Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Downstream Life
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#002_Downstream Life
#004
1.
A crappy broadcast poured out from the street loudspeakers installed everywhere.
‘Proud workers of Necropolis, did you sleep well last night? A vibrant morning has dawned once again. The time is now 5 a.m. Perfect time to grab your pickaxe and head to work.’
‘To cheer on your vigorous day, today’s selection is ‘Ode to Labor!’’
‘Labor’s great~ Labor’s great~ We are the vanguards of labor~’
My eyes snapped open.
No doubt about it—this wake-up call was worse than any military bugle.
“Fuck…. There goes my sleep….”
I bolted upright from the rock-hard bed and first checked my fingers and toes.
The insulation in this safehouse, reminiscent of British worker dorms during the Industrial Revolution, was just enough to keep out the wind and rain.
Had to make sure I hadn’t frozen overnight or shown signs of frostbite.
I regretted mocking those Hong Kong apartments I’d seen on YouTube, calling them chicken coops.
That was chicken hotel living compared to this.
Once my hands and feet thawed a bit, the stiffness from the night faded.
“Phew….”
I stuck a precious cigarette in my mouth—the last of my smokes—and lit it.
The acrid smoke stung my eyes, bringing a creeping, indescribable shittiness.
“Not a dream, huh.”
The safehouse, abandoned through the magic tool, was one of Necropolis’s slums.
So what was Necropolis?
An ark city built to defend against black fluids and monsters, but humanity didn’t stop at walls.
They fortified everywhere they could, even outside.
Transplanting sacred giant trees that never shed leaves for millennia,
Floating siege weapons atop massive islands in the air,
Creating mazes where monsters devoured each other,
Digging moats rivaling canyons around the fortress walls.
Necropolis’s predecessor was the moat on the north side of the walls.
Time evaporated the moat’s water, they cleared the monsters hugging the walls, and developed the outskirts.
The downstream dregs pooled into a fine city of rot.
“Arbel, you bitch.”
Shit happens in life.
Kissed a girl once and she dumps you in a hellhole?
But humans adapt.
Abandoned in a chicken coop safehouse for a week. Somehow surviving.
But a graver issue loomed.
-Grrrrumble
“Hungry. Thirsty. Cold….”
The safehouse rations were meager.
Four compressed biscuits you had to soak for three minutes to eat.
Three bottles of water tasting like disinfectant.
All gone ages ago.
No delivery apps, no money.
To eat and live, I had to go out and earn.
“Is it safe to go outside?”
Even so, for a week, I’d only peeked out occasionally, holing up inside.
One possibility.
If this exile wasn’t Albert and Arbel’s scheme, but a real raid?
If I wasn’t abandoned but safely ejected?
In other words, if Albert’s “raid” was true, and I really had to hide my identity.
Trackers could be on my tail anytime.
Wandering recklessly could expose me—the risk was immeasurable.
But I couldn’t starve to death.
Gotta go out and do something.
“No Sedric moms around, just cat moms….”
Lamenting my turbulent life’s genre shift to survival game, that’s when.
A line from the endless morning broadcast hooked my ear.
‘Next, food rationing notice. Free rations are being distributed at City Hall for our workers. Please take note. Repeating…’
Fuck! It was real! Sedric mom!
No time for this.
“Food!”
I yanked on a ragged cloak like a beggar’s hood, covering head to toe, and dashed into the street.
======
::: Entering New Area (NEW!):::
Buildings woven from glass and steel.
Garbage raining endlessly from the sky.
Thick steam and murky green smog.
Vibrant citizens heading to work today to survive tomorrow!
This is the ark’s discarded trash heap, humanity’s frontier.
Necropolis.
Oh, watch your health.
Necropolis always has toxic smog.
*** TIP ***
- Fairy meat is Necropolis’s specialty! Give it a try!
- Beware random kindness. What they welcome probably isn’t you.
- Fixers kill vagrants for fun. A fine hobby. Corpses are great pocket money in Necropolis.
- Dig through trash landfills. Might score a decent meal.
- At augmentation clinics, check City Hall permits! Illegal ones have nasty side effects!
2.
I pulled the cloak low over my face,
Left the slums, headed toward City Hall.
Finding the way was easy.
Necropolis was built filling the moat, a sandwich wedged in a cliff, stretching straight.
Just follow the central avenue toward City Hall.
Flanking it, buildings ignored zoning laws, forming a maze,
While moat walls had barnacle-like structures dug into them.
Narrow spots under 100m wide, so they exploited space like that.
Cluttered and chaotic was one thing….
Population density was worse.
“Line 1?”
The ark city with hardcore Seoul vibes dumped all trash—human and otherwise—here.
NIMBY phenomenon.
Serious social issue.
Peak dystopian dark fusion punk fantasy.
