The Super Rookie's Territory

"People really ought to take it easy at work."

Crack.

I worked the stiffness out of my muscles with a long, vigorous stretch and walked out into the cell block's common area. Breakfast had come and gone hours ago, but it was still a little early for lunch. Aside from lights-out, this was the quietest stretch of the day in the prison, and the commons were accordingly still.

The prison's mandate that every inmate deploy to the Dark Zone at least once a week still ruled this place — but that was a separate matter from the people who needed money, intel, experience, or connections. Those types never stopped pouring into the Dark Zone. Which was why the rush hours and the dead hours were so clearly defined, and why this was one of the dead ones.

Once lunch hits, the slow-starters will start trickling in to scavenge whatever Dark Zone intel gets dumped on the market cheap.

I yawned and glanced around. Sure enough, a few parties were already lingering, clearly weighing an afternoon Dark Zone run. Most of them weren't original death row inmates — they were regular convicts who'd been forcibly converted to death row status. The ones who'd charged in from day one, desperate to claw their way to the top as fast as possible, had naturally fallen in with the quick-starters. Parties like these, on the other hand, had drifted into the slow-starter camp: the ones who preferred to play it safe.

I wasn't really either. On the days I decided to deploy, I jammed my head into the Dark Zone entrance first thing in the morning — didn't that make me a quick-starter? Unlike the other quick-starters, though, I didn't even buy the intel the information brokers airlifted in at the crack of dawn. I found my own routes and my own strategies. Quick or slow — what difference did it make?

Anyway. The next Dark Zone expedition was scheduled with Lucy, so for the time being I planned to rest properly, get my condition back, and knock out a pile of annoying errands while I was at it. Today's outing was part of that plan — a chance to get out of my stuffy cell.

"They're really not going to install a single moving walkway, huh."

The distance from Cell Block H-050 to Cell Block H-088, where the Special Merchants had set up shop, wasn't that far. Walking it every single time was still a pain in the ass. I'd have killed for one of those little kid-sized mini-cars, or even a heavy-duty drone big enough to haul one grown man around. The prison put restrictions on inmates owning any kind of "vehicle." I'd heard some of the old-timers with enough seniority had somehow gotten their hands on rides, but I was still a rookie. I probably couldn't even score a bicycle.

I'll definitely get one later. And I'm naming it Vroom-Vroom. No debate.

A name like Han Seungho Mk.1 had the kind of naming sense a retired soldier would use in a zombie-infested apocalypse. Not really my style. And so I passed through the other cell blocks, exchanging warm greetings — with my fists — with inmates I'd happened to get acquainted with, and caving in the skulls of anyone itching to put a dent in the Super Rookie's reputation. Before I knew it, I'd arrived at Cell Block H-088.

This place had once been under the Gwangsu Family's thumb. After they'd been blown to pieces, the throne had been left vacant — and more than a month later, not a single inmate had stepped up to claim it. Honestly, I'd figured some clan that had bulked up enough, or some death row outfit, would take over and become the new landlord. Strangely, everyone seemed to be keeping their hands off.

"The hell is this?"

On my way to see a Special Merchant NPC, I spotted a small sign I hadn't seen before.

"..."

I ripped the sign off its post, crumpled it into a wad, and flung it aside. Then I walked in the opposite direction from Ted Chan's Cybernetic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Clinic — my original destination — and kicked open the door of a shop whose interior was distinctive enough to spot from a mile away.

"Owner. Out here. Now."

"Mmph-mmph-mmph! Mph?!"

"Finish chewing and get out here."

"Slurrrrp! Slurrrrrrp!"

Lee Sena, who'd been squatting behind the counter inhaling a bowl of jjajangmyeon, came scrambling out with a look of panic.

"Oh, long time no see, Super Rookie! What brings you to this humble little shop today...?"

"Why do you think a precious commodity like me would visit this humble junk shop? A smart woman like you ought to already know."

"I really don't?"

I wordlessly shoved Pretty — my claw hammer — toward Lee Sena, who was playing dumb with a shameless look on her face.

"You sure about that?"

Zap! Zap!

"Ah, I think I know! I know! I know!"

"Then you can do the three-line summary every Korean loves, right? Fellow Korean and all."

"Uh, um... because of the sign outside?"

"That's only one line. Two more to go."

"Because I used the Super Rookie's name without permission?"

"One more."

"Because I got caught price-gouging you at the last offline market... gk!"

I grabbed Lee Sena's smooth cheek with one hand. The way her mouth puckered out like a duckbill was a little cute, but the urge to smack her still won out.

"The correct answer is that you dumped a pile of annoying work on me without so much as a word. Unpaid, no less."

"Ah, aaaah...!"

"So now you owe me, right?"

"Owe you what? Don't tell me you mean that kind of...!"

"No! Apologize!"

Whack!

That answer was just begging for a fist. I finally lost it and cracked her over the head. I couldn't believe she didn't even know what an apology was. Truly a person worthy of being locked up in Seoul Southern Prison, the worst prison on Earth.

"Ugh... you really don't hold back."

"If you'd pulled that with anyone else, it would've been a lead slug in your skull just now, not a fist."

"Is that... a green light?"

I pondered what to do with this hopeless engineer girl, then decided to give up first. I did not have what it took to be this dystopian Korea's resident child psychologist. Fixing this oversized golden child would be a tall order even if you threw every last scrap of Technica's cutting-edge tech and Medician's biotech at the problem.

