Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Talking Machine (3)
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Area 49's slum.
Inside a room where warm candlelight flickered.
"What are you doing here all by yourself?"
"Runrun."
A blue-haired woman who had lost her sight answered without turning around.
The woman who trailed off at the end—Kanpu—was lost in deep thought, far from the noisy children.
"...Just."
A low voice slipped from her lips.
"Thinking how delicious the food is... something silly like that."
"Oh, I feel the same. It must be because it's a 'product' meticulously made by a megacorp—the taste is pretty good."
If anyone who knew their circumstances had heard that, it would have been hard to even force an awkward laugh.
Kanpu slightly furrowed her brow at Runrun's gruff response.
"Self-deprecating talk isn't good, Runrun."
"Well, it's not wrong, is it?"
Runrun plopped down next to Kanpu and shoved a handful of crunchy snacks into her mouth.
"And besides, I don't think it's something you should say when you're the one worrying about things that haven't even happened yet."
"...Ugh."
Her shoulders twitched.
Come to think of it, maybe it was better to act straightforward like Runrun than to keep fretting like Kanpu.
"...Then what should I do?"
Her voice trembled with worry.
"I've already heard from you exactly how Liberra's been getting food from outside."
When she'd first heard the words 'romance scam,' she didn't know how shocked she'd been.
The impact Kanpu had felt back then was beyond words.
No, in this case, it was more like a 'kid scam.'
But Runrun's reaction had been surprisingly nonchalant.
"So what if she gets mistaken for a kid? And the boss seems to like it deep down anyway."
"......"
"No, really. Lately, she's been sticking right by her side and won't let go. It's more serious than when she was preparing to assassinate 'that bastard'..."
"Runrun."
Kanpu looked at Runrun.
Her already distant eyes turned toward her, and Runrun quickly shrugged her shoulders.
"...Sorry. That was a slip of the tongue."
"It's fine."
A short silence passed.
With a light sigh, Kanpu closed her eyes again and turned her head forward.
The topic of conversation returned to Liberra, who was out scavenging food.
"Aren't you misunderstanding something?"
"You mean the boss is throwing away her pride and just acting?"
Runrun stuffed the empty snack bag into her pocket and continued.
"...It's not impossible. The boss, Liberra, has a huge sense of responsibility, after all. Hearing what you said, that possibility seems pretty big too."
Kanpu, who had been pondering Runrun's words, quietly shook her head.
"...No, honestly, I don't really know either."
She looked down at the discarded groceries from the store that Liberra had brought.
"We know better than anyone how precious a savior is when you have nowhere to rely on."
"Well, it's not like she's doing anything dangerous. We just eat the food she brings, and later we can give her our thanks or something."
Thanks, huh.
That wasn't wrong either.
Someday, the day would come when they could tell the truth.
Kanpu thought that as she pictured Liberra, who was out there struggling away from home.
'...Yeah, she'll be fine.'
"Jeez, it's all food that's getting tossed anyway. Why does it matter who takes it...?"
A man making his way down the alley.
The android smirked down at the food piled high in his arms.
"Those gunless little shits."
He had successfully snatched the food in the end.
Sure, sharp glares from others followed behind him, but that wasn't his concern.
Now, if he carried this to the next neighborhood over and sold it for even a single bill, he'd make a tidy profit.
And at the same time.
The android spotted a blade flashing next to his face.
"...Fuck?!"
Even as an android, he wasn't devoid of survival instincts.
He instinctively swung his arm and turned around.
The food he was holding spilled to the ground, and he accidentally stepped on some, but he had no time to worry about that.
Musty mustard sauce spread out in the shape of footprints.
And behind the android.
"...No one's there?"
The android suspected his operating system (OS) had been infected with some virus.
It had been a blade.
It looked like a small piece of metal, but it was a sharp edge that could easily slice through muscle and leather.
Rustle.
A presence stirred behind him again.
"Wh-who's there!?"
However.
This time too, he couldn't spot any human shadow.
Not even footsteps.
Unless the intruder revealed themselves first, the android couldn't detect their presence at all.
"...Let's calm down. I have nothing of value. I'm just an android developed for menial tasks. After the company went bust, they were gonna sell me to a scrap dealer, so I ran away—a pathetic runaway android. If you need food, take it all. Ah, no, wait."
The babbling android's eyes lit up as he came up with a clever idea.
"I could even tell you about a place with tons of free food..."
"Shh."
A soft whisper of wind rang in his ear.
Thud. A kick to his leg joint sent him naturally to his knees.
The sharp blade appeared in front of him again.
"Shut your mouth."
"Eek...!"
