Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: For That Handful of Silver (3)
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***
Cold rationality. Calm composure.
These were virtues that could never be emphasized enough for anyone living in the wasteland. On this barren land, there wasn't even time for regrets, so doubt was a virtue, and filtering out suspicious information was the wise choice.
'No need to rush. Once you've left the safe zone, it's best not to create any exceptional missions. My goal is solely to pass through Sector 45 and meet my trading partner. Taking on any more risk than that would be a loss.'
“Kihehe, what do you think? Doesn't it tempt you? That glorious era you've dreamed of countless times in your sleep must still be preserved exactly as it was?”
But the bait was too enticing by far. Right after World War III. Back when scavengers weren't all that numerous yet, a panic room belonging to the rich—sealed away after nothing more than a quick glance over the surface, practically brand new.
'Coldly, conservatively...'
“...What's the scale? How many hours exactly since it was discovered?”
“No precise information yet. It's been about six hours since discovery... They've only just started prying open the lid, and they've already hit the jackpot right from the beginning.”
“Jackpot...”
“Thirty 2050-model orbital mission protective suits. Preservation devices included.”
“Kehek!”
He choked from the sheer shock.
'I—calm! Ch—composed! A seven-year veteran shouldn't waver at something like th—this!'
“Th—that kind of treasure... Nearby scavengers would've already stripped the place clean by now, right?”
“Hm? Ah, no, not at all. There were a massive number of mutants inside. They probably all moved in when World War III broke out, waited it out inside until things stabilized, but then something went wrong and they couldn't get out.”
Gulp.
Hold it together. Don't waver. It's nothing major. No, it is major, but the risks will be huge too. The good stuff's probably already been looted, with nothing left but some old furniture—
“I know a bit about these structures. When rich folks build panic rooms for long-term hiding, they never go in alone. After the crisis ends and the outside world's a mess, they bring along bodyguards to protect them. Those suits on the first floor were probably prepared for those guys, so the shelters buried underground... at least thirty of them, maybe seventy or eighty if we're lucky?”
He couldn't hold back! Seventy—seventy pristine Old World shelters!!!
Drip—
Ah, sorry, my rationality. I failed to hold onto you again today.
“What's the situation at the entrance? Any movements from big groups like Dome or Raptor Society? How many mutants, and what kinds...”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down, comrade. There's an order to how these things are done, isn't there?”
The short man unwound the dirty bandage coiled around his right hand, slipped off the glove underneath, roughly wiped his sweat-soaked hand on his collar, and held it out.
“Vex. People around here just call me Vex. With the situation like this, I was looking for some local buddies, and you caught my eye. That three-way junction point from earlier? It's one I use pretty often too!”
“...How do you know you can invite me along? For all you know, I could be a vanguard sent by Dome.”
“Kihehehit!”
Vex let out a grotesque laugh in his raspy voice.
“Your acting's clumsy, acting. Well, better to clear up useless misunderstandings quickly. You're a lone wolf, aren't you?”
“...”
“No need to answer. The way you check your position and exposure points with every single step. That's a habit you pick up when you're solo, on guard in every direction—front, back, left, right—without any backup. Normal guys don't check maps that thoroughly. It's proof you've been going solo for quite a while.”
“...Sharp.”
“Kihit! Not hard. I move the exact same way!”
“But being a solo doesn't guarantee you're not the enemy.”
“Not at all! In an era like this, surviving alone means a lot.
It's a dangerous world, right? The weak band together under the strong, and the even weaker just die. The very fact that you've survived solo without joining a group means you're someone who can hold your own.
And not belonging to a group means either you hate being tied down by rules or you've got some other personal circumstances. Either way, it means you've got backbone. Guys like that at least listen to reason! Kihihit!”
“...So you chose me?”
“Yeah. Sure, if you weigh the risks, they never end, but where's a choice without risk in this world? You just gotta accept them. Military background means ops planning will be easy, and you've got skills. You seemed like a good fit. How about it—wanna go treasure hunting together?”
“...”
He hesitated for a moment, but the deliberation was brief. With 2.4 million in danger right at his doorstep, taking on some risk for a huge payout was more than worth it.
The Professor undid the buckle at his wrist, removed his glove, and extended his hand. He couldn't give his real name. They weren't close enough for that. A nickname wouldn't do either. If it got out that he and "professor" were the same person, someone might backtrack his movements and expose his shelter's location. Broadcasters were top priority targets for scavengers like these. A name... a name for outside use should sound pretty tough, right?
The Professor spoke without much deliberation.
“Hanged Man. Nice to meet you.”
“Kihit, comrade, your naming sense is utter trash. You're gonna die quick.”
Thud.
And with that, their temporary alliance was sealed. The hand of another person after so long... well... it was more unpleasant than expected. So sticky.
***
Once they'd agreed to travel together, Vex took the lead, saying he knew a good spot. Despite his small, scrawny build, his movements were so nimble it was hard to keep up.
“By the way, uh... Hamman? You're one tough lucky bastard, comrade.”
“Hey, been wondering since earlier. Is that just how you talk normally, or is it some new scavenger slang?”
