Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Downstream Life (4)
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1.
Today, seven people died in the alleys of D-9 District.
Six vagrants.
And the feeble me from yesterday.
The wastrel son of the count's family, Sedric, was dead—reborn as the intensely cool James Bond.
“Little bro, you're a real man now. You lost your virginity, huh?”
“This guy's the real deal, man. Whoosh, bam! Teach me that move sometime.”
“I knew it from the start. No kid this eager ever turns out useless.”
“We just wanted to test you, but you took down three all by yourself. Good work, James.”
Big and Dick slung their arms around my shoulders, ruffling my hair like old pals.
“Yeah, of course. I've 'awakened' after all.”
“Awakened my ass!”
“The law of the jungle, the essence of survival—I've pierced right through it.”
“This punk, using fancy words like a badass!”
I tilted my chin up and spoke with cocky flair.
I had the right.
I'd filled half the damn haul we were dragging.
-Swish, swiiiish
But... is it really okay to drag these around like this?
Bloody trails smeared like brushstrokes from under the sack, yet not a single passerby batted an eye.
...I still haven't adjusted to Necropolis life.
Even the ark-city had its wild side, but this place is straight-up inhuman hell.
Suddenly, Big, Dick, and Rowen's attitudes made perfect sense.
People from different worlds might as well be different species.
You think a child soldier clutching an AK-47 in an African civil war shares values with a Korean high schooler slacking off with palm tree games?
“Little bro! Heading straight to the welcome party, right?”
“You buying?”
“You little shit! You think I'd make you pay and look bad?”
“Onward with the carrot bat!”
No more overthinking.
Free food!
We dumped the sack roughly at the agency and headed to the food alley.
The same market I'd passed last time, swallowing hard.
“Little bro, you been to the market before?”
“Yeah! But just to look around! Never seen a market this huge!”
“This is Hongshen Market—Red Mirage—the best food alley in the city.”
We dodged the crowds and sat at one shop.
A tiny street stall with just a counter and a few low tables.
Next table over: a whole pig's head grinning cozily.
“Boss! Four steaming bowls of meat rice soup! Four beers! It's the newbie welcome, so skimp on the chunks and you're dead by my hand!”
“Got it!”
“Beers first!”
Uncapped bottles frothed and bubbled as they were served.
Beer!
My eyes rolled back. How long had it been since my last drink?
“James! You're the star today—give us a toast!”
“Alright, how about 'lawyer'?”
“Lawyer? What kinda toast is that?”
“'Unwavering brotherhood! The bonds of true men!' That's the meaning!”
“Hahaha! Little bro's got style!”
“I'll lead! Lawyer!”
“LAWYER!!!!!”
-Clink
Bottlenecks collided, foam bubbling under the hazy lights.
Gulp, gulp. Sharp barley scent scorched down my throat.
Ice-cold and fizzy.
Alcohol seeped into every corner of my body, soaked in poverty, labor, and exhaustion—like sweet rain.
Just beer, and tears welled up.
“Kuhhhhh!! That's the stuff!!!”
Freshly ladled rice soup arrived in wooden bowls.
Blood-red broth heavy with chili oil, topped with a lump of rice.
Piled high with mystery cuts of meat.
“Little bro, this place does the best meat rice soup in Red Mirage Market.”
Even this world has rice soup!
“Whew, huff... huff....”
Scalding my palate, I shoveled spoonfuls in greedily.
Good food's prime dopamine for me.
I'd sampled the world's finest.
Red Mirage's rice soup? Honestly mediocre.
Musty rice, god knows how old.
Broth spicy enough, but funky like they'd thrown in pig kidneys—rank even.
Chili oil barely masking it.
“Gulp, whew, huff.... Slurp!”
“Little bro, slow down.”
But why the hell does it taste so good!!!
Three stars.
Worth visiting Necropolis just for this.
To me, surviving on compressed biscuits and roach cat food, it was a delicacy without peer.
2.
“Whew, tipsy as hell.”
I staggered home after the feast, a packed bowl of rice soup in hand.
The big bros had it wrapped up for their little brother.
Why introduce me as little brother?
Arbel's too stunning—eyes would pop.
No need to advertise 'I got treasure' in this shithole.
“Brought rice soup!”
I flung open the door to the dingy room and my eyes widened.
“Uh, ah......”
Smelled it? Arbel was moving.
The corpse-still Arbel!
I tossed the soup and rushed to her writhing on the bed.
“Sis, you with us?”
Her lashes fluttered, then her eyes opened.
Gorgeous golden eyes rolled hazily my way after so long.
Focus still off, but conscious.
A faint voice leaked from her cracked lips.
“Sedric....”
“Yeah, it's me! Your devoted little brother Sedric, always there for sis!”
Mages are no joke!
Eyes open! My investment!
Better than trusting hack ark-city docs—relying on mage regen was the play?
“Sorry....”
“Nah, nothing to be sorry for. Here, read this? My nursing log.”
