Chapter 7 - You'd think he's a master
Ingrid van Rena.
If someone asked her to pick the most flustered moment of her life, she would answer without hesitation: right now.
A memory that cut off in the headquarters office.
When she came to, she was in a completely unfamiliar place, and on her personal net there was a video her father, Chairman Van, had sent.
About three minutes of first-person POV footage.
A short confession and the words "I love you".
And then.
Sichuan Tang Family executives bursting in by smashing the wall of the chairman's office, and the last thing shown was her father gulping down a small amount of red liquid—then the video ended.
Since she couldn't possibly not know how an inter-company lawsuit ends, it wasn't hard to infer what had happened.
They had lost the lawsuit against the Tang Family.
And the company was now in a position where it had to pay compensation so large it was impossible to shoulder.
But an astronomical compensation payment is something you can't repay no matter what you do.
In the end, the owner family would fall, and every business of Van Bio Company would be legally absorbed by the Tang Family.
Because that obvious ending was waiting, father—you rejected the court's ruling and fought back even if it meant burning away your own life.
A level 5 mage struggled like mad after overdosing on Bloody Essence, buying enough time for Levan—nothing but a servant—to carry her on his back and run.
It was a despairing reality.
It wouldn't be strange if she was discovered by them at any moment and killed without a trace, or even dragged to stand in a federal courtroom.
Still, at least Levan, the servant who had been with her since childhood, remained by her side. She thought it meant not everything she could trust and lean on had vanished.
But that hopeful thought was only for a moment.
Rudolph, you bastard. You're dead.
Crrrk-
"······!??"
Levan, who had been muttering in sounds she couldn't understand, suddenly yanked the control chip out of his own head by force!
The control chip that had come out in one pull rolled across the floor, and blood streamed down from his temple—yet Levan sat with his eyes closed, not moving a muscle.
"······."
She was overwhelmed into silence by the grotesque sight, but Levan had told her that no matter what happened she mustn't be startled, and mustn't touch him.
Fine, trust him. Trust Levan and wait.
All she could do right now was sit still and endlessly wait for this incomprehensible situation to end.
One hour.
Two hours.
And had it been about five hours?
At last, Levan opened the eyes he'd kept shut.
"Rena, can you go buy me a cold cola?"
"······??"
With a perfectly normal expression, he gave her an order.
"My throat's dry. Go, and if there's no cola, buy something else too. Hurry."
Rena lost her words again.
What is even happening right now? Is this normal?
No. This has to be a dream. Lately she hadn't been sleeping at all—her insomnia must have gotten so bad that a nightmare like this came to her.
Spring!
Rena suddenly jumped up boldly and began slapping both her cheeks over and over.
Smack! Smack!
Sure enough, she didn't feel pain.
Her cheeks just tingled and stung and puffed up, and she could only feel heat.
It didn't hurt. It really didn't.
"Then of course···."
Thank goodness. It's just an ordinary nightmare.
Phew-
Only then did Rena let out a deep sigh of relief and stare at Levan, who was sitting blankly. As if answering her, Levan wore his usual smile and spoke.
"If there's no cola, at least cold water. Hurry."
***
A full twenty years, was it.
'Opening the upper dantian did have its gains, but still, that was too long.'
Cold water slides down his throat.
Wipe wipe-
After savoring the lingering aftertaste for a moment, I wiped the dirty full-brain control chip with my clothes and tucked it into my pocket. There are places I'll need to use it later, so I'd better keep it safe.
Peel.
I roughly scraped off the blood that had dried and stuck to my face as time passed. While doing that, Rena kept watching me with a strange, wary expression, so I tossed her a few words.
"Rena, nothing has changed. So you don't need to be on guard."
"······Nothing changed?"
She won't be able to believe it easily.
But whether it's something understandable or not, it already happened.
Accepting reality is Rena's part. I wiped the smile off my face and said.
"Figure it out and adapt."
"······I'll try my best. But what really happened?"
"While I was carrying you out, I tumbled down the stairs and hit my head badly."
"You didn't even try to make that lie convincing."
Rena, half giving up, flops down onto the bed.
I get it. No matter what I say, she won't believe me anyway.
"Like that executor earlier too—are you a spy the Tang Family hired? Or did a net runner get to you······."
"Stop."
"···Okay."
Yeah—on Rena's side, that's the most plausible story.
A servant whose control chip got hijacked and is going berserk however it wants. It sounds like something that could happen.
