Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Spilled Water (3)
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Over the fiercely swirling rapids, someone urgently thrust their head out.
The limbs, crafted from cybernetic prosthetics, were twisted in every direction. One leg had even been cleanly severed by something sharp.
Far from a minor injury.
But the man—Marcus Vogel—who had raided a MegaCorp warehouse and was en route to Black Square when ambushed didn't seem bothered by his wounds at all. He leaned against the wall and hauled himself up on one foot.
"Fuck, this goddamn shit..."
He just muttered curses under his breath, over and over.
What had enraged him so?
Letting a life-changing opportunity slip away so futilely?
Wounded pride from losing the fight and surviving so pathetically?
Or the MegaCorp task force that would doggedly pursue him from here on?
Of course...
"That damn bastard...!!"
None of those were the answer.
Marcus slammed his broken fist into the sewer wall with brutal force.
A massive crack spiderwebbed out, worsening the damage to his fist. But for some reason, he didn't seem to feel the pain.
Marcus wore a tangled expression of fury, humiliation, and despair.
He glanced down at "himself."
The one thing a man had to have—the absolute essential, the part he hadn't touched even while cyberizing his entire body...
Part of the mammalian reproductive organ that should have been externally exposed was "completely" gone.
At the sight—like peanuts ripped away—Marcus clenched his teeth hard.
Crunch.
A crack split his molars. A fishy, bloody taste flooded his mouth.
"...Fuck, fuck! Fuck!! Aargh!!!!"
His fiercely swung fist shattered the wall with countless cracks.
He vented his rage at the "self" he had lost.
Marcus's searing fury was aimed squarely at one person.
"I will kill you. Definitely...!!"
Marcus staggered slowly along Area 50's sewers.
The bastard in the black smiley mask.
...Vowing with iron resolve to drag him down to the same fate, at the very least.
* * *
Just as Son Goku had his Dragon Balls, Nobita had Doraemon, and Luffy had grilled meat—
in this unprecedented crisis of MegaCorp hot on my tail, I too had someone to lean on.
"Boss, thank you so much for everything up until now..."
"What's it this time."
Of course, I didn't expect her to solve every problem like some comic book character.
Just...
I felt like I owed her a sincere apology for how things had turned out.
After all, the real owner of the grocery store wasn't me—it was Christine.
If MegaCorp came later yelling "FBI, OPEN UP!!" and smashed through the entrance, they'd definitely investigate the store too.
Their scrutiny would naturally trace back to Christine.
That would be no different from repaying her pure kindness with betrayal.
For now, I planned to handle it all myself—no way was I letting harm come to her.
I'd just been about to tell her to keep ignoring the store...
"Hmm, a Beltech mountain android. Better haul than I expected. ...But did they make standalone androids separately?"
"Boss, that's not what's important right now..."
"That CEO was some toolistic technophile preaching 'machines are just tools—humans do the moving.' Guess they make more than security bots."
Christine's reaction was way more lukewarm than I'd braced for.
Hell, I'd called fully expecting a tongue-lashing.
"Well done. Thought you'd hit me up 'cause you couldn't snag an android body."
"......"
Should've gone with that excuse.
As I clammed up, Christine's snicker crackled through the terminal.
"So, spooked by the MegaCorp chase?"
"...The fallout might reach you too, Boss. That's why I'm looping you in early."
For reference, Michael was dashing around like hot coals were under his feet too.
Thankfully, this was Area 49—most city cams were busted. Dodge private gear, and wiping traces wasn't too tough, he'd said, sweating bullets.
"Also, to say sorry..."
"Enough."
Christine's curt reply cut me off mid-sentence.
"From the first time I saved your ass, I figured some hassle came with the territory."
...Boss, as expected!
My loyalty skyrocketed straight through the clouds.
Then came beeps from the terminal—like button-mashing.
And then.
"Yes, hello— Huh? Senior calling me? You're swamped with missions. Don't tell me you're finally gonna cherish your one-and-only partner from here on out..."
"...Who are you?"
I blurted it out without thinking.
A man's voice—first time hearing it.
We'd clearly been on a private call, just me and Boss.
"Eh? What. This senior's number, right? It is, but male voice? Weird. Deep scan too long last time? Info pollution was clean though..."
Chatty type—kept muttering to himself.
Meanwhile, Boss picked up.
"I patched you in."
"...Right? Must've misheard. Duh, busy senior wouldn't drag a guy into a call—"
"That too."
"......"
A heavy silence dragged on.
Then a stunned voice popped out.