This makes things easier.
Coma vegetable vs. someone you can talk to? Worlds apart.
Maybe this dutiful brother's care wins me more than chit-chat.
Plus, assault victim Arbel herself.
Better intel on the situation, and smooth recovery means powerhouse ally.
1st Rank Mages count as Grade 5 Fixers on their own.
“Want some rice soup first? Hold on, I'll get it.”
Arbel's hand snatched my sleeve as I rose.
“Mom....”
Whispered weakly.
“Mom, it... hurts....”
Transparent tears trailed her eyes.
The pitiful gleam in Arbel's pupils snuffed out like a blown candle.
Her grip slid limply from my sleeve.
Stifling silence blanketed the cramped room.
“...Hey.”
No way, right? For real?
“Snap out of it! Hey! Hey!”
Fuck, don't fuck with me!
I tapped Arbel's cheek.
No response.
Her fever-hot body cooled rapidly in the steamy room.
Her slack pupils gaped like deep black pits.
“Fuck....”
Curses came unbidden.
Sobriety hit like a truck.
3.
Arbel was dead.
Right in front of her barely related little brother.
Leaving a four-word last message.
“Whew....”
No gut-wrenching grief, of course.
I'd tried saving her not out of sentiment or duty.
She was a valuable asset.
Just... didn't expect it this anticlimactic. Empty now.
Failed investments always sting.
I wrapped Arbel tight in a blanket, then tarp over that.
“Rest in peace.”
Cig in mouth, three minutes praying quietly for sis.
My max condolence for Arbel.
Anything more? Luxury.
“Up we go.”
I slung the tarp-wrapped corpse over my shoulder.
Arbel felt heartbreakingly light.
No matter how cold the room, corpses rot.
Had to dispose before the cramped space turned nasty.
Necropolis has a handy corpse disposal method.
Sell to Twilight Resource Development.
They and Overnus Pharma divvy up the city.
Necromancers—who deal in death—lurk behind.
Their magic needs bodies, so most corpses flow there.
“Living gotta live.”
Don't call it harsh, Arbel.
No options anyway.
Dump in trash? No pay. Buy plot? Costs money.
What else? Best offer wins.
Sack on shoulder, I hustled.
Corpse intake at Twilight's subcon: the morgue.
Necropolis—finding empty spots harder than crowds, but morgue especially jammed.
No mourners despite the name.
In every blank stare, I saw Arbel's pitch-black pupils.
“What you staring at, shitstain?”
“To sell a body, line up here?”
“Get behind me. Cut and I'll bag you too.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
This the line.
“Who you selling?”
“Wife. You?”
“Same. Know the going rate?”
“Depends on use, I hear.”
“Use?”
“Dunno details. Hope they pay top.”
Long line, small talk for intel.
Then—like a fish bone mid-bonfire—something snagged.
Hold up.
Use?
Late unease hit.
Arbel's a mage.
Mage corpses special, right?
Guy with mage body screams suspicious.
Worst case: my cover blown, trackers on tail.
Doubt they'd chase to this dump.
But if? Risk too high.
Don't forget: they're stronger than Arbel.
“Fuck me.”
“What?”
Too late realized.
Even I blanked briefly.
Gotta go.
“Hey, I get it, but stay put. Guys like you bail and line up again in days.”
“Fuck off, hands off, asshole! Who you think you are!”
“Tsk, hang in there.”
Turning to bolt—shadow blocked me.
“Cute kid.”
Mid-30s woman.
Jet-black frill dress, pure noir.
Mesh veil on pillbox hat.
Empty black eyes pierced me up close.
Shit, heart!
Signal next time!
I backpedaled in shock; she smiled, straightening.
Her height kept rising.
Towering shadow—I got the weird vibe.
Not perspective trick.
At least 2.4 meters.
Steps boomed like they'd crater pavement.
That aura? Obvious.
Hellish slum, yet her smile, poise, elegant garb, unspeakable danger.
Mage.
Humans could have this presence.
Frozen stiff, her escorts barked.
“Rat still holding his head high? Know who she is?”
“This is Ceres Cassian, director at Twilight Resource Development.”
“Sorry! This lowly fool! You're too beautiful....”
Flattery in, kneeling smooth—
Her hand gripped my chin, forcing eyes up.
Artificial lemon from her cuff.
Her hazy gaze impaled me.
Her husky voice soaked my spine.
What's with this lady?
“Good eyes. Mad eyes.”
Dunno details, but friendly vibe.
Hm, I am handsome.
Never bedded a 2m+ woman...
Wonder what that's like.
Prime chance to learn slow?
“Here to sell a body? I'll take it.”
Hand out for money from escort—reality snapped.
Not now.
“Sorry. Yes, to sell, but changed mind. Wanna honor differently....”
“Lie.”
Ceres bent again, eyes level.
Her lips split in a chilling grin.
“You're not the type for noble thoughts.”
Fuck....
How'd she know...?