2195 Apartheid (13)
“Fuck, why the hell can't we leave?! The operation's fucking over!”
“…This fucking sucks…!”
“What?! Wait, just a sec, wait…!!”
I averted my eyes from the mercenary who'd stupidly stepped up, only to get his arm grabbed and dragged away pathetically. After sweating our asses off in the dark to carry out the sweep operation, they finally got out—and bam, detained. I could understand the rage, but Paradise's fury after a bomb went off right in their own backyard… that was on another level.
Ku-gu-guung…!
As the platform slowly rose, I looked down at Yellow Sector. Helicopters buzzing threateningly around the rooftop. Direct forces swarming out like they'd poked a hornet's nest. Goliaths—same model as the one at the lab—lined up in formation, marching along with Paradise's collections squad handling the dirty work. The whole scene was quite the spectacle.
Of course, the residents were flipping out over the midnight commotion… but that was out of my hands now.
I had plenty to say about it all, but hey, corporations were the driving force keeping this civilized society afloat. Their dog got kicked by someone else, so they'd clean it up thoroughly.
“Hoo…”
I'm… no hero. Just some mysterious Character A. I'd saved the greenhorn siblings who'd taken the full brunt of our payback, even snagged treatment fees and compensation for them thick enough to make it worth it. I figured I'd done my best.
Besides, I couldn't worry more even if I wanted to—no contact info.
Ku-kuung!
The lift stopped, but I didn't get off right away. Instead, I paused to gaze at Harvest Planet's nightscape.
“……It's huge.”
No need to include the flashy high-rises. Just the sprawling apartment complexes and factory districts stretching out below my feet made Paradise Corporation's home base feel vast.
Unless I got dragged into another half-assed mess like this, running into them again in this megacity seemed unlikely.
…Which meant Neo Haven—where other megacorp HQs, the old-gen central power plant, and the orbital elevator all clustered together—was supposed to be the biggest metropolis among all existing ones in the setting…
How useful would the map in my head even be…?
“Sigh…”
I shook my head to chase away the useless worries. Hell, even the players like past me—who'd swung by the train station map for a subquest, mocked its grandiose name, and dipped—would've loved to see this view.
…So if there were any other poor bastards pulled into this world besides me, I hoped they'd speak up. Let me vent a little.
I forced my complaining legs—tired despite never running much—to turn toward the hotel. Should've grabbed extra hydropacks from the medics and slapped one on my legs too.
The futuristic pas performance was already proving its worth; the ache in my gut had dulled way down.
“No pulse shielding coating spray?! Already sold out??”
“That's why I said hurry up…!”
News alerts drowned out the music filling the streets. People who'd been milling around shops now bolted desperately, scrambling for whatever supplies they deemed essential. Seeing the same chaos in disaster scenarios across worlds and eras secretly pleased me… but then I remembered: I'd just escaped the scene myself, and I had my own disasters to handle.
“…Aaron Dreyfus.”
I glanced up at the news playing on the sleek glass storefront like a movie screen. A man in a crisp yellow suit was mid-interview.
…He wouldn't have handed me his card just to hear a phone rejection. Obvious I needed an excuse ready to politely decline the headhunting.
Or now that I had some credits, look into rent prices since I was crashing at Mary's. Handle the rest later.
And the other disaster…
“……Sis?”
Recalling that hand brushing my face muddled my thoughts. Better a clear scheme than unexplained kindness from a cop lady. I couldn't guess who it'd be. Sylvia suddenly awakening as a superhuman, gripping a katana with samurai spirit…?
…Katana?
“Huh…?”
Crazy bastards obsessed with melee despite the hand feel, sure—but actually swinging one against a squad of geared-up mercs and carving them up? That sounded like someone I knew really well, someone I loved…
Circumstances fit, but… I knew her too damn well to buy it.
“……Nah, no way.”
She slashed barriers, kicked aside annoyances. A lone wolf as strong as she was willful. Neo Haven's ultimate rebel, trusting no one but her chosen protagonist. Helena Valentin playing nice cop, politely helping folks?
…My brain was cooking up wild ideas. Must be exhaustion—time to crash.
“Welcome back.”
“Uh… yeah… thanks.”
The hotel doormen swung the doors open quick this time, no scan. Having brushed shoulders with real power made my face burn for no reason. I knew service fees covered it, but knowing didn't kill the embarrassment.
“……Oh my. Our beloved lady guest! You're safe…!”
“Agh…!!”
I'd avoided eye contact and beelined for the elevator, but the front desk witch called out in that syrupy voice. Your new nickname's androgynous enchantress…!
Click-click-click-click-click…!
Mashing the elevator button wouldn't make it come faster, but I figured my sky-high guest vibe screamed 'don't wanna chat,' so I kept at it.
But the competent witch had eagle eyes unrelated to her personality.
“Our hotel offers not just clothing but full combat gear cleaning services… how about it…?”
“……Fridge salesman in the Arctic.”
“Ahaha! Thank you for the compliment…!”
I shelled out another 20,000 credits at the desk. Shame about the dust-caked rifle—could've saved it otherwise.
