Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Crime City (1)
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"Eve, good work today~"
"Yes, boss. I'll head out first."
As quitting time rolled around, I took off my apron and stepped out of the shop.
The walk home had become a little familiar by now.
On the way to my dorm, I briefly recalled yesterday's events.
'What the hell was that person?'
The woman who had been dying, abandoned in a trash heap.
Even digging through my memories of the original game, there was no match for her.
I'd even considered taking her all the way home since I'd already helped her out, but that was impossible.
Her unconscious body weighed a ton. Whatever ultra-dense alloy they'd crammed her cyberware full of, I couldn't have moved her—not even lifted a single finger.
'So I just left her there... but she should be fine, right?'
Better that way, honestly. Dragging some stranger home without knowing her situation would've just complicated things unnecessarily. Better not to get tangled up.
Wasting a good deed? Nah.
It was just like helping someone who'd tripped on the street—nothing more.
No big effort on my part, and I didn't expect repayment for something like that.
If fate brought us together again someday, great. That was it.
But the worry filling my head right now was something else entirely.
The fact that I'd scoured that place yesterday and still hadn't found a single clue to get back home. A thoroughly deflating result.
Was the goal of returning to my original world even possible to begin with?
If this had been a world with magic from the start, maybe. There could be some mystical way to grant a wish I didn't know about.
But this was a cybercity. Sure, hyper-advanced tech could colonize the moon's surface or build full-dive netherworlds, but no wizardry that shattered the laws of physics. Dimensional travel or talk of other worlds? Pure sci-fi fantasy here too. No realistic theories anywhere.
I'd sworn never to give up. But impossibility was already staring me in the face.
I shook my head to shake off the gloom.
'Just get a good night's sleep and start investigating again.'
That pep talk had me stepping forward when—
Screeeech—! Tires screamed somewhere nearby.
Before I could turn, a speeding car slammed into the wall right in front of me.
Boom!!!
A storm of backdraft hit late, the shockwave from mere steps away knocking me flat on my ass.
"Ugh...!"
I was dumbfounded by the sudden chaos.
'What? A car crash?'
Then, the crumpled, half-smashed car door creaked open.
People crawled out through the gap. I stared blankly, still not grasping it, then froze.
These weren't ordinary folks.
Every one was a hulking, tattooed brute. Built like tanks, they shrugged off the crash like it was nothing—no limping, no injuries.
As I gawked, another car skidded to a stop nearby, leaving black marks.
A scowling Black man leaped out, his tattooed face twisted as he jabbed a finger.
"Hey, you idiots! What the fuck is this driving?! Open your damn eyes?!"
"S-sorry, boss!"
"The goods—the goods okay?!"
"Yeah! Right here!!!"
One skinhead subordinate yanked a suitcase-like case from the back seat gap.
The Black man took it carefully, growling.
"Good... If this had a single scratch, I'd have ventilated you all. For now..."
Bang—!
A gunshot rang out.
One of the guys nearby dropped like a cut-string puppet. Everyone else jolted and ducked behind the cars.
"Damn retrieval team's here already?!"
Black SUVs pulled up across the street. The corporate logo painted on them was familiar from the game.
⚙ Asecure Corporation ⚙ A mid-tier private security firm operating in Omega Detroit.
A mid-tier corp handling private security in Omega Detroit. Basically a rent-a-cop outfit.
Not the best service, but cheap with high market share—always popping up in the city's messier incidents. Chasing gangbangers like this? Obvious what came next.
Sure enough, the gray-clad troopers bailed out and opened fire.
Rat-tat-tat—! Boom!!
The pissed-off gang fired back.
"Fuck, cut 'em off here! Light 'em up!"
"Got it, boss!!"
The shootout erupted. The street turned into a warzone in seconds.
Blood, screams, acrid gunpowder, spent casings everywhere.
And right in the middle, I sat there stunned.
"........."
Endless gunfire filling the air.
Stray rounds whistled past with eerie cracks.