How many genres mashed here?
The crowded streets blurred in murky green and garish neon signs.
In that surreal scene, brutally real food smells intruded.
I stopped.
Street stalls and vendors lined one side, like a Chinese night market.
Steam rippling from grates carried noisy chatter.
“Fresh fairy meat here!”
“Ugh, fuck…. Gotta get outta this dump fast. Shithole town.”
“One day earn, one day live, one day earn, one day live…”
“Boss! More booze here! Can’t see the empty glass, fucker?”
“Why so many chunks today?”
It was toward City Hall anyway, so I wandered in, mesmerized.
All sorts wolfing down food.
“What the hell is that.”
I wrinkled my nose.
Nothing looked normal.
Rat carts, heads on, just skinned.
Fairy meat slabs dripping blood from hooks.
Picking cigarette butts and glass shards from stew? Basic here.
Stomach-turning sight.
But.
-Grrrrrrumble
My gut, surviving three days on water, quivered at the smells.
…Some looked okay up close.
‘Sewer barnacles’ or weird shellfish.
Deep-sea fish fried whole.
Prices: hundreds to 5,000 bios.
Even priciest braised lamb head under 10,000 bios.
Oyster cocktail money feeds you a month full.
But penniless? Pie in the sky.
“Any free samples?”
“What? Fuck off, bum.”
Of course not.
I turned away dejected, trudged to City Hall.
Crowds already queued out front.
“Excuse me. Line up here for rations?”
“Fuck off or die, runt.”
Yep, right line.
Hunger sours tempers.
The queue looked feral.
Those market folks? Middle class here.
After two hours in the crush, my turn.
The clerk tossed cheap-wrapped rations indifferently.
“Here, next.”
“Thanks.”
Heavier than expected. Brick-shaped.
“Hey.”
A heavy voice stopped me as I bowed out.
The same clerk.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Cloaked fuck.”
“What’s up?”
“New in town? Obvious.”
Shit.
No ID checks was nice, but caught anyway?
“Tch tch, tough luck. Hide it good—don’t get robbed carrying openly. Cold? Sleep under it.”
He tossed rations casually.
Even a cheap tarp.
Humanity after all.
Necropolis might not be so harsh.
“Thanks!!!”
Hid rations in the tarp per advice, lugged home.
Scooped stagnant rainwater too.
Gross, but no choice.
Let impurities settle, then drink.
House felt tinier after outing.
No signs of Albert.
But priorities.
“Food. Food!!!”
Three days starving on water.
Food in sight, saliva glands ached.
“City Hall rations… I’ll never forget….”
Peeled the sticky wrapper.
My fingers froze awkwardly.
Yeah.
No illusions of fresh freebies in this dystopian dump.
But….
“…This is too much….”
Glossy black yeok-like block.
Chunks visible in the opaque mass.
Antennae, hairy legs, shiny chitin shells.
Protein block screaming its source.
“You fucker!!!!”
Even free riders got cockroach unrecognizably ground!!!
-Thud thud thud!
‘Shut your trap! Fuck!’
Neighbor kicked the wall, but rage boiled over.
“Fuck!!! Fuck!!! Fuck!!!”
Arbel, you bitch, I’ll get revenge.
My empty stomach filled with vengeance.
Better die than eke out on this.
That’s not human life—that’s pig slop.
.
.
.
“…Cockroaches are shrimp cousins, right?”
======
::: Challenge Quest (NEW!) :::
- Try Necropolis’s specialty, nutrition block. +1pt
======
3.
Late night.
Clutching my bloated, cute belly, tossing in cold, drifting to sleep.
-Clunk
Lock turning.
Our door.
This shoebox—no mistake.
Sleep fled, nerves on edge.
Tracker.
The unknown I’d dreaded pricked my nerves.
But hope bloomed too.
Maybe….
Door opens, Albert or Arbel to fetch me.
‘Surely reflected enough’?
Family wouldn’t ditch in this dump?
-Creeeak!
Hinges screamed as door opened.
Dim unlit room.
Familiar silhouette.
Arbel, the one I’d cursed, stepped in.
Caught you.
But a gentleman’s revenge waits ten years.
“Sis…! I really reflected a lot….”
Tears welling, mid-kneel, I froze.
“…Sis?”
Arbel at the entrance looked off.
Clothes wrinkled, torn, crusted blood everywhere.
Her sharp golden eyes—left one unfocused.
Frail.
Like wilting cherry blossoms.
“Sedric….”
She whispered my name, collapsed.
Nice catch!
Sliding catch saved her skull.
Holding Arbel, my eyes narrowed.
Faint breath.
Clammy sweat in this cold.
Her tiny frame burned feverish.
Even with just field tourniquets and CPR knowledge, I knew.
“What the.”
Arbel was dying.