Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: How to Survive in Fusionpunk
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Bzzz.
The phone on the table vibrated. Without taking his hands off the keyboard and mouse, he rolled his eyes to check it. A call from 'Psycho'.
He swiped the touchpad to the right and hit the speaker button.
"Yo, what's up?"
"Bro. What're you doing?"
"Gaming."
"Project Neo?"
"Nah, LoL."
"Ugh, LoL? You know it's illegal for anyone over 30 to even lane? Just play Steam games. Project Neo if you can."
"That doesn't vibe with me. Hold on... Did this guy just die?"
Distracted by the call for a second, the enemy Darius cleaved his head with an axe. Ah, fucking first-blooded. Top's screwed. Totally screwed.
"Why doesn't it vibe? Too complicated? Too hard?"
His little brother sounded baffled.
With the screen grayed out in death, he seized the moment to vent.
"Listen. First off, Street Rat sucks. Stray dog of the streets? Lone fighter? What a joke. They need to rewrite the description: Victim of sucker punches, pickpocketing, random beatings, and all sorts of unprovoked violence. I haven't tried other life paths for comparison, but come on, this is ridiculous.
Hey, ever fought beggars for a spot by a burning oil drum in the dead of winter? Rummaged through food waste in a shit-stinking alley with your nose plugged? Worn the same underwear for two months? Fuck.
And guns? Don't get me started. No matter how many times I get used to them, I just can't. Now I flinch if someone even reaches into their pocket. No wonder American cops are so jumpy. People just turn out that way.
Speaking of guns. You don't know what it's like to kill someone, right? I didn't want to know either. But what choice did I have? Some psycho comes to rob my pocket change and starts stabbing my back, sides, chest like crazy. Blood pouring, head spinning, about to die—what're you gonna do?
Next thing I know, I'm straddling the guy.
Scared he'd move. Scared he'd stab me again. That's why I kept pounding. Then suddenly, he stopped breathing. Couldn't sleep for a week. That smashed-up face haunted my dreams every night.
But you know what? Time dulls it. Honestly, killing's just another job now. Nightmares? Nah, I sleep like a baby. Swore I'd never get used to it, never let myself—but here I am. Bullets still hurt like hell, though.
What do you think? Fucked up, right? That's what I figure.
Even if—hypothetically—some miracle happens and I wake up back in Korea, my life's never going back to the old days.
Maybe that's why I sometimes can't breathe right. Panic attacks?
Fuck if I know. Lately I've been thinking, if someone asks my age, I'll just say one. You know, like YouTubers do... Yeah, alt accounts. Say I make an alt like them. Street Rat grinding through this shithole world. Whaddya think?
It's the only way to jerk off my ego sometimes...
Ah shit, talking it out woke me up.
Hey, this is a dream, right?"
The next moment, laughter leaked through the phone.
"Yeah, bro. Obviously a dream. So you should wake up. Sounds like you've got burglars."
Jin opened his eyes.
Before his dark vision adjusted, he heard rustling. Moving his eyes quietly, he spotted shadowy figures holding their breath in the gloom.
Jin saw them, and they saw Jin.
An unnatural silence.
Then a sudden shout exploded.
"He's onto us!"
"Shoot!"
At the same instant, Jin rolled off the bed.
Thwip thwip thwip! Feathers burst from where he'd lain. Suppressors?
In the chaos, his arm burned—hit once, at least.
Right after, using the bed as a barricade against his back, Jin stretched for the chair leg in front of him.
He guessed the direction roughly and hurled it with all his might.
Whoosh!
The chair sliced through the air at insane speed, smashing into something and shattering.
"Jack!"
"Fuck!"
The other two men freaked out at their half-faced comrade crumpling, aiming toward the chair's path.
The moment they went to pull the triggers.
A wall appeared before them.
The bed flipped like a dinner table.
"Gahk!"
The two men bowled backward by the flying bed. Jin charged right after, whipping a back kick wide.
Bam!
Side-kicked in the ribs, the guy flew into the wall. He retched blood, expression screaming he couldn't take more, nose-planting into his own red puddle.
Jin dispatched the second intruder in a flash.
Now he was waking up properly.
This time, pivoting on his right foot, he spun—like he'd known all along—and seized the last guy's throat, slamming him into the wall.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
The aimless gun sprayed bullets wildly.
One grazed Jin's thigh—not good for either.
Jin hurt; the guy lost his easy death.
And so, late at night.
With a crash of shattering glass, the bloodied man sailed out the window.
His cause from the fifth floor wasn't the fall.
"Ah, fuck."
Jin grimaced, standing amid the wreckage.