"Anyway, get some rest. I have somewhere to go for a bit."
"W-where, all of a sudden?"
Rena jolted up and grabbed my hand.
With such a small hand, she gripped so hard my hand went numb.
As if explaining herself, Rena rambled.
"What if I run away while you leave me alone?"
"Why would you?"
"Well···uh···in a confusing, flustered situation like this, for some reason I feel like I should run away?"
"Then where would you run to? Do you even have money?"
"I mean, credits are obviously in my account······."
Rena stopped there, making a face like she'd realized something, then reluctantly let go of my hand. The credit accounts the Van Bio owner family used would have long since been seized by now.
She was now completely penniless.
"···Then don't be too late."
"Cool your head. I'll be back soon."
I went outside and looked for the inn owner.
Crash bang!
The moment I stuck my face into the counter area, the owner hurriedly pretended to wipe down a handgun he'd pulled from the shelf.
For some reason, he was sweating buckets.
"I-if you already paid, I can't change your room. Honestly, our inn's condition is on the decent side. Yeah! You think other places are different? You gotta get ripped off a few times to grow, y'know."
"I came to ask something."
"What?"
The owner awkwardly set the handgun down.
"You should've said so sooner. What're you curious about? Ask."
"That gun—where can I get one?"
***
A slum tangled between alleys like an anthill.
A mix of harsh cigarette smell, oil smell, and dust smell tickles my nose.
Just as the inn owner told me, I followed the narrow alley deeper into the deepest area of Junktown.
The place where this slum first began in the past.
Junktown 1st street.
A three-story building that looks unusually large and wide compared to the other shabby shops catches my eye. A neon sign shaped like a gun and bullets is glowing.
" Gunner House "
Ding-
When I entered, a woman in cool clothes that left her chest fully exposed was sitting at the counter.
With an interested gaze, she looked me up and down.
"First time I've seen your face?"
Her entire arm propping up her chin was cyberware.
Cold steel parts glinted indifferently.
Thinking she didn't look like an ordinary counter clerk, I glanced around the inside of the shop.
"I want to buy a gun."
"You look pretty young, but your tone's rough."
"I grew up without parents. Sorry."
"Heh! I was just teasing."
"Was that a tease? You looked like you'd shoot if you got annoyed."
"Oh my, shoot what? Don't say scary things. We don't do that to customers."
"Then are those muzzles a kind of trust?"
I jerked my chin toward the wall behind the counter.
Between the dark, ink-colored wallpaper and the displayed goods, pitch-black gun muzzles are aiming at my head so frighteningly.
Just the muzzles I can see—one. Two. Three.
The woman turned her head along with my gaze, then pursed her lips and laughed playfully.
"Good eyes. Is it that obvious?"
"Not a lot—just a little."
"Still, I can't put them away. What if a customer suddenly hugs me? That'd be a problem."
"······."
"It's fine, so don't worry and look around all you want~Just don't do anything stupid."
What a peculiar woman.
Without any more small talk, I started browsing the shop.
Most of what's sold on the first floor are daggers, blunt weapons, and used old-fashioned firearms? The building's pretty big, and they even set up a shooting range in the back of the store.
The second and third floors would have pricier stuff.
A gun shop of this scale in the heart of a bottom-tier slum···.
"Do you sell grenade rounds too?"
"Sold out. Everything's gone."
"So you normally do sell them."
"How about large-caliber rifles or shotguns?"
"Nope. Corpse hunters buy up all weapons like that at a premium. You—did you come from that side too?"
"No."
"Hm, yeah?"
"Can I look around the second floor too?"
"The second floor starts at a 10,000 credit deposit. Show me your credits first and I'll let you up."
The money I have left is 4,000 credits.
No choice but to pick on the first floor.
It's not like it'll be a weapon I use for the rest of my life anyway.
"You really do have money, right~?"
Click- click-
Ignoring the woman who asked with a grin, I handled a few guns and chose one assault rifle that uses 7.62mm rounds, three 30-round magazines, and one dagger about two spans long.
It's a setup similar to the armament I used often in my second playthrough.
"You sure you can pick that casually? It's all used goods, so you should choose carefully."
"It's not like I'm picking a lover to spend my life with."
"Cool. Altogether it's 9,000 credits."
"I only have 4,000 credits right now."
At my words, the woman's brows pinched sharply. But again, it was a face made to look playful.
"Sir, then you'll have to put them down, right?"
"Put the rest on credit and I'll pay it back by evening. I've got some money to collect from somewhere."
