Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: A Rather Painful Outing (2)
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Generally, homeless people have no choice but to live far removed from hygiene.
Homeless—in English, that's the term.
The word itself means someone who has no home and sleeps exposed to the dew.
Take Mr. Ma, one homeless guy who loves frozen chicken products, as an example.
When I first met this young homeless man, he was happily enjoying his dumpster life inside a trash bin.
The trash bin was relatively clean, all things considered, but a trash bin is still a trash bin.
People nearby always complained about the smell whenever they passed by.
"...A shower? It's not that easy. As you know, Hotdog Man, clean water is more expensive than cola in Risk City."
He scratched his hair, and unidentified coarse powder fluttered down.
Oh lord.
"Still, I wash pretty often. I know full well that cleanliness is directly linked to health."
"How?"
I asked about his method.
"Nothing special. If you walk a bit down the main road from here, there's an abandoned fountain."
"...."
"Sometimes it works properly. That's my chance to wash up. Oh, I also use scavenged shampoo when it rains, but getting caught in the rain naked in Risk City feels a bit risky, right? Huh? Hotdog Man? Why are you backing away from me—."
Time to stop inquiring.
"...That's not me."
"Sure, sure."
Liberra had her own place to stay, so she looked much better off than the filthy vagrant Mr. Ma.
I didn't think she was dirty when I first saw her.
At my blatant attitude, the smelly homeless Mr. Ma—no, Michael—forced a pitiful expression.
"...Anyway, it's clear I can't attend the Family's gathering—or party—in this state. You should probably suit up like me, Hotdog Man."
Michael's words were spot on.
"I don't want to buy an expensive suit just to attend once."
"I understand."
He nodded calmly in agreement.
"Then there's only one option left."
"...What would that be?"
His serious tone carried an ominous vibe.
Michael casually reached out.
"The clothing donation bin is that way."
"...."
"I picked up a few recently—no smell, pretty good. Let's check it out."
I had a feeling it'd come to this.
We followed the address on the invitation to the central old town boulevard.
The wide road brought a whole new streetscape into view.
If our usual haunt was near the slums, this place felt a bit more upscale.
"This is it?"
"Yes, matches the address."
The location on the invitation was a massive mansion, but tall walls and iron gates blocked my view first.
"The key is composure. At any gathering, showing weakness gets you bitten...."
"Got it."
I brushed off Michael's advice.
I was just going to take a seat and leave anyway.
It felt a little awkward to be mistaken for a gang member.
But there was no helping it.
The two right next to me were already under the same misunderstanding.
I'd told them no a dozen times, but they wouldn't listen.
"...Another new gang."
"Never seen those faces."
The group waiting by their car glanced our way.
It was a quiet mutter, but it rang clear as if spoken right beside me.
"...What're those clothes, fished out of a dumpster?"
"Heh, no way."
I let out a small sigh.
Our outfits drew eyes inevitably.
My suit coat was black, shirt yellow, pants dark blue.
A fashion Frankenstein that wouldn't raise eyebrows if called that.
I'd picked the cleanest, best-conditioned ones, but no matching sets.
'...Just add white face paint, and I'd fit right in as a villain in a hero movie.'
Not even a joke.
Even in this cyberpunk mishmash world, this kind of "individuality" wasn't respected.
But the arrow had left my bow, so I had to tough it out.
"...Shall we head in?"
I glanced at Liberra, who had neatly straightened her outfit.
She wore a mask with two large filters covering her nose and mouth.
Her wild hair tied back properly exposed her golden eyes fully.
"Not stuffy?"
"...No."
It was her choice to hide more of her face than usual.
She was at that awkward age.
Way less attention-grabbing than hiding behind messy hair.
"Abel Anderson plus two. Confirmed. Please refrain from using firearms or any incendiaries inside, even by mistake."
Passing the walls and gates.
The bustling outside faded to quiet.
