Three Billion Credits
Three billion.
At twenty years old, I was the kind of college student you could find anywhere. Even someone like me, though, had at least one secret nobody else knew.
I was a reincarnator.
My previous life hadn't been all that different from this one. I'd done my military service like everyone else, graduated from university like everyone else, and landed an office job like everyone else — an ordinary company employee. Whether I was a student or a salaryman was the only real distinction; past life or present, I was thoroughly, painfully average. If nothing went wrong, the current me would probably end up as an ordinary office worker too.
But while I myself was just as ordinary as I'd ever been, the world I lived in was considerably different from my last one.
For starters, this wasn't Earth. Planes still crossed the sky and subways still ran underground — the infrastructure wasn't that far off — but where Earth had been carved into five oceans and six continents, this world had only a single vast landmass known as Pangaea.
And where Earth had been ruled solely by humans, Pangaea was not. Elves, dwarves, orcs, demons, angels — the whole fantasy roster — had built civilizations across the continent and lived side by side. A world of mixed races meant racial clashes never really stopped, but Earth hadn't exactly been a beacon of harmony either, so it wasn't something worth losing sleep over.
Last of all, Pangaea was a world where the perception of men and women had been flipped on its head — what my past life would have called a gender-reversed world. Women handled the outside work; men stayed home and supported them. That was simply how things were. The root cause lay in women's vastly superior mana adaptability. In a world full of fantasy races, a mysterious power called mana existed, and on average it suited female bodies far better than male ones.
And in a world like that, the people who'd given birth to me were so worthless that calling them garbage would have been generous.
Laftel — the entertainment city.
That was where I'd been born and raised.
True to its name, Laftel was a city built on pleasure. Casinos and red-light districts filled every compass point; once night fell, the lights never went out. A city that never slept.
I'd been born there. I'd grown up there.
The man I could barely bring myself to call a father had been a washed-up male prostitute from the pleasure quarter, and as for my mother, there were fully three candidates. One was a glassy-eyed drug addict, one a gambler missing a hand, and one a drunk whose veins ran with alcohol instead of blood.
With parents like that, this city had never been anything more to me than a hell I needed to escape as fast as possible. Remembering my past life meant I probably wouldn't sink to their level — but proximity breeds corruption. Hang around trash long enough and you start to smell like it.
The plan was simple: finish university, leave this city immediately, and head for some elf or angel city as far from the red-light districts as I could get.
The moment I turned twenty, I started preparing to live on my own.
Land prices in one of Pangaea's most infamous entertainment cities were obscenely high, but I'd been working part-time jobs since middle and high school, pounding the pavement for every credit I could scrape together. I had enough to start.
The day I found a room and left home for good, I looked into the hollow eyes of the man I never wanted to see again and said:
"It's been disgusting knowing you. Let's never meet again."
With a creak of the door, I cut the bond heaven had supposedly tied between us and walked out toward a new beginning — unaware of the stare boring into my back through the narrowing gap as it swung shut.
Earning tuition and living expenses left me exhausted, but living alone was manageable enough. My parents had never supported me through middle or high school anyway. I'd been feeding myself for a long time. The lifestyle was already muscle memory.
Three in the morning.
I finished closing up the shop after business hours, changed out of my uniform, and stepped outside.
A cheerful electronic chime confirmed the door was locked. I turned toward home — and found my employer, the shop's owner, waiting for me. An elf with golden hair like silk and emerald-green eyes, she plucked the cigarette from her lips, exhaled a stream of smoke, and spoke.
"Good work today."
"You too, boss."
To a long-lived species like her it might have felt like nothing, but our connection already stretched back more than three years. I'd lied about my age to get the job, banking on the fact that long-lived races were terrible at telling human ages apart — and I'd never expected that connection to last this long. She'd figured out my real age ages ago, of course, but she'd never reported me or fired me. She'd kept me on. I owed her for that.
"Want a ride home?"
"No, I'm fine."
Despite her consideration, my face went pale and I refused on the spot. My place was only a ten-minute walk, sure — but that wasn't the only reason. For all the unhurried ease typical of her kind, the boss drove like a racing driver with a death wish.
"Yeah? If you say so. Get home safe, then. See you tomorrow."
"Yes. You too, boss — carefully."
I wasn't joking. Drive like that long enough and an elf was going to die before I did. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear about her funeral any day of the week.
I left her waving me off and walked toward my apartment. At that hour, everyone still out on the streets was drunk or high on something.
"Ugh."
I dodged someone I nearly collided with and kept going. A few minutes later the crowds thinned into a quiet alley. Past this stretch and I'd be home free—
Click. Click.
The sound of high heels — utterly out of place in a gloomy back alley — and someone stepped out from a side passage. Under a streetlamp flickering on its last legs stood a large woman in a black suit, planted at the far end of the alley like a gatekeeper, blocking my way out.
I didn't panic. I stopped walking and studied her carefully. The dying lamp made details hard to catch, but every time the light flared, a golden tiger embroidery glimmered across her black suit.
The Tigrica Family?
The moment I recognized the crest, my body gave an involuntary flinch. Anyone who lived in this city knew that mark.
The Tigrica Family. Even a three-year-old in Laftel knew the name. An organization built primarily of beastmen, the de facto rulers of the city's Eastern District — and famously the kind that never, ever let prey escape once it had sunk its teeth in.
