Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Holy Blood (2)
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The iridescent liquid filled the glass bottle placed on the table.
Even under the dim lighting, the wine with its reddish glow asserted its presence vividly.
I stared at that elegant hue for a moment, lost in thought.
"...."
'What if I sold this... would it make some decent money?'
It struck me as a pretty solid idea, even to my own ears.
But practical concerns quickly followed in its wake.
Where the hell was I supposed to sell it, and how?
Of course, a few obvious methods came to mind right away. Supply it to nearby shops, or sell it directly from the cathedral. In this district fully under the church's control, creating demand for a specific item and securing outlets was child's play.
The parishioners-turned-believers would probably scramble to buy anything the Saintess had bestowed upon them.
So the real issue was... profitability.
'The locals here aren't flush enough to snap up expensive booze on a whim.'
To sell liquor like this, it'd have to be low-end, high-volume stuff—sell cheap and make it up on quantity rather than quality.
The problem was, I couldn't produce that kind of volume. Sure, the display case was stacked with bottles full of wine right now, but that was just what I'd accumulated over the past few weeks through periodic "releases."
The total amount of wine I could make in a day was still just a few bottles.
That wasn't nearly enough to turn a profit. Especially not at prices low enough for the locals to afford.
In short, it was a lousy business in terms of margins.
'Hmm...'
I pondered a bit longer.
To make a profit with limited supply, this wine needed to be priced like a luxury good, not just some drink.
And that was damn near impossible for the slum-dwellers on this outskirts.
'So the only places to sell wine like this would be...'
Inside the city limits, beyond the boundary—where the middle and upper classes lived.
There were no other nearby markets with the economic power to consume high-end liquor.
But even there, another problem reared its head without fail.
This wine wasn't produced in a licensed brewery.
And since it wasn't from an actual vineyard, origin certification was out of the question.
It was bootleg through and through.
Getting it past the city boundary was the first hurdle.
The Omega Detroit city government tightly controlled access in and out, subjecting every person and item to rigorous inspections.
Smuggling unmarked booze through customs was about as likely as plucking stars from the sky.
And even if luck smiled and it got smuggled in successfully, what then? No idea how to secure buyers or distribution networks. No matter how superior the quality, who would shell out big bucks for something from an unknown producer with dubious ingredients?
"Haa..."
The more I thought, the more obstacles piled up.
Having a good product was one thing; circulating and selling it without issues was a whole other beast.
'Guess distribution companies exist for a reason in this world.'
I was racking my brain alone when Esty, who had been quietly watching me from the side, finally spoke up.
"Lady Eve, there's no need to overcomplicate it."
I looked at her curiously.
"Esty, got a good idea?"
Her response was straightforward.
"If it's something difficult, why not leave it to experts in the field?"
===========
As everyone knew, Omega Detroit wasn't just any metropolis.
Worsening global income inequality and extreme climate change had rapidly depopulated rural and provincial areas, making survival impossible without solid infrastructure.
This led to massive urban concentration, and Omega Detroit was born from that tide.
A supermetropolis sucking in human and material resources from surrounding regions like a black hole.
Believe it or not, this single urban area housed a population far exceeding that of 21st-century South Korea as a whole.
In that sense, "Omega Detroit" was practically a nation unto itself.
With constant influx of migrants from vanished hinterlands seeking survival, the inner and outer boundaries were guarded as strictly as national borders.
Those who couldn't qualify for city entry had no choice but to settle in the outskirts.
The result? Gaping disparities in infrastructure, income, welfare, public services, living standards, education— you name it.
Just one wall separated entirely different worlds.
And the city government ran airtight checks on everyone and everything crossing that line.
But nothing human-made is perfect, so smuggling rings had always exploited the gaps, ferrying all sorts of goods.
One such organization that rose through smuggling was the Black Tiger Gang.
A mafia alliance controlling the southern outskirts and parts of the adjacent port district.
They smuggled anything for the right price—weapons, bootleg drugs, cyberware parts, even people—discreetly in and out of the city. And like all illicit trades, the risks came with massive rewards.
With those profits, the Black Tiger Gang grew beyond a mere outskirts gang into a colossal syndicate.
They crushed all the riffraff and reigned supreme as the undisputed kings of the south.
And the Gang Leader of that Black Tiger Gang was the middle-aged Asian man before them now: Bangju Chen Wei.
"......"
Dressed in a modernized red changpao, he glared at the terminal in his hand.
The screen showed two stark missed call records, no connections made.
Staring at it, the man recalled a nagging rumor lately irking him.
The tale of how the Salvatore Family's don, Moretti—his mafia counterpart ruling the northern outskirts—had been utterly crushed overnight.
He'd dismissed it at first as baseless gossip.
How could an organization that size crumble in a day unless a corp got involved?
