Slacking Professionally at Tracen [75]

Just mentioning Uma Musume hunters was enough to ignite Kitahara Sota’s rage.

Aside from their utterly inhumane methods, what infuriated him most was that these bastards seemed to follow him everywhere he went, striking wherever he turned up.

Before entering Tracen, when he chatted with a trusted veteran—one of the few adults he respected besides the retired designer—he learned there had been 68 Uma Musume hunting incidents throughout JP in recent years.

And he alone had encountered 64 of them.

Are you assholes hunting Uma Musume or hunting me?

Where are the Three Goddesses when you need them?!

Despite preferring a calm, plant-like existence devoid of trouble, the Uma Musume hunting business was clearly beyond his limits. This was something he couldn’t simply ignore.

While most incidents could be resolved by informing the police or Uma Musume security teams—or even simply alerting nearby adults—not all were that easy.

For instance, the incident involving Special Week. By the time he’d discovered what had happened, Special Week had already been captured and loaded onto a transport. He’d had no time to call for help; his only option was to act personally.

Sure, he could’ve asked the police and local villagers to form a search party and scour the mountains. But Uma Musume hunters weren’t like ordinary traffickers. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill if cornered, since even a dead Uma Musume fetched a high price—easier to transport, too.

He wasn’t about to gamble Special Week’s life on their desperation. Instead, he tracked them himself, found an opportunity to free Special Week, and together they subdued the hunters and escaped.

However, before leaving, he’d told Special Week he needed a bathroom break. Then he discreetly drugged the hunters further, crippled their ability to move, and left them bleeding, scattering their blood around.

Unable to move, bleeding out in the wilderness—what would happen next?

Kitahara didn’t know and didn’t care.

He hadn’t killed them directly, after all. Being attacked by wild beasts in the mountains was entirely plausible, wasn’t it?

Yet even Special Week’s incident wasn’t the worst he’d experienced—it only ranked slightly above average difficulty among the situations he’d faced.

Most Uma Musume hunters were amateurs blinded by greed: poorly armed, small in number, and lacking experience.

But not all were that easy.

The toughest group he’d encountered consisted of nearly thirty trained professionals—disciplined, organized, and dangerously well-equipped:

Crossbows, hunting rifles, tranquilizer darts, night-vision goggles, bulletproof vests…

This was a world with almost no major conflicts, where military technology and weaponry were incredibly limited. JP was particularly strict on firearms, making such an outfit absurdly overpowered.

So how had Kitahara dealt with them?

Simple: he hadn’t.

He’d only been a child back then. Incapacitating four or five adults through drugging and ambushes was already pushing his limits. Taking on a trained unit directly was pure suicide.

But did that mean he stood helplessly aside while they captured Uma Musume?

Of course not.

He couldn’t face them alone, but who said he was alone?

First was Eclipse, who refused to heed his warnings and insisted on joining him. As for the other…

To this day, he still didn’t know her name.

He only knew she was around the same age as the retired designer, had a terrible temper, and was frighteningly strong. Armed with nothing but a wooden sword, she’d easily cut down half the enemy force.

Eclipse had dealt with the remainder.

And Kitahara himself?

He’d quietly followed behind the two girls. For each opponent they knocked down, he delivered a final blow, ensuring no survivors.

Unlike Eclipse, who fought viciously but not necessarily lethally, Kitahara preferred quiet efficiency—he simply finished them off.

After dispatching half of them, the older Uma Musume wielding the wooden sword noticed him, her eye twitching slightly in annoyance.

“I was leaving them alive for interrogation.”

Ah. Well, my mistake.

He immediately withdrew.

After that incident, he’d become acquainted with this fearsome person.

However, likely due to her occupation, she was often busy and greatly disliked interruptions. Unless she approached him first, even a casual holiday greeting via LINE risked earning a scolding.

Unlike the retired designer who expressed displeasure verbally or through petty revenge, this woman preferred settling matters physically, often quite harshly.

