Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: His and Her Hidden Identities (2)
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Risk City's prices felt exorbitantly high, even compared to modern South Korea where inflation was accelerating.
They say prices climb steeper the closer you get to the city center—which meant Area 49 had the lowest Big Mac index, right?
(Area 50 was entirely a landfill, so it was off-limits from the discussion.)
The hotdogs—not Big Macs—we sold at our grocery store went for about two dollars each.
No matter how much I loved hotdogs, objectively speaking, the quality didn't justify calling it a cheap price.
But according to Michael and Liberra...
"Street vendors sell 'identity unknown' chicken skewers for around five dollars."
"That's right. And the 'identity unknown' protein bars are ridiculously pricey too. Without even properly grinding the contents."
"...What the hell is with that weird qualifier?"
I asked the two of them, who kept tacking on "identity unknown" every time.
Michael and Liberra exchanged glances before turning back to me.
"Street vendors don't bother labeling origins."
"That's why I can't bring myself to say the name..."
Like domestic kimchi (made in China).
And I erased the suspicious protein bar from those train travel movies from my memory.
By the way, maybe because it was a cyberpunk world, the bugs here were freakishly huge too.
Info I really didn't want to know.
As I grimaced with a sour expression, Liberra sidled up beside me and spoke cautiously.
"...Anyway, are you really okay? No injuries? I noticed you were moving your shoulder a bit awkwardly."
...Wow, sharp as a ghost.
How did she spot that?
I rotated my shoulder and replied.
"I'm fine, I tell you. It stung a little earlier, but it doesn't hurt at all now."
I skipped explaining the 'identity unknown' super serum.
Michael had seen 9mm bullets crawl out of my body on their own when we rode in the truck together, so he seemed less worried than Liberra.
"Still..."
At this rate, I could picture Liberra grabbing my ankle and throwing a tantrum right in the middle of the hospital room, so I quickly changed the subject to lighten the mood.
I lowered my head to meet her eye level.
"Anyway. Let me thank you properly again. You must've been scared too, but you worked hard bringing this old man to the hospital."
No matter how chaotic things were...
Handing over a bloodied, collapsed Walter to a kid this young.
Thinking of the shock and hardship Liberra must've endured made me feel sorry automatically.
"...What're you talking about? Hotdog Man asked me to do it himself. And it wasn't just me anyway."
Aw, such a good kid.
Michael, looking like he wanted to join the heartwarming moment, cleared his throat and chimed in.
"Honestly, I didn't do a thing. Finding the hospital, carrying Mr. Walter, taking down the thugs we ran into mid—urk!!"
He clutched his side and yelped.
What was he trying to say?
It happened right when I glanced away, so I didn't catch what Michael was about to say.
"What?"
"...N-nothing."
Michael calmly denied it.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
Liberra's impassive gaze seemed fixed on him through her shaggy bangs covering her face, but I chalked it up to imagination.
Walter's daughter, Anna, who had been watching the whole scene up close, suddenly burst into laughter.
"Seriously. You guys are nothing like the gangs I know. Like some fun club. Oh! Does that mean I can join too?"
"Of course. As long as you have heart for Hotdog Man, we always welcome new members."
"Save the sweet talk for kids."
I shot Michael a look that said to cut the joking, and he coughed awkwardly before sitting quietly.
...It was a joke, right?
As I eyed Michael suspiciously, Anna gently looked down at Walter lying on the bed.
"I hope Dad wakes up soon..."
I scanned the surroundings while listening to Anna.
The room was packed with critical patients occupying beds just like Walter.
The hospital in the slums looked shady without even a proper sign.
But the interior was surprisingly professional—neat IV stands, surgical tools, monitors displaying vital signs.
"He'll be up in no time."
"He'd probably say the same about me."
"...That'd be a bit much."
I briefly imagined Walter calling me boss and tagging along like Michael or Liberra, then shook my head.
Couldn't picture it.
"Heh heh, it could happen. Or he might say, 'I'll give you my daughter...!' all happy─"
"......No way in hell."
"...Dad?"
A sudden elderly voice.
Beep, beep, beep...
The vital signs spiked dramatically.
Walter glared at me with bloodshot eyes.
"...Even if you're my savior... I won't hand over my daughter until dirt's in my eyes... Hngh. Kill me first─"
"Whoa, hold on."
Someone stepped in front of the bed then.
The Black woman in a white doctor's coat checked the trembling Walter's condition, then chuckled and poked his wound.
"Looks like the adrenaline booster kicked in. He's not fully lucid yet, so don't mind him."
"...Adrenaline booster?"
I muttered, and the doctor explained kindly.
"Cortisol and adrenaline combo! Rise from death and avenge your foes! No liability for aftereffects! Logic Systems! You don't know the ad?"
Even in this cyberpunk world, B-movie ads lived on.
The doctor continued with a smile.
"Yeah, cybernetic implant like that. He probably won't remember this. Just a deep subconscious reaction to external stimuli."
She took the opportunity to fully examine Walter, checking the medical data.
