Chapter 390
Chapter 390
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Travel Preparations (13)
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*Ring-a-ding- Ring-a-ding-*
*Click.*
“If it’s not some horrific accident first thing in the morning, then you’re the only one who’d use the emergency line. Isn’t that right?”
“Uh.... Good morning-”
“Spare me. Sirens blaring, shells exploding, vibrations echoing across the entire Dome. Anyone thick-skinned enough to sleep through that dawn racket is someone I’d want to hire. Can you explain what the hell happened? From start to finish—not the quick rundown from Azel yesterday. Everything you know.”
“W-Well, then I’d have to start from the aftermath of the Sector 38 incident....”
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*Click.*
A sigh from the communicator. The clink of ice, the irritable rustle of turning pages.
First off, an evacuation order had gone out for the Dome’s largest offline market. Gunfire and explosions rang through the night, the ground shaking like an earthquake. So naturally, the first call came from the Director.
Local mutation symptoms, rare but not unheard of patients, kidnappings, sales—and he spilled everything he’d seen inside.
“Yeah. I see.”
The Director listened without a word, save for the occasional sip to wet his throat, pondered for a good long while, then continued.
“Periods of transition are inevitable in a rapidly changing society. Though this incident isn’t exactly common.”
“But it’s the Dome, isn’t it? You’re the group chasing the restoration of old order. Shouldn’t you at least keep the psychos running wild like serial killers in check? This is your front yard, not some back alley. Zeus Valley.”
“....Understood. I agree it was necessary. And I get that your people stepped in to do what the Dome should have.”
“Oh, then—”
“No compensation. Head back.”
“....I haven’t even asked yet.”
“We both know what comes next. What difference does saying it make?”
“No, really—are you seriously not helping out even a little?”
“You know the answer, so no need to voice it.”
Damn it.
He’d tried to gently coax some compensation out of it, but the Director shut it down before he could even start.
How can you understand everything up to that point and still dump it all on me? It wasn’t some other house’s problem I solved—I cleared the rats out of their master bedroom!
“Director, have you no conscience?”
“Of course, if we’d left it alone, it would’ve grown into a major threat to Dome security. So yes, we benefited from your help.”
“Right!”
“Morally, we should shoulder some of the burden.”
“Exactly!”
“But does the world run on morality and righteousness alone?”
“So—huh?”
It swerved hard just as it was going well, and suddenly the Director’s voice dropped seriously.
“Let’s just list the facts. We never commissioned such an action. The damage far exceeded anything we anticipated. And we didn’t cooperate in any way. From a legal standpoint, outside of ethics, the ‘Rat-Human Extermination Op’ was purely the independent action of the mercenary group BDSM. Got it?”
“No, but people-wise—”
“If a cop misses a perp, and a passerby trips him up to catch him—can that passerby demand payment from the cops?”
“No, but—”
“If a butcher slices your meat for free as a service, and you slice it yourself—can you demand a discount?”
“Th-”
“Your vol. un. tary. goodwill and personal vigilantism clearly aided Dome operations, but we have no obligation to compensate you. Hell, you could’ve at least filed a provisional report beforehand.”
“....Hey!”
He was getting pushed back. Damn it.
Look at that timing! He was out-talking him! Did this guy have some alcohol overclock mode? He kept slurping booze mid-conversation, yet sounded crystal clear!
“You’re really gonna play it like that? We’re not strangers!”
We’re family, damn it!
“Sorry, but the Dome can’t afford surprise expenses right now. We’ll overlook the unsanctioned military action in the sector. Handle the rest yourselves.”
“Director!”
“Oh, and about that conscience—you sold yours pretty pricey a few years back. Thought you might wonder.”
“Diiiiiirector!!!”
“One more thing. Return the borrowed million cats to the designated account ASAP. No interest, considering ‘our relationship.’”
*Click.*
*Beep- Beep- Beep-*
“Hello? Hello?”
He hung up.
He’d ended up pathetically begging at the end, but all that came back was the communicator’s miserable tone.
“Haaaah....”
Staring blankly at the brightening Zeus Valley, his snickering buddies sidled up, grinning.
“What’d he say?”
“....Not even a tooth’s worth. Damn alcohol-powered machine of a man.”
“Kyah! That’s why I like him! Gotta separate public from private! As a group leader, being cold sometimes—or every day—is just par for the course! Especially when there’s no real obligation for the Dome to pay up!”
“Flea liver? No, he wants flea omakase. Fuckin’ hell.”
“Kehehehe. You’re not Sisyphus with fleas—you’ve got money, don’t you?”
“....Yeah, it works out money-wise.”