It had been bothering him since before. This Vex guy's speech was weird. Word order off-kilter, words popping out randomly—perfectly understandable, but grating on the ears.
“Tch. You'd get it if you lived solo in the wasteland too. Zero chance to talk to anyone.”
“Hm...”
‘Master!’
‘Masteeeeer!’
‘Hehehe, human!’
‘Masteeeeer!’
Not even close. He had one guy noisy enough to drive him neurotic.
“Live with blood on your hands every day, no one to talk to, so the delusions in my head just kept piling up. At some point, my words couldn't keep up with my brain. My head spits it all out, but my mouth's still talking. So I chop the words short, let 'em come out however my thoughts go.”
Hm. Interesting mental disorder. Mental problems, huh... Teammate points: -1.
“Isn't that dangerous? You taking your meds?”
“Talking nonsense. Who in this wasteland ain't crazy? Everyone's survived in their own twisted way. I'm one of the tame ones?”
Tap, tap!
Vex cackled as he wall-kicked over a dead-end alley. No matter how you sliced it, that wasn't just good footwork.
“Where'd you serve?”
“Huh? Kihihit! Earlier you just blew cold wind when I asked!”
“You were the enemy then. Now you're a teammate.”
“Hehe! Hm, well, I've got pride too, so I hate saying it, but since our tough lucky comrade's asking, I'll answer?”
“Tough lucky? Me?”
“Of course! You ran into a once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunity that every scavenger in the world dreams of, right on your way through! If that's not luck, what is!”
Well. If this was the path he took because he was desperate to do anything to avoid dying crushed under debt from his AI's impulse-buy frenzy, he might see it differently.
-Vwoong!
Using the tension from a snapped power line, Vex vaulted straight up to a third-floor window and pulled back the cloth covering his wrist as he spoke.
“I was in the Allied 3rd Airborne. They called it Air3—ever heard of it? Hapban?”
“It's been less than three minutes since I told you ‘Hanged Man.’”
“Not a memory issue. My mouth just says it. What can I do?”
Thud—
The Professor crawled up the jagged, pitted exterior of the building and reached Vex's position. He felt a sense of familiarity with the tattoo Vex had revealed.
“If it's the 3rd... the Tarrel Ground Reclamation Operation?”
“O! You know it! The whole beggar life of mine, even condensed down, couldn't match how beggar-like that one day was! We might've even fought on the same battlefield? Where were you, Hapban?”
“Hm... 14th.”
The Professor hesitated briefly but decided to just tell him. Since he'd be entrusting his back to the guy, even if only temporarily, building some rapport seemed like the smart move.
Thud.
However, Vex—who had been rummaging around inside the abandoned building—suddenly pitched forward onto his face.
“Finally lost my ears too? 14? From the 14th SpecOps?”
Nod, nod.
At the Professor's affirmation, Vex—muttering things like 'no way, I can't believe it'—suddenly shot to his feet and thrust his hand toward the Professor.
Swoosh!
‘Fast!’
He reacted. Or at least, he thought he had—by then, Vex was already gripping the Professor's wrist and inspecting it.
“That! That thing! Y'know, the one you etch on your body and it never fades!”
“Tattoo?”
“Yeah! Tattoo! Show me! You can't say you don't have one, right?”
‘...Is it really okay to team up with this guy? He seems way more unstable than before?’
His skills were undeniably solid based on what he'd shown so far, but this was like... bipolar or something...
Tap, tap.
The Professor eyed Vex—who was still clutching his wrist—with suspicion, then undid the buckles on his protective suit and revealed the tattoo on the back of his shoulder blade, above the wing bone.
A small, simple tattoo. A thin circle containing a small upright arrow. Its meaning:
Kill everything except what's inside.
The unit mark of the 14th Special Annihilation Operations Unit—commonly known as 14th SpecOps.
“Uh... ahhhh... 14... real 14, uhehe, huheeee... 14, real 14...”
After confirming the tattoo, Vex's hands began to tremble. He suddenly started muttering like a madman, then paced rapidly around the inside of the building, grabbing things and moving them about. Most of it looked like junk, and it seemed like pointless wandering at a glance.
“Uh... hey? You okay?”
“Doingcrazyamazingthingdaywronghardagain...”
“Hey... Vex?”
“Metorollinglittletodaycome...”
‘Should I just ditch him?’
An ex-soldier scavenger who spat out near-dialect ramblings at the drop of a hat, with wild emotional swings—no, wild sanity swings.
He didn't look reliable at all.
***
While Vex's bizarre behavior continued, the Professor pulled a pair of binoculars from his backpack and cautiously scanned the outside.
“One, two, three, four... Guess Vex wasn't lying.”
What the Professor spotted weren't people, but flags.
“Red thorn tree flag... that's Turan's kids. The Wanderers are obviously there too—it's so close. No Beni... No Raptors either. And... what flag was that again? Rolling Corps? Thought they got wiped out. The rest are all... nothing but unfamiliar flags—”
“Ahem! No idea, right? Sector 45's the kind of place where a new scavenger group pops up every time you blink.”
“Uwak!”
The Professor jumped in shock at the voice that suddenly came from beside him.