"Are you joking?"
"I'm serious."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Fine, whatever. Then do that."
That's unexpected.
I only threw it out because I thought there was no way she'd agree.
The woman, who had been frowning just a moment ago, allowed the credit as if she'd never done that. Is she as out of her mind as I am? Whatever the reason, good.
"But if you can't pay like you promised, you know you can't complain even if you die, right?"
I nodded in agreement.
If that's the deal, I should accept it.
"You're a shop owner who's easier to talk to than I expected."
"I hear that a lot. Your face is so shamelessly confident that I want to try trusting you once."
"So this is the kind of place that hands you a gun if you're just confident?"
"In this Junktown, there aren't many people like you. Not many customers come in carrying thousands of credits. Everyone's drowning in debt, soaked in alcohol and drugs."
"The inn owner had a handgun."
"The inn? Lodging's usually 15 credits. No way you can afford it saving that penny by penny. Maybe he bought a toy handgun and called it a day."
"······."
"Looking at your face, you got ripped off, huh? When you come here the first time, you get ripped off and learn your way around."
That makes sense.
Everything except that last part.
Anyway, it felt like she handed it over too easily, so I thought everyone walked around with guns—but apparently that's not the case.
"I want to try firing it once. Is that possible?"
"As much as you want. Every gun in this neighborhood gets sold through us, and I don't want to hear anyone saying I sold trash."
With a confident expression, the woman tossed me a magazine with two rounds loaded.
I caught it, inserted it, and pulled the trigger toward the range target.
Bang-! Bang-!
A hit.
The smell of gunpowder I haven't had in a while, and the strong recoil. My head nods on its own.
"But what are you going to use it for? It'd be a problem if you can't pay your credit and die~?"
Thud.
As I stuffed the assault rifle and magazines into the slim gun bag the counter provided, I answered.
"For self-defense."
"If that's why, you'd have bought a handgun. Be honest. Who did you pick a fight with? If you mess with the gangs here wrong, it won't end with an ordinary death."
From her tone, it sounded like she had something in mind. With a "might as well check" feeling, I asked her.
"Do you know a guy who looks like Rudolph?"
"Rudolph?"
"A skinny guy with a red rose tattoo on the bridge of his nose."
"Of course I know. The scars on your face—those are their work, huh?"
"Their?"
"There aren't many famous people in Junktown. Before they get famous, most die. The ones who make a name are usually groups."
"Can I get info on them? 1,000 credits. If I need to, I'll bring more."
"No. I hate them too, anyway."
Rattle-
With a "this'll be fun" expression, the woman suddenly pulled out a huge map and spread it across the counter's glass display. An analog map filled with crooked dots and lines.
Judging by it, it seemed to be the layout of this Junktown.
"There are five major armed groups in town. Samho Gate, the Harenio gang, Gunner House, the Ryung office, and the Ranechia family. Among them, the red rose is a tattoo that marks someone as a member of Harenio. Their hideout is a club and a bar on 17th street."
Her cyberware fingers tap here and there.
"How many?"
"About twenty members, one boss covered head to toe in old cyberware, and one mage—rumor says they're level 4-class?"
"A level 4-class mage?"
"Yeah, shocking, right? A level 4 mage in a place like this. I don't know what the story is, but don't go getting cocky—just leave town—"
"Do you also buy used firearms?"
When I cut her off mid-sentence and asked, the woman replied, taken aback.
"Well, yeah, we do. Why?"
***
Ding-
After Levan took the purchased weapons and left.
Gunner House's general manager, Cincia Blanqui.
Sitting at the counter herself instead of an employee because she was bored and had nothing to do, she let out a dry chuckle.
"He's probably just an ordinary lunatic, right? He only said what he wanted to say and disappeared like the wind. You'd think he was some incredible master."
And then.
Someone pushed through the store wall and asked.
"Should we chase him, kill him, and recover them?"
"No, leave him. Just put a tail on him."
"Yes. Understood."
"And later, pick a few people and go to where the Harenio guys are. The humanoid bar on 17th street."
"The Harenio gang's base, ma'am?"
"Yeah."
A small memo pad stuck to the counter.
There's writing left behind, scribbled in that man's hand.
She'd wondered why he was prying into such pointless things, even running up a credit tab for it, but···
『 Two hours from now, send employees to Harenio's hideout to move luggage. Will be selling a large quantity of used firearms in good condition. 』
"I just want to see how crazy he really is."