Chapter 30: Hound Model

Doing the right thing doesn’t always lead to happiness.

It’s a sad truth, but that’s just how the world works.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m broke.

So, I decided to have the kids I took in start working. Feeding six extra mouths is no joke, and I don’t have the duty—or the ability—to support them all. I’m not their parent or sibling.

Which brings us to now, where Eevee the Examiner is assessing their aptitude.

She’s supposedly competent. After all, she once led Tooth’s sniper unit and has trained subordinates before. So I figured I’d leave it to her, but now that I think about it, the fact her entire unit got wiped out doesn’t exactly scream “competent.” And considering she later defected to the enemy, “competent” might be too generous. Maybe “absolute disaster” is more accurate.

“…”

Well, not like I could do it myself anyway, so I’ve got no room to complain.

“Hey, Touji! Got the results!”

She called me over with a “Get your ass over here!” tone, so I obediently walked over.

“This one’s got what it takes to be a warrior. This one doesn’t.”

“Got it.”

The four on the right were deemed warriors, while the two on the left were not. I felt a pang of disappointment seeing Souta standing on the left, but at the same time, it wasn’t all that surprising.

Up until now, he’d probably been pushing himself as the oldest male in the group. But since I’d taken over that role, there was no longer any need for him to keep pretending to be a soldier.

“Has anyone here worked any kind of job before?”

One from the warrior group and both from the non-warrior side raised their hands. When I asked for details, it turned out they’d only done basic chores—cleaning and the like. No real skills to speak of.

What should I do with them? I thought about it. No answers came. Oh well.

“For now, let’s head to the Doggy House.”

***

The Doggy House has a system called the Puppy Walker program.

In it, the apprentice dogs are called “puppies,” and the program nurtures talented individuals as potential puppy candidates. They learn the basics of being a soldier and even get paid for it.

It’s basically a scholarship program with benefits included.

I decided to make use of this system.

“I’m a Hound. I’ve brought some talented kids. Please let us enroll in the Puppy Walker program.”

“Denied.”

Potato Man shut me down without a second thought.

“May I ask why?”

I glared at him, silently cursing that stubby mustache of his.

“Because it’s an obvious lie. Those kids don’t have the skill or talent you claim.”

Get it, you damn mutt, Potato Man added with a sneer.

“…I don’t think much of a world where grown-ups tell kids they have no talent.”

“If you want that kind of sugarcoated kindness, pay up.”

“Then, five thousand C.”

“You actually paid it.”

“Give me lunch for seven.”

“So it was just lunch money. That’s such a weirdly specific amount, damn it.”

Grumbling and curling his mouth into a crooked frown, Potato Man headed to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, I made my way toward the usual corner of the counter where the woman in field fatigues always sat.

“…So, how’d it go?”

“I heard it allll.”

“Any way to—”

“No wayyy~”

“I see.”

When Potato Man turned me down, I went straight to the Puppy Walker herself, but that didn’t work either.

Marry-san rested her cheek lazily against the counter with a plop. She was the same as always: a sultry, older woman pleasantly tipsy, with a soft flush and a slow, alcohol-laced sigh as she exhaled. Her heavy-lidded eyes drifted toward me.

“Sure, with enough effort, you can overcome a bit of the talent gap, but to reach the level of a ‘Hound’? Yeah, no chance~”

And then she added—

“Tell me, can you even explain how you hit your targets?”

“Huh? I just aim and shoot.”

“Fufu… and how exactly do you aim~?”

How…? Well, obviously—

“I just think, ‘I’ll hit it,’ and I do.”

“Ahaha… Touji-kun~”

“Yes?”

“House.”

“…Woof.”

That was her not-so-subtle way of telling me to get lost. Harsh.

Scratching my head, I obediently made my way back to the table where Eevee and the kids were waiting. As I approached, expectant eyes turned toward me. I scratched my cheek this time. I searched for the words, but nothing came out.

And just from that, they probably figured out the result.

Without a word, I was told to sit down.

---

“If it’s just one of them, I could take them in at Kamisawa Heavy Industries, or rather, I’ll take care of them myself. I’ve been wanting an assistant anyway.”

Thirteen thousand C a month sound good? Akito offered.

It was exactly the lifeline I needed. Still peering through my scope, I replied, “Thank you. I accept,” and pulled the trigger.

The recoil from the stock against my shoulder was minimal, allowing for a smooth reload. I fired a second round—direct hit, no issues.

The blue and red bubble had its core pierced and burst apart, dying instantly.

The kids’ job hunt wasn’t going well.

If their lives didn’t matter, I could’ve just registered them as mercenaries through the Doggy House and sent them off on whatever jobs came up. But more than the kids themselves—or even me—it was Eevee who was firmly against that.

Her words: “If they’re not warriors, they shouldn’t be on the battlefield! Don’t put them there!”

Well, I agreed with her. So I’ve been obediently following that stance.

Which means, for now, I have no choice but to shoulder the burden myself.

This time, I took on a bubble-thinning job.

The request came from Uraba, a city owned by an artisan guild—the same one that manages the Doggy House.

The pay was 250,000 C, ammo included. All I had to do was eliminate a hundred bubbles, and the job would be done.

Technically, using chemical-filled water guns or blasting them away with shockwaves would be way more efficient, but—

“So? How’s the Hound Model treating you?”

“Feels great. Easy to shoot.”

Since this also doubled as a test for the centipede unit, I couldn’t exactly slack off.

In the end, it was Akito’s version of Trigger Happy that got the official approval. With future commercialization in mind, they’re planning to release it under the product name Trigger Happy: Sniper Model. But among them, there’s one unit—a one-of-a-kind machine, fully tuned just for me.

That’s the Hound Model.

The centipede unit I’m wearing now.

What I’m doing out here is a real-combat field test to uncover any remaining flaws. Since it’s a custom variant of the Sniper Model, the data I gather here will apparently feed back into improving the production version.

They’re paying me 100,000 C for this job. So, sorry bubbles, but I’ll be killing you while gathering data. I plan to make it count.