At some point, Vex had appeared, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he peered out the window next to him.
“Sorry. When things don't go according to plan, I tend to get a little... confused.”
“If that's 'a little'... what do you do when you get really confused? Dance around with Molotovs in both hands?”
“Nah! This is just... like a gift box for when plans go wrong... Seeing my plan shift to the spot I personally chose... it just melts my heart...”
‘His speech is even more jumbled than before?’
Strange way of talking. Hard to parse, but the meaning got through perfectly. It sounded like he soothed his frustration from derailed plans by sorting through items.
“What kind of grand plan did you even have that made you throw such a fit?”
“Hm... well...”
Vex fidgeted with his hands and hesitated, then let out a deep sigh as he spoke.
“I was planning to throw you out as bait and sneak inside.”
“Knew it.”
Yeah, he had thought the guy was too cooperative for a first meeting. He'd let himself trust him a little because they were both ex-military who'd fought on the battlefield, but damn, he still had a long way to go. Still trusting people like an idiot.
Anyway, judging by the scavenger crowds gathering, there wouldn't even be scraps left to pick up.
The Professor neatly folded his binoculars and stowed them in his backpack, then sorted his gear and stood up.
“Eh, where you going, Hapban!”
“Where? My own way. It was fun meeting you, comrade. You helped me get here quick, so I'll call it even for the deception.”
As he rose from his spot, Vex began to visibly panic.
“W-wait a sec. I got pro— no, uh, gain, loss— anyway, I changed the plan!”
“You'd be better off giving up clean~. How do you plan to snatch anything valuable out of that dogpile? More importantly, you've already tricked me once? I can't have a guy like that standing behind me with a gun. Let's just split here.”
Deep regret lingered inside, but he forced himself to let it go and turned away. No—he tried to, but Vex had closed in like a ghost and grabbed his wrist again.
“Let go.”
“...Can't.”
“Vex. Let's part on good terms. We haven't done any harm to each other yet, right? Going our separate ways now is the happy ending for both of us.”
“N-no. Hapban, if you go like this, the problem I got will get huge.”
Vex tightened his grip on the Professor's wrist.
Hiss—
‘This guy's been grabbing nonstop since earlier—thinks he can just because I let it slide?!’
The Professor yanked his seized arm with full force, pulling Vex into his chest, while simultaneously slamming his opposite arm forward to pin Vex's neck and chest.
“I let your fast hands tap away earlier, but there's a huge size difference between you and me, got it? I said stop. Stop! Why are you so obsessed with me?!”
“Guhk, uuhk!”
Vex strained desperately to wedge his fingers between the arm pressing his Adam's apple, and the moment his airway cleared, he yelled as if venting pent-up rage.
“FOURTEEEEN!!!”
For a moment, the Professor involuntarily stepped back a little. Vex—who had been clutching the arm pinning his neck—wailed.
“YEEES!! I'm broken! I owe 14! A debt I couldn't repay in a lifetime! If I let you go like this, I can't settle it. I have to do something or I can't settle it! Forever! WAAAAH!!!!”
Still incoherent, but the meaning landed.
“You owe them? Can't settle?”
“Five years! Five years since I finally got a chance! I don't know why, but you smell like them, so I pulled you in without thinking! If I send you off like this, I'm dead! Hapban, please! No more tricks. Give me one more chance! Never again... like that day...!”
‘...Obsessive-compulsive disorder.’
He'd seen it often on the battlefield. Guys who couldn't sleep unless they carved three wooden bayonets and stuck them at the tent entrance. Or the ones who panicked without their cherished holey socks. What Vex was going through was a severely twisted version of that.
“WAAAAH!!! 14... 14...!!! Please! Please!!”
‘Obsession target... 14th SpecOps, huh. Ha, what a mess.’
If the guy was completely insane, he'd put a hole in his head thinking it a good deed and move on. But even while wailing like a lunatic, the guy's fingertips never strayed more than a set distance from the kukri at his waist.
‘He could've broken free, but let me get the superior position.’
Probably planned to draw his knife and break the pin the instant he sensed killing intent. Not someone he could easily subdue if a fight broke out. A gunshot would instantly draw the attention of the swarming scavengers out front—that was a burden too.
In the end, the Professor loosened his grip on the arm pinning Vex.
“Uuh... Hapban, I was the fastest in Air3. I'll be useful. Please help. I want to break free now. Please. Let me settle that day's debt...”
“...Talk one thing at a time. Damn, are there more crazies in the world these days? Seems like I run into one everywhere I go... Might need an exorcism or something.”
Letting a guy like this loose would be trouble. Faster than him, better at hiding. He'd track traces well too, so it'd be obvious he'd follow all the way home.
‘...No helping it.’
During the struggle, the Professor picked up Vex's turban from the floor, roughly wound it by hand, and tossed it to him.
“Hanged Man.”
“...Huh?”
“Call me Hanged Man, not Hapban, and you're forgiven.”
Vex stared at the Professor with eyes full of disbelief for a moment, then tears came gushing out.
“Uuh, huuh, Hap, Han, Hapbuuuuh...”
Vex buried his face in the turban the Professor had tossed him and sobbed for a long while.
***
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