Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Unbeknownst to Himself
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Ding-a-ling.
The bell at the entrance chimed, and my gaze naturally turned that way.
It wasn't with any particular enthusiasm.
I'd already given up hope on any decent customers showing up.
And sure enough, another homeless guy in ragged clothes was shuffling in, glancing around nervously.
They tell them not to come through the front during the day...
'...Sigh.'
What was the point of saying anything? They never listened anyway.
Homeless folks who couldn't even follow basic rules like that were usually pretty far from the "normal person" category.
"H-Hotdog Man...!"
"What can I help you with?"
"Ah, n-no. I'll buy stuff next time. It's not that today, so... uh, right! I came to repay the favor you did for me, Hotdog Man!"
"Yes, sir."
I responded in a flat, emotionless tone, like an android with its emotion module removed.
For the record.
None of the homeless guys who'd said that had ever actually repaid a favor properly. Not a single one.
Michael was the closest...
Though that guy kept stirring up unasked-for trouble in complicated ways.
The grubby homeless man who'd entered the store didn't look great skin-wise either.
For reference, in this cyberpunk world, "bad skin" meant the bio-leather was peeling off, exposing chunks of metal here and there.
He looked more robotic than an android, but people's standards in this world were hard to grasp.
The half-machine, half-human homeless man huddled up, his hands trembling.
"Why are your hands shaking like that?"
"Ah. Th-this is from... not taking my meds..."
"Good lord."
Seeing every kind of mess imaginable.
After dealing mostly with normal folks like Michael or Liberra, it was easy to forget,
but this was the average look for homeless people on the old town streets.
Losers from Area 49 soaked in anything from simple booze or nicotine to complex emotion suppressants, hormone shots, and psych meds.
I was shocked to learn all that stuff was legal.
Of course, only the corporate-sold stuff was legal.
For someone like me who never touched anything bad for the body, it was hard to comprehend.
Oh, for the record, hotdogs are fine.
I checked the ingredients—they're perfectly healthy.
Carbs, protein, fiber, fats... a complete meal, and it's hotdogs, not burgers...
Thud thud thud. Case closed.
Anyway.
As I stared blankly at the (drug-soaked) homeless man, he pulled out some unidentified inhaler from his pocket.
Oh, great.
"Got asthma or something?"
"Uh, uh? Ah, n-no. Th-this is, like..."
So frustrating—stop stuttering already.
But since he couldn't help it, I patiently waited for him to speak.
"It's, uh, B-Black Mamba. Black Mamba series."
"What's that?"
The homeless man suddenly spoke clearly.
"No addiction, clean effects—Soma Company's new product. The rumored Black Mamba. Recurb series mental stabilizer, right? ...Y-you don't know this either?"
How would I know that?
I shook my head confidently.
The world's oldest language—body language.
The homeless man thrust the inhaler at me with his shaking hand.
His hand wouldn't obey, so he gripped his wrist with the other arm.
"It's r-really good stuff. I got super lucky snagging this... S-so, for you, Hotdog Man."
"You crazy bastard..."
"Eh, wh-what...?"
My inner thoughts slipped out.
I sighed and waved my hand dismissively.
"Don't need it. Take it back."
"F-for real? Th-this? Then how do I repay your favor... Ah, no. H-Hotdog Man. I can't repay you without this... F-food's precious, right?"
Maybe because of this world's extreme capitalism.
The old town homeless all knew how valuable food was.
"......"
No, but why repay a favor with some sketchy unknown drug?
Just as I opened my mouth to say I didn't need it.
A few more burly-shouldered homeless guys slunk in from outside the store.
They'd been peeking in from outside.
"You wanna repay Hotdog Man's favor?"
"We'll show you a good way. Heh heh heh..."
If you look like villains, don't laugh like that.
They were homeless guys I recognized.
The ones who volunteered to guard my parked truck or vehicles, or the mysterious group that hung out with Michael—
They grinned confidently at the baffled homeless man.
Then they all linked arms and headed out of the store.
"C-can even a guy like me do it...?"
"Of course, friend. When has Hotdog Man ever made conditions for sharing food?"
"W-well..."
"Same for us!"
Like Uncle Sam poster tempting Americans, their bold, macho backs were impressive.
And they shot me a sly glance, thumbs up.
"......???"
Appreciated them handling the troublemaker, but no idea what their deal was.
For the record, this wasn't the first or second time.
No, really, what...?
Ding-a-ling.
Before I could make sense of what just happened, another person opened the store door.
Lots of front-door traffic today.
Figured it was another homeless guy, so I listlessly pushed my chair back.
"A customer comes in, and you just sit there? Can you even call yourself a diligent small business owner?"
