Chapter 159
Chapter 159
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Lead and Silver Coins (13)
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The world had gone to shit, and a ridiculous amount of weird crap had happened since then.
A teenage boy whose entire life revolved around books, movies, and games had picked up a gun, lost his father, dug in the jungle dirt to farm, stolen to survive, and even turned into a survival expert.
He’d lost his mother and wandered aimlessly, figured out how to live on his own, and fought everything from reanimated corpses to monsters so inhuman you couldn’t believe they’d ever been people.
Some bizarre military crew had taken up residence in his head, he’d made some good friends, and despite his best efforts, the “hero” label had stuck to him again.
But I could swear on a stack of Bibles that nothing in my twenty-four years of life had been as bizarre as this.
“‘Nice to meet you’ doesn’t quite fit since we’ve known each other for a while now, does it?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess... you’re right.”
“Then ‘glad to finally meet you’ is more like it. Glad to meet you, ‘professor.’ I’m Speed Wagon, Dana Elisha Hyacinths. Just call me Dana.”
A five-year online buddy introducing herself by name, her porcelain skin—white enough to stain your fingers—flushing pink with embarrassment. This kind of experience? Honest to God, a first.
*Awkward. No, it’s gone way past awkward—starting to feel detached from reality!*
The bed was as white and pristine as the spotless sheets. It must’ve been a hospital bed, with the head adjustable so patients could prop themselves up. But she was so frail that even that tiny shift to lean back left her gasping for breath.
Every heaving breath made her feminine curves show through the thin sky-blue gown, leaving me with nowhere to look. And this was the friend I’d relied on most through my wasteland life?
*God almighty. You’re really messing with me. It would’ve been less shocking if Ian turned out to be some legendary debauched pretty boy.*
[ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ I may be less than two years old, but sitting here watching teacher’s life unfold, I can tell for sure it’s one massively fucked-up existenceㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ]
I blinked hard, half-hoping it was all a hallucination or a dumb dream. Nope. Still there: Speed Wagon, fussing with her gown with overly feminine gestures.
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- Speed Wagon: Retard? Can’t compute?
*‘Call me Dana.’*
[Retard?]
*‘Dana—’*
[Retard?]
*‘Dana~’*
.
.
.
.
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*Fucking hell, it doesn’t match! How is that the same person?!*
My head spun in chaos as Hyde looped Speed Wagon’s old memories endlessly, cackling his ass off. No response when I tried talking to him—just rolling around, blasting past clips and that Dana lady’s footage all over my brain. He was loving this shit.
I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I mumbled back a response so garbled it was hard to tell if it was words or just sounds flung at her—him?—their greeting.
“Ahem. Uh... glad to meet you... Dana. I’m ‘professor,’ Professor Park.”
Even saying it made me want to die from cringe.
“Pfft!”
But instead of awkward silence, she let out a light laugh.
“Oh man, professor. You’re super awkward, huh? Not like you to be this tense. Or... is that stiff talk on purpose to match the outfit? Heard you’re popular in the Dome—starting a new trend?”
She smoothly caught my lame line, turning it into a joke to steer the conversation.
As someone who lived by his words, I thought *pro move!* But that wasn’t important right now.
Conversation’s like catch: she’d tossed me an easy one, so I had to lob it back clean. Topics? Dome, clothes, popularity. Solid. Plenty to work with. Come on, Professor Park! Show the guy who juggles the impregnable Three Worlds with his tongue what you’ve got!
Like reading enemy schemes in GG, my brain steamed as I picked the most plausible word from the riot in my throat and hurled it into the awkward air.
“Your place... is really cool. Got atmosphere.”
“...Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s a pretty unique spot to live.”
“Yeah... quiet and serene, nice vibe. Haha.”
“Hahaha.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
- Silence again.
[Kaaang! Left field wall! Foul ball rocketing past her goodwill! Completely off-topic fly ball! Finally, that frail lady’s face—her expression—it’s wrinkling! ‘Nice weather today’ levels of awkward!!]
Inside, Hyde had escalated from snark to full meltdown.
