Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: How to Survive in Fusion Punk
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Jin was as steady as ever.
And being that steady came with both upsides and downsides.
The upside was that he was a born headbutter dinosaur—quick to act on instinct and bulldoze through anything with decisive flair.
The downside? The impacts left him a bit punch-drunk in life.
That wasn't the same as being stupid.
Stupid was just slow on the uptake.
Jin was simply... straightforward.
A mindset of perpetual mild concussion.
No overthinking!
Life was dizzy enough already!
Yesterday had been a perfect example.
Gabelus Zahard.
The head of the Zahard family—a legendary giant who fused nature and photonics—had taken an interest in Jin.
This was the kind of event that could flip Lost City on its head.
Rumors had been swirling that the succession wasn't going smoothly for the Zahards anyway.
Right when their most promising youngest son had excommunicated himself, leaving everyone speculating about a rocky generational shift, a collateral branch kid catches the family head's eye?
It wasn't widely known yet.
But the city was primed to buzz over it.
If you asked the man himself, though, he'd just blink and say:
"Who's Gabelus?"
And that made sense.
To Jin, Gabelus was nothing more than some nameless old geezer wandering around searching for his runaway son.
The only standout traits? A bunch of bodyguards and a vague resemblance to a kindly grandpa.
Of course, Jin had no clue that this geezer's prodigal bastard—the scourge of the world—was a guy named Rokhan who'd gifted(?) him that photon gun.
In his head, Gabelus and Rokhan were as unrelated as people on opposite sides of the planet.
So Jin didn't give it a second thought.
Not even now, sprawled on his bed scrolling his terminal.
"......"
It was early morning.
That awkward hour where you're not quite up but too awake to crash again.
The terminal screen was filled with a topic feed summarizing the city's latest hot issues, and Jin's thumb flicked up and down idly.
Honestly, nothing caught his interest.
Some famous singer risking it all for a concert in the 40s districts?
Or news about transplanting a boxer's brain—suicide by poison notwithstanding—into a cyberware body to bring him back?
None of it moved the needle for Jin.
Truth be told, he'd rather hear news from his hometown back home—stuff he'd never know now anyway.
Like, which team won the 2023 Worlds?
...No way JDG?
You guys didn't actually pull off the Gold Road dream, right?
Nah, couldn't be. It better not be.
But they were power rankings number one.
Who stops that monster?
Aw.
Jin shook his head, chasing away the nightmare scenario that had crept in unbidden. Better drop this train of thought. No point dwelling—no answer would come anyway. He hurriedly swiped the thought bubble away in his mind and refocused on the terminal. Shlick— His thumb paused mid-scroll. A familiar name sat right where his finger stopped.
[Combat escalating across Mute Town; transport networks and infrastructure taking heavy damage... Humanitarian aid now unavoidable.]
[Who are the rising warlord faction TB and their leader Taha?]
[Prolonged isolation could lead to unforeseeable crises...]
Naturally, Jin recalled the moment he'd taken a resistance gig and planted bombs in that factory. He scanned the article carefully. All that rambling boiled down to one thing: the civil war in Mute Town was heating up. And at the bottom, a single attached photo. A massive beastman standing atop a crumpled tank. A lion's face with a flowing white mane stared straight at the camera, fluorescent predator eyes gleaming.
"...So that's Taha. Guy looks tough as nails."
Muttering to himself, Jin powered off the terminal. Hoping, in a brief way, for a good outcome for the resistance folks he'd crossed paths with.
Ting-a-ling—
Cleaned up and with a solid breakfast in his gut, Jin arrived at Anecdote.
Time: 11:28 a.m.
Kalifa had asked him to swing by before noon, so he was comfortably early.
As he shoved open the door, his plan was to kill time chatting with Poh—
But what was this?
Across a long table, a massive back faced him, deep in talk with Poh.
Anyone in Anecdote at this hour was likely a solo merc, so Jin figured he'd not interrupt and took a seat at a polite distance.
Poh gave a silent nod of greeting.
Then the bulk spoke up.
"Think it over. It's not a bad deal for you guys either."
"We'll consider it."
"Good man."
The big guy nodded, then chugged the water on the table.
He shoved his chair back, rising like a mountain...
Jin tilted his head.
Huh? Why's he heading my way?
Sure enough, instead of heading out, the brute strode right toward Jin.
Right hand dipping into his jacket.
Hand in the jacket.
Back in Korea, someone does that—with a bit of flourish?
Usually, out pops a heart made with thumb and index, complete with a cheeky wink. People blink, then burst out laughing half a beat late.
But Downtown?
Hand in jacket?
Gun! It's a gun!
Jin reflexively grabbed Gravis.
Rack—He leveled it as the guy closed to two steps away—
"Whoa, whoa. Easy, easy."
The brute raised both hands by his ears and whistled sharp.
His fingers wiggled; Jin flicked his eyes—white paper clamped between index and middle.
Voice followed.
"Business card, friend."
Jin dropped his gaze back to the face.
Black guy with chrome-plated front teeth.
