Story Reader / Event Story / Stellar Narratives / Story
Next, I'll try for the 5-ball in the corner pocket. Commandant, you keep an eye on the devices for me.
If you're watching, nothing will go wrong.
And I plan to deliver.
In the billiards room during the Double Seventh Festival, the spotlight pools on the emerald felt of the table. Chrome stands at the front, posture straight as a pine.
In front of you are several diagnostic devices wired to the table.
To explain why you're here now, you have to rewind a bit.
It started with reports that some of the festival's automated pool tables were acting up and needed to be sent back for checks.
Somehow, the people roped into helping ended up being you and Chrome.
Chrome leans forward a little, eyes locked on the cue ball and the orange target. His focus is razor-sharp.
In the next instant, his cue moves like an arrow loosed from a bow, striking the cue ball with a crisp, clean sound. It rolls forward with perfect speed and hits the orange ball near the pocket.
No suspense, no deviation—the orange ball drops neatly into the hole.
Beep—
The slightly raspy built-in chime confirms the shot.
I'm just the only one nearby who knows how to play. There are plenty of better players in Babylonia.
But knowing the game did give me the chance to do this with you. I'd say that counts as a new experience.
He answers with a small smile, then turns back to the table to find his next target.
Next is the 3-ball. Know what color it is?
That's right, solid red. There's also a striped red, where only the middle section's colored.
The 3-ball is solid red. There's also a striped red, where only the middle section's colored.
He picks up both balls, showing you the difference.
Because I want a game with you after the test.
You never know until you try. Let's finish the test so we can find out.
He puts the balls back, takes a deep breath, and leans in for another shot.
This time his stance is lower, the cue angled close to the felt. When the cue ball hits the red, it doesn't follow through—it spins sharply in reverse, tracing a smooth arc across the table.
Like an artist's brushstroke on green canvas.
The target ball drops into the pocket.
Every shot after that, Chrome calculates the angles, the force, and the cue ball's path with precision. Each ball moves as if it follows his command, gliding gracefully across the table.
His skill isn't just in landing the shot—it's in controlling the entire game.
It's like he's mapped out the whole table in his head, planning every move so the game flows without a hitch.
Hey, the test's going fine, right?
Just as Chrome prepares to hit the final black ball, a voice crackles from the device.
You remember me? I'm the one who asked you to run this check. No camera in the room, but I can see through the table's remote program that there's only one ball left.
Let the Gray Raven Commandant take the last shot.
Any particular reason?
Control variable. Standard test procedure. I'll make sure you get your payment.
The connection cuts out.
Looks like the organizers are busy... well, consider this a warm-up. The last shot's yours, Commandant.
You take Chrome's cue, lining up the white ball with the black.
Thanks to Chrome's setup, all it needs is a straight shot. Normally, it'd be a sure thing.
Beep!
Watch out, Commandant!
Before the ball even drops, the chime sounds, and something shoots out of the pocket.
When you open your eyes again, Chrome's got one arm around you for support. His other arm is stretched toward where the object flew from, his hand wrapped tightly around it.
You alright?
You avoided a hit thanks to his quick reflexes, but the awkward pose makes it hard to focus.
Then.
...Sorry about that, Commandant. Ha...
For some reason, the two of you end up laughing.
Didn't expect to find the fault on the last shot... Guess our game will have to wait. I'll file the report, then let's pack up and go.
I booked a table at a restaurant nearby. The chef's an old acquaintance from a mission, and he asked me to bring someone to try his cooking.
This time, I promise nothing's going wrong.
