Chapter 1: Paper-Colored Dream
The sunlight in Paper City was so dazzling it was blinding, or perhaps it was the reflection from the densely packed skyscrapers. The old intercity bus screeched to a halt. Rachel stepped off, her small shoes touching the city sidewalk with the timidity of a country bumpkin. With her pale skin, flowing platinum blonde hair, and spiraling sheep horns on her head, she looked like an unemployed muse searching for her fortune. Rachel tightened her grip on her bag, taking a deep breath of the smoky, dusty air mixed with the vanilla scent from the nearby ice cream shop.
"Whoosh!!!"
A roaring motorcycle sped past, so close that the wind from its blast made her black dress billow wildly. Rachel jumped, her sheep horns nearly hitting a lamppost. She froze for five seconds, her heart pounding, telling herself, "Calm down, Rachel, this is a big city, everyone's... just quick."
She began to walk, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in everything. Paper City was magnificent! People with wings glided through the air like ribbons of silk, children laughed and played with balloons shaped like monsters, and crowds bustled about. While engrossed in watching a winged man gracefully land to buy a hotdog, Rachel suddenly felt a powerful jolt from directly in front of her.
"CRASH!"
"Oh my Book!" – Rachel stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.
A tall, burly man, wearing a dusty leather jacket and with his face obscured by a baseball cap pulled low, snarled:
"Are your eyes on your horns? Look where you're going!"
"I... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" – Rachel mumbled, bowing deeply in the manner of a well-behaved country girl. The man merely snorted coldly and slipped past her, disappearing into the crowd as quickly as a ghost. After asking for directions until she felt dizzy, Rachel finally found the cheap room she had booked. The room was tiny, smelling of old wood, but what caught her attention most was the letter prominently displayed on the table. The envelope bore the logo of a sword crossed over a bronze shield, accompanied by the imposing inscription:
WAR-RESTORE FORCE (WRF) or Steel Guard
This was the most notorious private military organization in Paper City. They did everything: from clearing old battlefields and apprehending dangerous criminals to providing protection for politicians. Rachel had applied, hoping to fulfill her dream.
"I got in! I'm going to be a high-class mercenary!" Rachel exclaimed excitedly, tearing open the letter.
Inside was an acceptance letter... and a long, accompanying bill. Rachel excitedly read the first line, then the smile on her lips slowly froze, turned to stone, and then shattered. Input cost categories: Application processing fee, Risk insurance fee, Basic weapon rental fee, Fund contribution fee. TOTAL: 40,000+ (Excluding interest)
Rachel: "Four... forty thousand? Are they hiring me or selling me debt?!"
She gasped, sweat beading on her forehead. "It's okay, it's okay... I still have my life savings from back home."
Rachel tremblingly reached into her handbag, fumbling for her flower-patterned leather wallet. She pulled it out, but the strangely light feeling made her heart skip a beat. She opened the wallet. Empty. Not a single coin. Even her spare ID photo was gone. In that moment of brain freeze, a slow-motion scene flashed through her mind: The rude man from earlier... the "accidental" collision... the skillful maneuver... Rachel stood frozen in the room, her ram horns seemingly drooping in despair. She suddenly realized: Not only was she drowning in debt on her first day in the city, but she had also just given away her entire fortune to a professional pickpocket.
Rachel: "Dream city... that damn thing!!!"
Next Day: Rachel, dragging her weary body, trudged toward the reception desk. There, a slender robot in a crisp reception uniform stood waiting. Instead of a human face, C-Ina possessed a high-resolution digital screen, currently displaying a friendly smile with narrowed, arc-shaped eyes.
C-Ina: "Welcome to the Steel Guard! Are you here to register for a cleaning service, or to sell something?"
Rachel tremblingly pulled out her newly issued recruit card (which also served as her mobile promissory note). C-Ina's screen suddenly turned blue, displaying a large question mark, then back to orange as she recognized the code.
C-Ina: "Ah! A promising rookie! Before we begin, I need to check your basic survival procedures. So, do you have:
1. A manager to take the blame for your mistakes?
2. A squad to blame when you fail?
3. A 'Death Sentence Waiver' – the kind of document that allows us to leave your corpse on the battlefield without being sued?
4. Insurance for sensitive body parts (Especially those horns, they look... worth something on the black market)?"
Rachel froze, her mouth agape. The words "death sentence wail" and "black market" buzzed around her head like flies.
Rachel: "Is...is there capital in there...? Tilting her head, she made a pitiful face.
C-Ina's screen displayed a series of code scrolling down, then showed a "helpless" expression with the character ┐(‘～ )┌`.
C-Ina: "Don't use that on a robot, I don't have a nerve for empathy. But since you look like you're about to faint from lack of energy, I'll give you a crash course on this world. Buckle up, because knowledge is about to pour into your head like a waterfall!"
Paper City & WRF Operating System:
C-Ina leads Rachel to a giant 3D control panel where data begins to dance:
1. The "Paper Ladder" Hierarchy System:
The organization is not divided by conventional military ranks but by Profile Density:
* Paper Rank: Recruits, only allowed to clean up and pick up battlefield debris.
* Cover Rank: Official mercenaries, allowed to handle real guns/weapons.
* Steel Rank: "Monsters" capable of leveling an entire neighborhood.
2. "Debris Cleaning" Job:
After the previous great war, the world is full of disgusting post-war entities—biological weapons or out-of-control machines trapped in spatial rifts. WRF's mission is to "clean" them up. If you clean them up, you earn money. If you let it swallow you whole, you become... garbage that needs to be cleaned up.
3. Currency & "Survival Tax":
In Paper City, money isn't just for spending. You have to pay a "Life Maintenance Fee" to the organization every day. If your account balance stays negative for too long, you'll be stripped of your citizenship and become a "Weapon Testing Subject."
4. Unspoken Rules - "The Blank Zone":
Paper City looks glamorous on the outside, but there are areas called the Blank Zone – places where the law doesn't touch, and where WRF mercenaries frequently "settle" their differences to compete for mandates.
C-Ina's Final Blow. After about two hours of "cramming," Rachel's head literally started smoking. Her sheep horns seemed to weigh several tons more because they contained so much terrifying information.
C-Ina: "Understood, little lamb? And here's some good news for you: Because you just participated in my intensive training course, your account has just been debited an additional 500 Credits for educational consulting fees!"
C-Ina's screen displayed a mischievous smiley face :D.
Rachel: "..." (Frozen in place)
To be continued