Dreadlocks twisted tight—full-on reggae style.
Thwap.
Finally lowering his arm, Jin holstered Gravis.
No apology, of course.
In this world, the one creating the misunderstanding was at fault.
"Business card?"
Jin snatched it from the brute's hand.
Eyes hit the print:
[Drandre Linker Office]
Huh. Not a solo?
Jin blinked, having assumed. He looked up again.
"You're a linker?"
"What'd you think I was?"
Drandre chuckled.
"If you're interested, hit me up. Just so you know, unlike Kalifa—"
"Unlike her what? You take the dirty jobs she won't?"
Kalifa clicked over, cutting him off.
"Out. Drandre. Don't push it."
Drandre fired back, undaunted.
"Hey, calling this pushing hurts my feelings. I didn't slip him cash or anything—just said call if interested."
"That's pushing. Prospecting in my shop?"
"What, you gonna kick me out? This ain't holy ground. Protecting your precious solo, huh? What, you gonna cuddle him up and turn him into a billboard star?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Quit hogging!"
Snappy tones clashed with icy retorts.
Jin just scratched his cheek in the middle.
What're they even doing?
He hadn't said a word, yet they were growling at each other like crazy.
Should he step in?
Eh, why bother?
Two linkers bickering over him.
Meant they rated him high.
Not bad at all.
Keep going.
Arms crossed, nodding along—Poh finally played referee.
"Ladies, gentlemen—calm down."
Plain words shut them up.
Well, Drandre anyway.
Kalifa had the last word.
Like getting punched one more time, then someone breaks it up.
Why now! Damn it!
Charging back in would kill face, though.
So Drandre went with—
"Catch you later, Jin!"
A parting shot just to him!
Advertising his interest loud and clear!
"We will meet, Jin!!"
He stormed out without a backward glance.
Kalifa scowled after him.
"...Persistent to the end."
Her tone dripped annoyance.
Jin just snickered, amused.
"What's his deal?"
"Drandre? Linker. Famous for fast job turnover. Problem is, he burns through his solos—no rest. Most who work with him are desperate for cash. He exploits that to the hilt."
"Ah."
Jin nodded, getting it. Kalifa added:
"So Jin, steer clear. It's a headache."
Jin didn't reply.
Just tucked the card in his pocket.
Who knew how life might twist?
After the storm blew over in Anecdote, Kalifa explained why she'd called Jin.
A client wanted to meet him personally.
"Me? Why?"
"Wants to eyeball the guy himself before handing over work. Rare, but happens."
"You don't know who?"
"Nope. Wouldn't say. Just wants to chat. First half-baked name-only request for me. Can't just send you blind. If talk's the goal, do it here."
Jin sucked air through his teeth.
"What if they don't like me? Gig flops, I wasted a trip?"
"Don't sweat it. If they bail, they still pay partial deposit. All yours."
"Oh?"
Jin's face lit up.
Fare at least. Nice.
Then Kalifa said:
"Speaking of money—grab your payout later too. That Kingsgroom broker grab. You didn't forget?"
"Right, yeah."
Jin smacked his lips.
Natasha's credits were still plenty, so it'd slipped his mind.
Would've forgotten entirely without the nudge.
Kalifa—Downtown's trust icon.
As he bobbed his head—
Ting-a-ling—
Noon hit, door swung open.
Jin, Kalifa, Poh—all eyes on the entrance.
Clack.
Crisp shoe steps: a guy in a sharp suit.
Suit alone? Maybe.
But slicked-back waxed hair and briefcase in hand?
Didn't fit Downtown one bit.
Kalifa addressed him:
"You A77oo0Gun?"
"Yes. That was my ID."
"Follow me. Jin, you too."
She jerked her chin, leading to a side reception room.
"Drink? Coffee?"
Leaning on the doorframe, she asked. The man sat across Jin at the small table, turning.
"Water's fine."
"Got it."
"What about me...?"
"Cola."
Kalifa smirked lightly, clicking the door shut.
Now alone, the man eyed Jin.
"Business after drinks arrive. Hate interruptions mid-flow."
"Whatever."
Jin shrugged.
Then the man's gaze drifted low—locked on Jin's lower half, smirking.
What the?
Jin flinched, hands over his crotch.
What's with the blatant stare?
No words made it creepier.
Choking sensation hit; Jin coughed awkwardly—
"Excuse me."
Poh entered with water and cola, set them down with a nod, and left.
Jin shot desperate eyes—Poh! This guy's weird!—but the bartender missed it.
Door shut; man spoke.
"You're using it well, I see. Good to know."
"...What?! On what basis?"
Jin demanded. Man reached into his jacket.
"First, introductions."
Again? Twice in one day—must be special.
Before the thought finished—
He slid a black card across the table.
"Pleased to meet you. Wonder Douglas, sales team lead for Luger & Dolman."
"Hm?"
Familiar name narrowed Jin's eyes.
Memory flashed; hand instinctively to his waist—
The man smiled smoothly.
"That's right. Makers of Gravis 707."