This is peak Gen Z part-time vibes—what...?
I glanced up at the familiar voice.
"Whoa, when did you wake up?"
Walter was already up and walking around on his own.
He chuckled and walked over to the counter.
"Not long ago. Came straight here after waking up."
"Didn't you have a hole in your gut? You should still be resting."
"Nah. Florence may have a foul temper, but her skills are solid."
Impressive—tech's so advanced, wounds heal fast.
Arguing more would just hurt Walter's ears, so I shut up.
Eh, he'll take care of his own body.
"So, what brings you here? Where's Anna?"
"Had to talk her out of coming along—nearly caused a scene. After almost getting kidnapped?"
"Yeah, she's still a kid."
"Thanks, even if you say it like that."
Walter rubbed his dry face. One mechanical eye whirred around, then stopped after he finished his routine checks.
He pulled a thick wad of bills from his pocket.
"Heard you covered my hospital bill too. Didn't expect that much care..."
"Well, I had some spare cash then."
Glad he didn't call it nosy meddling.
I awkwardly rubbed my nose and added,
"How could I ignore a friend in the hospital? Gotta do the right thing as a person."
Not enough to refuse the cash outright, though.
I stashed Walter's money safely behind the counter.
His wandering mechanical eye locked onto me precisely.
I held back from saying it creeped me out.
"...You're really not cut out for this city."
"You saw right through me. I didn't exactly choose to come here."
Good judge of character.
I'll be more careful downloading games from now on.
Walter took my words as a joke, let out a big sigh, and bowed his head firmly.
"Thanks for saving my daughter. Truly. Without you, my life would've been a nightmare I couldn't wake from."
"...Be more careful next time. You know Area 49's security isn't great."
"Anna wanted a shortcut... Ahem, got it."
Don't give in to your daughter too much.
It tickled oddly, so I scratched my head.
"Or tell Michael in the back, get some homeless guards. Plenty of decent ones in the lot."
Never thought "decent" and "homeless" would pair up, but it worked here.
They self-policed to some extent.
The nastier ones got chased off by their own.
Walter nodded like he got it.
"Oh, and heard you blew up the terminal I lent you. Not the exact same model, but this one's better. Use it for now."
"It won't explode, right?"
"Got a few batteries left, but no spare bodies. Can grab you some batteries if needed."
"No thanks."
Not for nothing was it from a failed corp.
After seeing it go off like a grenade, no way I'd pocket it.
Anyway, new terminal.
Should message Christine later—
I quietly looked around.
The message hit the new number right as I got the terminal...?
What the hell?
Scanning around, no mysterious mafia spying on me.
Hacked the cameras?
Nah, probably not.
The store's only lensed camera was Nova's.
The photos seemed meant to show all the Hall Paradise androids were safe.
Looking at the flesh-tone overload,
my head spun a bit.
Not from excitement—from sheer absurdity.
As I froze at the notification, Walter's gaze naturally shifted to the screen.
Oh crap.
"......"
"......"
Awkward silence.
Walter stepped back.
"...You weren't targeting my android daughter from the start, were you?"
"Absolutely not."
My tastes were perfectly normal.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I spent a full 30 minutes explaining.
[...Duu??]
For real, no.
Got the hospital money back from Walter.
Even the emergency stash dollars.
'...Roughly 100,000 dollars.'
Game money, and the units being American-style,
I didn't regret spending it.
Didn't feel thrilled about the increase either.
Food, shelter, everything covered by the store anyway.
(Clothes from Michael's occasional scavenging.)
- Androids, huh... Sorry, my shop only has stuff for human girls. Hmm, thinking of moving nearby anyway. If you get a proper one, I'll handle maintenance. ...So absolutely don't go alone to a shop with my daughter.
Thanks to the mafia boss sending weird pics, the gratitude in Walter's eyes had faded.
Looked a bit sharp now...
Even as a lifesaver, a father's love for his daughter was unbreakable.
I pictured Walter settling into the lot corner, then looked down at my upgraded terminal screen.
"Hear me okay?"
[...User voice confirmed. Data loss rate 2%. Within normal range.]
"Okay."
Told him heavy speakers were hard to lug around, needed an android body.
Walter looked bemused but jury-rigged a fix.
Said at first it might not work, but after checking Nova's body in the store, he tinkered away.
Smart chips could project virtual characters only you see in your head.
Wanted to see GOAT primates, gigachads, or Agumon as imaginary friends.
But implanting anything in my body still creeped me out.
Machines were a bit...
Anyway.
I looked up at the massive sign and said,
"This the place?"
[Yes, correct.]
Area 49's famous hot spot.
Not old town—new town streets.
No Insta pics, sadly.
The Black Market.
Just arrived.