Liberra whispered to me softly at the sudden doctor's arrival.
"...That's Dr. Florence. The doctor who treats people in the slums here."
Black woman doctor.
Thought I'd never see two in my lifetime.
Who was she, exactly (Doctor Who)?
"Blood pressure, pulse, breathing, temperature all good... Vitals stable. Hm."
Florence nodded to herself and looked at us.
"Just one more step, and treatment's complete."
"What's that?"
Florence held out her white palm at Michael's question.
"What else? Time to pay up. I'll waive the bed fee as a special."
Today's fun fact.
Beds are pay-per-use in cyberpunk hospitals.
"No money? Labor works too."
"Labor meaning...?"
Either way, ominous possibilities flooded my mind.
'...No way.'
Michael next to me flinched back too.
Florence pointed behind her with an exasperated look.
"...What're you imagining? I mean help out here. Always short-staffed."
In other rooms, neatly dressed people with bandaged bodies tended to patients.
"F-Florence looked at me."
"Ugh, this punk's at it again. Obviously worried, so I glanced over."
"What? Want another hole in your gut?"
"Lucky you. Someone's off to the incinerator today."
They grabbed each other's collars like they were about to fight.
"What're you idiots doing? Get back to the patients!!"
"Yes, ma'am!!"
They scattered at Florence's roar.
Felt a strange sense of déjà vu...
- Hotdog Man!! Trust us only!
- This bastard. What're you saying to Hotdog Man, die!!
Ugh.
She had her reasons, it seemed.
"So, what'll it be?"
"......"
We all looked at the father-daughter pair.
Walter had passed out again, hard to rouse. Anna, just kidnapped and escaped, surely had no money.
"W-We don't have anything right now... Could I go home and bring it later?"
But Florence was firm.
Almost principled.
"No dice. Prepayment's the rule, and I'm already cutting slack."
Then I spotted the 'white outfit' in her hand.
......
Nurse uniform?
Maybe just a creepy pervert after all.
'Oh dear...'
Seemed like my cue.
I stood, drawing all eyes.
Then, bundles of bills from my pocket.
"......!!"
Everyone's eyes widened.
One hundred $100 bills.
Ten grand's power.
Equivalent to five thousand hotdogs.
"Cash. Paying in full."
"...Tch."
No signature since cash? Pity.
Florence clicked her tongue regretfully.
Anna approached me, stunned.
"I-I can't owe you that much! I already have a mountain of debts to repay..."
"No big deal. Just lending it anyway."
"Still..."
I pushed her forehead back with my finger, close enough to hear her breath.
"It's fine."
Kids need adults' help—that's how it works.
And hospital bills are just hospital bills, pricey or not...
"Here's your change."
"......"
The noticeably slimmer stack returned.
Ah, no health insurance here.
Now I got why city prices were so insane...
Exactly $492,126.30 left.
A sudden wrinkle shaved off some, but still a fortune that could spark knife fights among the homeless.
But the people around me didn't seem greedy for it.
"Hm, organization subsidy..."
Michael muttered with a troubled look.
Makes me uneasy too.
"Should've refused?"
"No. They'd already decided to give it, so we had no choice but to take."
"Sigh..."
Michael scratched his head, eyeing the money bags in the store.
Trouble etched on his face.
"...Still gives me a headache. If it'd been from Hole Paradise's safe, less worry."
"Oh."
Forgot about that.
Farming's key in RPGs.
Though it'd pile up heavier grudges equivalent to the cash.
"Half a mil. Not pocket change."
"Yeah."
"Like several years' salary."
"...??"
What was his paycheck?
Question marks floated over my head briefly before Michael sighed deeply.
"Mafia family wouldn't just hand it over. There's a reason beyond the surface one for Hotdog Man."
"Yeah, probably."
Same thought here.
Good mafia? What freakish hybrid.
As we pondered, quiet Liberra spoke up.
Her yellow eyes gleamed like the moon through black hair.
"...I think it's possible."
"Huh?"
Liberra cleared her throat at my response.
Like prepping for a school presentation.
A fond smile crept on my face.
"Sparo Rapido Family... With such a long history, their boss was probably born into the mafia."
The kid continued maturely.
"Unlike other groups driven by interests, goals, desires. Their boss might have some sense of mission."
"Ooh, sounds plausible."
"...I heard it from someone else."
Liberra shrank bashfully, curling smaller.
"Anyway, it's possible. Maintaining Area 49's security isn't bad for gangs. And Hotdog Man deserves better treatment."
Maybe from all the food I packed her.
Liberra seemed to hold strange faith and trust in me.
Heh heh heh...
I swiftly ruffled her hair.
"Hee."
A super cute giggle slipped out reflexively.
"N-No, no no."
She startled and shook her head to escape my hand.
But let her get away?
I tousled her hair every which way.
Michael watched us fondly.
"......"
Someone else watched from afar secretly.
I looked down at the unfamiliar kid.
"Liberra's family?"
"Yessir."
...Doesn't look much like her.