“…Still, glad you made it back alive? I figured ignoring my heartfelt advice and heading out with Daredevil's crew meant you wouldn't return.”
“What……? Advice? …Oh.”
“Hanging with low-tier neighborhood trash wrecked your look like this, right…? Still too careless.”
The witch grinned like her prediction had hit the mark. But watching her flail on a wild guess, I could only chuckle.
Prime human at prejudging and assuming. Good thing… after eyeballing all sorts today, their true natures and ends, I had a comeback ready.
“…Miss employee? Mind if I give some advice too…?”
“…? I'll listen closely to whatever you say.”
…Listen closely? Whatever. I leaned over the desk and whispered.
“…Keep judging people by citizenship color and wallet thickness, and you might retire before pension. ……Ah, too threatening?”
“……”
Ding! Elevator arrived—I bolted in. Curious about my intent debunking her 'reliable' intel, she scowled till the doors shut. Hope she puzzles over it all night.
“Haa…!!”
Dropped off the clothes, showered fresh with the free daily ration. Armed with a massive towel, pistol, and sealed canned goods—like a ninja's defense—I dove into bed.
“……Hehe.”
Seeing 10 million credits hit my black market account made my lips curl up on their own. More eventful than expected, but 10 mil for a day's work? Confidence boost.
Hard to keep riding the dangerous line for these results, but that hazy future felt tangible now.
…Truth was, it was credits earned as Paradise's faithful hound. Felt a twinge of conscience. But fair pay for labor didn't change.
And this rationalizing only worked 'cause it went well… numbers don't lie. Glad I finally got why movie nouveau riches smirk at bank apps or safes. Just staring fills the belly…
Grrrowl…
“……?”
Why's this efficient body rebelling? Racked my brain: shoved in some potato fry things and drinks, nothing else.
Should thank my guts for holding out till now. Rolled over, yanked the room service menu from the bedside table.
Drinks aside, food started at 10k units—framed as survival, not luxury, eased my mind.
“Meat… fish… fried… salad…”
All prefixed 'synthetic,' 'processed,' 'artificial'—weird, till I realized: 2195 menu meeting 2022 human for the first time.
……Historic moment.
I studied it seriously. Gotta be something my gut craved.
Flip…
“Huh…?”
Next page crammed with noodle dishes. And the words that hooked my long-lost soul…!
“Korean… noodles…?”
No way… ramen…? Or jjajangmyeon? Even plain noodle soup would do. If the taste matched.
World flipped, but great food's legacy endured. Meeting a familiar face in this alien land, I lost it. Dialed the number quick—time limits?—ordered two bowls.
…Uneaten plates get hugged to sleep. Prepared for that.
Killed the clock display—too hard to check. How long? 5 mins? 10?
Doorbell rang—I sprang.
“Room service! Your laundry and gun are all tuned up and reeeady?!”
“Thanks…!!”
Bang!!
Staff startled by my blanket-ghost look, but I yanked the cart inside and slammed the door. Dignity and manners second to this.
“Gulp.”
Grabbed the fancy gold lid handle, hotel-style. Already warm. Imagining the bliss below, I lifted it…
“…………Ah, fuck. Life…!”
…Faced two bowls of japchae mocking my foolish, ramen-less ass.
First time with fork, but… goddamn delicious. Tears.
Screech…!
Morning sun gleamed off my re-laced walkers, fitted perfect. Cleaning gel in-room, but laundry service proved its worth.
Heylong gear, dulled by my sloppy care, back to glory. Sorry pistol, but couldn't fully disarm…
“…Good!”
Opened nav, punched in two spots: famous implant clinic, and Exatech robot shop.
10 mil wouldn't touch the latter, probably. Still, wanted eyes on my immediate goal.
Out the room, toward stairs. Gear unchanged, but steps light—good vibe. Or mood lightening steps. Either way, no complaints.
Into the lobby. First real look at this city's dawn streets. Clear weather pleased, empty lobby couches with a silver-haired beauty? Eye candy bonus.
…Huh? ……Wait what?
“Huh? Uh…?”
Tired ruby eyes, downcast at the floor, flicked to me. Game graphics were crude; this beauty choked breath—same shape, but no way same person.
Leather from head to toe, wild fashion hinting feral allure. Expression unchanged despite eye contact: dangerous… but hard to refuse first.
“……”
She rose quietly, strode confidently to my stunned spot.
…Always awkward looking up a tad at meetings, but gazing up at her… not bad.
Hundreds of meetings. Thousands of confessions. Tens of thousands of loves, to the end together. Her partner's name slipped out.
“……. Helena……?”
“……”
Our heroine tilted her head. Mistake. That tic when she's displeased… botched first greeting?!
What now…? Bribe before curses? She liked cute stuff despite coord prefs—dash out, buy gift for amends…!
Squeeze…
“?!”
Soft, sweet-scented hands cupped my cheeks. Eye level synced: her eyes held me, mine her. Kaleidoscope silence, dreamlike.
Broken first by Helena.
“……Call me sis, sis…?”