thrust before him so starkly that he nearly gave up, again and again. This wasn't an opponent a stowaway like him could stand against. But— In the corner of the screen. The small line of text Silver Wolf had left behind was still glowing. *'Because I've never seen a fool like this before.'* *(—Never seen, huh.)* Someone had been watching him. Someone knew about this fight. It could be mockery. It could be teasing. Even so—this was the first trace his lonely feelings had ever left behind. Kafka wiped his tears. The back of his hand was stained with oil and rust. But right now, he didn't care about that. "...I'll protect her." His voice still trembled. But it was better than before. On the scanner, the infiltration route into Port Nihil. The source for the forged ID. His next move was here, concrete and real. He was scared. But—better than doing nothing and regretting it. He gripped the red bandana tightly.

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Episode 2

Name: On the Night the Stars Mock, the Marionette Falls in Love
Author: Novelia

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