I crossed the antique garden along the designated path.
"...Rules are looser than expected. No bag checks."
Basically just a warning.
We hadn't brought guns anyway.
"With so many gangs gathered, past parties must've had issues. They draw the line at 'no firearms.'"
"Hmm...."
Michael whispered to me.
"...Be extra careful inside. From what I see, the Family might brush off minor disturbances as mere incidents."
"We got the invite, so should we just head back?"
Michael chuckled heartily at my words.
"Hahaha. Like last time, a joke. No need to ease my nerves. I appreciate the consideration, though."
"...."
Half serious on my part.
Then someone poked my side.
Only one person it'd be.
"...I'll protect Hotdog Man."
"Thanks for the thought."
A natural dad smile formed.
If only my little sister reacted half—no, a quarter of that.
Anyway, inside the mansion, the full party unfolded.
And.
Most attendees eyed us newcomers sharply.
"What the hell color is that suit."
"Another nutjob. Jeez...."
...I didn't want to wear this either.
I pretended not to notice their chatter, casually moving to a corner.
Eyes didn't linger long.
Tons of people here, and ignoring total weirdos like me was the smart play.
Unless someone wanted trouble.
Just stay low and slip away quietly.
Three hours passed.
Standing still, doing nothing.
Three whole hours.
Savoring the fancy atmosphere lasted maybe ten minutes.
Now I wasn't tense, just bored.
My deadpan face beside me, Michael approached silently.
"Your expression's too stiff. Even if bored, a slight smile...."
"...."
I curved my lips up.
Michael nodded approvingly, stepping back.
When the hell does this party end?
I wondered if this was normal, but murmurs grew louder.
"Something wrong...?"
"Wait's longer than usual today."
Not normal, apparently.
At least start the party so I can bail.
Might have to crash here tonight.
Then.
Gurgle—.
A weird noise from behind.
Turning, I saw Liberra with her head down.
Hard to tell through the big filter mask, but her face flushed beet red.
Heh heh....
"Wanna grab some food?"
"Can we...?"
The buffet was cooling, but we'd been too wary to eat a bite.
Long fast indeed.
Michael nodded without a word.
Seeing that, I gripped Liberra's hand tight.
"It's there to eat, so why not."
Liberra swallowed hard.
I cautiously headed to the center with the kid.
Whoa, whole roast pig here.
But one guy eyed us displeased.
"Hah, can't even fill the space. Holding a girl's hand like a clown."
Loud voice, meant to be heard.
"Heard the Family party'd be big, but this? Wasted trip. That insane outfit too—level's low...."
A sleazy nouveau riche type laughed at us.
Seemed first-timer like me; three-hour wait tested his patience.
"...What're you staring at?"
Sure enough.
Mafia Family party doesn't mean only big shots.
Bogers-level trash, probably.
Idiots who can't read the room exist everywhere, but didn't expect one here.
Too absurd to react.
That irked him; he scowled and stomped toward me.
"Hah, already pissed—perfect. No weapons, right?"
Tch, hate causing a scene here.
Just let him grab my collar and done.
Seemed the mature adult move.
I judged coolly.
If his outstretched hand wasn't aimed at Liberra.
...This bastard?
—Thump.
My heartbeat rang clear.
Blood surged.
Body moved on instinct.
A light kick snapped his knee backward.
Balance lost, empty jaw exposed.
Before I realized, my fist connected with his chin; I watched teeth fly as I stepped back with Liberra.
His face unchanged till then.
And.
Time resumed.
Felt like seconds to me, milliseconds in reality.
"...??"
Clueless, he crumpled forward with a puzzled look.
All eyes on me.
...Now what.
Then Michael's advice hit me.
- The key is composure. At any gathering, showing weakness gets you bitten....
Yes.
No panicking now.
Act like it was planned.
I shrugged like in some movie scene.
"Ta-da."
The party fell silent.
...Not the right move, huh.