Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Drandre's Dive
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In Jin's hometown, there was this unfilial custom to prove one's innocence by staking their mother's honor.
Meaning, what I'm saying is the gospel truth, so please believe me.
Of course, from the listener's perspective, it could be downright offensive.
Like, what did my innocent mom, just sitting there, ever do to you?
But Jin merely let out a faint, dry chuckle. Unlike his usual self, he didn't inwardly drone on about the Three Bonds and Five Morals or pull any young-fogey nonsense.
Why? Because Drandre's words hit exactly like something from his elementary, middle, and high school days.
It dragged him right back to his own childhood.
Back then, whenever boys faced even the slightest injustice, they'd clench a fist, stick out their thumb and pinky, press one to their tongue and the other to their forehead, didn't they?
Not that he's proud of it, but that's how it was.
Come to think of it, the neighboring country had that boy detective who casually swore on his grandpa's name left and right. Different methods, sure, but tying family honor to personal conviction? Seemed like a universal brand of childish bravado.
Anyway.
As Jin—unwittingly lost in nostalgia—lifted the corner of his mouth, Drandre took it as the conversation clicking.
"How about it? Sound tempting?"
"Curious, yeah."
"Great. Then we'll hash out the details inside. Follow me."
Drandre spun on his heel.
Striding off down the alley, his broad, hulking back made Jin cock his head.
He called out from behind.
"Hey, hey, hey—not at Anecdote? It's right around the corner."
"What? Why go there? I've got an office. Booze too!"
He looked oddly wounded, like his pride had taken a hit.
Was suggesting Anecdote really that touchy?
Jin blinked and added,
"I came for Kalifa's cookies."
"Bullshit. Those cookies? I can hook you up too! Stacks of 'em. A whole damn mountain. Just come on."
Hmm. When he put it like that, what was there to argue?
Jin shrugged and trailed after Drandre.
And so, to Junk Plaza Complex 5!
Some twenty-minute walk from Anecdote in Complex 2.
Drandre's steps led to a chicken-coop tenement that stole your breath just looking at it.
No elevator in sight—they climbed stairs to the third floor, right corridor's end.
A modest plaque on the wall greeted them.
[Drandre Dumbass Linker Office]
"......?"
Jin rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Dumbass?
Incredibly, that's exactly what it said.
Knife gouges scarred between [Drandre] and [Linker].
Not even a proper strikethrough—just jagged black marker scribbles. Utterly mortifying.
And that was just the start.
The slightly crooked plaque, painful to behold, was pockmarked with cigarette burns.
This screamed grudges from the neighbors, right?
So Jin pondered.
Drandre, unfazed, pushed the door open.
"I'm back."
A booming shout echoed back.
"Welcome home, boss!"
Pure third-rate gangster flick dialogue, paired with a 90-degree bow from the man inside.
"Yeah, yeah."
Drandre waved him off dismissively. Only then did the figure straighten up.
But on second glance... not human.
Raw steel features, sans artificial skin, swiveled toward Jin.
"An honor to serve!"
"Ah, uh... hi."
Jin gave an awkward wave. The android snapped to parade rest.
"...He always like this?"
"Beats me. Updated his personality data recently—must've glitched. Came out like this."
Drandre replied, crashing onto the sofa.
"Make yourself at home."
Jin settled opposite, following the path of his metal-trimmed fingers, and scanned the room.
No twists.
The dingy, rundown office reeked of musty mold inside and out.
Drandre—gaudily overstyled amid the decay—spoke up.
"Want me to fetch cookies?"
"Pass. Just pick up where you left off."
Jin replied flatly.
After all the hype about a killer gig, he'd gotten his hopes up a tad. But this underwhelming office? Steam gone.
Damn. What a letdown.
Did he read the vibe?
Drandre flinched.
"Hey, buddy. I haven't even pitched it yet. Judge after you hear it all."
Jin jerked his chin: bring it.
Drandre craned back over the sofa and clapped sharply.
"Hooker! Dossier!"
"Yes, boss!"
Snappy response. The android handed over the binder with ceremony—
straight to Jin.
"Give it a read."
Title in view: [Top Secret]
"...What is this? The presentation?"
"P-Presentation? It's got value."
"Sure."
Jin scoffed, flipping it open.
Not a tidy three-line summary, huh.
Minus ten points.
Still, the layout was solid...
Neat paragraphs, well-placed photos for easy reading. He was impressed—
until his brow twitched.
Gray eyes slid slowly left, then right.
Tension rippled across Drandre's watching face.
Like a chef plating for a VIP.
Just say if it's good or not, damn it.
Silent munching, blank face—no reading the room. Agonizing.
As Drandre gulped dryly—
the VIP finally set down his spoon.
"...Underground ruins?"
Drandre nodded, brimming with conviction.
"Bingo. Killer, right?"
"Hnnngh."
Jin huffed through his nose.
Not a hum. A full hnnngh.
That lukewarm meh had Drandre squirming.
"What? Something wrong?"
"Nah, not that. Just... hold on......"
Jin trailed off.
Drandre was losing it at the tepid vibe, oblivious.
To Jin bottling annoyance right then.
「Buried Thing」
Find ??? in the underground ruins.
📍 Refuse commission:Quest Failure
⏰ Cannot Postpone
🎁 Reward: Perk XP 14,000
*(Unknown) progresses.
Sudden status window ambush.