So why was a Tigrica Family member standing in front of me? Not some affiliate grunt, either — a full formal member. No matter how hard I thought, I couldn't remember doing anything that would put me on their radar. I glanced around on the off chance they were waiting for someone else, but I was the only person in the alley. And a beastman mistaking one scent for another on a street this short? Not a chance.
Which meant she was here for me. Specifically.
"I—I'm not sure what this is about, but maybe we could talk first— mph!"
"Talk? Fine by me. But first, let's take this conversation somewhere quiet and clean that we've prepared — somewhere that doesn't reek like this filthy hole."
The words had barely left my mouth before another figure appeared behind me, clamping a cloth over my face and whispering against my ear.
Two Tigrica members just to grab one guy like me?
I didn't get to finish the thought. A soft, yielding pressure settled against my back, and the world went dark.
"Nnh…"
A splitting headache dragged me back to consciousness by degrees.
I was walking home, and then…
I pieced the memories together — finishing my shift, heading home, getting grabbed by Tigrica members and kidnapped — and tried to shift my body. No luck. Something like rope bound my arms and legs; I couldn't move at all. At least they hadn't blindfolded me. I cracked my eyes open and took in the room.
Soft amber lighting. Expensive-looking wooden furniture. Antique paintings on the walls. A display case stocked with liquor so rare that just hearing the names would make your wallet scream.
Not the kind of place you dumped a kidnapping victim. Not the kind of room an ordinary Tigrica grunt would have, either. Whoever had ordered my abduction was at least mid-level cadre — minimum.
"Aww, how cute. Sneaking peeks at your big sisters already?"
A voice from outside my field of view made me flinch, but I was already caught. I turned toward the sound and found three women standing there.
"Hi there, kid. Enjoy the tour?"
"Heh-heh. Kidnapped by us and the first thing you do when you wake up is case the room instead of bawling? You've got guts."
"Escape is impossible. Surrender."
The three women in front of me each carried a completely different kind of presence. The one who'd caught me looking around had wings like a crow's. The one whose voice matched what I'd heard right before blacking out had mouse-like ears and a tail. And the big one who'd blocked the alley had bear ears perched on her head.
"I—why am I here… cough!"
However long I'd been out, the second I tried to speak a dry cough tore out of me. Whether nerves had masked it or not, thirst hit me all at once, and I couldn't stop coughing. The bear beastwoman poured a glass of water and brought it over.
"Th-thank y— cough! cough!"
"Drink first. Then talk."
She set the cup to my lips and carefully tipped it so I could drink. I drained the whole glass in a hurry. The thirst that had been clawing at my throat finally eased.
"Haa… Thank you."
"Pfft — did you hear that? He's thanking us."
"Kee-hee. He's still out of it. It happens."
Ah.
Right. I'd been kidnapped. The realization that I'd just thanked my kidnappers over a glass of water flushed heat into my face, which only made the two of them worse.
"Aww, he's actually adorable. If he weren't the target, I'd take him home myself."
"Give it up. You know you can't."
"That's why I'm not touching him."
Target? I didn't know what that meant, but it was clearly tied to why I'd been grabbed. I was about to ask these apparent Tigrica cadres exactly why they'd gone to the trouble of kidnapping me when a large door swung open and someone walked through.
A cloak embroidered with a golden tiger draped over her shoulders. Calm, cold amber eyes. Hair a mix of orange and black. The moment I saw her, I knew exactly who she was.
"Veronica Tigrica…"
Her name slipped out of my mouth on its own. She looked mildly surprised that I'd recognized her.
"…You know who I am?"
"Is there anyone in this city who doesn't?"
The boss of the Tigrica Family. A Transcendent who had once torn an ultra-large magic beast apart with her bare hands.
The women who'd been laughing and chatting a moment ago dropped to one knee in unison, receiving their boss with solemn reverence.
"Boss. As ordered — we brought him in without a scratch."
"Well done."
The brief exchange between the bear beastwoman and Veronica Tigrica confirmed it: she was the one who'd ordered my capture. Why, though, was still a complete mystery.
"I…"
"The boss has not yet granted you permission to speak."
I barely got a sound out before a crushing pressure slammed down on my whole body. This was… mana. Nothing like the easygoing presence I dealt with from the boss at the shop every day — this was a mountain sitting on my chest. I couldn't form a single word. Veronica Tigrica raised a hand, signaling them to stop.
"Kh—! Hah… hah…!"
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had come. I could barely catch my breath. Veronica settled onto the sofa in front of me, drew a cigar, lit it, and waited for me to pull myself together. Once my breathing evened out, she took the cigar from her lips and spoke, slow and measured.
"You're wondering why you were brought here."
"Y-yes."
"Let me be perfectly clear before we go any further. Roman Fialka. The fact that we came specifically for you was no coincidence, no accident, and no case of mistaken identity."
"Then why did you—"
If it wasn't a mistake, then what possible reason could they have for taking me? Veronica leaned forward slightly, pointed the tip of her cigar at me, and said it without a trace of emotion.
"Your father, Ivan Fialka, borrowed three billion Credits from us — and vanished."
My heart felt like it dropped straight through the floor.
And right on its heels came rage.
How much? Three billion? Three billion Credits?
That useless son of a bitch. Right to the bitter end.
I had to bite down hard to keep the curse from escaping my mouth.