And Dana right in front of me... furrowed her brow slightly, sighing.
“...Hoo.”
That tiny sigh shredded my lingering confidence like leaves in a typhoon.
*I can’t. Help me, Hyde... tag in... legs, arms, heart—take ‘em all. Just help...*
[Bzzzt! Wrong answer, Professor Park! What you need ain’t lying down—it’s turning this stiff-as-board vibe into soft velvet!]
*Damn it, if it was that easy, would I be chit-chatting with you here?*
[Guy whose best skill is talking, and you clam up? Pretend you’re not here to meet a girl—you’re here for business! Like Senadis! She’s bewitching you with that eerie look and voice—hypnotize yourself if you have to!]
Not logic—human to human talk. Fine. Conversation’s my wheelhouse.
If it was just Speed Wagon—or Dana Elisha Hyacinths lady—in this weird setup, I could’ve rolled with it. Business. Caravan leader visiting an info broker: keep it professional, smooth, clean! Wastelander to quirky survivor.
*But in this getup...? No way in hell!*
Look at this.
Pale woman on the bed, smiling softly.
Guy in front dressed like a ‘60s mafioso. Holding an awkward paper flower bouquet in one hand, no less.
Any outsider would swear I was about to drop to one knee and croon some pre-breakup love serenade.
That was my situation.
Ian had measured me for this “gotta look pro for the big deal” suit, but his stuffy tastes bled through. No synthetics, all natural fabric, so it came out looking like Prohibition-era milkman mobster wear. The guys high-fiving smugly in the back had dressed me up and shoved me out.
I looked like a guy meeting his sweetheart the old-fashioned, traditional way.
The mood had soured completely.
Ian, watching from afar, finally lost it and vaulted a pile of books. *Maybe if he storms in and wrecks it, things’ll loosen up,* I thought.
Whiiir—creak, whiiir—
Then Dana’s housing AI wobbled over, shoving a blank white screen in my face.
Tap, tap, tap.
- Speed Wagon: Awkward? This feels easier?
“...”
Tap, tap-tap, tap.
- Speed Wagon: Been too long since I met anyone face-to-face. No clue how to act. Sry.
Familiar black text on the white screen.
I looked up: Dana, old keyboard on her lap, giving a little wave.
*...It’s really her.*
The chat ID and the woman typing it live. That sealed it—my friend Speed Wagon was this woman.
Same distance as before, but that tiny filter made everything comfy. Should’ve felt more distant with the chat middleman, but it was like an old pal plopped down beside me.
“A bit... unexpected. Speech patterns, what you say. I pictured some grubby, skinny, bearded glasses nerd holed up in a back room with antennas everywhere.”
- Speed Wagon: So, prefer that version?
With the typing came awkward, actressy hair-tucks. Her playfulness pulled a snort-laugh from me.
“Wanted to say yeah, that’d be better—but you’re too charming to lie like that.”
- Speed Wagon: *Bullshit. Good harvest season.*
Did I talk this smooth? My words flowed easy, riding the air to her. A stifled giggle, hair rippling softly.
Tap, tap, tap—
- Speed Wagon: Chronic illness since kid. Can’t leave hospital, so online world was everything.
“No wonder. Logged in nonstop, called the community’s ghost. Makes sense now.”
- Speed Wagon: Wanna try normal stuff, sick of hospital slop. Once prayed ‘just let the world end’ out of spite—and it did. TBH, tried the ‘status window’ thing too. Nada.
Heh heh heh—
Weird how it clicks. Now Speed Wagon’s ID overlays with Dana’s little wave and smile. Few lines of chat, and the wall between Speed Wagon and Dana crumbled.
[See? Easy.]
*Ian’s fault entirely, you idiot. Outsider shy types have their own ways. Sparrow can’t waddle like a stork.*
“Walking” popped in my head. I’d been perched on a distant book pile; now I stood, stretching my legs.
Step, step, step.
Not confidence—just natural now. Facing the guy who bantered daily, dug up answers frantically—it felt silly keeping distance.
Tap, tap, tap.