Popped not even seconds after cracking the binder. Jin glared at the rectangular intruder, barely skimming the pages.
This was the irritant.
Forcing his hand like that.
Could've waited for the pitch.
Pops out of nowhere—what now?
Vein throbbing on his forehead.
Even if he'd do it anyway, sequence mattered.
Mess that up? Rage inevitable.
Clueless, tone-deaf prick.
Internally seething, but teachings held: don't let mood leak. He turned to Drandre, measured.
"Sorry, mind explaining it out loud?"
"Ah. Sure thing."
Drandre nodded.
After staring lasers at the dossier, now verbal redux? Baffling, but beats rejection.
Might as well brief proper.
"Heard of Lost City's undercity?"
"Nuh-uh?"
"Fair. Hooker? Roll the footage."
Drandre snapped his fingers.
Light beamed from Hooker's optics—
projecting a crisp square image on the wall.
"Ooh."
No standalone projector? Jin whistled.
Soon, concentric-circle map on the wall.
Below, red lines spiderwebbed intricate.
"Lost City's subway grid. Metro Web. Supposedly plush, but no dice for us. Downtown rats like you know—no lines in the 40s."
"Why not?"
"The war. Megacorps vs. Families—bloodbath for the ages. No room for outright winners. City Hall scrapped everything for mediation."
Jin nodded.
Mute Town alone proved it.
The Beast victors ballooned in a single year.
Megacorp-Family clash?
City balance at stake.
Hall bailing on 40s? Not crazy.
"Ongoing tunnels? Halted mid-build. Dust for decades."
Drandre fished out smokes.
Lit a long one, sucked deep—cheeks caving—then spoke.
"Guess what became of those forsaken tubes?"
"Squatters moved in? Like the 40s ghost-town rush."
"Nailed it. Sharp one."
Drandre clapped.
Hooker clapped behind.
Jin shrugged.
Praise moves whales.
"I got an edge."
Casual guess, big reaction—Jin's spirits soared.
Of course, Drandre's suck-up schtick to cozy with the hotshot Solo prospect.
Pure desperation to link up.
Not for nothing he staked out Anecdote over two weeks, eyes aching for Jin.
"Spot on—that burrow's packed with crooks. Mole bastards claimed it as their realm. Underheart."
Jin, hooked, pressed.
"...Underheart. And?"
"Who gives a damn about a bounty-bait rat warren? Written off as a shitheap demon hole... till recently."
Drandre scanned the room.
Voice dropping conspiratorial.
"Underheart expanding—boom, cave-in. Not just bad luck. Buried under the rubble? Underground ruins."
"...Ruins?"
"Yup. Light and Roses Era style. Millennium-plus architecture. Treasures? Use your imagination."
"Ooh."
Jin nodded, laser-focused.
But moments later—
arms crossed natural.
"...Hang on. Your source for this intel?"
"Underheart crew buddy. Henato—knew him pre-tunnel. Trading tips four years running. Asshole, but solid scoop."
Drandre pressed on.
"...Speaking of—not my secret solo anymore. Still under wraps public-wise. Whispers spreading. Merc squads deploying lately—"
"Whoa, whoa."
Jin palmed up.
Thumb out, fingers tucked—jabbed the desk's [Top Secret].
"Something's fishy. Bluff aside. Hyping it 'killer' when everyone's in the know? You didn't just... mom's honor......"
Drandre flailed defensively.
"Misread! Couldn't lock first dibs. Nabbed it three weeks back!"
"Hm? Three weeks......"
"Yup. Day we met. Ate crow, pitched collab to Kalifa—that chick stonewalled 'untrustworthy'! But look. Legit! Gahhh!"
Chest-thumping lament.
"Rumors or not—so what? Prime intel. Fat stacks potential."
"Yeah?"
Jin eyed the linker grinding a butt in the ashtray.
"But why me? Three weeks' runway. Your regular Solos sold out?"
"They're too... small-time for this. Er. Need more prep! Yeah, that—uh......"
Small-time? They?
Crude word choice aside, the phrasing nagged. Jin probed.
"No Level 3+ Solo contracts?"
Drandre's head sagged.
Invisible bullet to the heart.
Hooker wailed.
"Boss!!!"
Rushed in, shaking slumped shoulders. Laugh? Cry?
Jin pondered gravely.
"...Got one."
Drandre pried eyelids open, coma-slow.
"No—'only one'. Won't even listen. Motherfucking prick."
Folksy curses flowed into gripe.
"...How'd I end up here? Wanted to stand out as the quick-turn linker. Somehow cheapskate scrubs swarm... 'Boss! Boss!' I'm a linker. Street punk?"
"Boss......!"
"Shut it, punk! Why ape that? Glitch? Nah, just screwing with me... ngh."
Anger peaked—clutched nape.
Hooker's bellow: Boss!!!
Jin decided.
Laugh it up.
Can't stifle this.
Head thrown back, guffaws erupted.
Drandre squeezed eyes shut, defeated.
"Go on, laugh it up. Asshole."
Prospect brownie points? Kaput.
Then he cracked up too.
Pffft—leaky snickers escaped.
Hooker, cueing: hahahaha.
Three clowns cackled ages.
Jin recovered first, dabbed tear-eyes.
Sidelong glare at the insistent status window twinkling for reply.
Back to Drandre.
"Still not too late, right?"
"Huh?"
To the blank linker—
"Gonna check that tunnel out. Once."