Even if a corp did, it wouldn't end this quietly.
If they'd really moved, the whole northern outskirts would've been bombed flat. Missing that racket was impossible.
So Chen Wei figured it was just mafia chatter, empty rumors. But the nagging unease in his gut wouldn't fade.
It'd gotten bad enough that he'd messaged Moretti directly—someone he'd never contact first under normal circumstances.
Yet no reply came.
To make matters worse, reports of strange vibes in the northern outskirts kept trickling in.
"......."
After long deliberation, the Black Tiger Gang Leader made his call. He tapped his terminal, issuing a curt order somewhere.
"Hey, Chief Cho. Contact those brothers we met before."
He decided to massively bolster his security for any contingencies.
His usual twenty Black Tiger Gang combat troops, plus two top-tier mercenaries hired extra.
They were the infamous twin mercs from nearby Chinatown: Yan Luo and Yan Sha.
"Much obliged, Boss."
Once big shots even in the city proper, they'd fled to the outskirts after landing on the ODPD wanted list for uncontrollable violence.
Rumor had it, it wasn't even Cybernetic Rage—they'd slaughtered over a dozen cops and civilians at a mission site.
Shady personalities aside, their skills were top-class, by all accounts.
"Honestly, two of us should be enough for protection. Why drag all these deadweights around? Such a hassle."
And that choice proved more than satisfactory right from contract day.
"Die, Chen Wei!!!!"
Even in Black Tiger Gang territory, cocky upstarts occasionally challenged their dominance. It happened the day he first met the twins too—a newbie gang gunning for their turf launched a raid.
"Kill that chink bastard and the business is ours!"
"Waaaah!!! "
Then the younger twin, Yan Sha, stepped up alone.
He dismantled dozens of attackers single-handedly in under ten minutes.
"Gurk..."
"P-please, spare... Gah!!!"
His face alight with ecstasy as he mercilessly hacked them apart—even the gang members watching were sickened.
But his prowess was undeniable, so Chen Wei locked them in for long-term hire on the spot.
"Good choice, Boss. We'll keep you safe from here on."
It jacked up fixed costs to have elite mercs on constant guard, but no regrets.
Their performances in subsequent scraps were solid, but above all, it gave Chen Wei peace of mind.
Thanks to that, he could focus on gang leader duties again. Worth every penny.
From then on, Black Tiger Gang ops ran smoothly, noise-free.
Peace reclaimed. Days where everything seemed to hum along perfectly.
"Are you the Black Tiger Gang Leader, by any chance?"
"......?"
That day too, Chen Wei was stepping out of his hideout, flanked by dozens of underlings and the twins' airtight protection.
Then someone popped up, blocking his path.
Five or six men in ordinary attire.
The clean-cut one in a jacket at the front spoke calmly.
"The one we serve wishes an urgent audience with you, Bangju. We'll escort you courteously."
Thinking them just fearless pups, Chen Wei ignored them. His men shot menacing glares and barked.
"Scram. No second warning."
But the strangers didn't budge. Chen Wei gave a chin flick.
One nearby thug lunged forward eagerly.
"Time you punks learned whose turf you're mouthing off on."
His vat-thick cyberarm bulging menacingly, knuckles cracking as he stomped up—only to crumple, face pulped, in one blow.
From a single punch by one of the men.
"Gahk...!"
The hulking body rolled late, jaw shattered.
The air chilled at the sight. The twin mercs, who'd been bored with arms crossed, cracked amused grins.
"Ho?"
Then, shoving aside the jacketed man facing off the gang, another figure stepped into view.
A sleek beauty in a crisp suit.
Her distinctive golden eyes gleaming, she strode toward the Bangju's group.
"Pardon the intrusion, but I have urgent personal business, so I'll have to hurry this along."
No one noticed, but that low voice carried uncharacteristic haste.
Because this mission wasn't her ideal scenario.
Truth was, there was a backstory.
The "someone" she deeply revered had lately been clinging to her like a pup with separation anxiety, making the constant bodyguard a secret burden...
So this was a sort of extreme remedy. Just a little alone time, please.
Thus, reluctantly separated and sent here, every minute counted—but it didn't show.
Her expression was just icier than usual, face stone-cold.
Unfortunately, the younger twin merc Yan Sha missed the cue, sneering as he drew his blade.
"Lucky day. Been a while since I carved up a pretty one like—"
Thwack—!
And the top-dollar merc flew off, mid-sentence.
Literally. Like swatting a fly, her casual swing sent him bouncing down the alley.
As if truck-struck. Yan Sha smashed through a nearby wall with a massive crash, rubble burying him.
The body in the wreckage lay utterly still.
At the unbelievable scene, every thug froze solid.
Silence blanketed the area.
"......."
"....."
Only then did color drain from Chen Wei's face.