3
Ch.3 Beggar
This way, just the possibility of receiving pre-discarded food made the park trash bin worthy of being considered the best among all trash bins. Strangely enough, even other homeless people rarely came here. However, the more I frequented the park, the more disapproving the parents' glances became.
Eventually, my constant trash bin diving led the police to show up.
"Uh... Huh? You... From before."
"Mhm."
The officer who came to chase me away was the same one who'd lent me money previously. When he saw me rummaging through the trash, he was startled and instinctively reached for his holstered gun. But remembering bullets wouldn't work on me, he lowered his hand.
"What... What are you doing here?"
"Eating."
"Right... Well, we've been getting complaints about you frequenting this area..."
"Who complained?"
"It's not about who—people are feeling uncomfortable."
"I can't give up this spot. The food people throw away here tastes the best."
My response made the officer make a peculiar face. Through my monster senses, I could detect his bewilderment.
"I don't intend to harm anyone."
Reading his hesitation, I spoke first. He relaxed slightly.
"Oh... Okay... You're not a villain then? Maybe you awakened your powers and had some... Accident that affected your mind?"
"My mind's fine."
"If it's fine, why not get a job? If you're strong enough to shrug off bullets, you could take the precision tests and work as a hero?"
I knew about the pre-hero examinations—detailed ability assessments and invasive physical tests for research purposes. Having lived confined in a lab, I knew exactly what would happen if I underwent those. Every S-rank hero would be mobilized to capture and strap me to an experiment table.
"No thanks."
"What an odd fellow... How should I put this? A homeless superpower human?"
"What's homeless?"
"Someone without a home... By the way, where'd you get those pants? They look like old firefighter gear. And that bracelet—did you steal it?"
I sensed he was probing to identify potential owners. I glared and released a faint killing intent—no need to activate my core.
"Didn't steal them. They're mine."
"Guh—okay, okay! Damn, you really are a super..."
The officer shook his head, sat on a nearby bench, sighed, and rummaged through his pockets.
"Look, if you're digging through trash because you're hungry... Take this and buy something from the store over there."
"Another loan?"
"Are you planning to pay it back?"
"Hmm..."
Upon reflection, with no way to earn money, repayment was impossible. As I hesitated, the officer suddenly shoved cash into my hand. I almost reflexively clenched my fist—which might've turned his hand into minced meat—so I froze. The money fluttered to the ground.
"Hey! Take it properly!"
"Can't repay."
"Consider it a gift. Buy food and stop trash bin diving."
"Give it again."
"W-wait! Promise me! Take this and stop digging through this park's trash!"
"Mhm."
I held out both hands, accepted the money, and carefully walked to the indicated store, pinning the bill between my fingers.
The hotdog was delicious. But it wasn't enough to fill me. Hence, I couldn't stop trash bin diving.
***
"Haa..."
"Mhm."
Later, while scavenging the park trash bin again, I encountered the same officer. Exasperated, he sat on the bench, watching me sit cross-legged on the ground to avoid breaking it.
"You... Promised not to come back..."
"That day, I stopped and went elsewhere."
"Oh, so just for that one day... Should've known..."
"Got more money today?"
"...Hypothetically, if I gave you some, would you stop today?"
"Mhm."
"Then... If I give you a bit more, could you stay away from this park permanently?"
"Can't. The food here's the best."
"Hopeless, really... Look, I haven't had lunch either."
Soon, the officer returned with two hotdogs. I tore open the packaging and devoured both in two bites before resuming my trash bin search.
"You just ate! Why keep digging?"
"You gave hotdogs, not money."
"You're like my damn cat—scratch posts everywhere but still claw the walls..."
I paused and stared as he grumbled.
"One or two hotdogs aren't enough."
"Guess with your size... Ugh, this is awkward."
Hunger drove me to the trash; since I remained unfed, scavenging was inevitable. The officer nibbled his hotdog and continued,
"Listen... I need to get you out of here. How can I make you stay away?"
"Water and food are here."
"Exactly, hence the complaints... Kids play here, and parents don't want a homeless guy drinking from the faucets and eating trash."
"Haven't harmed anyone."
"Right, no direct harm... Bullets don't faze you... But people here panic just having homeless folks nearby—especially these days."
