I'm Not a Hero, Though (7)
"Hm, it's awfully quiet."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
I waved off Mina, who was reading a book she'd somehow scrounged up from somewhere, and stared blankly out the window.
Have they given up?
That would be a relief, but...
I doubt it.
A week into this unbroken stretch of peaceful routine, I felt an odd unease creeping in.
You know that phrase, the calm before the storm?
That's exactly what it felt like.
Of course, like that one monk said, rooting out the source of the anxiety might be going too far.
Not that I could wipe them out solo even if I tried... impossible.
They outnumber me, and they've got guns to boot.
I can block bullets with my ability just fine, but I couldn't swear I'd survive a concentrated barrage.
Even one-on-one, that bastard Salmu-sa is no easy mark, so the whole premise is moot anyway.
But if he's gunning for me...
I'd have no choice but to take him out somehow.
In this apocalyptic world, the only ways to snag even a sliver of peace are to wield overwhelming power or kill off every last enemy.
...I wasn't always like this.
Is it because I'm possessing Quaker's body?
His ruthless, cold demeanor seems to be rubbing off on me.
Sure, that kind of personality would help in surviving this world... but is it a good thing?
My old self as an ordinary office drone is fading, replaced by something more like Quaker.
Inevitable in this brutal world, maybe, but it's not what I wanted.
...Not the time for soul-searching.
I shoved the thoughts aside, got up from the sofa where I'd been lounging, and stretched.
It'd been a while since I skipped the Gray Forest, but there was plenty to do.
Teach Seolhwa Hangul and basic math, get the office officially open—hang the sign once it's done today—take on some hunter gigs, and scrounge up a decent weapon.
Right, weapons.
I'd been recovering and carrying as many steel balls as possible, but they're consumables. Eventually, I'd run dry using them like this.
And against someone who can neutralize steel balls, my combat power gets cut in half.
Time for something more durable.
Guns... nah.
Swords? I don't know how to use them. Nothing dumber than lugging around a weapon you can't wield.
"Guess I'll have to make one or commission it."
Ability users prefer weapons tailored to maximize their powers, so they commission artisans who can craft all sorts of gear.
Most are hack amateurs who can't do much beyond passable work...
But Seoul is different.
They've got preserved tech to produce high-end stuff.
Though most goes to certified heroes... the black market's bound to have some.
Heroes do recover illicit weapons as part of their duties, after all.
The protagonist gets his signature weapon from a place like that... but that's protagonist luck.
I don't have that.
Means scraping together cash for one, picking up something decent off the ground, or...
...making my own.
I'm no craftsman, but I could probably whip up something serviceable.
Not looking for anything fancy anyway.
Hell, sharpen a bunch of stakes and hurl them with my power—that'd be plenty threatening.
Though strapping stakes to my back sounds a bit unhinged.
"Boss. Time to pick up the sign."
"Boss, huh."
I'd said it as a joke, but she actually calls me that.
"Should I call you uncle instead?"
"Call me whatever you want."
"...Boss it is, then. Uncle makes you sound like a kid..."
Mina snapped her book shut with a thud and set it on the little desk that had basically become her spot.
Wonder where she got that outfit—crisp white office wear. Kinda reminds me of the original story.
She wore something similar there, too. A bit more form-fitting, though.
"Boss?"
"Oh, sorry. Yeah, let's go. Seolhwa."
"...Yeah."
Seolhwa, scribbling in her notebook in the corner, nodded and stood up.
"You're coming too."
"Shorry."
"Can't keep you cooped up in the office forever."
I'd kept her inside as much as possible because of the Viper scum, but it was time to let her get some air.
I'm not raising a pet bird to stuff in a cage.
"Okaay..."
Seolhwa's smile, with the swelling finally down, was downright cute.
She was known as a beauty in the original story, so no surprise...
"Mina, something on your mind?"
"...No, Boss. Nothing."
Says the girl giving me obvious puppy eyes.
"Alright, let's move. Gotta hang the sign before it's too late."
----------------------
"What do you think?"
"Very elegantly done. Old-school charm."
"I've been in this game twenty years. Even those Seoul folks can't match my sign-making."
A handmade, somewhat vintage-style sign.
The wooden plaque gleamed in the sunlight, coated to protect it. Ready to hang as-is. Pretty heavy, though...
"You've got some strength there. Physical enhancement ability?"
"Nah. Just applying my power."
Humans are bound to Earth by gravity, right?
Push it back with repulsion, and it gets lighter.
"We'll be off, then."
"Right. Take care."
Plant it in the prepped spot and crash.
"Boss, no market run?"
"Carrying this?"
"Fair point."
"Boss- I'm hungry."
"Sign first, then food. To celebrate the detective agency's grand opening, let's eat big."
"Yay~"
A bit tight on time, but days like this deserve some fun.
We hauled the sign straight back to the office.
The street to the office was eerily quiet.
Unnervingly so.
I thought it was my imagination at first, but Mina and Seolhwa's faces said otherwise.
"...Deliberate or coincidence?"
On a day like this, of all days...
"Mina, Seolhwa. Head to the hotel."
"...Boss. Be careful."
"You too."
"I know."
But I'm no coward to flee when my cozy nest might be in trouble.
Housing's more vital than life for Koreans.
"I'll be back, so eat without me."
What about the sign?
I leaned it against the alley wall, still strapped to my back.
No way Mina and Seolhwa could carry it.
Hope no one swipes it.
...Not the time to worry about that.
I habitually checked the steel balls in my pocket.
Should've brought more.
Too heavy, though...
I advanced quietly. Reached the office.
No one outside.
But the door I'd locked when I left was ajar.
They didn't bust it down, at least.
With that irrelevant thought, I stepped into the open office.
"Ah, there you are. Sit."
"I'm the boss here."
Playing it like this, huh?
I eyed the dozen or so outlaws filling the office and the sharp-featured man lounging on my sofa, waiting.
That guy's... Salmu-sa.
The most powerful faction leader among the splintered Viper forces.
In the original, he joined Quaker, but not now.
The story hasn't even started.
"Boss should host his guests properly."
"Ever hear of breaking and entering?"
"What use is law in this world? Law's lighter than spent shells these days."
"So you came to settle it with fists?"
"I'm no gorilla. Don't think brute force solves everything."
"Oh, really?"
I glared at him from the seat across, eyes narrowed.
Like a stock hitman, his face bore a scar across it and an eyepatch. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up.
"Care for one?"
"No."
"Might as well enjoy the good stuff before you go."
"That's my line."
The air in the office thickened.
From the killers' bloodlust, no doubt.
But... it didn't scare me much.
He seemed intrigued by that, pulling the cig from his mouth to ask,
"Felt it when you killed my underling, but you've got guts. How about it? Join me, and I'll spare you."
"Fuck off."
"Tch."
The bloodlust intensified.
"I was starting to like you. Pity."
"Sorry, but serving under someone isn't my thing."
Am I nuts? Join you?
He eyed my refusal with regret and spoke.
"Fair enough... Heard you're opening an office soon. Time to file for closure."
The outlaws behind him slowly encircled me.
Hm. That's how you wanna play it.
"Gonna be a pain to clean up."
"...All talk. Boys."
The moment he signaled, I unleashed full-force repulsion.