Thus, even after a month at Tracen, Kitahara hadn’t contacted her once—not even to inform her of his arrival—fearing it might disturb her work and earn him a beating later.

Curiously, despite meeting many kind elderly Uma Musume in his travels, these two with unpleasant personalities had ironically become the closest to him.

It was odd if he thought about it, but Kitahara didn’t dwell on such things.

Though he considered this woman one of the only two elders he genuinely trusted, he still didn’t know her name.

But does it really matter?

A name was just a title. Whatever she was called wouldn’t change their bond. And asking might lead to another beating—so why bother?

Yet, even this fierce senior made exceptions: when it came to Uma Musume hunters, she never got angry if he sought help, even proactively assisting him when needed.

But contacting her required substantial evidence first. With merely vague information—like Tracen knowing little beyond someone manipulating the Black Forest—he’d definitely earn another beating.

Despite extensive experience, Kitahara didn’t consider himself an expert on Uma Musume hunters.

Hunters weren’t a single organization but rather a profession—diverse, inconsistent, and totally unregulated.

At their best, they formed professional teams of thirty skilled operators. At worst, there were lone idiots attempting to abduct Uma Musume single-handedly.

In one case, Kitahara arrived to find a solo hunter barely alive after attempting to abduct a recently-matured Uma Musume—and nearly getting kicked to death.

Such extremes made it impossible to define a clear “expertise.”

Still, that made sense. Under the Three Goddesses’ watch, if Uma Musume hunting truly became standardized, Kitahara would seriously question the goddesses’ competence.

…Why did it suddenly feel chilly?

Just my imagination.

Shaking off the strange sensation of being watched, Kitahara turned back to Chairwoman Akikawa.

“Though I’m no expert, I’ve dealt with them enough to have some practical experience. If possible, I can investigate the Black Forest and see if I can uncover anything new for you.”

Chairwoman Akikawa clapped her fan decisively.

“Excellent! Then we’ll entrust you with full authority over the remaining Black Forest investigations!”

Kitahara blinked. “…What?”

Hold on—what do you mean, ‘full authority’?

Hayakawa Tazuna looked apologetic, shifting her gaze slightly.

“Well, Trainer Kitahara, the situation is…as previously mentioned, we have many new transfer students arriving soon. The first group arrives next week, so I’m completely tied up handling academy preparations…”

Kitahara’s eye twitched, turning to Symboli Rudolf, who appeared deep in thought.

“And what about her?”

“With more students arriving, the Student Council workload will only increase. President Rudolf will also be extremely busy…”

Kitahara stared in disbelief.

“You can’t just push this onto a rookie trainer!”

Was Tracen some kind of exploitative sweatshop? Grabbing someone useful and working them to death?

“But you’re our leading expert—I mean, the academy’s most experienced in this area,” Tazuna quickly amended. “And based on my observations, despite forming your team, your daily schedule isn’t very demanding…”

Kitahara flinched.

Crap. Caught slacking by the boss.

He hurriedly sought an excuse, but Tazuna spoke again first.

“Of course, Tracen isn’t some heartless corporation. If you’re truly unwilling, we won’t force you. But considering your recent…financial situation, if you accept—”

Thunk.

With a warm smile, Tazuna brought out a large case and opened it, revealing neat stacks of cash inside.

“This is only part of your compensation—and not just financial. Should you accept and produce results, the Chairwoman is willing to grant you certain special privileges within the academy. Though specifics are confidential, you’ll at least have free access to the confinement facility…”

“No way.”

Kitahara cut her off abruptly.

Tazuna paused, confused, then quickly added, “Was that offensive? If so, I sincerely apologize. I didn’t mean—”

“No,” Kitahara interrupted, shaking his head with a smile. He rubbed his fingers together lightly.

“I meant the Black Forest issue is too dangerous, so…”

“You’ll have to pay more.”

—

T/N: money hehe

This is a fan translation of 人在特雷森，专职摆烂 by 多功能复读机 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!