"...What kinda assholes are these?"
Jin didn't know, but the nighttime intruders had their own nickname.
Scavengers.
They prowled unmanned motels in back alleys, picking locks, robbing. Killing without hesitation if needed.
Jin only met them entering his second year—truly, learning never ends.
"Rough dreams, huh."
Jin muttered, clenching his right arm.
Trying to squeeze out the bullet. Good idea, bad execution.
Blood bubbled uselessly; the slug stayed put. Wait for new flesh to push it out.
Two hours? Faster with Superhuman unlocked?
Gauging his recovery, Jin approached the two sprawled corpses.
Appropriate looting followed.
Not as lucrative as hoped.
The one tossed out the window had the cash—Jin fumed at nearly getting kidnapped by beggar scum.
"This neighborhood's always fresh. Always thrilling."
Even desensitized to blood and bodies, Jin had no desire to linger.
Bed and window already trashed anyway.
As he rinsed his neck at the sink to leave, a translucent window blocked his view.
Quiet lately, now this shit again.
Jin swiped it away roughly.
"Piss off."
Useless nagging.
His mood soured from dawn. Hands jammed deep in pockets, he stepped out.
Sudden raid, plus that damn quest window.
It ruined last night, but overall, Jin was thrilled with the last few days.
A buoyant buzz even sitting still? That vibe?
He first chalked it up to a fat wallet.
100K credits was the biggest haul since drifting into this world.
Three square meals a day, no-fuss lodging, fresh undies and socks.
But pondering deeper, it wasn't just that.
So what?
Source of that tickle in his chest.
After much thought, Jin concluded:
Ah. This time, the money was legit pay.
His mind cleared.
Past earnings were simple:
Stake out a deserted alley.
Thugs, punks, low-tier gangsters pick a fight.
Beat 'em down.
Loot pockets.
Bait strategy.
Not great pay.
And fulfillment from rifling trash pockets? Smell-free was blessing enough.
Then his first gig.
Finishing it.
The cash reward.
A simple "thanks."
Made his heart race.
Maybe he could live a bit human-like?
A tiny hope.
So Jin paused mid-bite on his hotdog.
"Mister. Lemme ask something."
The hollow-eyed middle-aged vendor grilling sausages eyed him suspiciously.
"What? No refunds. You ate half already."
"Heh, you think I'm some bum? Nah."
"Fine. Buy another."
What the—? But Jin went with it.
Stomach was rumbling anyway.
"So what's the question?"
Vendor handed a fresh hotdog; Jin chomped a big bite before answering.
"Know how to become a Solo?"
"Huh?"
"You don't?"
Vendor frowned.
"Why Solo? Got fantasies about merc life?"
"Nah. So you know or not?"
"Course not. If I did, would I be slinging hotdogs?"
"Fair..."
Jin leaned for another bite, knowing it. Vendor added:
"But I know this: Gotta catch a Linker's eye."
"Linker?"
"What, no clue? From the moon? Sigh. Good luck surviving like that. Won't last."
Vendor shook his big head; Jin, mouth full, glared.
"Listen, this guy's no joke. Spill it all at once or what? Good I didn't add extra. This is all—hey! Info fee!"
Crunch! Wanna close shop?!
Food bits flew destructively; vendor waved frantically.
"Ack, spraying everywhere! Stop! I'll tell!"
"Tch. Shoulda from the start."
Beckoning like recite, glaring at Jin's twitching finger, vendor continued.
"Linker's a Linker. What more? ...Hey, why the fist? Broker. Connects clients and Solos. Easy?"
Aha. Literal Linker.
Jin nodded, mind flashing a question.
"Why need a broker's approval?"
"Huh?"
"I'm the one doing the work. Why picky? Hell, they didn't even hire me first. No eye for talent—how we gonna team up? Right? Anyway, hotdog's good. Gimme two more. Extra sauce."
"......"
Vendor scanned Jin top to bottom.
Thought half-decent, but those gray eyes gleamed sly—yep, Downtown denizen.
Common sense trashed, probably fried BCI chip from Blacknet mishaps.
So, placate gently.
"No need waiting for Linkers. Go find one. Here, hotdogs."
Jin took the two.
Go to them first, huh.
Not thrilled, but options limited.
Tired of squatting alleys waiting for punks.
Real work, live human-ish. Maybe escape Downtown someday.
Heard Area 30+ had decent security. No bullets in sleep there. Yeah. Gotta be.
Muttering inwardly, Jin crammed the last hotdog—his final cash.
Chewing mangled, he eyed the wary vendor.
"Know any Linkers? Name one. Going now."