My brain screamed to run, but my legs wouldn't move.
Frozen stiff like a log, no matter how hard I tried.
'No way... This is nothing like the game...'
Everything.
Everything was on another level.
Gunshots exploding right in front cracked like thunder down my spine.
Bitter gunpowder mixed with blood made my stomach churn on every breath.
Boom!!! Splatter—! I'd just seen a guy's head burst like a balloon.
Pinkish brain chunks scattered like trash. I watched it all vivid.
So I couldn't move.
One wrong step, and I'd end up the same.
Cold sweat poured as true mortal terror gripped me for the first time.
'Why here, why now...'
This daily walk home had turned to hell overnight.
Not like I had zero guesses. Sudden riots like this popped in the original game too.
Gang wars, hostage crises, mass shootings, car chases—random encounters scattered across the open world for player fun.
Usually, you'd hear news flashes and drive forever to find one.
The map was massive, a whole metropolis simulated. Odds of a player being at a random event spot? Near zero. Like catching a dropped parcel from Seoul skies while standing on the street.
Basically impossible to get caught up.
'But...'
This massacre was real.
How'd it come to this? Should I have accounted for that tiny chance?
No, bullshit. This was an act of god—no human calc could prep for it.
Once swept up, just hunker down and endure.
Bang—! Rat-tat-tat!!!
After what felt eternal, the gunfire tapered.
When smoke cleared, the corp pursuers stood victorious.
A few gangbangers captured alive; the rest Swiss cheese.
Fleeing stragglers? Drones finished them off.
"........."
Post-fight, armed troopers rifled gang corpses for cleanup.
One fiddled with his comms nearby, reporting in.
"Report: Alpha Team, site secured."
["Cargo recovered?"]
"Affirmative."
["Good. Clean up before ODPD pigs arrive and RTB."]
"Roger."
Bang—! Another shot jolted my shoulders.
Troopers executing the captured for good measure. One headed my way.
Our eyes met; he lowered his gun, thumbed his comms.
"Exec, additional report."
["What."]
"One civilian on site. Orders?"
["......"]
Brief silence. Then curt.
["No witnesses."]
"...!"
I thought I'd misheard. The trooper looked rattled too.
"Sir? She's just a kid—not even an adult."
["You deaf?"]
No more questions under the barked order.
"...Roger."
Comms cut.
Gun rising again.
Muzzle pointed right at me.
Black void closing in, my heart plummeted.
'Wait, wait...'
Wanted to protest, but my throat locked—only a rasp escaped.
Couldn't believe it. No crime, just caught in the crossfire. Why...
'No way. This can't... Something's wrong.'
Screamed injustice inside, but my swollen throat let no air through.
The gunman said flatly,
"Bad luck. Sorry."
Those words twisted my guts. What the fuck kind of nonsense—
I knew this world's society. Weak individuals crushed ruthlessly. Hyper-capitalist hell where humanity's lost.
But... people are people. Not trash to discard sans trial or law just 'cause inconvenient.
Tears welled. Amid death's terror, resentment bloomed.
I wasn't a saint, but no evil deeds warranting this. No weakling deserved such treatment. No begging while crying—I refused to live like that even in another world.
Teeth clenched instinctively. I looked up, straight into his eyes.
Cold as ever. No smile, no frown—like a worker clocking routine tasks, not a killer. He'd done this countless times under orders. Desensitized, no guilt staining bloody hands. A machine ignoring right and wrong.
His inhumanity screamed: no plea or logic would sway him.
"........."
Lips dried to sandpaper each second. Fleeting gaze stretched like a lifetime montage.
Then, one thought hit.
The item in my pocket.
'...Right. That.'
The self-defense pistol from Fixer Kayla. Always carried it, never forgotten. Still had it now.
Hesitation brief.
Resolve hardened fast.
Fine—if they won't let me live no matter what, one option left.
"...! Stop!!"
But reality ain't movies.
Trigger pull beats pocket-draw every time.
Irrefutable death sentence.
Bang—!