"...Pardon? Who—no, who is it."
"My subordinate employee."
"Aren't I your only work partner? Those city gov bastards shoving you into secret ops again..."
"Area 49 grocery store."
"Ah."
He knew Christine's deal inside out—clammed up at that one line.
City gov, huh...?
Suddenly privy to her work life, I tuned in carefully.
"Got something pressing going on."
"...Yeah. Heard solo mission outside the city."
"So handle him for me."
"Huh? Hello? Senior? You nuts—"
No reply to the guy's frantic calls. True to form, Christine—ever her own pace—had casually dropped the line.
He muttered in a shaky whisper.
"......Hello?"
"Yes, I'm here."
"Fuck."
Just two total strangers left.
Never figured it'd kick off with swearing before intros.
A thick sigh soon filtered through the terminal.
"Ahem, anyway... senior's subordinate. Sorry we had to connect like this."
"...Yeah, me too."
We clicked on some level, at least.
The guy shot me a question in a baffled tone.
"...So what the hell's the situation?"
That's what I wanted to know.
Still, Boss hooked us up to help, so...
I calmly laid out what I'd gotten into.
* * *
The guy's name: Troy Mason.
Christine's "one and only pride-and-joy" work partner, by his intro.
"Years now. Lost track. Anyway, we're stuck together like glue. Risk City's top combo—that's us."
"Yeah, yeah."
Switched to casual midway, so I kept it dry.
Not picking up on the exhaustion in my voice, Troy rambled on unprompted.
"Real secret, but we cracked the 'Worst Week'—the one no one in this city misses. Ha, legit thought we were goners..."
"Worst what?"
"...Fresh transplant from another city or something?"
"Kinda."
Seoul to here.
"Then makes sense."
Anyway.
Troy ran dry once I admitted total ignorance.
True enough—my knowledge of this world, Christine especially, was paper-thin.
All I had: lifesaver who compounded herbal smokes for her bad lungs.
Current gig? Skills? Hobbies? Hell, not even her favorite food.
'...Gotta ask next time.'
I nodded, picturing her.
Typing clacks echoed on.
Dozens of seconds later.
"Hmm... Traces are light. Area 49—slim cam count."
Gulp gulp.
Fizzy soda burble chased it.
"Anyway, done. No 'truck' trails at least."
"Oh, thanks."
My quick gratitude drew an incredulous chuckle from the terminal.
"...Ha, Level 8 Web Spider slumming it on busywork. Word gets out, razzed for years."
"High rank?"
"...Total otherworlder fresh off the boat?"
"......"
Sharp one.
But my silence landed like a gag—Troy snorted, piling on.
"Anyway, no clue how a grocery store part-timer ends up tailed by Beltech-grade MegaCorp."
A new contact blinked onto my terminal.
"Next time, just drop a message—no rigmarole. Ha, this'd normally cost ya..."
Christine's orders—couldn't bill it.
"Seriously grateful."
"Whatever. Don't wanna piss off senior and deal with blowback."
"...Boss seems super chill, no?"
Else she'd never baby an accident magnet like me.
Troy's voice spiked at that.
"Senior? Pfft—hahaha... Funniest thing I've heard lately. She's really like—"
"Curious too."
"...Huh???"
Breath hitched.
...Hadn't hung up?
Makes sense—unlike my handset, folks used neural chips for calls.
Keep yapping while multitasking? Normal.
Her lurking silent the whole time? Chills.
Still.
"No, uh, what..."
"What kind of person am I."
"...One sec. Nuking external cloud data, hoarded disks, cyber web logs."
Better than Troy—caught mid-dirt.
Cyberpunk or not, wills still begged "dunk my rig in water."
I quietly wished him well.
* * *
MegaCorp pursuit dodged, I ambled down from the store rooftop.
Hit ground via the outer iron stairs—spotted Michael still hustling.
Ah, right.
Perfect timing—he clocked me, hustled over frantic.
"Hotdog Man, you're here."
"All good. Sorted it. No MegaCorp heat for a bit."
"Huh? How in the... No, more than that."
Stoic as ever, but a sweat bead trickled down his forehead.
"Dire emergency right now."
"...What?"
What could top MegaCorp?
This damn store—incidents never quit.
Homeless scrapping again? I trailed him casually.
And then.
"......"
"......"
Liberra and Nova, locked in wordless stares.
Air thick enough to choke.
Suddenly hard to breathe.
Michael sidled up behind me, whispering.
"...Going on 10 minutes now."
"Ah."
Real emergency.