Past the wobbly drone, across the library to my old friend. Her surprised eyes sparked mischief.
*‘Speech to match the clothes, huh? Then actions too.*
Standing by her bed, I doffed my hat with a courtly bow.
“Delighted to finally meet you in person, Dana Elisha Hyacinths Speed Wagon.”
She cracked up at the goofiness, snatching the paper bouquet like real flowers, inhaling deep with a smile.
“Was gonna give that ham 5 points, but you nailed my fave scent, so 7 it is. Mmm~ book smell. My absolute favorite.”
“Family honor, milady.”
Heh.
Hee!
We dissolved into dumb giggles at the theatrics.
Noise behind—friends pointing, shaking hands like we’d cleared a huge quest. Not quite that, but...
My five-year online pal turned out way more special and fun than expected.
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-And insanely competent too.
“Two transport teams from Dome 47 to Dome 38 in the last month... Dunno the second, but I know what happened to the first.”
Snap!
“Exactly! Skipping the pointless graveyard roam for the lady was spot-on! Where are those fools now?”
“...Genie?”
Whirrr—
Her call, and the drone bustling with books zipped over.
“You, caaaalled, mi-stresss?”
“Pull up files on confirmed Dome missing persons?”
“Whirr, whirr—file not, f-found. Nooo file exiiiists.”
“C’mon, look properly. Last month—missing persons—ID confirmed—should be in Dome.”
“Chekking. Chekking. Fiiiile f-found.”
“Good boy.”
The AI couldn’t find jack without her pinpointing it—like petting a dumb old drone that couldn’t even speak. As weird as the library itself.
She stroked it like a pet, then flipped through the screen images for us.
“These, these, and this one—silhouette’s blurry. That’s all from my sources.”
“Sources, huh... Dana, these pics legit? Looks like...”
“Casual’s fine, Axel. We go way back. Yeah, mutants. But build, features, gear damage—all match. Probably your first transport team from the Dome.”
“...Can you send these to Surveillance? Brutal for families, but need solid proof for death processing.”
“If the price is right?”
Flick!
She blanked the screen, eyeing our puzzled faces.
“Seven years since the fall. Took lots of help, lost ‘em all. Frail as I am, I survived by grabbing info fastest, valuing it, managing it. Not just selling—tuning a delicate violin, calculating every ripple from sharing it.”
“Controlling via info... kinda creepy? Miss.”
“Thanks. My rules: always charge for info, stay hidden. Broke both today.”
“...Why?”
“Situation forced me onto that violin. My info now affects me. After watching long, you—‘professor,’ survivor with ties and ‘good intentions’—got my coords.”
Unfazed by Ian’s probing pressure, she caught her breath and continued.
“Want more on your requests—transport whereabouts / happenings below Zone 40 / Dome 38 moves / etc.? Fulfill a few asks.”
Thud!
Ian plopped down with his creepy grin.
“Info for a price... music to my ears. Nothing itchier than free favors. So, what’s the ask? Fair warning: price too high, we walk.”
“Sorry, but you can’t refuse. It’s that kind.”
Ian’s smirk twitched.
“...You’ll own that?”
“Yup. Not just my problem—everyone here’s tangled in it.”
Worn Dana reactivated the drone, playing a video.
“Happy Blind. Stop those zealots. Lost my sources, so details fuzzy... but salvaged this.”
Static—
Video only, no sound.
A man hauling a box torso-sized; ahead, prisoner-types mutating to Type 2 fast.
Not dead—alive, turning. Unlike standard Type 2s: some with dozens of eyes, others upper body gone, just legs left.
“Wait. This...”
“Classified Type 3 mutants. Not 1 or 2—they keep human shape. Won’t match named ones’ power, but Type 3’s Type 3. Threat enough deviating from known behaviors.”
She sipped bedside water, locking eyes with each of us firmly.
“Remember what Happy Blind always preached?”
“[Technology must vanish, and ultimately, all old-gen humans with past memories must go.]”
Dana nodded at Axel’s entranced murmur.
“Yeah. Looks like they found their answer.”
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