"I took that sign down for now, so we'll talk about it later. Honestly, I wasn't planning on stopping by today. But you've been so much more infuriating than I expected that now I have plans."

"Is there something you need? Or did you bring equipment that needs repairing?"

"I do need you, just not for that. Come with me."

Lee Sena heard the offer and rolled those distinctive eyes of hers — eyes that looked nothing like a native Korean's. Even after everything that had just happened, she still looked like she was hoping for something.

"...It's really not a green light?"

"It is not. Frankly, I'd be wasting myself. Small talk's over — let's move. If we keep Ted Chan waiting too long, he's going to become a problem."

"What? Why are you dragging me to Ted Chan's shop?"

"You've got a good eye. I'm not exactly known for having a lousy eye for implants myself, but I figured one more person who can give me an objective assessment wouldn't hurt. While you're at it, play chaperone."

"Tsk. Fine. I'm only helping this once, okay? A house-call service like this is supposed to cost a fortune..."

I fought desperately against the urge to smack her one more time and left the shop with her.

Among the Special Merchant NPCs I knew, Lee Sena's engineering knowledge and craftsmanship were every bit a match for Ted Chan's. Especially after transmigrating into this world and dealing with her a few times, I'd learned she had a remarkably good eye.

People born with a good eye are rare in this world.

In the worldbuilding that cropped up now and then in EFD, having a "good eye" didn't stop at seeing farther, having better dynamic vision, or possessing a sharper aesthetic sense. It could mean seeing through the structure of objects, discerning truth from lies, even catching limited glimpses of the future. There were some pretty occult abilities in the mix. In a world ruled by cutting-edge science, it sounded completely unhinged — but what could I do? I hadn't written the EFD lore. The game developers had.

Anyway, if I brought Lee Sena — who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠belonged to that rare category — even the great Ted Chan wouldn't be able to rip me off. In other words, Lee Sena was a kind of anti-gouging talisman.

"This is Ted Chan's Cybernetic Clinic. Looks like some kind of psychological counseling center, doesn't it?"

"It definitely doesn't look like a building that belongs in a back alley like this."

I agreed with her as I looked at the white building, which really did look like a counseling clinic. This was a place you had to wonder even advertised, let alone attracted foot traffic. In truth, the location suited Ted Chan's personality perfectly — the man hated a commotion. But this was, after all, the implant clinic run by the greatest implant specialist on Earth.

The moment I opened the door, I saw dozens of inmates sitting quietly, waiting their turn. That was just the lobby near the entrance. Factor in the people waiting in the inner waiting room, and you were looking at a hundred easy, even on a conservative count.

I headed for the reception desk, where a female staffer in a prison uniform greeted us.

"What brings ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you in today?"

"I'm here to see Ted Chan."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I don't. But Ted Chan summoned me himself for a commission, so it shouldn't matter."

"I'm sorry, but without a prior reservation, I'm afraid you won't be able to see the doctor separately."

She answered with a faint smirk, keeping things strictly professional. She'd probably seen countless boy-who-cried-wolf types just like me, all of them insisting they were qualified to meet Ted Chan. I understood. Being on the receiving end of that treatment still didn't feel great.

"So what am I supposed to do? Just wait?"

"If you don't have an appointment, you won't be seeing the doctor no matter how long you wait. Why not make a reservation today and come back later?"

"If I book today, when can I see him?"

"Let's see... the earliest I can get you in would be six months from now."

"..."

Without another word, I handed her a coupon valid at Ted Chan's Cybernetic Clinic and walked inside. She tried to call me back in a hurry, then seemed to give up and went back to whatever she'd been doing. She probably figured that even if I tried to force a meeting with Ted Chan, I'd get thrown out by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other inmates or security — or just wear myself out and leave.

I didn't particularly care what she thought. I walked into the waiting room with a quiet little smile, Lee Sena trailing along beside me. A few inmates had already taken a dim view of my stunt and started getting up to apply some physical persuasion — then they checked my prisoner number and sat right back down.

"The hell? Who does that bastard think he is, cutting in line...!"

"Sit your ass down, you idiot. You don't even know who that is?"

"Who? He looks like some stray mutt who wandered in off the street."

"Look at the prisoner number. That's the Super Rookie. The lunatic who single-handedly demolished the Gwangsu Family and set a record-breaking profit rate among the new inmates!"

I wasn't the type who enjoyed this kind of reaction, but my shoulders puffed up a little anyway. Lee Sena, who'd been watching the whole thing in silence, put on a little-devil grin and started poking me in the ribs.

"You're more famous than most of the long-termers now. Feeling pretty good about that?"

"Well, having a reputation isn't a bad thing. Cuts down on the annoying incidents, for one."

If this had been back when I was a genuine newbie and my reputation hadn't spread yet, the surrounding inmates would already have jumped me just to establish the pecking order. But down here on the lowest floor, even if they didn't know my face, there wasn't a soul who didn't know my prisoner number and the name Super Rookie. I was already an excellent deterrent.

The moment I opened the waiting room door, massive men blocked our path like an iron fortress. And these weren't inmate customers. They were security working for the clinic itself.

"Looks like these gentlemen don't care about any of that."

"...Goddamn. Getting a look at that guy's face is a real pain in the ass."

I had no choice. I raised my fist.

Fists were always right.