Before calling the Director, reeling from the dizzying string of zeros on the bill, he’d contacted Corduro.
[Yes~ Your perfect life companion—Housing AI Corduro from Professor’s Place~ The master is currently away—]
[It’s me, you idiot.]
[....Huh?]
*Click.*
*Click.*
*Click.*
[Yeees~ Voice confirmed~~~ And unregistered caller too~~~ Idiot!!! What kind of dumb AI falls for voiceprint phishing these days?! Hah! Think you’re the first?! Hey! Master finally makes some cash, and the whole neighborhood’s scheming to scam it~ Scheming like crazy! Hey! Stay right there! I’ll trace your signal and blast it across the whole community!]
[Hey.]
[Unregistered comms, unregistered in the community too! Scammers these days don’t even put in the effort—]
[Got a revolver at home with one bullet. Seven notches carved in it. No use for it anymore—want me to use it on you? Snap out of it?]
“M-Master?”
[Been a while, idiot. House seems secure.]
“Maaaaaaaster!!!!!”
The guy wailed in his signature electronic high-pitched tone, like he’d been through hell lately.
[Aigoo~ Heard you popped up in the community! But these past months, every ‘contact’ was scammers, hackers— this bastard learned to suspect everything!]
“Enough. Check my account balance and read it off.”
“Money! Money it is! Of course~ Every time I check your account, all my worries vanish! The way it grows—it eats up my memory! Know accounts auto-shrink the font when numbers get too long? Probably no other AI’s seen it live!]
The amount Corduro rattled off in excitement made his aspen-trembling hands stop dead.
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[Master? Master? You didn’t glitch, right?]
No handset on the built-in comms was a shame. Perfect moment for that shocked drop-the-phone reaction.
He was rich.
Filthy rich.
No more yelling about scrap metal or copper mixes! He was eye-poppingly loaded now!!!!
He compared the portable bill in his hand to Corduro’s figure. Let’s see. Roughly speaking....
“How much left after paying?”
“Uh.... Ground’s sunk in Zeus Valley, walls are at risk, and damage costs are skyrocketing in real-time....”
“And?”
“....We could pay in full?”
Yeah. The receipt that shook the ultra-macho Professor—who busted heads barehanded and sipped coffee amid seas of blood—didn’t even need installments.
“Yeah, kid. Professor here ain’t some past lone survivor anymore. BDSM’s troop count broke 350. And we’re constantly operating in hot zones without rest. Know how much we burn daily? You’re the leader. Can’t be nickel-and-diming eggs like a small-timer. Director knows you’re loaded, that’s why he dumped it. If paying would make Dome’s hero a beggar, he’d have covered it. Time to ditch that beggar mentality. Watching a few hundred billion vanish from the account’ll change your tune.”
“Hard to adjust.”
Money’s money, but it stung watching all that hard-earned cash vanish in one go—even if unintended.
Anyway, the shocking money issue resolved with enough left for generous troop bonuses. Time to think next steps.
“The patients?”
“They said no to sending them to the Dome, so we brought ’em to HQ for now. So the rat boss is in the Dome, huh?”
“Guess so, for now.”
Gazing down at the still-dusty site, he recalled the intel gathered.
“Black market with top-tier modern facilities. Takes more than money.”
Experiments, medical gear production—every tech and material was rare, left traces.
One tail.
“Jokasss said it: Rat byproducts? Hunters maybe, but processors are pro experts only. Saw plenty artisan-types inside—not one or two. Two or three means homegrown, but underground criminals mass-producing pros more systematically than legit ops in this tiny scene? Nah. Track any suddenly vanished byproduct processors, and we’ll get a lead.”
Rat-infested hole or not, some escaped even if they collapsed the ground and cordoned Zeus Valley. If they punched escape tunnels outside, even full Inspectorate couldn’t find ’em.
Irreplaceable processors were top priority for evac—some of those seen underground surely bolted.
Unleash Inspectorate or buy informants with cash, track those guys down, squeeze who they linked with to burrow in—and rat tail number two.
“Use for the captured mutating humans: Process mutation parts like regular mutants for sale, and the still-human bits have that mutant trait—no rejection on transplants. So harvest hearts, livers, lungs, all organs and sell. Universal donor organs drop transplant difficulty to basic surgery. Sells like hotcakes, she said.”
Robot-like organ swaps with minimal aftereffects—medical revolution. Sellers mean buyers. Rich folks who’d pay big for swaps. Loaded enough to try legit treatments first, leaving traces.
Track those, string ’em up in Inspectorate basements, ask ‘Wanna cough up the loot or burn?’—shake ’em down for rat tail three.
