Chapter 9
Chapter 9
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: How to Survive in Fusion Punk
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"...It really healed up?"
Kalifa muttered that as she gazed at Jin, seated across the long table where they met again.
She remembered his face when she'd recommended treatment for his collapsed nose bridge—he'd insisted it was fine and just asked for a bucket.
It was an injury that ruined his handsome looks, but now Jin appeared almost completely fine, save for the dark bruise across his nose bridge.
"Your recovery is impressive."
"Yeah, something like that?"
Jin nodded as he picked up a cookie and popped it into his mouth.
The blood sugar spike from the chocolate chip-laden snack lifted his spirits instantly.
Nothing beats sweets for stress relief, he thought.
Watching Jin devour the cookies right there at the table, Kalifa signaled Poh for more snacks.
"Honestly, I was surprised. Fighting Fenrir like that. You think so too, right, Poh?"
"Yes. I didn't expect him to go full beastman mode."
Poh said that as he set down a fresh plate piled with cookies. Jin snatched one up with his index finger like he'd been waiting, shoving it into his mouth as he spoke.
"Who's that guy, anyway? A real werewolf or something?"
"Fenrir's a wolf beastman, one of the top solos around these parts. A veteran among veterans."
Top solo? Veteran? Guess I do belong, Jin thought, his shoulders lifting proudly, even forgetting about his broken nose.
Of course, it was a shame they hadn't settled the fight. But he had no desire to go all-out to the death against a 2-meter-10-cm werewolf swinging dual dragon blades.
Next time I see him, maybe grab a hot dog or something. Guys like us bond over a scrap.
That was when Kalifa clapped her hands to refocus the mood.
"Alright, back to business—"
She placed her interlaced hands on the table.
"You said you wanted to become a solo, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good choice coming here. Shall we start with the contract?"
"Right now?"
"No need to drag it out. We've already verified you."
No sooner had Kalifa finished than Poh placed a single sheet of paper on the table.
"It's formal, but this is the contract. Care to read it over?"
"Hold on a sec."
Jin wiped the crumbs from his snack-dusted palms on his thigh and reached for the paper.
Solo
You, once a stray dog of the streets, have finally earned a chance to be recognized as a one-man mercenary.
📍 • Upon acceptance: Acquire Title Solo (Lv1)
📍 • Unlock new starting perk
"...!"
Jin flung the contract from his hand without thinking.
But the translucent window hovering before him didn't vanish, leaving only Kalifa to tilt her head as she snatched the fluttering paper out of the air.
"Something wrong?"
Jin couldn't answer.
This wasn't the [NEO ?? ??? ????] that popped up every so often. It was a new quest window, new text, new rewards—a square monster mocking him that this world was just a game, his life a fake. One he'd smash someday.
Compared to that, a dual-blade werewolf was child's play.
Just gonna pop up whenever now, huh?
Anger boiled up inside him, but Jin suppressed it, not letting it carve deep ruts. He had to grab what he could.
"...I'll do it. The contract."
"Huh?"
"I'll sign."
Snatching the contract back from Kalifa, Jin gripped the pen and scrawled his signature.
At the same instant, the quest window melted away with golden "(Complete!)" text, leaving a thrilling rush in his mind.
Jin realized he'd gained the authority to light a new constellation. He lacked the experience to unlock it now, but that could be filled with commissions over time.
As Jin let out a soft sigh, Kalifa tucked away the contract and spoke slowly.
"You're a hard man to pin down. Though that's what makes a solo... Anyway, Jin? Welcome to Anecdote. Let's make it work."
Her bare white hand crossed the table. Jin shook it firmly and nodded.
"Yeah. Looking forward to it."
3508 S Down Town BLVD,
Area 47, LC
Lost City uses English-style addresses.
Compared to South Korea, it's completely reversed.
Breaking it down:
Area 47 of Lost City (Area 47, LC).
The boulevard cutting wide through South Downtown.
(S Down Town BLVD).
And at number 3508?
Rum Pump Pump.
Tastes like crap, cheap as dirt, but safe enough—a love-hate 24-hour joint.
That's where Jin headed.
To eat for free.
Not free, technically. Paying off the balance.
Recalling the promise from a week ago, Jin climbed the stairs.
[Where did your love go?]
[Does it even exist?]
[Is it here at all?]
Listening to the breakup song leaking from the old speaker, Jin headed to his usual spot: second floor, right corner, as always.
There, he spotted a blonde woman gazing out the window.
"Why'd you come out?"
Jin tossed the question as he sank into the sofa. The woman—Jenny—turned her head.
"Disappointed it's not your bro?"
"Doesn't matter who."
Jin's eyes were already locked on the mountain of food covering the table.
Pepperoni pizza, hot dogs, cornbread, fried chicken, boiled collard greens tossed with mayo corn salad.