He didn't need to breathe, but right now he couldn't help letting out a deflating groan.
A heavy silence began.
The scariest part was that there was still no presence behind the android.
Even though the blade remained unwavering in front of him.
And soon.
Something was shoved into the android's mouth.
"Mmph!!"
"Don't spit it out."
Bursting ketchup and mustard soiled the android's face.
This was...
The food he'd just stepped on.
Unless it was an expensive high-performance model, androids usually didn't have functions for eating and digesting food.
But this cheap model couldn't spit out the food that had been forced into its mouth.
Sandwiches or burgers—whatever grocery store product it was—filled its mouth completely.
And soon, it felt an irresistible pressure from behind.
Thud...!
The android's face hit the ground.
"Pl-please, sir..."
"Last warning. Shut your mouth."
"......"
The pressure on his head was only there at first, but the android couldn't lift it.
Who the hell was this?
The only thing that came to mind was someone connected to that grocery store.
Only after 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour passed.
Could the android cautiously lift his head.
No shadows around, but he couldn't sigh in relief.
In the alley where he'd been face-down.
Words seemed carved there, left by the attacker.
[Don't mess with Hotdog Man]
In bright red, no less.
A scene straight out of a B-grade splatter flick. The android man turned and fled without even screaming.
He didn't wonder who Hotdog Man was.
He just seared the phrase into his mind.
If he'd stayed calm a bit longer, he might have realized the red writing on the wall was ketchup, not blood.
Of course, that might have made him think it was something even more grotesque.
One day.
Michael asked in a puzzled tone.
"...Um, by any chance, does Hotdog Man run some kind of ninja squad in your organization?"
"What kind of ridiculous bullshit is that?"
Michael looked at me with eyes full of lingering suspicion.
"No, it's just that lately I've been hearing similar rumors. Of course, most rumors around here are nonsense..."
Ninjas? What, racism because I'm East Asian?
"I told you from the start, there's no organization."
"...Well, I figured Hotdog Man would say that."
Huh?
Michael signaled to the homeless folks behind him.
"...Ahem."
"Then it's our turn?"
A few homeless people approached with awkward expressions.
They were the ones especially known among the homeless for eating food deliciously.
"...??"
Question marks floated above my head for a moment.
Michael opened his mouth in a calm manner.
"I understand Hotdog Man's desire to hide the organization's identity."
"...No, there really isn't one."
"Yes. So we seriously thought about how we could help with that."
Is this guy's ears blocked...?
Michael pointed to the gathered homeless.
"We don't know how long you can keep up the 'there's no organization' stance. The mafia families have already caught on to its existence."
"...?"
"We've decided to create a group that can be shown on the surface—one solely for Hotdog Man."
"Wait, the conversation's taking a weird turn."
"Not at all. We're still discussing the name. It could be something simple like Hotdog Gang, or Ketchup and Mustard. Food Fighters. We're taking suggestions from various angles."
My words just cut off.
I was at a loss for words.
"...Disband it right now."
"Pardon?"
"I just shared some expired food. What organization? Please don't drag people into weird stuff—just stay put."
100% sincere.
I knew this Michael guy had a talent for blowing things out of proportion, but this was something I hadn't even imagined.
At my words, Michael straightened his tie with his usual blank expression.
"Hmm, got it. That's what you mean."
"Yeah."
At least he'd nodded this time, so he wouldn't blatantly ignore me.
That's what I thought.
"...Mister. That guy really seems to hate it. Is this okay?"
"It's fine. As expected. None of you caught on to the true intent behind Hotdog Man's words."
"There was something like that...?"
Michael summarized the boss's words for the gathered homeless.
"Yes. Indirect expressions aren't a thing for nothing. It's basic polite deflection. I perfectly understood Hotdog Man's intentions."
The homeless murmured.
"Wh-what is it then?"
"Think about it. If a 'secret organization' really existed, of course he couldn't openly admit it."
"Right. Unless he's an idiot..."
"If Hotdog Man had approved the group's creation just now, I would've been suspicious instead."
Michael spread his arms wide.
"But the result was as expected."
Another homeless scratched his head at those words.
"But looking at his face, he seemed genuinely freaked out and rejecting it."
"That just means Hotdog Man's acting skills are top-notch."
"...Hmm, maybe?"
Not the correct answer.
"Anyway, fine. We just need to repay the favors Hotdog Man gave us. And with the group this size already, like it or not, it's bound to become an organization."
If someone from the grocery store had overheard, they might've clutched their neck.
But.
Unfortunately, he was away at the moment...
Chasing off a random peddler who'd shown up out of nowhere.
"A plump sex toy you can play with all day for just 300 bucks. How about it?"