“Finally, those half-made firearms underground. Even a rat hole can’t handle metal foundries—heat, gases, impossible. Someone supplied parts. Shake down gunsmiths to used arms dealers, find the supplier—rat tail four.”
Rushed intel, but solid quality from brief insider peek.
“Pull these tails one by one, and we’ll find ’em eventually. Who scouted, ran, connected to this scale of crime org.”
“Good! Then why the long face?”
“....‘Find’ being the key. Means poking the whole Dome like a beehive.”
Four major tails. Yanking ’em reveals everything—no hiding. The rat boss, still here rebuilding or bailing?—any noise, and he’s gone.
“Tail-chasing probes always take time. Hole’s buried, body’s chopped—but head escapes. Op’s a failure.”
Strictly, evicting the main human-hunting group from Dome succeeds the request short-term.
Still, letting the ‘human trauma factory’ surpassing Saw go free? He’d grind his teeth nightly for a month.
“What can ya do. Can’t win every time perfectly. If ops always succeeded, they’d call ’em jobs, not ops.”
“....Ugh, whatever! Let’s wrap cleanup and hit vacation! I’m out!”
No matter how he racked his brain, his part ended here.
So his job—done.
What he thought’d drag on wrapped sloppily, restoring 6 full vacation days. Luxury amid disaster? Or disaster in luxury?
“Cleanup.... Even after, patients mid-local mutation won’t live normally, right?”
“Probably not. No survivor wants a potential monster next door. Wastelanders are hardcore on safety.”
“Th-Those.... under, cr-criminals.... roach....”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Rare symptoms turning profitable? Word’ll spread underground eventually. Second, third hunters popping up soon.”
Perception shift. Needing real protection....
Heading to HQ to think, he spotted Bex opening the door—idea hit.
“Hey, Bex.”
“Y-Yeah....?”
“You got Rabbit Princess’s personal contact? Said you’re still seeing her.”
“Y-Yeah.... sorta....?”
“Patch me through once. We’re tangled in various stuff anyway—might as well handle it all now.”
“N-Not hard, b-but.... Ra-Rabbit doesn’t li, listen to o-other pe, people....”
“Fine. Got a magic spell that guarantees a meet once.”
“Magic.... spell?”
“Pfft—! Professor claims he can summon any woman? Mutants’ll tap-dance by.”
Ian smirked from the wheel; Bex eyed suspiciously but connected the call.
*Click-*
“Yeees! Rabbit Princess’s private secret line! Bex—! You finally called first! Like I say daily—don’t just hold the receiver mumbling, speak up a bit to improve—”
Bright voice burst out like a machine gun the second it connected.
“Uh, um.... Tr-Try-ing.... No. N-Not that, wanna meet now b-but not me....”
Bex, comfy with her, managed some words—then passed the receiver pleadingly.
“I’m kinda busy now, but I can squeeze an hour—”
“Nah, it’ll take over an hour, so don’t squeeze—cancel your schedule if you can.”
....One second of silence.
“Oh my. Professor? Long time.”
“Yes. Was worried, but you two seem to gel better than expected. Nice.”
“Me too—turns out he’s my type. So, calling about love life?”
“Nah. Time to talk properly, don’t you think?”
“Hmm~ What about?”
Probing like she didn’t know.
He could play along, but vacation was evaporating by the second.
“What did Professor claim as his 3rd World clear reward?”
“Oh.”
“Let’s check completer candidates. Got other stuff too.”
“....Too juicy to pass. Fine—one condition, and I clear my day.”
“Condition?”
“Bex shows up solo, driving something sleek and clean—not his usual truck or buggy. Oh, suit too. Hates uncomfortable clothes, hard to force—but wanna see it again.”
“That’s nothing. I’ll prince her on a white horse with a million roses.”
“Ooo~ Stylish. See ya~”
*Ring-a-ding-*
*Mwah!* Hung up with a kissy sound.
“....Bex. In near 40 years meeting tons of women—that ain’t normal. You’re trapped for life.”
“Feels like a storm blew through.”
“Heh.... Hehehe....”
Short call revealed her type crystal clear.
Anyway, she’s coming. With Rabbit’s help, most loose ends tie easy.
“This wraps it—real break time. Yo, any fun spots?”
“With Dana? Or all together.”
“....All together?”
“Damn eunuch. Fine, got a good place—wrap today and go.”
“Thanks man. Wake me when we arrive.”
Leaning back, all-nighter fatigue crashed in.
‘Completer candidate. 6 days leave left. Fun memories....’
All real-life stuff, yet all game-tied.
Feeling anew how deep Gedroits had wormed into his life, he surrendered to sleep.
Half-dozing, he heard Bex and Ian bickering over fresh roses or horse farms.
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