"Ooh."
Jin rolled up his sleeves and dove in.
True to Rum Pump Pump form.
The pepperoni pizza dough was brined in saltwater, salty as hell; the hot dog tasted like chewing rubber; the cornbread was so dry it clogged his throat; and the fried chicken reeked of warm fishiness.
But the guy was Jin.
He ate anything, hard, obsessively—plates empty in a flash. Jenny watched quietly before speaking.
"Plenty of tastier spots out there."
"Can't eat comfy there."
"...Something piss you off?"
"Why?"
"Just looks like it."
"Yeah, but it's fine. Food's fixing it."
Jin shoveled a big spoonful of corn salad into his mouth.
"How's the body holding up?"
"Much better, thanks to you."
Jenny smiled, and Jin, noting her brighter face, dug back into the corn salad.
"Good. Jeki? New heart installed?"
"Yeah. Recovering now. Thanks to you."
"Quit crediting me."
"Heard you didn't take the fee."
"I did. Got me through the week. And I'm paying the rest right here. Wednesdays at 7 PM, Rum Pump Pump. Still a ways to go? Speaking of, I usually hole up like a spiderweb in my mouth. So come chat like this. Bring Jeki too."
Jenny fell silent at his words for a beat.
Then, cautiously:
"...You're just... out of place for Downtown."
"Huh? Then I'm screwed. That green?"
"No, not that..."
She trailed off, then burst out laughing at Jin muttering, "I've been at this two years, y'know..."
"Why the laugh?"
"Never mind. Finish eating."
"What?"
The meal continued.
Jin's ribs were deeper-set than Jenny expected, so they ordered more fried chicken—the least offensive item.
"Speaking of, what's with the outfit?"
"Oh. This?"
Glancing down at his aviation jacket split four ways at the chest, Jin rambled about his day, picking and choosing.
Heading to a linker to try solo life.
The shoulder-check while lost.
Running into Fenrir again at Anecdote.
He spiced up the fight.
I came out fine, he was nearly out cold, then bam—phase two werewolf mode.
Jenny listened wide-eyed, dropping useful info along the way.
Beastmen weren't a separate race—gene-modded superhumans.
Their physical stats crushed same-weight humans; beastman form widened the gap to living weapons.
"No wonder. His fists had kick."
"...Didn't you say you didn't get hit?"
"Where'd I leave off?"
He skipped the hour of puking blood. Here, he'd won without a solid hit.
Wrapping up with the Kalifa contract, Jin dug into his pocket.
"Gave me this."
"A phone."
"Said since I don't have a BCI chip, I need a way to connect."
"Bit outdated, no? Anecdote's a top linker office, right?"
"I picked it."
Jin brushed it off.
Kalifa had shown accessory-style videophones, but he'd chosen this relic display terminal almost no one used anymore.
No reason.
Just looked most like a smartphone.
"Punch in your number."
They swapped contacts naturally. Jin pocketed the phone.
As the fresh chicken hit empty, they both stood without a word.
"Great meal. Take care, see you next week."
"You too."
Parting with Jenny, Jin walked the night streets where streetlights replaced moonlight.
A few illegally modded bikes roared past. Punk-ass biker gang screamed joyfully amid the exhaust.
Then rain fell from the sky.
Ducking under an eave to escape, Jin found two strangers already there. One was a twitching junkie too messed up to stand; the other, a middle-aged man chain-smoking with a grim face, glaring at a business card in his other hand.
None cared about the others, so the eave stayed quiet.
Jin, hands in pockets, stared into a puddle filled with rainwater, reflecting the neon forest of skyscrapers.
The jumble of colors shattered and scattered in the downpour, then suddenly splashed up in a noisy arc.
Someone had stomped the puddle.
The receding back resembled the smoker.
What wind blew him into the rain?
Turning, Jin saw only the soggy business card and butts left behind like relics.
[Buying fresh organs. High prices paid]
The moment Jin looked away from the blatant text, the junkie—huddled like a corpse—spoke up.
"...G-got any gear?"
"Nah."
"Anythin'. Roamang, Blackrock, Mighty Haty, Pentamex."
"Don't."
"Fuck. Fine."
"Cold? Here, take the jacket?"
The junkie shook his head at Jin shrugging off the jacket.
"Man, gotta score to feel better."
Hollow-eyed, the junkie hauled himself up and staggered into the rain on wobbly legs.
Jin watched silently until the dark swallowed him, then leaned against the wall.
Slowly sliding down until his ass hit the ground.
The rain showed no sign of stopping.
Jin crossed his arms. Stared at the hole-punched sky for ages, then quietly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, a new day awaited. The 370th plus three.
About then, the old terminal in his inner pocket buzzed.