Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Habitual Worship (1)
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How long had it been since we left the safe house? We simply walked in silence down the dark streets of the night.
Esty, who had been keeping pace beside me, was the first to break the silence.
"First, let me report our initial findings. The Sicarios have identified everything: Ricardo's slush fund hideouts, the list of businesses he was running, and even the drug storage locations. They've handed it all over."
"Good."
I gave a short reply and sank into thought for a moment.
"Then let's dispose of all the drugs completely. Make sure they never flood these streets again."
"Understood."
"And... the money..."
I paused, wrestling with the decision. The cartel had illegally amassed a fortune in dirty money. No one would fault me for quietly siphoning it off to fund my own needs—hell, it might even help me survive here or find a way back to my original world.
But... the horrific scene from that alley on 12th Street wouldn't leave my mind.
People who had lost everything to drugs, children abandoned by their mothers and left sobbing. That cash was soaked in their blood, sweat, and tears. I couldn't just dip my hands into it recklessly.
If a bill had been lying on the sidewalk back in my old world, I might've scooped it up as finders keepers. But knowing it had slipped from the pocket of some poor old man living alone, scraping by and fretting over his next meal... Could I really spend it with a clear conscience?
'That's exactly how it feels right now.'
After agonizing over it, I finally made up my mind.
"Ricardo's money... Let's find a way to funnel as much of it back to the people in this neighborhood as possible."
Esty gave a small nod at my words. Then, as if tying everything together, she added,
"We've also cleaned up all the remaining family remnants. Analysis of the wiretap intel shows no sign that Los Halgares—the cartel above them—will get directly involved."
"...That's a relief."
I breathed a sigh of relief. For now, the biggest fires were out.
Of course, plenty of addicts were still wandering the streets, but at least the numbers wouldn't grow here anymore.
We'd severed the supply lines entirely. It might've been a drastic prescription, but with no product to inject, things could sort themselves out over time.
The most direct fix would be using my powers, of course... but healing every soul in these back alleys one by one? Unrealistic, and insanely risky to boot.
I couldn't afford to lose sight of my place in all this.
I wasn't some angel come to wipe away the world's pain.
Just... someone desperate to make it home in one piece.
"......"
Still, a nagging unease lingered in one corner of my heart.
I shook my head to chase away the distractions.
'Focus on what I can actually do.'
Most of the headaches were behind us now. But...
"One critical issue remains."
Esty met my eyes squarely.
"As I'm sure you've realized, too many people now know about the 'miracle.'"
She was right. Dozens were already in on my secret.
I didn't suspect any of them of betrayal, but blind faith in personal loyalty or gag orders wouldn't cut it anymore. Exposure was inevitable—maybe even sooner than I'd like.
Esty had reached the same grim conclusion.
"The miracle's existence coming to light is a done deal. It's only a question of when."
I nodded, my face set.
I'd braced myself for this.
I knew the dangers but couldn't look away, so I'd acted.
Now it was time to face the full fallout of my choices.
I murmured softly,
"...Can't keep living like this anymore."
What was done was done.
Now I had to figure out how to protect myself.
If some mega-corp started gunning for me in earnest, even the Sicarios I'd saved would only get me so far. The gap in scale was obvious—like pitting a neighborhood watch against a full army division.
So even if exposure was unavoidable, delaying the rumors reaching those giant players' ears would buy time. I needed to solidify real defenses during that window.
'But... how?'
As I mulled it over, Esty spoke up.
"There's one path forward."
"...?"
"Ricardo's family wiped out every gangster in the area, leaving a total power vacuum around here. If we seize control of this district, it'll do wonders for your personal security, Eve."
"Seize control of the district?"
"Most of the corps we're worried about are rooted downtown. This is the outskirts. They've got unlimited cash and firepower, sure—but they couldn't care less about slum rats in the alleys. Their reach is minimal."
She glanced around as she spoke.
A shabby, grimy landscape worlds apart from the gleaming skyscrapers downtown.
Just as she'd said, this was a low-end slum with zero spending power.
Locals barely touched corporate services or goods. Essentials sold okay, but they would've anyway—no ads required.
So yeah, corps had zero incentive to bother with influence here.
"But outsiders, no matter how mighty, can't flex without local buy-in. Turn residents into your eyes and ears, have them tip you off and quietly sabotage intruders... Even juggernauts get hamstringed. We might not beat them outright, but we'd get warning shots and escape windows."
Esty's pitch rang true.
She didn't spell it out, but history from my old Earth was littered with examples.
Viet Cong guerrillas blooding the unbeatable U.S. military.
Middle East militants who just wouldn't stay down against superpowers.
South American supercartels that ate governments for breakfast...
All thrived by locking down their turf and the locals' loyalty.
That's exactly what she was aiming for. One hitch, though.
"Sure, but building that kind of grip takes roots—either born here or years of grind. Aren't we basically outsiders to these folks?"
Esty held my gaze a beat, then answered with a faint smile.
"To the desperate, a savior's no outsider."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Let me lay out the goals."
She ticked them off on her fingers.
"One: Build a reliable crew to shield your ability—the 'miracle'—from prying eyes. Two: Leverage that to claim real dominance over the district. Three: Win hearts with community projects and good works to cement your base. And last..."
Her three raised fingers balled into a tight fist.
"Recruit folks who'll fight for you out of pure conviction, not cash or kickbacks. Our enemies down the line might be corps with bottomless pockets."
Her rundown left me speechless for a second.
"Whoa... that's intense."
A grand scheme. Secrets, turf, goodwill, fanatical loyalty. My head spun just hearing it.
And this was Omega Detroit—a city that boiled everything down to dollars. Yet Esty was betting on something beyond cold cash.
"But... can a group like that even survive here?"
She shot me a cryptic look at my doubt.
"You already know the perfect model for it, Eve."
"Huh?"
I could only gape back in confusion.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A few days later, we came face-to-face with a certain girl.
She was still wheelchair-bound, but her color was night-and-day better than our first meeting.
And those eyes... still burned with overwhelming intensity.
"I knew this day would come... Eve."
Yoanna breathed the words, thrilled.
Her green gaze locked on me, fanatic fire blazing.
Like someone granted their deepest wish, fervor radiated from her uncontrollably.
"......."
Frankly? More than a little overwhelming.
But no one else fit the bill for expert like her.
Joseph said she'd handled most of the One Heart Society cleanup herself. Raised in that church, she knew the ins and outs of running a religious outfit cold—and the dirt better than anyone.
Hell, she'd already lined up her own "devoted followers" and was gearing up to rebuild. Best—and only—authority we could've hoped to snag.
Me? Back home, I was damn near atheist. Religious orgs? Clueless on ops, follower wrangling, the works.
Esty was bodyguard gold, but zilch on cult management.
So yeah, knocking on Yoanna's door made sense.
'Still...'
The anxiety wouldn't quit.
She sat there smiling quietly, calm on the surface—but fidgeting fingers, flushed cheeks, tiny shoulder twitches screamed instability.
Restless kid. Puppy eyeing a treat. Or a time bomb ticking down.
'Is she really okay...?'
I swallowed hard inside.
No solid conviction yet. But we'd come this far.
Time to...
'Roll the dice... hope it's fine?'