The day after Hinomiya Reika left.
I was at my workshop from early morning, browsing a security system quote site on my PC.
That 15 million yen windfall was no joke.
(Yeah, a physical shutter’s a must. And the magic-sensing alarm system—better go with an A-rank one...)
My motto is “Safety first.”
This workshop is my castle.
Since I don’t go anywhere near the frontlines, I have to make this place a fortress instead.
If word got out that I repaired an S-rank sword, all kinds of troublesome people might come sniffing around.
Better safe than sorry.
I tossed the highest-grade security plan I could find into the cart.
Meanwhile, Reika was in the underground training hall of the “Silver Wings” guild headquarters.
Standing before her with his arms crossed was the Guildmaster, Ogami Kengo.
He was in his mid-forties, the scars across his rugged face a testament to his past as a battle-hardened S-rank veteran.
“—So, Reika. Your sword really was repaired?”
“Yes, Guildmaster. Please take a look.”
Reika drew the restored magic sword “Flametongue”.
When she poured mana into it, the blade erupted with flames far fiercer than yesterday’s.
“[Magic Sword Release]—Flame Slash.”
Her S-rank skill activated.
The signature technique that allowed her to draw out a magic sword’s full power.
The flaming strike cleaved through the air and slammed into a training A-rank golem.
BOOM!
With a roar, flames engulfed it.
Normally, an A-rank golem could withstand several hits—but this one melted down in a single blow.
“... Impossible.”
Ogami’s eyes widened.
“The power’s up... by a factor of 1.2—no, 1.3 compared to before the break.”
“Yes. That man, Kirishima Haruto, said he merely ‘restored it to its original performance.’”
“With an F-rank skill?”
Ogami groaned.
Skill ranks among Awakened are absolute.
F-rank is F-rank.
Restoring—and even strengthening—an S-rank artifact was unthinkable.
“Did you appraise him?”
“Of course. But his skill only reads as ‘F-rank (Junk Repair)’. There’s some sort of appraisal interference—noise, perhaps.”
“He’s no F-rank. That much is certain.”
Ogami made the call instantly.
“That man is a national—no, global treasure. Reika.”
“Yes, Guildmaster.”
“Secure him. By any means necessary. Do not let any other guild—or worse, another nation—get to him.”
“... Secure him, sir?”
“That’s right. ‘Silver Wings’ will claim him for ourselves. That’s the consensus of the guild.”
His eyes burned with conviction.
Artifact restoration and enhancement—he knew full well just how much strategic value that held.
And the one person capable of it was living unguarded as a supposed F-rank.
A risk far too great to ignore.
“Kirishima Haruto—his person and his techniques, all of it are to be placed under guild protection.”
“... Understood.”
Reika nodded quietly.
But within her chest, emotions quite different from Ogami’s intentions were swirling.
(That man... he understood my sword completely.)
The sensation when she gripped the restored blade—
It had fit into her hand as naturally as her own limb, mana flowing through it like it belonged there.
He hadn’t merely repaired it.
He’d grasped its very essence.
(I must protect him.)
Not for the guild.
But as the only craftsman who could truly handle her sword.
Reika’s resolve was already diverging—just slightly—from the Guildmaster’s orders.
Of course, I knew none of this.
I was grinning at my bank balance, wondering whether to splurge on a deluxe eel rice box for lunch.
(15 million yen... If I can get even one A-rank request a month, I’ll be living the dream—passive income life!)
Well, not really passive. Repair work is labor.
Still, safe labor’s the kind I like best.
Clang.
The workshop bell rang again.
(Oh, already got another customer from word of mouth?)
I looked up, hopeful—
And standing there again was none other than Hinomiya Reika.
This time, she wasn’t in her “Silver Wings” battle uniform, but dressed casually: black rider’s jacket and denim. Stylish, yet deadly composed.
“Ah, hey there, Reika-san. How’s the sword holding up?”
“... Excellently.”
She replied in a clipped, slightly irritable tone.
Then she dropped a large attaché case onto the counter with a thud.
“This is thanks for yesterday’s repair.”
“Eh? But I already got the 15 million.”
“This is separate.”
She opened the case.
Inside were dazzling ores and monster hides inscribed with eerie runes.
“These are... A-rank materials—Mithril Silver Ore and Chimera Magic Hide?!”
Each of them was worth millions on the market—top-class materials, no question.
As I gawked, Reika said matter-of-factly,
“They were surplus from the guild’s vault. You’ll need high-quality materials for your repairs.”
(Surplus, she says?! You’ve gotta be kidding me!)
Still—grateful. Hugely grateful.
But man, what kind of financial sense do S-rank guilds even have?
Just this lot was worth more than all my workshop’s stock combined.
“Ah, thank you so much... I’ll make good use of them.”
“Good.”
Reika nodded in satisfaction.
But she didn’t make any move to leave.
Instead, she calmly sat herself down on the guest sofa in the corner.
“Um, Reika-san? Something else you needed?”
“Ah. The main point—I nearly forgot.”
Her crimson eyes fixed squarely on me.
“I’d like you to accept a protection request.”
“... Huh?”
Protection?
As in... bodyguarding?
“Me, protect you? No way, that’s impossible. I’m F-rank, remember?”
“The other way around.”
Reika’s face said she could hardly believe my stupidity.
“I will be the one protecting you.”
“... Huhhh?!”
That made zero sense.
Why would Japan’s strongest S-rank attacker be guarding a nobody F-rank repairman like me?
“That’s not necessary, really. I don’t go into dungeons. I hardly ever leave this workshop. It’s perfectly safe.”
“And what makes you so certain it’s safe?”
Her tone sharpened.
“Your technology is too dangerous. Yesterday, I requested the repair of an S-rank magic sword. Once that fact spreads, people will come for you—foreign guilds, criminal syndicates...”
(Oh... yeah. I did think about that earlier.)
Hence, the security system shopping spree.
“That’s why I’ll be guarding you. I already have the Guildmaster’s permission.”
“Wait, but having someone like you stationed here—how much would that even cost? I can’t possibly afford—”
“No payment required.”
“What?”
“This is an investment from Silver Wings in its most critical technical asset—you. All you need to do is keep repairing as usual.”
With that, she crossed her arms and closed her eyes on the sofa.
Clearly intent on staying.
(... Something about this conversation feels off.)
Reika seemed convinced that my skill was some world-breaking miracle.
Meanwhile, I saw it as a lucky fluke—an F-rank ability that happens to work on artifacts.
That gap in perception was... enormous.
She thought I was worth assassinating over.
She thought I needed a bodyguard.
(... Still...)
I stole a glance at the S-rank attacker sitting there.
Even out of uniform, she looked stunning.
If someone like that wanted to guard me—for free, no less—
That’s basically a complete security upgrade at zero cost, right?
(... Yeah, I can’t say no to that.)
Might be a hassle, but I’ll take the practical win.
“... All right. Then, I’ll take you up on your offer. Please, protect me, Reika-san.”
“Of course. Don’t play dumb. I’ll protect you—no matter what.”
(I’m not playing dumb...)
And so, thanks to one monumental misunderstanding, an S-rank attacker became my workshop’s live-in gatekeeper.
Where my peaceful repairman life would go from here—
Even I couldn’t begin to guess.
Just then, the door opened again.
A modest-looking woman in a business suit stood there, nervously eyeing the “Office Assistant Wanted (¥1,200/hr)” flyer on the wall.
What do you think about this chapter?
