So that explains why Bobby has been treating me like shit.
After all, I'm just a bed toy, and with a few words, I got An Nishang to go investigate that black man.
Needless to say, that black man's probably been having a rough time these past three days.
But something still feels off.
The showdown between me and the black man should be pretty important.
So why did An Nishang send Bobby?
Bobby's one of Moore's guys. If he wants to get revenge on me—a pretty boy in the way—for his boss, he might just try something on the road…
A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind—living in a world like this, I can't afford to let my guard down.
Ideas were already forming in my head.
Clutching my savory pancake to my chest, I walked out of the villa with quiet confidence and got into the Judicial Bureau's squad car.
Bobby was right behind me.
As soon as everyone had boarded, the car started up. I heard a sharp click—Bobby had actually whipped out his revolver, cocked it, and pressed it right up to my temple.
My expression froze up—what the hell does this bastard think he's doing?
Bobby was glaring at me with a face full of rage and disgust: "You fucking dog—just a pretty boy warming a woman's bed—and you dare frame my boss? When you get to the station, watch your fucking mouth! You try to screw over my boss, and I'll fucking cripple you…"
So he's just a brainless dumbass with muscles for brains… I instantly felt relieved inside. Looks like the guy hasn't figured out what it means that An Nishang sent us to the showdown.
I had it all figured out now.
At first, I thought the confrontation between the black man and me was really significant.
But then I thought it over carefully.
I only told An Nishang that the black man recommended that casino to me. Now she wants me to confront him, so only two possibilities exist.
One: An Nishang couldn't find any holes in the black man's story, so she needs me there for the face-off. Not that helpful, though.
Even if the black man openly admits recommending me to the casino, unless An Nishang has other evidence, there's nothing she can do to him just on that.
Executing an underboss on a whim would just lose her public support.
The other possibility: An Nishang actually dug up evidence linking the black man to the arms hijacking and the Tasting Commerce Association.
If so, why put on such a show and drag me in to confront him?
I'm just a small-time boy-toy—what difference do I make?
What the hell is this woman really up to?
I couldn't figure it out—my head was starting to hurt.
As for the thick-skull Bobby next to me—ever since he pressed his gun to my head, I had no fear at all.
"Go ahead, shoot if you've got the balls." I looked Bobby dead in the eye without any hint of fear.
If I die now, and at Bobby's hand to boot—
All these people here are finished anyway.
They send you to pick up a witness who can convict your boss, and you kill him halfway there.
What does that look like?
Guilty as hell!
Bobby frowned. This pretty boy seems to have changed a bit.
He honestly wanted to blow my head off right then.
Bobby just snorted, but in the end he didn't dare pull the trigger. He spat another couple of threats, got out, slammed the door, and got into another car.
The convoy set off.
Big Dog and Second Dog watched the departing convoy and muttered to each other.
"Bro, think he's coming back alive?"
"Hard to say. With the boss's usual craz—uh, caution, anyone who shows a hint of betrayal ends up badly.
Those guns are pretty damn important to the boss."
"Tsk tsk tsk… Hope he makes it back. That pancake of his is fucking delicious—after eating it, I didn't even want to smoke Fireworks anymore…"
…
The convoy cruised through Upper City District.
The streets and architecture here are like something out of the Republic era.
Beggars, pubs, mercenaries looking for work, and patrol squads everywhere you look.
More people just means stricter control.
Outside the Special Zone, nobody gives a shit, but inside it, the law is ironclad—robbery, murder, theft, they all get what's coming.
Especially with the Judicial Bureau overseeing everything.
At least on the surface, Upper City's law and order is top notch.
Doesn't look much different from back in the Republic years. No cars everywhere.
Cars are still rare beasts here.
I kept turning over in my head what An Nishang—this queen of the damned—really wanted.
Know yourself, know your enemy; only then can you win every fight.
Sorting through everything in my mind, suddenly I felt like I'd caught onto the real kicker here.
"Wait up, something's not right… There's a third possibility…"
"Fuck me, I'm the evidence!"
As the realization hit, I looked up in horror, and right then the system pinged in my head.
[Ding! You have made deeper contact with the world and triggered a random mission.
[Close Approach to Death]: Survive the Wildfire Gang's attack!
Reward: A random class-X gourmet dish!]
"Shit!"
The second the system chime ended, I heard a roar of motorcycle engines. I whipped my head to look out the window.
A driverless motorbike suddenly shot out of the alley up ahead.
There's a bomb on that bike!
The bomb-laden driverless motorcycle charged straight for our car.
Almost without thinking, I dove to the side, grabbing for the door handle!
There were two Special Ops guys beside me, but their attention was elsewhere—they didn't even realize what was happening.
I vaulted right over the guy on my left and dove out of the car.
The car was cruising at about forty kilometers an hour down the street.
Jumping out at that speed, I tumbled twice on the ground, then half crawled, half rolled, scrambling to escape.
Just as I got to my feet and took a few running steps, a whole swarm of driverless, bomb-rigged bikes slammed into the sedan I' d been in.
A violent explosion erupted behind me, rocking the whole street.
Scorching heat blasted my back, burning my skin raw as the shockwave knocked me flat.
I looked back. The sedan had been blown sky-high, now a fireball hanging above the street, crashed down hard across the road.
There were four cars in total.
All in a line—I was in the first one.
I used to wonder why a guy like me would be put in the lead car, the most dangerous spot?
Now I get it!
On purpose! It was totally on purpose!
The lead car, the one that blew up, was blocking the entire street.
The three cars behind all had to slam their brakes.
The sudden attack caught Bobby off guard, then he got excited.
"Let's see you survive that, pretty boy!"
But then, in the thick black smoke from the burning wreck, Bobby saw me ducked off to the side.
The raging explosion had shaken the whole block.
Street vendors and Ninth Special Zone citizens everywhere screamed and ran for it.
I squeezed in behind a building, waving for Bobby and the others to come cover me.
Not that I have any combat skills worth a damn.
"Fuck! This pretty boy just doesn't die, huh?"
Bobby saw I was still alive and just curled his lip in contempt.
At the far end of the street, motorcycle engines roared.
I looked over and my eyes went wide—seven or eight bikes shot out from every direction, riders gripping SMGs I'd never even seen before.
Some of these shooters had modified cybernetic bodies, ink and tattoos all over, faces hidden—and every one of them, seeing me, just let loose a barrage of bullets without a moment's hesitation!
"Shit!!!"
I could only curl up as tight as possible to protect myself.
What the fuck were those bastards behind me doing?
I glanced back and ground my teeth.
Bobby the idiot wasn't sending anyone to cover my retreat. He just had people pile out and start a shootout with the Wildfire Gang!
So now I was stuck in the middle, at real risk of catching a stray bullet.
"That dumbass—how the hell did he get into Special Ops?" I cursed furiously inside.
Bobby clearly wanted to see me dead.
The guy was pure dumb muscle, no brains at all!