"Haven't seen anyone panic."
"Did you... Not receive compulsory education?"
"What's that?"
"Hmm..."
His gaze turned to pity.
"Wait—were you an orphan who awakened powers? Unregistered cases happen... Parents gone?"
"Passed away."
"Common these days. Mine too, so no offense meant."
"I see. Both parentless."
"Phrasing's a bit..."
Parents die—no surprise. Digging deeper, I found a sealed liquor bottle. My body resisted toxins, so alcohol wouldn't intoxicate me, but I was curious. Carefully lifting it, I accidentally snapped the neck while opening it. No matter—the contents were accessible.
The taste... Was awful.
"Disgusting."
"Wha—why'd you open it like that? Don't you know how to twist caps?"
"Bottle was too weak."
"Wow, first time hearing that... Damn, superpower humans. How am I supposed to deal with this?"
"You chase other homeless?"
"Yeah, complaints keep coming."
So that explained the lack of competition. Regular homeless would flee police, but I wasn't regular. Human beggars might lose, but a monster beggar wouldn't.
"Give up."
"How? Should I fake insanity and attack you?"
"Attack if you want. I'll ignore you."
"Unbelievable... A bulletproof beggar. Not even a bear—though you're bear-sized."
"What's a bear?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Joke. I know bears."
"Hey—where are you going?"
Finding no more edibles, I headed to wash up. Kids from the playground swarmed me, hindering my efforts.
"Beggar! A beggar!"
"Beggar!"
"Mhm. Move."
These mud-streaked brats were park regulars. Initially wary, they'd grown bold when I remained still to avoid crushing them. As I paused mid-wash, the officer hurried over.
"Kids! Scram!"
"Pig cop!"
"Whoa! Beggar and pig cop!"
"Where'd they learn that?"
Thanks to him, I finished quickly. Extremely carefully—like handling a single hair—I turned the faucet. Washed my hands, then my body. For good measure, I shampooed my hair and scrubbed my feet. The officer sighed.
"No wonder we get complaints! This isn't a shower room! Why wash here?"
"Water's here."
"Of course it— Ugh! Why's a beggar so hygienic? Infuriating!"
"Step back."
I shook my head vigorously, flinging water everywhere.
"Eek! Wet dogs stink!"
"Hahaha! Like a dog!"
"Dog beggar! Dog beggar!"
A few shakes dried my hair. I rinsed my mouth and gulped water noisily. From a distance, mothers watched silently.
"Wow... Just look at that physique... If not for that, I'd have complained too..."
"Kinda... Wild, don't you think?"
"With so many losing homes overnight... He comes often but doesn't bother the kids, so I don't mind..."
"Still, a beggar in our apartment area? He should stay in the park..."
I heard every whisper and pointed the woman out to the officer.
"They say occasional visits are fine."
"You heard them from there?"
"Loud and clear."
"Well... Those moms are okay because you keep your distance from kids... Others aren't. So please stop coming."
"Uncomfortable people can leave."
"Zero progress. God... Am I dealing with mental illness? Why am I, a regular cop, handling superpower human evictions?"
"Are you insane?"
"Maybe a little? Unlike heroes who are half-forced into protection duty, only crazy folks volunteer to be cops."
His words reminded me of my parents' old conversations,
-Being a firefighter is insane, but someone's gotta do it. If crazies don't, no one will.
My father always looked exhausted—even as a child, I wished he'd rest more.
"Cops are necessary... Though always tired..."
"Whoa... Didn't expect that from you."
"Fine. The new deal, I'll stop when you catch me trash bin diving."
"Wait—that means I have to keep coming here?"
"Hotdogs are tasty."
"Now extorting cops?"
"What's extorting?"
Genuinely clueless, I asked. He sighed, resigned, tossing his hotdog wrapper.
"One hotdog's cheap enough... But..."
"Two."
"Two... Can I expense this...?"
From then on, I got two daily hotdogs. The officer looked incredulous.
"Seriously, why come every day?"
"Hotdogs."
I hadn't visited daily before, but free hotdogs warranted it.
"You a delinquent?"
"What's delinquent?"
"...Never mind. Enjoy."
Truthfully, I knew what it meant.